by Laura Del
I didn’t know how to explain what had just happened, so I started off with a simple question. “Did you call Elliot to help me?”
His brow crinkled with confusion. “No. He hates vampires. Why would I call him?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” I was starting to feel nauseous again, so I took a deep breath through my nose, and let it out through my mouth slowly. “We need to talk,” I whispered, going into the bedroom.
He followed me, shutting the door behind him. “What’s wrong, Pat?” he asked again. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel good, either.” I told him, keeping my voice as quiet as possible.
“Why are you whisperin’?”
“Lower your voice, Mike. He’ll hear you.”
“Who?” he asked quietly.
“Stag,” I answered, and his brow crinkled again.
“What is goin’ on?”
“When I was in the woods looking for Herb, Elliot showed up after I found him. He said that you had sent him, and that he had just followed my scent to where I was. But the worst part of it was when I gave him a hug.” I wasn’t going to mention the kiss just yet, because I didn’t need the yelling and screaming that would come with him knowing that.
He grimaced. “I’m not followin’ ya.”
“When I placed my ear to his chest, his heart sounded different.”
“Different how?” he asked.
“Heart rhythms are steady,” I explained. “But his…his is halting. It beats once, and then…” my voice trailed away. Suddenly, I was going to be sick. I placed my hand over my mouth, trying to keep the bile down.
“Bébé, you’re lookin’ green. Sit down.”
I sat on the bed, trying to breathe through the nausea, but it wasn’t working. “Mike,” I managed to say without vomiting, “it’s him. He’s the monster.”
Mike shook his head. “No. Not Elliot.” I looked up at him, and there must have been something in my face, because he frowned, sitting on the old, faded-blue wingback chair by the bed. “Are you kiddin’ me?”
I shook my head, taking my hand away from my mouth as the nausea finally subsided. “I wish I was.”
“I’ve known Stag for years, we grew up together. He would never do anythin’ so…” his voice faded away, and I could see something click inside him.
“Mike? Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I’m all right.”
I sighed. “Good. There’s more.”
“More?”
I sighed. “He’s been hitting on me.”
He laughed a little. “Stag hits on to everythin’ with tits.”
“Does he tell those tits that he loves them?”
His eyes widened. “What did you say to that?”
“Nothing,” I said, but the look he was giving me said that he didn’t believe me. “Are you serious right now? I didn’t tell him anything, Mike. He said that he loved me, and I left it at that,” I paused, taking another deep breath. “I don’t want to fight about this, okay? I just want to tell you my plan.”
“You have a plan?” he asked, his face going back to neutral. “What is it?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Just tell me, Pat,” he breathed.
“I told him that I…”
“That you, what?”
I bit my lower lip. “That I would dump you, and move into his apartment.”
“You did what?” he yelled, shooting up from the chair. “Why would you do somethin’ like that, Pat? If he really is the monster, why would you put yourself in harm’s way?”
“Because I have to be sure,” I whispered heatedly. “If he is the monster, and I go with him, he might slip up and show me his true colors.”
“I won’t let you do this, Patricia,” he said as he knelt in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I won’t let you go with him.”
I put my hand on his cheek. “I have to do this, Mike. And I have to do it alone.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“It’s my job to kill this creature, whether it’s Stag or not. Kathryn said—”
“Fuck Kathryn,” Mike hissed.
“If it wasn’t for her we’d be dead right now,” I reminded him, “so don’t say that.” He frowned, looking down at the floor. “She told me that I have to do this by myself, Mike. It’s okay,” I comforted him. “I’ll be all right. I’m a tough-skinned girl, remember?” My mother used to call me that every time I hurt myself, because I always bounced right back.
Finally, he looked at me, his eyes yellowing around the pupil. He was angry. “Fine,” he said, getting up off the ground so he could loom over me. “Get yourself killed. See if I care.” He slammed the bedroom door open and stomped into the living room.
I felt as though I was going to scream, but I wasn’t going to do that. Not now, anyway.
I stood up off the bed, following him. “Don’t be this way. I’ll be fine. I prom—”
“You promise?” He hissed, turned on his heels, and glared down at me. “How can you promise? You don’t even know if he’s this monster or not. What if he kills you before you get a chance to find out, huh? What then? I will not stand by and let you get yourself killed, Patricia! I won’t do it!”
“You did it before,” I said calmly, remembering all too well how he just stood there while Samuel took me down into that awful room and…I wasn’t going to think about it. “What makes this time different?”
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Because…” his voice trailed away.
“Mike,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder, “I hate to burst your bubble, but you can’t stop me this time, either. You know me. When I get something in my head I have to do it. I’m a pain in the ass that way.”
He opened his eyes and smiled his sparkly, green-eyed grin, laughing a little. “Too true,” he said, and then he frowned. “Are ya gonna sleep with him?”
I was dreading that question. The truth was I didn’t know the answer, but I wouldn’t let Mike know that. “It probably won’t come to that.”
“Probably?” he asked with a raised brow. “Well, what if it does?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I answered truthfully. Big mistake.
He pushed my hand off his shoulder. “Ya know, I think you want him to fuck you.”
“That’s a lie,” I yelled, “and you know it.”
“Do I?” he yelled back at me. “Do I really? I mean, you haven’t exactly let your feelings be known to me. Maybe you don’t feel for me the way I think you do. Maybe that’s all in my head.”
“That’s—”
“What?” he interrupted me. “Not true? How can you expect me to believe that, Patricia? Tell me! How, when you stand there and say that you’ll ‘cross that bridge when you come to it’!”
I shook my head. “Kathryn was right. You’re not going to support me in this.”
“No, I’m not,” he said without emotion.
“That’s fine by me.” I walked back into the bedroom to pack a bag.
As soon as I pulled out my overnight bag, I felt Mike’s arms giving me a hug from behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair, and I pushed his arms away. “Please, Pat, look at me.”
I turned to glare at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry, bébé,” he said again, looking like a lost puppy. “I didn’t mean it. I just…I don’t know…I just wanted you to change your mind, I guess. You do what ya need to do, Pat. I’ll be here when you come back.”
“You promise?” I asked with the smile that I knew he loved.
He nodded. “I promise.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his shirt. I inhaled that sweet and musky scent. “You’re such a girl,” I said, my voice
muffled by the white cotton.
He laughed. “Very true. But I’m your girl.”
I pulled my head back, looking up at him. “And I am so glad for that.”
He leaned down, kissing me on the forehead. “When is he comin’ for ya?”
I grimaced. “He’s kind of waiting outside right now.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. Well then, let’s get you packed.”
I leaned up to kissing him. “Thank you for this.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome. Just remember that you’re with me, not him.”
“You got it, Wolf,” I said, pulling away from him. Then I held out my hand for him to shake, and he took it, kissing my knuckles. I rolled my eyes, and we packed as much as we could into my small bag.
When we were done, Mike grabbed me, pulling me to him. “You be safe now, ya hear?”
I nodded. “Always.”
He leaned down, kissed me, and then made his way down to my neck so he could smell me. “I love you,” he whispered against my flesh.
“I know,” I said, and he smiled.
“Pat,” he said with concern, “there is such a thing as too much morbid curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, ya know?”
“I can’t help it, you know that. I’m a journalist; it’s what I do. When I want to know if something is true, I have to go after it. Whether is kills me or not. Besides,” I paused, smiling, “I’m not dead yet.”
He shook his head and sighed. “I get it. And you’re really not funny.”
“Oh, come on. It was a little funny,” I said, leaning up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek. Then I turned, leaving before I started to have second thoughts.
Once I was outside, Stag helped me put my bag in the trunk. “How’d he take it?” he asked as he opened the door for me.
I shrugged. “Not too well, I’m afraid.”
“You’re doin’ the right thing, Pat,” he comforted me, kissing me on the cheek.
“I hope so,” I mumbled as I crawled into the passenger seat. I began to think of how to coax him into a confession, and I knew there was only one surefire way to do that…
“Are you happy?” Stag asked, interrupting my thoughts as he got into the car and buckled up.
I nodded with a smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Extremely.” As soon as that word was out of my mouth, my stomach did the cha-cha again. I had no idea why I was getting so nauseous lately, but I told myself it was nerves. My mother used to tell me that I internalized stress and it had to go somewhere. Right now, that somewhere was my stomach.
When we made it to Stag’s apartment, he opened the door, picked me up, and carried me over the threshold. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes, but when he didn’t put me down, I had to push the panic aside. As he closed the door with his foot, dropping my bags on the floor, I knew where he was taking me. The bedroom.
Stag placed me down on the bed, kissing my neck over and over, until he reached my lips, deciding he would, of course, kiss them too. I tried to put some life into my body, but all I could think about was Mike and the fact that he was probably sitting at home going through all of the things that could, and most certainly would, go wrong with this plan. In fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking about as he placed his hand under my sweater.
He pulled away from me, looking into my eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you would be excited about this.”
I felt another wave of nausea, and I tried to smile through it, but all that did was make it worse. “I’m not feeling too well, Elliot.”
“You don’t look too well either, girly.” He placed the back of his hand to my forehead. “Damn. You’re burnin’ up. All right,” he said as he got off the bed, “I’m gonna get you some ginger ale and some crackers. Don’t go away now.”
I smiled, noticing that when he was nervous his southern accent was more prominent. “I won’t go anywhere.” I reassured him as I scooted back on the bed, resting against the headboard.
I had to admit that if he really was the monster, he was sure being extremely nice to me. But something deep inside knew that it was just an act. He wanted me here for some reason, and I was hell bent on finding out why.
Finally, after hours of his doting on me, he fell asleep by my side, which was when I knew I had to call Angel. As I looked at the clock on the bedside table, the neon numbers blared at me that it was eleven-thirty at night. I snuck out of the room quietly, finding my purse in the dark and rummaging through it to get my cell.
I punched in the number that she had given me when I called her at Big Bears, and it only took a few seconds before she answered. “Hello,” she said groggily.
Damn. I didn’t mean to wake her. “Angel,” I whispered, as I walked onto the terrace. “It’s Pat.”
“Hey, fleshy girl,” she said with a yawn. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, but I need a favor and I don’t want you to ask questions.”
“Yeah, sure,” she agreed. “What is it?”
“I need you to keep an eye on Mike for me.” I told her as I looked over my shoulder to see if Stag was coming. He wasn’t.
“Okay, Patricia,” she agreed without hesitation. “Whatever you say. Is that all?”
“Yes. Sorry to wake you.”
She yawned again. “It’s okay. Night.”
“Good-night.” I hung up, taking another deep breath through my nose and letting it out through my mouth. The nausea had finally subsided, and I could think a little clearer. I couldn’t depend on being nauseous every time Stag tried to have sex with me, so I had to come up with a better plan. Later. Right now, I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.
I walked back into the bedroom, going to the adjoined bathroom. I washed and got dressed in my pajamas, and then I walked back to bed. I lied down, pulled the covers over my ears, and closed my eyes, all without disturbing Stag. I felt like I could have slept for days, even months, but that didn’t last long. The next thing I knew, I was in the back area of Big Bears. All of the lanterns and tables were gone as I stood in the middle of the barren yard.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mike behind me, and when I turned my head to face forward again, I saw that Herb was right in front of me with Elliot in between us. Stag looked at me with those almost bright orange eyes; his teeth were sharper than I had ever seen on a werewolf and his hands were more like talons than claws.
I don’t know what made me look up into the sky, but when I did, I noticed that there was a full moon overhead. Mike growled from behind me, bringing me back to what was happening in front of me. And as I looked over my shoulder again, I saw that he was beginning to change.
My heart leapt into overdrive, but I stood my ground, feeling something heavy weighing my right arm down. Finally, I looked to see a large sword in my hand. Slowly, I looked up to see Herb with his fangs out, then the movement between us caught my attention and I watched in horror as Stag changed.
It was unlike anything I had ever seen. Stag had doubled over in pain, his flesh tearing from his bones. It looked like he was melting, but in reality it was his skin shifting. His clothes fell away from his body, tearing under the pressure of it all. The same noises were happening behind me, but I was too terrified to turn around and look at Mike.
Stag reared back, revealing his now-elongated arms, sharp teeth, and red eyes. His ears were slightly pointed and his muzzle was shorter than those of the werewolves I had seen in my dreams. His body had changed color, too. Instead of his usual tanned self, he was dark gray almost black with hair sprouting down his back like the mane of a horse and a lion combined.
Mike growled from behind me again. This time I turned to see him. These two monsters were strikingly different. The werewolf behind me had dark gray fur all over him. He was hunched over on all fours and had a tail. Mike’s lower body and face was that of a wolf with poin
ty ears, a canine snout, and yellow eyes. His upper body was a little more human. He had a muscular torso and long arms with hands that looked like claws. However, Stag was almost ten feet tall standing upright on his hairless, wolf-like legs. I had no doubt in my mind that Mike was as tall as he was when he stood, but there was no humanity behind Mike’s eyes. Stag, on the other hand, was fully coherent.
He looked at me with those red eyes, and smiled with a black, lipless mouth. “Be with me,” Stag’s voice came out in a low growl. “You and I can be together for eternity. You can be my queen, Pat, fighting with me side-by-side. We would be unstoppable.”
I shook my head. “Never!”
He sneered at me. “So be it.”
In an instant, Stag charged toward me on all fours, and I held up the sword like it weighed nothing. But the way he had lunged knocked it out of my hands. He pushed me down to the ground, his sharp teeth sinking into my neck. I only had time to open my mouth and scream before he ripped my throat out.
I bolted upright in bed, feeling my neck. The skin was as smooth as it always was, and I sighed with relief. That had to have been the most realistic dream I had ever had, including the dreams I had with Samuel in them.
I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to shake the terrifying images out of my head. When I reopened them, I looked at the bedside clock. It was almost ten in the morning, and as I turned to look at Stag, I saw that he was gone, but he had left a sticky note on his pillow.
Picking it up, I read it aloud. “Went to Big Bears. Be back soon. Stag.” I looked at it again, crumpled it and threw it across the room. He must have thought I would take him at his word, but I wasn’t taking any chances, so I picked my cell up off the bedside table and dialed the number.
“Big Bears,” Angel answered. “How may I help you?”
“Angel,” I breathed, “it’s me. Is Stag there?”
“No, he ain’t here. Why?” she asked confused.
“Was he ever there today?”
“Was Stag here this mornin’?” she yelled to someone on her end. “No,” she answered, and my heart sank. “He hasn’t come in today at all. Do you need something?”