by Rick R. Reed
She nudges her shoulder against the door’s aluminum frame. She has mighty strength in her body, like coiled steel, and she knows she can break down the door if she has to. But she hopes, perversely, that she will be able to rely on the stupidity of her prey. If he were only smart enough to not open doors, perhaps she would not have to be here tonight. No, she could be off with her brothers, in the snow of the Cascades, searching for more vulnerable and less conspicuous prey.
She rams herself against the door, feeling it give a little under her weight and the power of her muscles. The dog inside at last whimpers, and she hears the click of its claws as it scampers away.
THAD FLATTENED himself against the headboard as Edith gave a final desperate wail and scurried under the bed. He listened as she growled. What was out there?
Domenic, as far as Thad knew, was dead, buried in rocky soil on some hillside in Sicily. Sam, he was sure, would never threaten him. And he’d told Thad that the rest of the family never took human lives when they changed.
So what was outside, then? Was it an ordinary murderer? Robber? Psycho? Were these things any less frightening? He tried to swallow and found his throat was dry. His heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest, pounding at what seemed like three times its normal rate.
Think, Thad, think.
He eyed his cell phone, lying on the nightstand. Tentatively he picked it up and pressed the first nine, which illuminated the little keyboard. He dialed in one and then another one. When the dispatcher answered, he couldn’t say anything at first, then managed to whisper, “Someone’s trying to break into my apartment.”
“Sir? Sir, can you tell me where you are?”
Robotically, Thad managed to get out his address and his name. “Hurry!” he squeaked as he saw the door separate from its frame.
“Just stay with me, sir. We’ll get someone over to you ASAP.”
Thad dropped the phone on the bed, wishing there weren’t so many shoes, boxes, and porno DVDs beneath the bed so he could fit himself under there with Edith. He wished suddenly for a back door or even a window out of which he could throw himself.
But he sat paralyzed on the bed, watching the door separate farther and farther from its frame. He could hear the almost tinny squawk of the 911 dispatcher as she talked to him from the phone lying atop the sheets. What could he do? He was helpless. He could only pray the cops would get there soon enough.
But they were God knew where, and this thing trying to break into his apartment was right here and right now. The police could take long minutes to get there, time Thad might not have to spare.
The door finally gave way, and Thad stuffed a fist into his mouth, understanding for the first time what it felt like to be too terrified to scream.
A large, hulking black wolf—larger than Thad had ever seen or imagined—stood framed in the doorway, illuminated in silver by the light of the moon. Steam rose from its nostrils. Its mouth was open and drooling.
Thad’s heart pounded so hard he thought it would explode inside his chest. He wanted to scream, but all he could manage was a desperate panting. He wanted to move but felt frozen, like a bug pinned to a board.
The wolf stared at him, its eyes amber and ablaze. Thad knew right at that moment they both were aware of the same thing: it would take only one leap from the wolf’s muscular back legs for it to fly across the room and land on the bed with Thad. And then how long would it take for the thing to rip his throat out? Seconds? Was this how it would all end?
The two stared at one another for a long time, neither moving. And then the wolf hunched down on its powerful haunches and leaped—just like Thad’s nightmarish imagination had shown him only moments before—across the room. Thad felt the thud of it landing on the bed, then found himself flattened on his back, staring up into feral eyes he once thought could only be countenanced in hell. The wolf’s fangs were impossibly huge and looked razor sharp.
Thad curled onto his side, drawing his legs up to his chest, his only coherent thought a prayer that things be over quickly, that it not hurt too much. Eyes squeezed shut, he could still smell the animal’s fetid breath and feel the heat radiating from its body. He whimpered.
And then everything changed. He heard a scuffle as something else entered the room. The bed weighed down once more, and then all the weight shifted off it. Growls, whines, and whimpers filled his ears. Thad opened his eyes only slightly to take in the specter of two wolves in his tiny studio now, hulking black twins facing one another in a stance Thad could only interpret as confrontational. A low growl, almost like an electrical hum, issued forth from each animal, from deep within their chests. When they weren’t growling, they drew their lips back, exposing razor-sharp fangs. They restlessly pawed the floor, circling one another.
This has to be a dream. Too much has gone on in the past few months. My subconscious is simply overloaded. These nightmare images are spilling out, playing for me like the most terrifying horror movie I have ever seen. This isn’t real. This is not real.
But as much as Thad told himself these things, he knew it wasn’t so. The hallmarks of reality were there before him. Dreams could seem real, but they never seemed so real that they were indistinguishable from the fabric of real life. Not for Thad, anyway. He scooted back so he was flattened against the wall. For the first time in probably twenty years, he stuffed his thumb in his mouth, only dimly aware he was doing it.
He prayed the beasts would tear each other apart… and leave him the hell alone.
God, or whatever higher power kept watch, must have heard Thad, because one of the wolves leaped upon the other, snarling, its iron jaws clamping down into the other wolf’s neck. The pair scuffled, rolling around, jaws snapping, letting out the occasional yelp. First one was on top, then the other. Fur flew. The smell of sweat and raw animal filled the air, like terror made into a bizarre perfume. Mixed in with the yelps, snarls, growls, barks, and howls of agony, he heard the sound of distant sirens.
Thank God. I am—I think, I hope, I pray—going to make it out of this night alive.
Speaking of the night, Thad noticed a subtle lightening outside. The sky had gone from pitch black to an almost formless gray. With that reckoning Thad sat up as one of the wolves let out a piercing wail, more akin to a human scream than anything animal, and slumped to the floor.
The other wolf stood over it, blood dripping from its fangs. It raised its head and howled, long and mournful.
Then it ran from the room.
The noise of the sirens became deafening.
How am I going to explain a giant dead wolf in the middle of my apartment? The sound of official vehicles screeching to a halt in front of his small apartment complex was near deafening. Thad rushed to leap from the bed to pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt. Edith poked her head out from beneath the bed, nose upraised to smell the coppery tang of blood in the air. He scooped her up and then cradled her close.
In the few seconds it took for Thad to dress, everything changed. The sky brightened more, into that inescapable start known as dusk.
And the wolf faded away.
In its place Graziela lay. Her nude body stretched out, black hair a fan behind her, dark eyes staring up at a vision only she could see.
Her throat was a jagged tear from which blood now slowly trickled. The rising sun revealed blood splatters on the wall and all over Thad’s furniture.
Like hoofbeats, the footsteps of cops and paramedics thundered up the front walk.
Chapter 21
“IT WAS you, wasn’t it?”
Sam eyed him from across the table. His heavy brow was furrowed, and his reddened eyes displayed his remorse and anguish unmistakably… in crimson. The way he slumped in his chair told a tale of despair better than the few words he had uttered since sitting down with Thad only a half hour or so ago.
They had the Blue Moon Café to themselves this early afternoon. Sam had closed the place, and what remained of his family was sequestered in the apartment adjacent t
o the restaurant—in mourning.
The Seattle police had hauled Thad into the precinct, questioned, and not quite cleared him of any suspicion in the death of Graziela Lupino.
Thad hadn’t even bothered trying to tell a tale of gigantic wolves wrestling in his studio apartment. He simply told them that a man had broken in—the signs of forced entry were all too apparent—and that Graziela was with the man. The pair quarreled, and it ended violently. Thad didn’t know why they had chosen his home to break in to nor why they had chosen him to be a witness to their carnage. Perhaps, he suggested at one point, because Graziela knew him, she had run to his place to be saved. Exhausted and terrified, it was the best story he could come up with at the time.
He wondered if anyone could think of a more plausible explanation. He knew he faced more questions down the road, and the chance that the crime could be made to fit him. He also knew that without any other leads, he might begin to look more and more like a promising suspect, which was only one of the many reasons that, once released, the first person he’d come to see was Sam.
He repeated his question. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Sam nodded. “Of course it was me. I knew my sister. Knew how much she loved Domenic and how much she blamed me—and what I am—for what happened to him. For her loss. Because she saw it as her loss more than anyone else’s.
“I knew she would come to you. She would look for someone to blame. I hoped she wouldn’t harm you, but I was sure, deep down, that she would try. That’s why, when the moon was full, I followed her.”
Sam lowered his head and let out a strangled sob. He angrily wiped at the tears, sniffed, and raised his head. “She did everything I expected her to do. I let her go as far as she did only because I hoped she might have a little remorse, show she had a conscience, even in the state she was in. I wanted my sister to know right from wrong. I wanted my sister….” Sam let out a cry of despair. “I wanted my sister not to kill the man I love.”
Thad reached across the table and covered Sam’s trembling hands with his own. “I can’t imagine what you feel, sweetheart. I can’t imagine the place you must have been in.”
“I had to protect you. And there was only one way….” Sam’s voice trailed off, and he stared outside at the gray, drizzly day.
Thad had trouble wrapping his mind around the enormity of it. Sam had killed his sister to save him. His sister. He had just lost his son. Never mind that both were homicidal and perhaps inherently evil. They were his flesh and blood. And their otherness probably made their bonds to one another even stronger than the bonds in an ordinary family. He wondered how Sam could go on.
And he had another concern too. He felt selfish and callous for even thinking of it, but he supposed this was where self-preservation stepped in. Thad was free now, but how long would it be before that changed, before he viewed the world from behind bars? His confusion, grief, and genuine shock had made the detectives who interviewed him take his implausible story somewhat seriously. But how long would it be until they said to themselves “This guy had to have been the killer. Even if he had none of the victim’s blood on him, he had to be involved. Ain’t no other way it could happen.”
Thad loved Sam and loved what he had done for him, the sacrifice he had made for him. But did he love him enough to take the fall for him? A fall that would effectively cut short his young life?
Maybe. Sam had sacrificed for him. Thad could sacrifice for Sam.
But he didn’t know if he could be that generous. He had to say the words. “My love, I don’t know how to put this…. There’s a very real chance I could be blamed for what happened to Graziela. I could be put away… forever. It happened in my house, right in front of me. As far as the police knew, there was no one else around. My story is full of holes.” Thad covered his face with his hands, then dropped them to Sam, his eyes shimmering with tears. “What are we gonna do?”
“Would you be willing to leave all you know behind?” Sam had never looked more serious.
“What do you mean?” Even though he had asked the question, Thad felt he already knew the answer.
“Before I answer that question, let me ask you one more. And it’s important. Do you think what I did was wrong?” Sam sat back, locking gazes with Thad.
Graziela would have killed Thad if Sam had not stopped her. He didn’t think there were any other alternatives or half measures that would have worked. Sam had acted purely in Thad’s defense, at great and unimaginable loss to himself. Thad shook his head, sorrowful. “No, of course I don’t. You saved me. We both know she would have killed me if you hadn’t been there. If I could have killed her myself, I would have. But she was too strong for me.”
“You are right. So I must ask you again. Are you willing to leave all you know behind?”
Thad cocked his head as if he pondered the question, but he knew what Sam was asking. Could he leave everything behind? Seattle? His family in Chicago? Jared? There was a certain mad appeal to running off with Sam, to creating a whole new life for himself with the man he loved. But this seemed to Thad a once-in-a-lifetime decision. There could be no turning back. If he ran away with Sam and things cooled after a while, or if Sam’s full-moon habits became too strange for even him, Thad would be alone in a strange country, where he didn’t even know the language.
“I know what you’re thinking, Sam. And part of me wants to grab you and hold you and shout yes, yes, yes! But even with all that’s happened, even with all the love I feel for you—and it’s a lot—I don’t know. I don’t know if I can just vanish from this life. My life. I don’t know if I can leave the people I love behind. I worry too the police might view me leaving the country as very suspicious.” Thad’s head drooped. “I don’t know if I love you that much.”
He looked up at Sam then, afraid he would be angry, but saw only compassion in the man’s features.
“Maybe,” Sam whispered, “we talk too much.” He stood, walked over to Thad, stooped, and gathered a surprised Thad into his arms, as if Thad were nothing more than a small child. The pair walked wordlessly toward the back.
Sam headed straight for his bedroom. He set Thad gently on the unmade bed, closed and locked the door, and drew the shades against the dull gray light outside. Thad watched as Sam undressed, exposing the perfectly sculpted chest dusted with coarse black hair, the cobbled stomach, and when he removed his pants, the massive thighs… in the center of which Sam’s manhood jutted, already erect and dripping precum. Thad gasped, lay back, and struggled quickly out of his own clothes.
They came together like a collision, like a silken explosion. Sam’s mouth and tongue found Thad’s and practically devoured him, his hunger undeniable. At the same time, Sam positioned himself between Thad’s spread thighs and slid slowly inside. It hurt, but Thad would not, could not have stopped him for anything. In only moments the pain gave way to delirious pleasure, and Thad found himself bucking to meet Sam’s frantic, starving thrusts. Their mouths never unlocked. And it was over in minutes. It wasn’t until they lay in each other’s arms that Thad realized cum was not the only bodily fluid covering them.
There were tears too.
Thad stroked the hair on Sam’s chest, burying his fingers in it. How could he say good-bye to this?
How could he not?
And so, as the light faded in the room, Thad began to tell Sam of his decision… and his plan.
“I love you. I think I always will. But I can’t give myself, my life, up for you. Perhaps one day this… this tragedy will all blow over. You can come back. And we will see where we stand then.”
Sam didn’t look at him. He stared up at the ceiling. “Don’t. Don’t do this. I have lost so much.”
“You have, but it’s not just about you, sweetheart. It’s about both of us. And our differences are great. Who’s to say that once the passion wears off—and it always does, except in fairy tales or romance novels—those differences won’t set us farther apart? And then where will we be?”
Stubbornly Sam said, “I will make you happy. I will work every day to make you happy.”
“I know you will. And I would do the same.” Thad sighed, rolling over on his side, facing away from Sam. “I just can’t do this. Not like this. Not in the heat of this despair and passion. I need a level head. I need my family too. You should understand that.”
This last line must have gotten to Sam because he said sadly, “I know. I ask too much.”
The room continued to darken as they lay in silence. There really were no more words to be spoken. After what seemed like a very long time, Sam began talking again. “I have to leave, though. I must go home.”
“I know. I understand.”
Sam let out a long, trembling sigh that foretold tears. He took in several quick breaths. “But I will not—as they say—throw you to the wolves.”
Surprisingly, both laughed, and not just for a short time. When they had calmed down, Sam continued. “I will leave soon—today. But you must not take the blame for what I had to do. We both agree it wasn’t wrong, but other forces won’t see it that way. You must go to the authorities and tell them I killed my sister.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Because you will be blamed. We both know. Most likely they are already building a case against you.”
Thad silently conceded the point.
“You tell them I did it. You tell them the truth. That Graziela came to kill you and I stepped in to defend you. The fact that she was naked could be explained away by the fact that she wanted to keep her clothes free of blood. You don’t have to tell about our other selves.” Sam was quiet for a while. He added, “My blood is there as well—at the, how do you say it, scene of the crime.”
“What if they don’t believe me?” That very real fear caused Thad’s pulse to quicken.
“Don’t you watch CSI? Bones?”
Thad laughed. The question seemed so out in left field. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“There are people, experts, I forget what they’re called. I do not know the name in English. They find evidence, process it.”