Chapter II: Romanian Holiday

Steve laughed. "It was just so weird. I mean, a chick getting arrested on an airplane. It wasn't like she was about to hijack us or anything. We were already on the ground."

Steve Frank and Larry Talbot had been friends for over twenty years. One of the things Larry knew very well about Steve was that he could become obsessed by the oddest things. Larry just shook his head.

"I really don't understand why you're still going on about it, Steve. That was hours ago. We're in Bistritz - doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Steve looked at his friend with a puzzled expression. "Which one is Bistritz again?"

Larry pointed to the cobblestone street they were walking, the colorful two-story homes and businesses, the mountains surrounding them.

"This is Bistritz! It's famous. Spook central for the entire planet. You know Dracula, right? This is where he's from – right here!"

Steve still looked puzzled. "I thought Dracula was from Transylvania."

"He is. Or was," Larry tried to explain. "Bistritz is in Transylvania."

"Now I know that's not true," said Steve. "We're in Romania, not Transylvania. I think I've got a map here somewhere." He began rummaging through his travel bag.

Larry decided to just keep trying. "Now it's part of Romania. It used to be Transylvania."

Steve found his map and opened it. "So shouldn't we be trying to find Transylvania then?" he said, searching the map.

"Look, it's very simple," Larry explained. "There is no Transylvania any more. Now it's Romania. This is it. This is the place."

Steve looked at his map for a moment, then folded it and put it away. He looked around at the colorful street - a beautifully preserved, picturesque nineteenth century European village streetscape.

"Not Transylvania?" he asked.

"Not Transylvania," Larry confirmed.

Steve was quiet as he thought for a moment. "If it's not Transylvania, is it still scary?" he finally asked.

Larry just shook his head and continued walking.

"I mean, I saw the movie," Steve continued. "Very very dark, and sinister. And black and white. Not like this at all. Nothing really spooky about homes with window boxes filled with yellow daffodils. I just don't get the feeling that a zombie attack is about to happen."

At a certain point in every conversation with Steve, you just give up and hope something will happen to give you something else to talk about. Larry spotted just such an opportunity.

"Hey Steve, check it out. Looks like an interesting shop over there. Maybe we can buy some souvenirs."

Steve followed Larry down a narrow side street that branched off the main road through town, to the shop Larry had spotted. A bell over the door announced their arrival as they entered.

"Doesn't look much like a souvenir shop to me," Steve commented. He gazed around at the stacks of strange and mostly dusty items, wondering where to start, or whether to just leave.

"What, are you kidding me?" asked Larry. "This place is great. Maybe you're not going to find a postcard or a keychain with your name on it, but these are real souvenirs. Something that will always remind you of Romania."

"Just looks like a bunch of junk to me," replied Steve, turning to the door.

"We like to think of them as antiques," interrupted a feminine voice. Larry and Steve looked up, startled, to find a very pretty young woman watching them from a level above. She carefully made her way down the steps, crowded with various items that made this a rather difficult task in her long skirt and heels. When she reached their level she continued. "Fine antiquities that represent the history and cultural heritage of the region. And... some plain old junk. Oh, and we do have postcards."

"Postcards, really?" asked Steve. "Where are they?"

"Over there, by the cash register," she told him. "Would you like me to help you select some?"

"Nah, I've got this covered," said Steve. He wandered in the direction the girl had pointed.

The girl turned to Larry. "And what are your interests?"

Larry had not spoken since the girl's arrival, and for a very good reason. He was speechless. The girl was beautiful. Everything about her was perfection. Her long, blonde hair bounced playfully over her narrow shoulders. Her deep, dark eyes hid mystery behind lovely, long lashes. The peasant blouse and skirt she wore hid, yet somehow promised a female form of perfect proportions. And her ruby red lips moved in ways that made his heart pound. She spoke perfect English with a cultured British accent, yet somehow Larry hadn't understood a single word.

"Hmm?" Larry managed to get a sound out as he realized the girl was speaking to him, and yet he still had no coherent thoughts. 'Hmm?' seemed nicely vague, and less likely to give away his caveman ancestry than many other sounds his body was attempting to have him make.

"Do you see anything that you like?" she rephrased the question.

"Yes, yes I do," Larry said as he stared into the girl's eyes. "Something that I like very much."

The girl blushed, fully understanding Larry's meaning. Playfully she said, "You should know, not everything in the shop is for sale. Some things may have already been taken by another 'customer'. As much as I would hate to disappoint you, the item that interests you may not be available. So keeping that in mind, maybe you should point out to me this item you like so much."

Larry lost his nerve, and broke eye contact with the girl. Looking around the shop he pointed at the first thing that caught his eye.

"What about this?" he said, picking up an old musket and looking it over.

"No way you're getting something like that on the plane," Steve called out from where he stood, searching the postcard stand. "Don't stand near me when you try explaining it to security!" he laughed.

Larry ignored his friend's interruption. "Now this is interesting," he said, setting the musket aside and pointing at a stuffed and mounted fox sitting on a shelf. "What can you tell me about this?"

"Ah, that's an interesting item," the girl explained. "It's from one of the local castles. Many of the old families are selling their possessions, as they can no longer afford to run their homes in the manner they were run in the past. It's a great source of merchandise for us. Many of these castles are filled with centuries of hunting trophies. Wild cats, foxes, even bear. This was likely from a traditional fox hunt, on horseback with hounds like the old movies, from some time early in the last century."

"Fascinating," said Larry, watching the girl as she pointed and gestured at the mounted animal.

 "Do you enjoy hunting?" asked the girl.

"I have an interest in certain types of animals," responded Larry, looking at the girl's eyes once again. "But I think 'hunting' is the wrong term. 'Pursue' is probably a better one."

"When did you ever go hunting?" Steve yelled across the store.

"I think I know your type," said the girl, a sparkle in her eyes. "Capture some poor, frail creature, use it, and then discard it when it no longer holds your interest."

"Oh, no! You've got me all wrong. I'm a pretty good guy. I might have to let it go eventually, but there's no reason we couldn't be friends. It might just enjoy its time with me."

"So what is your usual hunting technique?" she asked, smiling and leaning demurely against a shelving unit.

"Oh, first I need to get to know my prey," Larry told her as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. "The first step is always to find out what it's called. And then... I'm sorry, but what did you say your name was?"

"Gwen. Gwen Williams," the girl told him. Then she realized what he had done. "Oh, very clever. And perhaps the second step is to introduce yourself, Mr...?"

"Talbot. Larry Talbot," Larry introduced himself with a grin.

"I have no idea what the heck you're talking about Larry," said Steve, rejoining the couple with a handful of postcards. "Since when did you ever capture animals?"

Larry turned from Gwen to face his friend, slightly annoyed at the interruption. "Actually, I lived out west with my Uncle for a couple summers. He used to trap animals in the woods, and I helped him. He caught a wolf once."

"And then you tried to make friends with it?" asked Steve, as usual reinterpreting the entire conversation in a way that was no help whatsoever.

"No!" said Larry, clearly embarrassed as Gwen laughed at him. "Don't be... jeez, Steve! What the heck is the matter with you?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "So what, now you want to buy a stuffed wolf? The fox was bad enough."

Gwen stopped laughing, and turned serious for a moment. "Oh, you will not find a stuffed wolf here. People will not hunt a wolf in Romania. It could turn out to be a werewolf."

"Oh yeah?" said Steve. "What's that?"

"It is a man, who has been cursed and turned into a wolf," explained Gwen.

"No kidding?" said Steve. "So what you're saying is, if Larry went hunting and caught a wolf, then it might be a man and Larry would really be able to make friends with it?"

Larry gave Steve a look, but it was lost on everyone as Gwen responded. "Oh no," she explained. "A werewolf is a terrible thing. Pure evil." Then she recited:

"Even a man who is pure in heart

And says his prayers by night

May become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms

And the moon is full and bright."

"So it's like a bedtime story?" asked Steve.

"Look!" interrupted Larry, possibly a bit too loud as he realized he had lost all control of the conversation, and his attempts to engage with Gwen. He turned to Gwen and spoke more softly, "I'm not really interested in purchasing any mounted animals, and I don't want to go hunting. But I was wondering what young people do around here in the evenings. What are you doing tonight, for instance?"

"Me?" asked Gwen. "I have no plans. There's not much going on in Bistritz right now. We have our annual Harvest Festival, but that's not really starting until the weekend. There are some nice restaurants, and movie theatres. There's a small traveling carnival that has set up outside of town."

"That sounds perfect!" Larry almost shouted. "What time can I pick you up?"

"Mr. Talbot!" Gwen responded in mock outrage. "I told you, there are certain things in this shop that you can't have at any price."

"Oh, I'm sorry," muttered Larry, backing off at Gwen's tone. "I didn't mean to offend..."

"But," continued Gwen with a playful smile and a twinkle in her eye. "We are having a two for one sale. Buy any item in the store, and get another item of lesser value for free. Now think carefully, Mr. Talbot, before you suggest I may be worth less than a postcard."

Larry caught on to the game, and looked around the store. There was nothing he particularly wanted, and most of it he couldn't even carry. Desks, chandeliers, chairs, a dining table. Enormous framed portraits of somebody's appallingly hideous ancestors. Then Larry spotted something shiny.

In the corner of the shop was an old umbrella stand, filled with, mostly, old umbrellas. He reached in and grabbed the object which had caught his attention and lifted it out. Larry had thought it was another umbrella with a fancy handle, but it turned out to be a stick - just a stick.

"What is this?" Larry asked, looking curiously at the stick and its large, silver handle.

"That's a beautiful walking stick," Gwen told him. "The handle is silver, formed to look like the head of a wolf. I'm not sure where it's from, but it's been in the shop as long as I can remember."

"How long have you lived here?" asked Steve.

Gwen thought a moment, as if she were doing the math. "Six weeks," she told him.

"So," said Steve, getting that confused tone in his voice. "As long as you can remember is six weeks?"

"No!" laughed Gwen. "I've been coming here every summer since I was a little girl. My grandfather fought in the war near this area, and it affected him. He never came home. My father reconciled with him when I was young, and we would visit from England. This is his shop, but he's getting a bit old to be looking after it. I've moved here recently to help out."

"So what do you think about the walking stick?" Larry asked, posing. "Do I look like a sharp-dressed man about town?"

Gwen tried to cover a grimace. "To tell the truth, I was always a little frightened by it. Silly, I know. The fears of a little girl. It was always hidden back here, but somehow I always had to come look at it. I feared it, yet couldn't resist it."

"Well I love it," Larry told her, looking at the wolf head in fascination. "What else do you know about it?"

"I really don't know anything more about it, but I could ask my grandfather. So is this your buy-one item?"

"It sure is," said Larry. "And I think we are in agreement about my get-one-free?"

"Hey, it's just a date!" Gwen warned him, her eyes laughing.

"Nothing more was implied, I assure you!" Larry replied, laughing along with her.

Larry paid for his cane, and Steve bought a number of post cards. They left the shop, agreeing to return at six o'clock.

When they were on their way once again Steve turned to Larry. "Why did you invite her along?" he asked.

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A/N: It's really a lot of fun to write for Steve!