Seven Kinds of Hell

by Dana Cameron

  It’s kind of like Bluebeard’s wives. Maybe if I hadn’t peeked, we would still be happy. But when I saw the clothes he washed, with bloodstains that wouldn’t come out, I had to find out what he was doing.

  I followed him one night. He joined up with some men, none of who I recognized, but he called them “brother” and “cousin.” Somehow I was able to avoid them seeing me, and I’m glad. I lost them for a few hours, but when I saw them later, it was horrible.

  The last couple of times, I followed him with a camera. The pictures I left you? That’s their handiwork. Best I can figure, they were some kind of mob enforcers. My thought was I could use the photos as evidence against them if I had to, but all I wanted was to get away from this man I loved who seemed to have two lives and monstrous habits.

  Why didn’t I just go as soon as I knew? I was confused. I hate to admit it, but I got a kind of rush the first time I saw the mess that your father and his friends made. It took me a while to figure out it was just seeing the forbidden, or shock or something, but I knew I couldn’t have a baby and let those feelings lead me to places I knew were wrong. I might have occasionally heard voices, but I knew right from wrong. Murder wasn’t right.

  So I chose you. And I left.

  You need to know, he’s gone now, but he was always good to me. Whatever else he was, he never raised a hand or even his voice to me. I trusted him as long as I did for good reasons. Doesn’t mean I ever want you to run into his family.

  That’s why we were always on the run. I didn’t want them to find out about you, and I didn’t want them to find us. Hard, to keep dragging you around, but better than the alternative, I think.

  Zoe, I hope you’ll understand a little, as far as I’ve been able to tell you, why I did the things we did. You don’t want to burden a child with too much, but you’re grown, and maybe you can settle someplace and do a little better by your own kids. I don’t think they’ll be able to find you. I was careful, and you’ve probably guessed by now, Miller’s not really your last name either. It’s a nice name, though, one I took from good folks I met along my way. You should know that much, anyway; there’s not much more I can tell you.

  Remember what I said at the beginning of this? It’s the same now, and always: I love you, Zoe.

  Your Ma

  I put the letter down carefully. It sounded like “Ma-at-home,” not “Ma-at-the-university,” when she’d finally been able to start taking college classes herself; it was comforting, and the professional analyst in me speculated that the intimacy of the language implied truth as well. The contents explained a lot, but opened up more mysteries. All I’d ever wanted was to have a normal life, in one place, for more than a year or two. Now I understood what drove Ma, and it helped, maybe just a little, to know she worried about being nuts, too.

  She was wrong, though. My father’s people had found me. I didn’t share his last name—I guess now I didn’t even know what his name was—and yet they’d found me.

  I began to consider the facts of the letter, began to wonder about the asylum, and wondered whether it was still full of people who might be like me. Were the ones in charge of the asylum coming after me? How many of us were there, and who knew about us?

  Maybe Ma had never turned into a Beast in front of me, but I began to suspect both of my parents must have had something crazy going on, genetically speaking. I didn’t know much about biology, but it seemed to me you’d need both parents to contribute something to a Beastly child; otherwise, we’d all be monsters.

  I pulled out the one picture I had of my dad and stared at it. It was the only way I knew him; the paper was blurry and creased, a candid taken in a lighthearted moment, with him backing away from my mother’s camera, his hands up in mock protest, bad eighties hair with a flop of bangs. Green eyes, like mine. Maybe I was imagining it, but his head was tilted in a way I found familiar from the mirror. I wanted to think they’d been happy.

  Didn’t matter. I didn’t even know if he was dead or alive now. Maybe I’d share this with Danny, and maybe we could do some Internet research, just to see if anything popped up.

  I glanced at the little yellow pencil box Ma had kept at Sean’s place, but was too tired for more ancient history. I wasn’t ready to expose the meagerness of my early memories. I spared one thought, wondering whether Sean had let Will know I’d popped up again, before I fell asleep.

  Next morning, I got up early. I wanted to sneak out and pick up a few things and be on the road after breakfast. I regretted staying the night, though I hadn’t slept so well in ages. I just didn’t want to draw the monsters to Danny. I’d had a lucky break last night in the cemetery. Had they abandoned me, acting on the impulse I’d also experienced?

  I was dressed and found my way to the living room. Sean was awake and dressed, sitting on the couch flicking through the local news channels.

  “Anything from yesterday?” I asked.

  He shook his head. He noticed I was dressed and had my bag. “Where are you off to?”

  “I need to get a few things.”

  Something in the way I said it must have tipped him off. Sean’s face darkened, and he reached for his wallet. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Honestly, Sean. I’m just going to find an ATM and a drugstore. I’m not going to take off without saying good-bye.”

  Though I had considered it.

  “Well, I could use the walk, and you could use the protection.”

  “From what?”

  “From guys like the ones we found in the cemetery last night. From the guys you jumped out a window to avoid.”

  I grinned. “You make it sound so bad.”

  But Sean wasn’t buying my attempt at levity. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Keep it down, then. Danny’s sleeping in and gonna work from home today.”

  “We’ll bring him coffee.”

  I found a CVS and bought panties and a toothbrush—I realized my toothbrush was still in the bathroom in Salem and I hadn’t had time to do laundry. I love pharmacies that are open twenty-four hours; you can get almost anything there. Ma always said you were ready for anything if you had a pair of clean knickers, a toothbrush, and your passport. I did have my passport, from two years ago, when we drove up to Nova Scotia in an attempt to distract me from Will.

  Purchases made, I got Sean away from the motor sports magazines and we grabbed some coffee before heading back to Danny’s apartment.

  We were crossing a lot that was between teardown and rebuild when I stopped.

  “Something’s wrong,” I said, a prickling growing at the base of my skull.

  “Zoe, relax. It’s a vacant lot.” He was right; I couldn’t see anyone. “And who’s going to bother you with me around?”

  He might have had a point if we’d been dealing with anyone but…them. Not that he didn’t enjoy trouble, the getting-into and the getting-out-of, but most troublemakers would take one look at his size and I’ve-got-nothing-to-lose demeanor and decide it wasn’t worth the effort.

  My bad feeling persisted and grew, however, until finally I wasn’t sure I could go any farther. Every part of me hummed with a warning so bad, I was reminded of the time outside the cinema. Then the really bad time.

  I didn’t want any repeat of that. Definitely not in front of Sean. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

  “Zoe, I don’t think—”

  Too late.

  A sensation washed over me, telling me the Beast was near. Irretrievably, irrevocably, irresponsibly here, in an urban center, in broad daylight.

  “Sean.” My mouth could barely form human words as I found myself being sucked under the onrushing current of Beastliness. Never mind him not seeing me; I couldn’t afford to bite Sean. He’d be a terrible werewolf.

  A growl. “Run.”

  And then it was too late again.

  Chapter 5

  Four figures came from the shadows of the construction trailer, three men and a woman. At least, I thought it was three me
n; one of them had a snake head. Scales, fangs, pinpoint nostrils, wide eyes…Hugo Boss suit.

  Sleestack? Silurian Lizard Man? He wasn’t the one in the cemetery…he’s new, he means business, something’s changed…they’re not asking me, cajoling me, anymore.

  Then the Beast was on me in all its glory and violence. I let it wash over me for two splendid seconds.

  Enough of these ambushes. I dropped the coffee with a wet splat. Enough of these surprises. Let’s end this now.

  I turned, snarled at Sean (get going!) and launched myself at the nearest figure. Snake-man dodged me, incredibly fast, held his hands up. I don’t want to fight.

  Tough luck, buddy. I do.

  I leaped again, then zigged when they were expecting a zag. Pinned one down, and then—I wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

  He wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t cowering. He didn’t even flinch. I expected him to transform himself—the smell of the Beast was all over these guys, a heady perfume from deep within—but he didn’t.

  I knew these were dangerous people, but like the dog chasing the car, now that I’d finally caught one, I didn’t know what to do with it.

  If I were human, I could ask questions. With the Beast, I could intimidate most people. But if he refused to be scared, and I couldn’t interrogate him, how could I get anywhere?

  So I bit him. Hard. He was already a werewolf, or a weresnake, or whatever. It wasn’t going to be like I did it to him.

  That got a reaction. I felt a surge of Beastliness roll over him (it felt good, it felt right), and being on top of him, in contact with his bare skin, was like a chemical reaction, sizzling and popping. I yelped and dodged away.

  Risking a quick glance, I saw no sign of Sean. Good, he got himself gone. I could explain, maybe, later. Burn that bridge when we came to it.

  Snake-man was talking to me. Actually, now in place of the humans, there were two snake-men, a wolf-man, and a wolf-woman.

  Holy Anubis, Batman.

  I shook my head. I’d seen this in the cemetery, but with the rain, even with my good eyesight…I’d just been in denial. This was daylight and I was definitely awake.

  He was a snake, with large eyes, scales instead of hair, and fangs. A snake, but lizardy, walking on two feet.

  “…And I don’t know what you’ve been told, or what you’ve learned about yourself, but we can help, Zoe. Family, understanding. A history. You don’t need to be alone, if you trust me—”

  I could have listened to his voice all day long. As a matter of fact, I had to shake myself. It was like I was about to fall asleep, but suddenly I found I was nearly five feet closer to him than I had been. That wasn’t right; I didn’t even remember doing it. I whined, shook my head, backed off.

  Suddenly there was a snake-man missing.

  An unearthly scream from somewhere down the path we’d come.

  A man’s scream.

  Sean.

  I was still backing off, getting ready to run toward the scream, when the others melted into the shadows. Not waiting to find out what they might be hatching, I turned and bolted.

  Directly behind me, I saw two people, a young man and woman, walking toward us.

  Damn it. It was still early, but none of us could afford to be seen by anyone.

  I hit the shadows, ran like the devil. Maybe I was the devil, maybe I was the devil’s daughter, but that didn’t mean I’d abandon Sean.

  Sean sat in the middle of the Cambridge side street, alone and dazed, as if he’d had too much sun or too much to drink. He looked OK…then I saw it.

  Sean had two red marks on his neck. They were already fading, but I leaned in and sniffed hard: the smell of the fleeing snake-man was all over him. It was like…it took me a minute to decide, my Beastly brain familiar with an encyclopedia of smells, but not having the words to describe them. Definitely not like the reptile room at the zoo. More like…clean things. Grapefruit, lavender, rubbing alcohol…not those smells, exactly, but those…feelings.

  I stumbled, bare feet under me now, staggering to keep balance as my hands/paws left the ground. The Beast was leaving me, and I was becoming human again, but in the wrong position in my clothes. I hoicked up my panties, wrangled my bra, and adjusted my shirt as soon as I had something like hands. I still had sharp claws and barely managed to escape tearing my clothes beyond repair.

  It occurred to me how odd I must have looked: a small black wolf in a white shirt, black skirt, and denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves.

  My shoes. My bag. Still back in the middle of the lot where the Beast had found me.

  Shit.

  Making sure Sean was OK, woozy but otherwise unharmed, I ran back, cursing the uneven asphalt and pebbles and glass beneath my naked, human feet.

  Shit encore. The two strangers were still there. Right next to my bag. The guy stooped down to examine it.

  I ran faster. “Hey, that’s mine!”

  He straightened; they both looked toward me. I felt foolish, barefoot and childish, as I approached them. He was broad, dark, and tall, probably had been a football player, with that easygoing, entitled corn-fed look. He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He’d never had to work for anything. I just knew it.

  Immediately, I didn’t like him.

  She reminded me of too many school principals who’d called me down. With her jeans and the little twinset, I knew for a fact that this was as casual as she ever got. This one never let her hair down, and as if to prove the figurative point, the knot of her chignon was one crank off “amateur face lift.” I don’t know why, but somehow I trusted her more. Women need to work for what they get in this world. If Ma hadn’t caught that lucky break, with her friend recommending her for the senior administrative job, I never would have gone to BU.

  “I was just checking to see if there was some ID in it,” the guy said, holding his hands up.

  “Yeah, sorry. Things got weird with some guys, and I ditched my shoes in case I had to fight—er, run,” I said. “Which I did. Thanks. I guess you scared them off.”

  “I’ll call the police,” she said, reaching into her bag.

  “We could,” I said slowly, “but what would I tell them? Some guys hassled me, I dropped my bag and ran off, then they were gone? I doubt the cops would be able to do anything; I barely saw them.” I slipped into my shoes, snagged my bag. “Thanks, though. I’m really glad you showed up when you did.”

  “No problem,” the guy said. “I’m Gerry Steuben, by the way. This is my sister, Claudia Steuben.”

  “Zoe.” We shook hands, and I tried not to look nervous. In my experience, siblings don’t hang out together, wandering around abandoned construction sites, unless either they’re actually not siblings but swingers looking for playmates. Or maybe Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  “I’d feel better, though,” Claudia said, giving her brother a glance, “if you let us walk with you back to civilization.”

  “OK. My friend…is kind of winded. He’s over—” I nodded my head in the right direction, and we set out. I brushed a few coarse hairs from my skirt. “So what were you all doing down here?”

  “Real estate,” she said promptly. “Friend of ours is looking to buy. We said we’d check out the state of things. You?”

  She was lying. I knew it instantly. “I got lost.”

  “Zoe, I really think we should—”

  “Claud, she already said she didn’t want us to call the police.” Gerry stepped all over whatever she was going to say and gave her a pointed look. “Let’s respect that, shall we?”

  Shall we? OMG, the guy really was some kind of banker or real estate agent. I would have been happier with swingers or Witnesses. My unlove of authority and status was showing.

  We found Sean, who seemed clearer headed now, but still not too with it. He was smiling beatifically, and if I hadn’t been worried about him being concussed, I would have assumed he was high. Of course, with Sean’s good sense, he might well have sparked up while I was gone. I snif
fed. No sign of smoke.

  “And who are these, then?” Sean clapped his hands together and rubbed them expectantly. “I’m about ready for breakfast, Zoe. How about you?”

  I stared at him. No questions about the attack, nothing about me turning into the Girl Who Bays at the Moon. Not a damned thing but that dopey smile and too-innocent eyes.

  Which was reason enough to be suspicious, but I can usually read Sean pretty well—remember, no poker face? At the moment, there was nothing going on. No one at home.

  I made some introductions, and was making excuses about getting Sean home when Claudia said, “Look, I’m a doctor. Let me have a quick look at him. That way, you can decide whether to stop at the emergency room.”

  I gave her a look. A doctor? Then what about the real estate?

  “Look at me, check me out, examine me, my darling!” Sean did a passable two-step. He grabbed Claudia and whirled her around. I was surprised; she managed to stay upright, feet unscathed, even laughing before she gently disengaged herself from the maniac.

  “All right, simmer down. Follow my finger.” She held up an index finger, moved it left, right, up, down. “You know the date, right?”

  “Wednesday. June eighth,” he said. “Or maybe the ninth.”

  “That’s as close as he ever gets,” I said. I really wanted to ditch these two, but Gerry stepped in.

  “I wouldn’t mind an iced coffee or something,” he said. “It’s warm out here.”

  Claudia said, “C’mon.”

  I felt something—instinct?—nudging me. I resigned myself to another half hour with these guys. I hated the idea; Sean might snap out of it and start asking odd, unpleasant questions about me turning into a wolf at any minute.

  “No, I don’t see any worrying signs,” Claudia said finally. “Perhaps a slight inclination to overindulge in stimulants?” She made it a question, giving me a chance to roll my eyes. Sure, Sean was high. Whatever; she wasn’t much of a doctor if she didn’t know the smell of dope, or the lack thereof. That story gave me a lot of cover, anyway, and as long as he didn’t start talking, we’d be fine.