My Date with a Wendigo

by Genevieve McCluer

  “I guess I can do that. We’re just so tasty. I mean, who could resist a piece of this.” She flexes her bicep, which has grown substantially since I knew her, and glances at Ashley, who looks on the verge of salivating in agreement. “Sorry. That was messed up. I went way too far with your joke. I know better than that. I shouldn’t be encouraging it. I’m sorry. Wow, I really shouldn’t be allowed in your group.”

  “Don’t worry. Ashley started it, and she can take a dose of her own medicine.” I’m still trying to keep my distance. Her display hasn’t made my abstention any easier, on either count. Horny, hungry cannibals make the best dates. “I’m sure it’s tough to get used to.”

  “I’ve never been that big on muscle,” Ashley says, still staring at Liz’s. “I prefer my meat marbled. The fat just makes it so much more tender and flavorful.” Her eyes look slightly more glazed over than usual as she fantasizes. “Just hold the embalming fluid. I’ll eat them in a single sitting.”

  Liz takes my arm, watching Ashley the entire time. She isn’t watching me. All I’d have to do is bend over the slightest bit, and I could finally have a meal. I pull her to me, resting my arm loosely on her shoulder and turning my gaze to Ashley. “Do you need us to go?” I’m stronger than this urge. I love her. I won’t hurt her.

  She waves her hand. “No. No, I’m fine. Just give me a second.” She licks her lips but does the same breathing exercises I always do. “I’m okay. I’m sorry if I scared you, Liz. I promise I won’t bite.”

  With a quick kiss to my hand, Liz moves back toward Ashley. I follow her, almost exclusively because I want to keep her safe. “I know you won’t. You’re stronger than you think you are. Abby told me that other than a couple dead people, you’ve been clean for a year. I’m not dead, so I’m not scared of you. Okay, I was for a second there, but I’m not now. Maybe I could help. I don’t have a lot of experience with addicts, but I do with eating disorders, and that’s kind of related to what you’re going through. It’s actually really common in the LGBT community, and a lot of them love coming to me. It’s not my specialty, but I might be able to help you handle it.”

  She shakes her head. “No. I’d just rather not discuss eating with a human anymore. I thought I was stronger than I am. You’re welcome to believe otherwise, but I’m gonna stick with what I know works. I made it eleven months before, and now I have a reason to stick with it. Abby’s my best friend, and you’re important to her, so I’m not willing to let myself eat you.”

  I can feel Liz releasing the breath she was holding. I can almost taste her muscles relaxing now that she knows she doesn’t have to run. She really does do a great job managing her fear. I can see why her patients feel comfortable with her. She doesn’t let her judgments show, and she’s quite possibly the most understanding person I could have ever imagined. The rest of the night is tense, and Ashley leaves several hours before sunrise, but our time together isn’t unpleasant, and we shy away from any further discussion of dinner. Once she leaves, I get to spend the entire day holding Elizabeth in my arms, secure in the knowledge that I have completely ruined her sleep schedule.

  Chapter Nine

  Elizabeth

  I wake up to find Abigail staring at me. I fell asleep in her arms, practically using her as a bed. While I do miss being taller than her, having a giant girlfriend sure has its advantages. I pull myself up and kiss her softly, resting my hands on her shoulders.

  She returns the kiss, but her hesitation is clearer than it was before. Her tongue stays where it is, though her hands go to the small of my back. I respond by tracing the outline of her ribs to her prominent hips and feel her shudder beneath my touch. Making a fiend purr does make you feel so powerful. I kiss down her jawline and move to her neck, her hand sliding down to my ass.

  Without meaning to, I start grinding against her, and I feel her doing the same. My breath catches, and I scratch her hip as I start to slide a hand between us. Then I’m lying in an empty bed. Abigail is panting by the door to the bathroom, trying to get herself under control. “I didn’t make you too hungry, did I?”

  She swallows, doing her best to regain her composure. “No. I just really, desperately, madly wanted to keep going. But I know where that road leads, and I don’t trust myself there.”

  Grumbling, I roll over, pulling myself into a sitting position. I stare into her eyes. “Then what’s the problem? I want it too. I know you, Abby, and I’ve been waiting for this for a good decade by now. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

  I so love making her blush. “Liz, please.”

  That kills the mood. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted it too.” It’s not like she’s told me half a dozen times how scared she is. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I push it? Am I really that desperate that I would ignore her wishes just so I could satisfy myself? I feel sick. “That’s a lie. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Abby. I don’t know what I was thinking. I do want it, but I am willing to wait until you’re comfortable, even if that takes years.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, Liz. I’ve killed a lot of people, and I have to always hold myself back from doing it again. If I give in to my urges, no matter which ones they are, I’m terrified that I won’t be able to stop. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I know it’s not fair to you.”

  “It’s not fair to you. You don’t deserve that kind of pressure.”

  She lets out another breath and takes a seat next to me. That’s a definite improvement. “I do. I’m a monster. I don’t mean in the species way; I mean that I’ve done things that you should not be willing to forgive me for. Because of that, I have to always watch myself and make sure I can be better.”

  Leaning my head against her bicep, I reply in my best therapist voice. “It wasn’t your fault. You were forced into it, and as soon as you gained enough control over yourself, you stopped. I know how much you beat yourself up over it, and I understand why, but you didn’t choose any of this. You did what you had to do to survive, and you ended up with…I don’t know what to call it, a curse?”

  Her answer is only a shrug.

  “You have this curse that is supposed to make you a killing machine. ‘A fiend that can never stop eating.’ Isn’t that how you described it? Tell me, how many other wendigos have managed to stop?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only ever heard of one, and he only lasted a couple weeks.”

  “And how long have you managed?”

  “Two years, as of about five months ago. June twelfth.”

  I give her hand a reassuring squeeze, intertwining our fingers. Looking down, I see how hers dwarf mine, the vicious claws on the end of them, and I still don’t feel the slightest hint of danger. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever known.” I can see her start to reply, but I cut her off. “Yes, you are still a person. You will always be a person. You fought against a hunger that consumes everyone it touches—that was way more poetic than I meant it to be—and after over two years fighting it, you are still here, standing strong. Abigail, there is nothing that could make me afraid of you.”

  “Then I need to be the one to exercise restraint. If you aren’t afraid of someone who could kill and eat you before you could even move, I have to be the one who is. I am terrified of myself, and if you’re not going to attempt self-preservation, I’ll do it for you. I can’t let myself relax for even a second. I can’t have sex with you. Even sleeping with you scares the hell out of me.”

  “Yet I still woke up in one piece.” I look up at her—my terrified, wonderful girlfriend—and smile the most defiant smile I can manage. “You are so much more powerful than your curse, more powerful than the strength of a wendigo.”

  She leaves a wet kiss on the crown of my head. “You might be right.” So she’s really starting to believe me? “But I won’t take the chance. If you need to have sex, I’m okay with you finding it somewhere else. You trust me not to hurt you? Well, I trust you not to hurt me. We made it six years apart without our feelings changing,
so you can sleep with someone else and still love me.”

  “We already discussed this. I don’t want that. I just want you. Even if it means I have to learn to control myself too.”

  Her arms wrap around me, and I feel a tear fall on my head, followed by another. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

  “Of course I am. I love you.” I hold her close, inhaling the now-comforting mixture of dead flesh and floral perfumes.

  “I love you too.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake up to her arm draped around me. I only managed a few hours of sleep; it’s going to take a lot of work getting used to being nocturnal on my weekends. I watch her sleeping. Her chest doesn’t seem to be moving. That really scared me the first night, but at this point, I’m pretty sure she can’t die. She takes up almost the entire bed, and her legs extend a good foot and a half past the end of it. If I’m going to be doing this more often, I need to get a better bed for us. Maybe two queens in a row—that way she’d have some leg room, and I’d have space next to her.

  I shrug out from under her arm and hop into her shower. The cold water helps wake me up and shed some of the lingering images from that dream. I’m a bit sad to let it go. Abby and I had so much fun in it.

  I packed some clothes for work, so I throw them on and give Abby a quick kiss on the cheek as she sleeps. I grab my bag of cupcakes and head out. She made me promise not to leave them here, claiming that she doesn’t like having food in her house. I think she could smell the scone I bought her. I’ll message her when I get to work so she knows I didn’t just run off. She’s still scared of that. Not that I blame her; I’m terrified of losing her again too.

  I arrive at my office at five past nine, and my first client is already waiting. It all seems so humdrum now. There are literal monsters—fiends, I need to work on that—living in this city, dealing with their own problems. Next to them, it’s hard to be invested in someone who’s just worried that their spouse doesn’t really love them. There’s no blood, no curses, no immortality, and they have regular sex.

  I am, however, a professional, and I don’t let my issues show. I talk them all through their problems, help them figure out ways to work through them and discuss why they believe that such-and-such must be the case. If I’m being honest, I think I’m actually a better therapist than I’ve ever been, even if I do feel more detached. The issue that’s been gnawing at me for six years is finally settled. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders, and I can just handle their issues instead. They just seem so human.

  At lunch, I have one of my cupcakes. They’re quite possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. They may actually be magical. It’s like fireworks going off in my mouth. I soon find that all of them are gone, rather than only the one I’d intended, leaving only the human scone. I have to admit, I’m a little tempted. It’s probably not as good anyway; I’ve heard human isn’t too tasty. Then again, Abby said we are.

  See? Why can’t my clients come in saying that they’re trying to decide if it’s worth having another of the most delicious pastries they’ve ever had if there’s a chance it could turn them into a flesh-devouring fiend with an insatiable appetite?

  One client does. Well, almost.

  Dennis looks different. He’s paler, gaunt, his cheekbones are far more prominent, and he looks like he’s lost about fifty pounds when he hadn’t been that big to start with. The big change, though, is the blood smeared around his lips. That’s what really tips me off that he might have changed.

  “I was so wrong before,” he gasps, dropping his umbrella on the floor. It’s not raining; the sun’s out. “I don’t know how I could have thought I was dead. They all must have seen me. They just didn’t care. It makes so much sense. Now though, I am dead, and they do see me, and they care. At least they care when I make them.”

  “And how many people have you made care?” I ask, anger creeping into my tone. Some professional I am. Does silver work on vampires? My dagger is secured to my thigh, under my skirt. It’s the only reason I’m wearing a skirt…well, that and I haven’t had time to do the laundry. I didn’t think I’d actually need it, but once we figured out a way to carry it without being so obvious, Abigail insisted.

  “Just the one so far.” His eyes widen as he sees the look on my face. I’m not afraid; just trying to figure out if I could draw the dagger before he bites me. “Don’t be scared. I would never hurt you. You’re the one person I can trust.”

  “I’m not scared. I don’t think you should be eating people.”

  “What’s one human? I’ll live a thousand lives, and they’ll be a drop in the bucket. I thought being dead was so horrible, but now that it’s real. It’s freeing.”

  “I hear there’s a good art class that you might want to check out.”

  His expression shifts, the mad look of victory and satisfaction fading into confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “My girlfriend takes a class, and she says it’s mostly vampires. Maybe you should check it out. Have you been to the Community Center yet?”

  He grows all the more confused, squinting at me. He must think I’ve lost it.

  “Someone turned you and didn’t bother to teach you anything about the world?”

  “You’re alive. What do you know?” Leaning forward, looking ready to pounce, he bares his fangs, still red from the blood of his last victim.

  Great job. Piss off the vampire with Abigail a good fifty miles away out in Hamilton. “I think I have a group that’d be really good for you. There are no humans allowed, so you don’t have to worry about any of us living people telling you what to do.”

  The confusion grows to anxiety, overwhelming the anger. I know something that I shouldn’t, and he doesn’t know something he should. “What kind of group?”

  “It’s a group where people like you get together and work to be more than the stereotypes that myths claim you are. They teach you to not need to eat people, to learn to cope with your urges without hurting others. I know it’s satisfying to make people notice you, but if you go to that group, you won’t have people afraid of you. You’ll have a family that cares about you.”

  His foot taps a discordant rhythm on my floor at superhuman speed. The sound is very unnerving. “Where is it?”

  “I’ll give you directions. It’s at the old Honeydale Mall. Will you go? At least for one session. That’s your homework this week.”

  He bites his lip, the fangs drawing blackened blood. He is definitely not used to his body yet. “Okay. I guess I can do that, but I’m not promising to make any changes.”

  “Of course. That’s all I can ask.” I write down directions. Abby hadn’t told me all of the specifics but enough that he should be able to find it. “They meet every Wednesday at midnight.” I hope she won’t object to my sending someone there.

  “Thanks.” He takes the paper from me. I don’t even flinch when he travels half the room in the blink of an eye. He groans audibly. Sorry, I’m already used to it from Abby.

  I’d been wondering something. I need to know. “How did he turn you? Or she.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What was the process like? Was it painful? Do you remember all of it?”

  He swallows, wiping at his face and further smearing the blood. “I don’t know. I remember him biting me, and when I was almost drained, he let me go. It finally hit me that I was really alive, and now I was dying. It was such a strange time to finally understand. I’d spent so long living a lie, and when I finally learned the truth, it was taken away from me.”

  “But you didn’t die.”

  “I did. He slit his own wrist with one of his nails, and as the darkness closed in, he gave me a drink. It was the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. I’ve been craving it ever since. That woman’s wasn’t even close.”

  “Interesting. I’ve heard a similar story. I guess your first taste is always the best.” Or second? She did eat her mom first.


  He stares. I think he’d been hoping that I’d be a lot more confused. Instead, I knew more than him, and I was acting like it. “Why aren’t you scared of me? Everyone else is scared of me.”

  “Because you’re not a monster. You’ll always be a person, Dennis, alive or dead, and I don’t have anything to fear from you.”

  “I could kill you. I could bite your throat and end your life.”

  I sit up straight, my neck readily accessible. He is so much less intimidating than Abigail. “Maybe you could, but I don’t see any reason you’d want to.”

  He leans forward, and for a second, I think he might lunge, but he stomps his foot and is suddenly sitting on the couch again. “If you knew about this stuff, why didn’t you tell me about it when I thought I was dead?”

  “Would you have believed me?” I didn’t know, but he needs to think that I know what I’m talking about, and five days’ worth of knowledge isn’t too impressive. If I seem like I’m as new to this as he is, he might not go to that group, and he might keep hurting people.

  “I don’t know,” he mutters, resting his ankle on his knee as he bounces his foot up and down. It’s like he’s a kid again. I wonder if that’s part of the transformation or if he just has so much energy from having just eaten someone.

  “Well, you know now. The people there will help you, I promise.” I really hope there’s not a dead body outside. “I’m proud of you, Dennis.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re finally ready to start making changes in your life.” There we go. That proud look on his face, as if he was given a gold star on an exam. I’m pretty sure he’s going to go to Abby’s group.

  Once he leaves, I drop the bravado and let out a shaky breath. Maybe I was a little scared. Only because I didn’t have a stake. Why is everyone I interact with an undead fiend capable of ripping me apart before I can even move? Even weirder, why do I seem to prefer it that way?