Hunter's Moon.htm (12 page)

"Some things are still beneath us. It's why Silence of the Lambs scares us and Jeffrey Dahlmer was front-page news for weeks instead of hours."

"I understand that." She crossed her arms and shook her head. "So you lost control." She shrugged and gave a little laugh, meant to lighten the mood. "But it's not like you ate him afterwards."

I didn't answer. I just looked at her. Our eyes locked and I willed my eyes alone to tell the story. Some part of me didn't want to admit it. I couldn't quite voice the reality.

The look was enough. Her eyes went from confused to alarmed and then the slightest trace of horror set in. Her jaw dropped slightly and her arms dropped to her sides almost unconsciously.

"Did you?" It was a whisper.

I held her gaze for as long as I could but I broke eye contact first. "I don't know for sure." But I suspected.

"When I came to and started to clean up there were marks on him. Marks that didn't match up with finger gouges; marks with ragged edges. I couldn't find some of the pieces." Ah. Now there was horror settling in at the back of those emerald eyes.

"When the smell got to me from the ruptured intestines, I threw up." I can't forget the smell. Rancid thick gas that churned into the air. The blood was sweet and coppery but when I laid open the gut… Half digested food, partially formed feces. My stomach threatened to repeat. I swallowed hard and forced the bitter acid back where it came from. I left the conclusion unspoken.

Her voice shook ever so slightly. "Did you find the rest of the pieces?"

I shrugged. I hadn't looked. I didn't want to know. But I could still remember the taste of sweet, warm blood that lingered on my tongue as I knelt over the body.

She nodded her head. I looked at her but she couldn't meet my eyes. She just kept nodding. Her gaze was on the carpet at my feet. I reached out to touch her shoulder and she flinched, pulling her arm back. I let her. I dropped my hand to my side and waited.

I started kicking myself almost immediately. Why did I tell her? What did I hope to accomplish except to chase her away? Then again, maybe that was it. I wanted to frighten her away. There was something about Sue that I wanted to keep near me. Maybe this was my subconscious way of making her leave. If my buddy, John-Boy, knew about the whole werewolf thing, he would probably tell me that I was exhibiting self-fulfilling behavior. I think I'm an animal and don't believe that anyone could want me so I'll tell her what an animal I am so she won't want me.

"Like I said, if you want to go I'll understand." I meant it.

"You'd just let me go? Even knowing what I do?"

"Well, actually, no. It'd just mean that I'll take the job you wanted to hire me for. But it would be hard. Know mat. Really hard."

She almost smiled but she didn't come any closer, didn't touch me. Her scent was a blending of everything I knew and a few I couldn't sort out. "Can I think about it? This is all happening so fast. It's not what I planned."

I smiled. "If life was only what you planned, it'd be pretty dull."

She smiled back but it was shaky. "Maybe that's why my life has been dull. But I really need some time to assimilate all this."

Suddenly, I was annoyed. I didn't know why. Her reaction was what I expected. Then again, maybe not. I think a part of me hoped she would laugh and call me silly for worrying. Stupid and romantic. But it's what I hoped for even though reality isn't like that. Some things can't be gotten past.

Another part of me wanted her to run screaming from the room; leave me to my misery. Let me drown in my fears and my curse and never move on.

"Go then," I said harshly. I turned from her and walked to the couch. I sat and picked up the paper. "Come back if you want. Don't if you don't." The words sounded cold, unfeeling. I didn't look at her, couldn't watch the fear in her eyes. "If you don't come back, bring a case with fifty grand back here and leave it with Max to put in the safe. I'll see you in a year or so. I can find you."

I glanced at her briefly where she stood immobile. I could smell her discomfort. Her sympathy and fear were almost equal. She gestured with her hands helplessly not sure what to say. I certainly wasn't going to help. I don't need pity. I tried to concentrate on the front page story but the words only swam through my brain. They didn't form sentences.

"Can I take the key card with me?"

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Might as well. I won't be needing it. If you decide not to come back turn it in at the desk. If it's there when I check out I'll have my answer."

She picked up the white, credit-card sized square of plastic and turned it slowly in her fingers. I tried to ignore her but she slipped into my peripheral vision. She opened her mouth and then shut it again. Tears were close to the surface. I could smell them. I didn't want her to cry. She was digging too far under my skin. I knew that if I saw tears I would go to her; hold her; try to make it better. I went back to staring blankly at the paper.

After a moment I felt her gather dignity around herself like a cloak. She took a deep breath, released it and then slipped the key into the pocket of her shorts. She picked up the bags that were on the floor. I tried not to watch. Tried not to think.

"I'll see you later." Tentative hope edged her voice.

I nodded without looking at her. "One way or another."

She left without saying good-bye.

Chapter 11

The longer I sat alone the easier it was to forget the look on her face when she left. Confused, helpless, scared. All rolled into a last lingering look that I knew that I would be regretting for years. The smell wasn't so easy to ignore. It stirred something deep in me and I wanted it back. Wanted her back. But I didn't expect it. If the tables were turned, I wouldn't. I know it's hypocritical but I expect more of other people than of myself. Isn't it always the way?

I needed a distraction so I turned on the boob tube. Daytime television is a joke. There isn't any football and the game shows have been replaced by what I call 'controversy shows'. Jerry Springer and the like— not talk but confrontation. Soaps are fiction, but the controversy shows rival them for content and are disturbingly real. Whoever said that "truth is stranger than fiction" knew their stuff.

I clicked through twenty-four channels before I finally stopped in the middle of Casablanca, I like old black-and-white movies. African Queen, Ship of Fools and In Cold Blood are favorites. I did watch the colorized versions that Turner did, but it's just not the same. Chocolate syrup that looks like real blood turns back into Hershey's finest even after they change the color.

I felt restless. I should be doing something. Usually when this is planned, I bring along my laptop or pay my bills. Last March I did my income tax returns after getting all the forms off the 'net.

I tried to think about work. I had three other jobs to plan; jobs that I've already been paid for. But all the detail— the maps, photographs, and itineraries were at my house. I also started cursing myself for not laundering a case of cash in Atlantic City before I screwed up my free pass. I'd decided to wait until after one more job. Just my luck that the next job happened to be Jeffrey. Now I wouldn't be able to use any of the casinos there friendly to my type of transaction.

I can run a lot of money through the security company, but I'd taken too many jobs in too short a time. The plan was to take a vacation for a year or so. I hadn't had one in awhile. I was swimming in cash and needed to have it appear legit, so I could bask in the sun in Hawaii or Monaco. A rigged gambling game is best for that. But it would mean I'd have to go to Vegas. Shit.

Thinking about some of my least favorite characters didn't improve my mood. I checked my broken watch, then shook my head in annoyance and finally took it off. Useless piece of crap. It was only 1:10 p.m. by the clock in the bedroom. I went to the fridge and removed the prime rib. I opened the package over the sink in the bathroom and left it to warm to room temperature. Dinner was ready. I supposed that I should eat lunch.

I called room service and ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich with raspberry jam and homecut fries. It's one of my favorites. I considered trying to get drunk, going so far as to pour a double Maker's Mark, neat, but then poured it back in the bottle. It wouldn't improve my mood. It'd probably make it worse. I can't seem to get drunk anymore and the effort makes me grumpy.

It shouldn't matter whether she came back. One night of fairly good sex and I get these lofty fucking ideas of some imaginary romance. Worse still is a romance that I don't have the time or the inclination for. I've had enough women in my life that it shouldn't matter.

I was probably just pissed that I'd gotten my calendar messed up and I was stuck here. On the plus side, though, now I could go to the poker game. I had cancelled because of the job. But with the job over and the change over…

That brightened my mood considerably. Yeah, getting together with the boys for an all-nighter would get my disposition back to normal. I started to call Carmine to tell him that I'd be at the game with bells on but remembered that the calls are tracked and put on my bill. No, tying this room number with Carmine's private line wouldn't do at all. I got my nerve together and went downstairs.

When the elevator door opened on the main floor I headed straight for the pay phones. I did my best to ignore the smell of people moving around, their blood flowing thick and heavy under paper-thin skin. I smelled their joys, their sorrows, their fears. It was too many smells. Too many emotions. Another reason I lock myself away— sensory overload.

Only one phone was working. I called and heard the sultry recording of Carmine's wife, Linda. I left a message and then called Jocko and asked him to check up on my car. I hadn't intended to leave it for days.

"I wondered why you hadn't come back," he said. "Found a new lady? I noticed the way the brunette was looking at you."

"Keep your mind out of the gutter," I snarled. "Is the car okay?"

He was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I let Sweetboy know it was yours and both gangs are keeping away from it. Unilateral decision. They know what you'd do to them. It's probably the only thing they've agreed on this year."

"Damn straight." For a moment my vision started to redden as I imagined pounding one of those street punks into a bloody pulp. The thought of his screams as I tore him apart made me smile. I could almost smell his sweat and mouthwatering fear. My stomach growled and I shivered.

"You okay?" Jocko asked quietly. "You sound rough."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm. Stay calm. No bloody rampages in the lobby of the hotel. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned. A woman with dark hair and a tailored business suit looked impatient.

"Will you be long?" she asked. "I need the phone." She wore too much perfume and it masked her underlying scent.

I ignored her by turning back to look at the phone bank. "I'll be okay. Things haven't gone as planned this week."

"Okay." He sounded uncertain. The broad behind me tapped again and I fought back the urge to turn and grab her throat and slam the receiver into her face again and again and then lick the blood off the black plastic.

Whoa! Definitely time to get back upstairs.

I shook my head hard to clear it. "Hey, I've got to go. I'll be back in a day or so. Keep the word out that my car is off-limits." I turned and looked right into the eyes of the brunette when I allowed my voice to drop an octave and take on a heavy Italian accent. "Anyone touches my ride and I'll rip off their dick and feed it to them. Capisce?"

I smiled evilly and the brunette's eyes grew wide. I watched the pulse in her neck move faster. A light dew of sweat began to form on her upper lip. I wanted her pulse between my teeth. I scrutinized the prey intently. Her eyes darted back and forth quickly as she looked to escape. Fear turned quickly to ammonia panic. Excellent. I bared teeth at her, then brought my lips together and blew her a kiss. She backed slowly away, nearly tripping over her own feet. I struggled not to follow, not to pounce.

Jocko chuckled over the phone line. It startled me. I flinched abruptly and then laughed with him but for a different reason. There was a high edge to my laughter that I didn't like.

"I'll let them know," he promised.

I made it all the way back to the room before I remembered that Sue had the card key and I was locked out. I stood in the hallway fighting the beginnings of panic. I didn't need this shit today. I kicked the door hard and felt the force of it sing through my leg. The heavy oak cracked sharply and I watched a hairline fracture swim up the grain of the wood. Oops.

"Mr. Giodone?" came a voice from the hallway. I turned to see Tim, one of the kitchen staff, rolling a cart toward me.

A wave of relief passed through me. "I locked myself out."

He laughed and produced a pass key. He reached past me and opened the door. I entered and he wheeled the cart in after me. "Can I get you anything else?"

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. They'd miss him; I know they would. But I could smell him. His aftershave only partly masked the scent of his skin. My stomach growled agonizingly and I fought down a snarl as I looked at his smiling face and thought of him only as food. Another part of my brain questioned what kind of wine went with red meat and I almost laughed. Just call me Hannibal. My tongue slipped out to catch a thin line of saliva that was creeping down my jaw.

I shook my head, clearing the thoughts. He had to leave. Now! I reached into my pocket and removed my wallet. I peeled off a twenty and handed it to him.

He looked at the bill in surprise. "They'll put the food on your tab."

"As they should. Thanks for letting me in."

His smile was brilliant against his dark skin. "Hey, wow! You need anything else, you just let me know!" I nodded and turned my attention to the cart. It was his cue to leave.

Sadly, the build-up of the prey smells left the sandwich incapable of satisfying my hunger. My nose led me to the bathroom. The bathroom still smelled like Sue. Trees and musk and sex. My body reacted to the smell and I slapped the thought out of my mind.