Interview with a Werewolf

(I go to meet Brandon Geirson at Sword Security in downtown Denver. His office overlooks the city, with an impressive view of the mountains that stand sentinel to the west. The decor is masculine in the extreme: dark wood, maroon carpet, plush armchairs. I peek at the pictures on his desk before he comes in. Most of them are of a stunning brunette who is definitely Dagny. One is of a petite blonde with a fragile smile. The picture of Alice sits closer than the rest, as if he picks it up frequently. When he joins me he sits in the leather office chair behind the desk and we get down to business.)

CM: So Mr. Geirson, there’s a lot of speculation about this, but how old are you, anyway?

BG: Call me Brand.

CM: Sure, Brand. You didn’t answer the question, though.

BG: I don’t see that my age is anyone’s business.

(At this point I realize this isn’t going to be as easy as I assumed it would be. I mentally discard all the usual interview questions and try to go with something a little less personal.)

CM: Have you read Broods of Fenrir?

BG: As a rule I don’t read fiction, but I read your book when you sent it to me, yes.

CM: Would you care to comment on anything about your story as it’s portrayed in those pages?

BG: I’d only say that you prettied things up a bit too much. That’s what I don’t like about fiction.

CM: Well that’s kind of my job.

(I let out a nervous, girlish laugh that really pisses me off before I clear my throat.)

CM: You really think it’s too sanitized? Some people have commented that it’s too dark and difficult to read in places.

BG: Those people wouldn’t like to see what my life has really been like.

(I can tell that line of questioning irritates him. Not wanting him to put a stop to our interview, I try to find more pleasant topics.)

CM: Tell me about Dagny.

BG: She’s even more beautiful inside than she is outside, and unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

CM: Some folks said your romance was a little too fast for them.

BG: Our romance took centuries.

CM: But you two just met a few months ago.

BG: I’ve been waiting a long time for her.

CM: That’s kind of a cliché.

(This is the first time he looks up at me. His eyes are amazing, the amber glow obvious even in the well-lit room. I feel a nervous flutter in my chest that must be my fight or flight response kicking in. I finally understand what he meant when he said that humans are uncomfortable around him. It’s not fun. After a few seconds, I look down at my lap and start to doodle on my notebook.)

BG: I guess I picked the right human to write my story. Most would have bolted out of the room by now.

CM: Well, I know you won’t hurt me. We’ve talked a lot over the last year and I know you fairly well.

(I look up slowly and see his sharp canine teeth for the first time when he grins at me. What on earth did I get myself into?)

BG: Do you?

(I swallow.)

CM: Sure. You’re actually quite noble.

BG: Sweetheart, you have no idea what I am.

(His voice takes on a purr, and that, more than anything else makes me want to run out of the room at top speed.)

CM: Then tell me.

BG: I’m the monster your grandmother told you about. The big, bad wolf. The stories of terrors coming out of the night to slaughter your kind are about me.

(A force builds up in the room. I can feel it, but can’t really explain the sensation better than it feels like fear come to life. I cower in the armchair, breathless.)

CM: I know you’re more than that. I’ve seen parts of you that no one else has.

(He sighs, and the feeling in the room dissipates in seconds.)

BG: You need to be careful, Coral. The Brood aren’t all like me.

CM: I guess you heard I wanted to write another book about your kind, then?

BG: Yes. I don’t like the idea.

CM: Why’s that?

BG: You’re my writer.

(His emphasis of the word mygives me a little thrill. I won’t lie.)

CM: Listen, I write what I want. Understand?

(He chuckles and stands up.)

BG: I’d be upset if anything happened to you. That’s all.

(I’m not ready for the interview to be over. I finally feel like we’re getting somewhere. I cast around the office, looking for something to ask him that might keep him talking. My eyes come to a rest on the picture of Alice.)

BG: Don’t.

(I turn toward him. His face is expressionless. For a fleeting instant, he lets me feel the anguish and then he pulls it back. The aftermath of the forceful emotion leaves me reeling. He grabs my arm to steady me.)

CM: Brand, I’m sorry.

BG: No apologies. You know that’s not our way. Be careful.

(He escorts me out of the office, but presses a business card into my hand before he closes the door behind me. The card has the Sword Security logo in dark blue across the top, and below, the name Gunnarr Eyvindarson with a phone number. I guess he means for me to take Gunni if I go talk to any other members of the Brood. That might not be a bad idea.)

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