The Ultimate Werewolf (10 page)

He took her keys. As he walked past the growling dog, he kicked out at it, but missed. Its growl rose to a bark. It snapped at his leg, then backed off, following him at two paces until he reached the door. "Goodnight, sucker," he said as he locked the door from outside. "I hope you drank two gallons of water."

The little dark man with glasses was peeking out his door in the downstairs apartment, the way he always was. Adam made kissy lips at him. Anybody was fair game on Adam's nights—the more disgusting and repulsive the better. The little man ducked inside and slammed the door, and smiled.

▼▼▼

Amelia lay quiet, her eyes shut. His hateful clothes were tight around her hips, across her breasts, and she smelled alcohol and at least two different perfumes on Adam's shirt; the castor-oil scent of lipstick came from his collar where it nudged her cheek. She could feel the sickness gathering in her stomach and knew that soon she would need to dash to the bathroom to throw up everything: the knowledge of what the monster had done the night before (she couldn't really remember, but she knew it was awful), and the remnants of whatever he had eaten and drunk.

She gulped twice.

She realized there was a strange sound in the room.

Breathing.

Terror stilled her breath, her heart. Her hands clutched the sheet.

The breathing went on, undisturbed.

So he had done it. He had finally brought his prey home. She had a horrible moment wondering what might be in her stomach besides normal food and drink. Her gorge rose. She couldn't hold back any longer. She stood up in a rush, locked herself into the bathroom, and made it all the way to the toilet before she lost it.

When she had finished retching and loosened all the most torturous buttons on Adam's clothes, she rinsed her face in the sink. Something nagged at her. There was something she was forgetting, but she couldn't think, not with some stranger in her bedroom. She got her oversize red terrycloth robe from the hook on the bathroom door and put it on over her half-undone clothes, then peeked around the door.

A man was sleeping curled in her bed, a naked man. A long lanky leg lay folded on top of the quilt, and a long arm curled around his dark head; the rest of him was drawn up around his stomach. He breathed softly, not snoring the way she expected all men to snore.

What was she going to do?

Get some decent clothes, dress quietly, grab her purse and flee the apartment. Maybe if she waited long enough the man would leave, and then she could get back in and lock up. But he knew where she lived . . .

And what about—

What about Joe?

The baby's morning wail of hunger rose just then. Amelia watched, wide-eyed, as the man in her bed yawned and stretched, then turned to look at her.

It was Kelly, Mr. Patterson from downstairs. He knew who she was: was her first frozen thought.

Joe, used to being taken care of any time he made a sound, wailed a little louder.

Mr. Patterson sat up and yawned into the back of his wrist. "He's probably hungry." he said. "I couldn't find anything to feed him last night."

"What are—what are—" She hid her eyes with her sleeves.

"Well, excuuuse me," said Mr. Patterson. A minute later, he said, "You can open your eyes again. I'm covered by a sheet."

Hot tears streaked down Amelia's cheeks. She lowered the sleeves of her robe and glanced at him to see if he was lying, but he wasn't. He had a sheet up around his waist, shielding her from seeing the monster part of him. "Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" she asked, a little girl's voice coming from her mouth.

"Don't you remember anything about last night?"

Tearblind, she shook her head.

"Wait a second, that didn't come out right. Nothing happened between us last night, Amelia. Except you wanted somebody to take care of the baby on Change Night, and I guess I was the only person you could think to call."

"Change Night?" she whispered.

"Moon Night, some call it."

"Curse Night." She licked a tear off her lip and peered at him through salt haze. "How do you know about Curse Night?" He smelled like something she wanted for breakfast, and she didn't understand that at all.

"I change too."

Joe wailed a little louder. Amelia stuffed her sleeve into her mouth and bit down. What kind of monster had she left the baby with last night? She dashed through the living room and into Joe's closet. He was red-faced and teary, but when she picked him up he settled down immediately. He didn't even smell wet. She went to the metal chair and sat, settling Joe on her thigh and offering him a breast. He sucked as if he were starving.

Mr. Patterson walked out of the bedroom, wearing the sheet like a toga. He glanced at her nursing Joe, shielded his eyes with a hand, and bent to pick up some clothes lying folded on the rug. "What bit you?" he said. He turned his back to her.

"I don't know." She heard the despair in her voice and wished she could unsay it. Her mother had taught her never to let a man hear her despair.

"How long have you been changing?"

"Since I was twelve." She hesitated. "It stopped while I was pregnant with Joe."

"How old are you now?" "Twenty-one."

"Do you know what you change into?"

She shuddered. "A monster," she said, and then, whispered, "Him."

"Do you remember being him? I remember being my other self. I'm not as different, somehow, as you are."

"I can't remember anything he does. I just know it's disgusting."

"Oh," said Mr. Patterson. He didn't say anything more for a little while. "I'm going to dress in your bathroom, all right? I think the less Peter-the-snoop has to talk about, the better."

While he was gone she got an extra diaper and draped it over Joe as he nursed so that no secret part of her showed. Her despair was so strong she worried about it getting into the milk and hurting Joe.

In a couple minutes Mr. Patterson came out. With him dressed and herself covered she could look at him again. "Mr. Patterson," she said in a low voice. Her worry about Joe made her strong enough to speak.

"Yes, Amelia."

"What do you change into?"

"A wolf. Kind of a wolf, anyway. Much more normal than your change, I imagine."

"I left the baby with a wolf?" The warmth of Joe against her chest, his hot mouth on her breast, reassured her. "How could I?"

He lifted his eyebrows, but didn't answer.

Of course, her monster self would do anything.

"How did you change his diapers?"

"It was tricky," said Kelly. He glanced at the clock above the card table where she ate all her meals. "Got to get to the site, Amelia. Gotta pick up a few things from my apartment and get to work. I'll be home after five—three hours before moonrise, more or less. We can talk then." He put his hand on the doorknob.

Joe, warm and dry, lay in her arms. "Mr. Patterson. Thanks," said Amelia. She lowered her eyes.

She locked and bolted the door behind him, not sure if she wanted to talk to him ever again. He had seen the worst part of her—if it was really part of her, and not some alien creature that took her over three nights a month, which was what she told herself, how she lived with it.

Maybe, if she worked fast, she could load everything she really needed into her VW bug and get away, far away. There was still a little left of her mother's legacy, enough for first-and-last-plus-damage-de- posit and another six months of low rent and generic groceries. After that Joe would be old enough to go to daycare, and she could get back to temping.

Bui there was still the problem of getting a sitter for Joe before tonight.

Joe was sleeping against her breast. She transferred him gently to his crib and closed the closet door almost all the way, then went to the phone.

What had happened to that girl who was supposed to come last night, anyway? Amelia had left Joe with her a few times before when she had to go shopping and couldn't take Joe. She had found the girl's number on the bulletin board at the laundromat, and the girl had been clean and prompt and had no objections to the idea of staying with the baby overnight if necessary. The nights Patty had come when Change hadn't happened, Amelia had gone out to a movie and then come home, dismissing Patty early.

She checked the pad of paper by the phone and called the number. "Patty?" she said when a young voice answered.

"Patty's not here," said the voice, breathless. "There was an accident."

"Goodness, is she hurt?"

"Yeah, pretty bad. Yesterday she hit a car with her bike! She got a concussion. She had to go to the hospital."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Will she be okay?"

"We think so," said the voice. It sounded uncertain.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said again. It didn't seem like the right time to ask the voice to recommend another babysitter. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," said the voice.

She couldn't trust Joe with someone she had never met, and that included . . . him. Adam.

She wished she knew the phone number of the place where Mr. Patterson worked. She glanced toward the closet where Joe slept, then sat on the floor, elbows on the seat of one of the chairs, chin propped on hands. She had to think.

▼▼▼

Kelly was carrying a sack full of Chinese take-out when he knocked on Amelia's door after work. The door opened a crack and she peeked out, then widened the opening just enough for him to slip inside. He glanced at her as she bolted the door behind him, and got a shock. She had done something to her long brown hair—pinned it up somehow, the Search for Sophistication. She was wearing makeup—too much of it

—and a nightgown. A flannel nightgown, but the hem was torn off above her knees, and she had rolled the sleeves up to mid-forearm, and left the buttons at the throat undone.

He began to have a sinking feeling.

She looked at his face, then dropped her gaze. Her pinkened lower lip trembled. "I was afraid—" she said.

He went to the table and took the white cartons out of the sack, with napkins and two pair of chopsticks. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, Mr. Patterson."

"Come on over and sit down. Call me Kelly. You did last night."

"Last night I was desperate."

"You look pretty desperate now."

She sat down in her second chair. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I had this great idea," she said in a small voice. "When it turned out my babysitter was in an accident, I thought . . ."

He handed her a pair of chopsticks and a carton of shrimp fried rice. Savory steam rose from the opened carton. She set the carton down and stared at the chopsticks, still safe in their red paper sheath. "I mean, I could ask you to sit with Joe again, but you must have other things to do with your time. So I thought . . ." she said.

He opened a couple more cartons, waiting.

"I know how to get rid of Adam now," she said.

"How?"

"Get pregnant." Her glance darted up to meet his, then dropped. After a silence, she said, "I don't know how it happened last time. How or who. But I thought . . ."

Kelly swallowed. He let a minute go by. "You know that's not a long- term solution? You don't want to spend the rest of your life pregnant, do you?" She had an attractive scent; he had noticed it every time he came into contact with her. It spoke to him even when all the rest of her was posted No Trespassing. So he knew that what she was asking him wasn't impossible, but it would probably be damned uncomfortable for both of them. "Besides, you can't just plan on getting pregnant. Sometimes it takes time and work."

Her eyes closed. She had done the lids in silver, and her lashes in black. Too much of everything, but the hand that had applied the makeup had been steady and skillful.

"Can you support two kids?"

She took a deep breath and let it out. She looked like a little girl playing Mommy. She opened her eyes and stared at him, and she looked like a wood sprite. "I don't know," she said, "There's welfare, isn't there?"

"But look," he said, leaning a little closer to her across the gently steaming food. "You can't disrupt your whole life just because you want to—you want to get rid of this little fraction of it. Three nights out of thirty, and you've got all your days free. What is it? Five percent of your month, that's all. You can live with it." It was a set speech. He had heard it from Sonya-the-sudden. That seemed so long ago. He wondered why he had been so upset about the whole thing. It worked out fairly well, as long as he focused during change on thinking that what he really needed to do in the night was guard his apartment and take care of it. He hadn't done much exploring yet, but he figured there was plenty of time for that.

"You don't know what he does," she said, her eyes tearbright.

"Acts like an asshole," Kelly said.

"Much worse things than that."