Lycanthropos by Jeffrey Sackett Read Free Book Online

personally and to the Reich as well." He paused. "And, as I’m sure you know, there is no resistance." His smile remained, but the humor and warmth which his eyes had been expressing vanished with a chilling immediacy as he spoke these last words. He seemed to be indicating that his statement was an axiom, with which one could disagree only at the risk of great danger.
    Louisa chose to ignore the implications of his sudden change of expression.
    "Indeed!" she replied haughtily. "Do you seriously believe that all Germans are as ignorant and spineless and wicked and..."
    Schlacht forced a laugh as he took her by the arm and led her over to the large leather sofa which rested to the right of his desk, against the wall of his richly furnished office. "Ah, dear, sweet Louisa, you never change." He was suddenly once again the friendly, solicitous host. As he offered her a seat on the sofa and motioned Weyrauch forward to take a seat beside her, the door of his office opened once again and an S.S. private entered carrying a silver tray upon which stood three crystal glasses and a bottle. "Good," Schlacht said as the private placed the tray down upon the desk and then, after saluting, left the room and closed the door behind him. "I’m sure that you could both do with a drink after your long flight."
    "Well, no thank you, Helmuth," Weyrauch said, clearing his throat. "I don’t think..."
    Schlacht filled all three glasses, ignoring what Weyrauch was saying, and handed a glass to each of them. He took the third glass in hand and raised it up to make a toast. "The Führer," he said. He sipped the schnapps and watched out of the corner of his eye as Weyrauch did the same. Louisa held her glass motionless, her eyes fixed with suspicion and obvious dislike upon of her cousin.
    Weyrauch looked from his wife to her cousin and commented to himself how similar they were in appearance. It would have rankled Louisa to hear it, but she and Schlacht were Hitler’s quintessential Aryans, with ice-white blond hair and crystalline blue eyes. Both were tall and slender, though Schlacht’s slimness was muscular and Louisa’s was somewhat wraithlike. Each had the same precisely chiseled nose and the same high, aristocratic cheekbones, the same flawless, almost translucent skin and the same long, delicate fingers. They’re almost like brother and sister , Weyrauch thought. He took a moment to wonder if Louisa’s passionate ethical intensity and Schlacht’s fanatical devotion to the dream of a Nazi empire were two sides of the same coin, reflections of personalities which were immovable and single-minded, each in their own ways idealistic and intolerant.
    There is a difference, of course , Weyrauch thought, sipping once again from the glass of schnapps which he had not wanted but which was imparting a warm glow to his stomach and serving to calm his nerves a bit. The difference is that Helmuth kills and enslaves people .
    "Louisa," Schlacht smiled, "don’t you like schnapps? I can have something else brought up for you..."
    "All I want from you is an explanation, Helmuth," she said coldly. "And you can stop your pretense of friendship and good cheer. You know exactly what I think of you, and I know exactly what you think of me."
    He laughed. "You misjudge me, my dear, you really do. You have always misjudged me."
    "Have I!" she said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
    "Certainly," he replied. "But since you don’t seem in a particularly sociable mood, let me get right to the point. First of all," and he turned to Weyrauch, "let me apologize for sending for you in such a, shall we say, preemptory manner. Secrecy was a prime consideration. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you."
    "Oh, no, no, that’s perfectly all right," Weyrauch said, giggling again.
    "Oh, Gottfried!" Louisa muttered with disgust.
    "Good, good," Schlacht said. "The thing is, I need your help, Gottfried. I need someone I can trust to keep