Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (29 page)

BOOK: Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men
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“I can get them to leave. Just let me try.”

“It won’t work. You’ll just bring your uncle here looking for you.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to kill you either way. So you can write the letter and trust me, or you can
not
write the letter and know that the boy and your uncle will both die a horrible death. Oh, and then I’ll kill your auntie, too. And yes... your cousins... and that stray dog that you always give your scraps to. I’ll kill that little dog just for you, Vanessa.” He chuckled a little. “Or, you know... you could write the goddamn letter.”

I started to cry.

And then I wrote the letter.

I packed a couple suitcases while Quinn watched; I came so close to convincing myself that I really was going on a trip, to somewhere that didn’t involve a shallow grave under The Wolfman’s trailer.

Once everything was ready I tried to feel relieved. I had to believe that I was keeping my family alive.

I heard a knock on the door. I wondered if it was even possible that someone had come to save me.

“Ask who it is,” Quinn said in a whisper.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Conan,” someone answered.

I didn’t know any Conans.

Quinn smiled and walked over to the door. And then he unlocked it.

The pervy kid stepped inside the camper.

“You need to go,” I said. “Please... get out of here.”

“I’m good,” the kid said. “I want to see this.”

“She’s all packed,” Quinn said.

The kid grinned, his fangs and his pair of long black gloves shining in the orange light of the camper. “Sounds good, Dad. I brought the tape.”

They’d wrapped my wrists behind my back and taped my ankles together, lying me down on the floor. They’d stuffed a hand towel in my mouth and wrapped three or four layers of duct tape right around my head.

They worked together like a team, and once they were done they took off their gloves and looked me over like I was a prize chicken.

It still seemed odd that they’d be related. I’d never thought of The Wolfman having a son, and even if I’d pictured his kid I would have imagined a tough kid from Brooklyn who was at least three inches taller and could grow a decent moustache.

“This is how it’s done,” Quinn said to his boy. “If you take your time and do it right, everything will work out.”

“I know,” the kid said. “You’ve told me this like a million times before.”

“But you don’t listen, Conan. You just run around scratching at girls in the woods. You don’t even finish the job.”

“I didn’t want those girls to die. I didn’t even mean to hurt them.”

“Well you did kill them. I couldn’t let them run off to the police and tell them about you. Some weird kid grasping at titties in the woods... this isn’t the life I wanted for you.”

“I know... I’m sorry, Dad.”

“It’s a start. Now let’s get it done.”

The kid nodded as he pulled off another long strip of tape. He wrapped it around my head again, but instead of covering my mouth one more time, he brought it right over my nose. And then he stuck his fingers in my nostrils, sealing them up completely.

“Do another one,” Quinn said.

So the kid did.

I waited for a moment, wondering what would happen. I couldn’t draw any air in through my nose or my mouth. And I wasn’t in the water. My ocean goddess and my gills couldn’t breathe on land.

I started to struggle, rubbing my face against the linoleum, trying to catch the tape somehow.

“She’s suffocating,” the kid said.

“I know,” Quinn said. “Looks good.”

“No... she can’t die like this.”

“I know.”

That was the moment I passed out.

I woke up in the water, upside down. I could feel the tug of weights on my wrists, along something pulling me from above. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were suspending me by a line in my own dive tank. Like a stuffed-mouthed bass they’d reeled in and wanted to keep fresh.

With the weights against my wrists, I knew that once they cut the line I’d be on my way to the bottom.

But I still had my goddess within me; I was breathing through her. The blood hadn’t made her fight, but she hadn’t left me, either.

Quinn and his son knew what I was. They were toying with me. They’d wanted to see it first-hand.

So they left me there, for at least ten minutes, before they pulled me back up.

“You’re amazing,” the kid said. With his heavy black gloves on again, he unwrapped the duct tape that covered my mouth.

“You won’t scream,” Quinn said. “You know better.”

I nodded.

The kid carefully pulled the towel from my mouth. I wondered why he was so worried about being gentle all of a sudden.

“What if I told you that we’d be willing to let you go?” Quinn asked.

I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Do you want to live, Vanessa?” Quinn asked.

“I do,” I said. “Please.”

“Don’t do this,” the kid said. “Don’t toy with her.”

“Toy with me?” I asked.

“He’s not going to let you go. Obviously.”

“Shut your yap, Conan.”

“No, Dad. Let’s just kill her and get it over with.”

“I’m willing to be toyed with a little longer,” I said. “I’ve got time.”

The kid pulled out the duct tape and ripped off another strip.

“Please don’t,” I said. “I won’t scream.”

He taped over the back of my neck. He did it again with a second piece.

My gills were covered.

“Now you’ll get the chance to drown,” Quinn said.

Suddenly the thought of drowning terrified me, more than anything else. It wasn’t something I’d even thought about before. “Wolves don’t drown their prey,” I said. “Can’t you just do that heart-ripping thing?”

“There’s only one way to kill an ocean goddess. She must die in the water. Otherwise she might find another body to use.”

“Why does it matter if she does? You can just kill that one.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s the goddess who must die before she starts to kill.”

“Come on,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to kill anyone.” I was lying, of course. If my wrists and ankles hadn’t been taped I certainly would have given it my best try. “Please... I’m not going to kill anyone.”

“We’d like to keep it that way,” Quinn said. He turned to his son. “Stuff her mouth and push her in.”

“I want to test something out,” the kid said.

He didn’t bother with the hand towel. He simply gave me a shove.

The weights pulled me down as I hit the water. There was slack in the line tied to my ankles and I kept sinking. I sank right to the bottom.

I opened my eyes and looked out through the plexiglass of the tank. There was nothing to see, no one around, no light in the dark night.

Unless Quinn and Conan changed their mind, I was going to drown and my goddess with me.

Breathe.

I didn’t understand.

Just breathe.

I opened my mouth and sucked in the water. As clean as I thought my tank was, the water still tasted like feet.

As the water rushed down my throat I felt my lungs take a breath.

I exhaled through my mouth. And then I took another breath.

After a few minutes I felt my legs being pulled up towards the surface.

They were going to want me to be dead.

I felt the pulling stop, and I started to drift back down to the bottom. I twisted my head and looked up, and I saw someone else in the tank with me.

I was pretty sure it was Quinn. And the red mist spilling out from his head was something I was pretty sure about, too.

Quinn wasn’t moving.

The pulling started again, and I tried not to move as I was slowly lifted towards the surface. If Quinn was dead, that didn’t tell me anything about his son, whether or not he was the one pulling me out.

Maybe it was the police, or my uncle, or Horny Rich hoping that someone had finally adapted lobster traps for human women. But it was probably Conan, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep him from killing me in some other way.

I was pulled out on the wooden platform, legs first. I felt the weights being removed from my wrists.

“Are you alright?” It was the kid.

I nodded. “Did you just kill your father?”

“I didn’t want him to kill you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You just tried to drown me. That would’ve hurt.”

“No... I didn’t.” He sounded genuinely upset. “I kept count. Six minutes. You were underwater in the bathtub for at least ten.”

“You taped over my gills, you idiot.”

“I took a chance. Looks like I made a good bet.”

I saw my baseball bat, lying on the ground near the ladder. There was blood, of course; I’d expected there to be blood. What surprised me was that the bat was there at all.

“How did you manage to sneak that bat up here?”

“No sneaking required. That was Dad’s Plan B for you.”

“No heart getting ripped out of my chest?”

“He was probably being dramatic. He usually uses a rock or a heavy branch.”

“Not very wolf-like,” I said.

“Don’t worry... he was still going to bite you and all that.”

“Why the hell would he want to do that?”

“That’s what the spirit wants. That’s what my spirit wants me to do to you right now. He wants to taste your flesh.”

I knew it was just a matter of time before his spirit won out and made me his next nibble; this was the same kid who couldn't peep on a bathing lady without pulling down his pants.

I wanted to pull back from him, towards the ladder, but my wrists and ankles were still bound. I waited for his next poor attempt at a choke-out.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, Vanessa.”

“Then untie me.”

“I can’t. I... I can’t take that chance. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

He nodded. “Not until I know I can trust you.”

“Why the hell would I ever trust you?” I asked. I wondered if I should have thought things out a little before saying that.

“I love you, Vanessa.”

“That’s good to know.”

He knelt down and picked up the towel and the roll of duct tape.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Until I can trust you.”

I heard my goddess whispering to me.

Taste his flesh.

I could feel the urge within me.

“Wait,” I said. “What do we want to do about your father? We can’t just leave him here.”

“I’ll put him under the trailer. In the same spot he meant for you.”

“He’s pretty waterlogged. You may need some help.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I can trust you.”

He stepped closer with the towel and the tape.

I threw myself towards him with my mouth open to his neck. I crunched down as hard as I could into his skin, tasting the metal in his blood.

And then I felt her rise to the surface.

I opened my eyes to find the bones and blood of the younger spirit wolf lying on the platform of my dive tank. I kicked them into the water as though that would make them disappear.

I knew I’d have to fish them out.

BOOK: Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men
13.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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