Creatures of Want and Ruin

by Molly Tanzer

  “It could just be a few members who’ve gone into business for themselves, though.”

  Ellie understood why that would be his hope, but she didn’t think that was the case. “Then we still have a problem. Hunter has the right to say what he likes, but if he’s actually inciting violence . . .”

  “So what are you going to do? Kill him?”

  “Gabriel!” Ellie was amazed. “What is this? You don’t think I should fight?”

  “I think you should take all this to your cop friend and then let it go,” he said. “Who deputized you?”

  “Nobody, but—”

  “And why do you have to leave me to do it? You just moved in.” He shook his head. “Ellie, do you not want to live here with me? You don’t have to, you know. We’re not married yet, and even if we were, you know I wouldn’t stop you if you really wanted to leave.”

  “I don’t want to leave, but don’t you see? I want them to leave you alone!”

  Gabriel seemed skeptical. “I’m guessing you’re not going to go home?”

  “No, I thought I’d go to Rocky’s. Pop doesn’t know he exists; I’ve never mentioned him.”

  “Rocky, huh?”

  His tone was not what she’d thought it would be. “What’s the problem? You’re usually so thrilled when I stop by his place.”

  “Stop by, sure. Live there? Not so much.”

  Ellie started to get annoyed. “The only reason you’ve got a shiner and broken glasses and a cracked rib is me. At Rocky’s, I can sleep easy, knowing you’re safe, while I figure out a plan.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. “A plan, you say.”

  “Hey!”

  “Look.” He raised his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you; I respect you too much for that . . . So I have to tell you, I think this is all completely crazy.”

  Given how often it seemed to be happening of late, Ellie was getting pretty tired of people freely giving their opinions on her life.

  “I know you think I should go to the police, but Jones told me he doesn’t trust his fellow cops. It’d just be him on his own! I have a duty to help him, I mean, I have a personal connection to a member of this church, and—”

  “And he’ll ask for your help if and when he needs it.”

  “I don’t think he has much to go on to get, you know . . . warrants and whatever,” she began.

  “Warrants and whatever. And whatever. Come on, Ellie!”

  “So I don’t know police procedure—so what? Gabriel, they’re . . . sorcerers! Or something! They have strange abilities and powers. Didn’t you notice last night? What do you want the police to do about that, I wonder?”

  It was almost a relief to say it, but Gabriel stared at her like her head had just popped off and rolled away.

  “Sorcerers?” he asked quietly.

  She didn’t like his tone, but she forged ahead.

  “I don’t know what you’d call what happened, the way they lit those fires without wood, and their masks, the way they kept changing the more you looked at them . . .”

  Gabriel looked extremely worried. “Ellie, I think the strain has been getting to you. They—I can’t believe I’m saying this—they are not sorcerers. I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation for everything that happened.”

  “But the fire . . .”

  “Was just fire!”

  Ellie felt doubt creep into her mind again as she realized she alone had noticed what had been really going on. “Gabriel . . . Hunter, at his meeting, he turned liquor into water. I was there up on stage with him, it wasn’t sleight of hand. He really . . . did something.”

  “Liquor into water, huh? Like some kind of what, reverse Jesus? Anyway, it sounds like a phony magic act to me.”

  “It’s not, though. I’ve had a few experiences with people who are a part of this group. Walter Greene . . . he did things.”

  “Things like . . .”

  Ellie was getting tired of explaining. “Jesus Christ, I would have thought with all those trashy magazines you read you’d be a little more likely to see what was in front of your eyes!”

  “I read them; I don’t believe in them. H. P. Lovecraft himself doesn’t believe in the supernatural, and here you’re telling me it wasn’t a bunch of KKK impersonators punching me last night—it was some sort of magus’s coterie?”

  “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

  “Put it like what—like literally what you’re alleging?”

  “You don’t have to believe me.” Ellie felt her annoyance leaving her; a cool calmness took its place. “I didn’t believe all this myself, but I can’t deny it any longer. I’m not going to sit around waiting to see you become their next victim—not when I can try to stop it.”

  “You won’t see anything at all, not if you’re gone! Ellie, I . . .” He ran his hand through his fair hair. “I don’t know what to say to you. We’re engaged—we’re going to be married. At least I hope we still are. But being with someone means you protect each other—you get through things together. These days, I don’t even know why you want me in your life. You never let me help, and you don’t seem to want my company.”

  “I do want your help and your company. If you think I’d take off right as I got here, for anything I thought wasn’t important, then . . . well, then I don’t know what to tell you. I’m trying to protect you!”

  “I don’t need your protection, Ellie. I’m not Lester.”

  Ellie had tried to remain calm in the face of Gabriel’s anger, but she felt herself getting annoyed.

  “What do you mean by that?” she said icily.

  “I mean . . .” He shrugged unhappily. “I just mean I don’t need to be defended. I’m not . . . fragile, or . . .”

  “He’s not fragile,” she insisted.

  “If he’s not, then why do you think I am?”

  “I don’t think you are!”

  “Yes you do, Ellie. Otherwise you wouldn’t be cutting out on me.”

  “I’m not cutting out.”

  The fight seemed to leave Gabriel all at once. “Look,” he said, “I’m not going to argue with you about this anymore. Just . . . just go if you want to go.”

  Ellie sensed that she couldn’t convince him otherwise. “Fine. I’ll go for my own reasons, and you can believe what you want. I hate to ask, but do you mind if Lester stays? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be across the bay.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Gabriel was as cold as an iceberg and just as remote. “I’ll take him to school if it’s necessary.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be necessary,” she said, chillier now too. “But thank you.”

  She stalked upstairs after that to angrily pack her bag, furious at Gabriel. None of this was what she wanted, and it annoyed her that he was acting like it was.

  She wasn’t even sure if Rocky would take her in.

  Rather than waking up Lester to say goodbye, she opted to leave him a farewell note, slipping it under his door and then tiptoeing downstairs. Gabriel was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his cold cup of coffee between his hands.

  “I’ll miss you. I’ll visit,” she said. A thin olive branch, maybe, but she offered it just the same.

  “Are you sure that’s safe?” Gabriel wouldn’t even look at her. “It might not be a good idea to put me at risk like that.”

  Ellie left without kissing Gabriel, or even saying goodbye. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up too tight from grief; from all the tears she wouldn’t let fall. She reminded herself that doing the right thing didn’t always mean doing the easy thing, but that was cold comfort as she headed out into the dawn.

  6

  Oscar’s Garage would not be one of the places that Fin would mourn if her vision came true and Long Island was destroyed. True, Oscar had given her Ellie’s address, but he’d forced Fin to endure many unsubtle provocative remarks and minimally veiled lecherous glances before he’d finally done so. As she dro
ve away, Fin marveled to herself that Ellie entrusted that man with her secrets; if Fin had been able to wheedle Ellie’s personal information out of him, at least after she’d given him ample time to comment on her legs, her suit, her hat, her manners, and a few other parts of her person, this Oscar character would surely hand any gangsters or federal officers whatever they wanted in a heartbeat.

  The Wests’ home on Cedar Avenue, on the other hand, Fin hoped would never change. It was a weather-beaten shingle-sided house tucked behind two spreading white oaks that provided shade and privacy. Black-eyed Susans and Indian paintbrushes and other bright flowers rioted outside the front door; behind them, vines of stately ivy climbed the walls. It seemed like a very pleasant, restful sort of place—at least it did until a man with a face like a thunderstorm answered her knock at the door.

  Fin took him to be Ellie’s father. While Ellie didn’t carry about her that look of suspicion and dissatisfaction, Fin saw her in his strong jawline, dark straight hair, and wide but guarded eyes. He wasn’t a bad-looking man at all, really; except for his relatively untanned face, he looked like any other Amityville bayman.

  Fin smiled at him. “Hi,” she said. “My name is Delphine Coulthead. I’m sorry to bother you; I know it’s terribly rude to stop by unannounced—but Oscar—you know Oscar, who owns the garage over on Ireland? He said Ellie West lived here, and you see, I’m trying to find her.”

  She was utterly failing to charm him—that was obvious—but she didn’t realize how badly she’d failed until he snarled, “Coulthead?”

  It hadn’t occurred to Fin that people might find her name notorious after it was printed in the paper, but this man certainly seemed to know of it, and disapprove. “You’re the sister of the man who leased the old Samis place on Ocean Avenue, aren’t you?”

  “I’m his wife,” she said, “but—”

  “Looking to buy more liquor, even after you humiliated yourself and your family, and my family? As if I hadn’t enough reminders of my failures as a father, here you are, a living reproach on my doorstep, clothed but barely in city fashions.”

  The man’s physical bulk and unapologetic hostility were intimidating enough that Fin took a step back, clearly to his satisfaction. For a moment, she wondered if she just ought to go home—tell Jimmy she was sorry, that she’d been trying to save face with her story about a vision of the end of the world, move wherever everyone else decided was best, and leave the unpleasant inhabitants of this island to whatever doom was coming for them.

  Then Fin’s nerves steadied. She’d marched for the vote; agitated for reproductive rights—she’d endured insults and garbage hurled her way by men with faces just like this one’s, or men of the law who had wielded their authority like a club. She would not let him frighten her away. There was too much at stake.

  “I have not come here to buy spirits, sir,” she said primly, “but even if I had, your remarks about my clothing and my behavior could not be considered civil by any standard.”

  “How dare you come to my home and insult me?”

  “I’m merely paying a social call; the only insults issued have been yours. Please, Mr. West—let’s start over, or shall I wait out here on the stoop for Ellie to discover my presence?”

  “Go away,” he roared, but Fin stood her ground. “In fact, you may not wait for my daughter here. This is my property, and—”

  “Robert, who on earth are you speaking to?”

  A mild woman who also reminded Fin of Ellie appeared behind where the unpleasant man stood. He half turned to speak to her, but Fin beat him to it.

  “Are you Mrs. West? I don’t mean to make personal remarks, but you look so much like your daughter! I’m Delphine Coulthead, and I’m afraid Mr. West and I got off on the wrong foot. I’m hoping to speak with Ellie about an urgent matter requiring her attention. Is she at home?”

  “Ellie isn’t home,” said Mrs. West as Mr. West fumed. “I’m so sorry you came all this way to find her gone. Won’t you come in and have a cool drink?”

  “Harriet—”

  “I won’t have her standing on the doorstep like a traveling salesman while you shout at her loudly enough for the whole neighborhood to hear,” said Mrs. West firmly.

  “Better she should stand on the doorstep than enter our home,” said Mr. West.

  “Robert.”

  “If you’ll have her inside, then you’ll have her without me.” And with that, he pushed past Fin, stalking off down the street. He had an unsteady gait, Fin observed—a limp that looked to her like an old war injury.

  Fin remembered that it was her mention of the Families of Crippled Veterans fund-raising event that had sparked Ellie’s anger. Of course it had—she’d all but said Ellie and her family were in need of charity after forcing Ellie to accept a tip she didn’t want. Twice then she’d treated Ellie as if she were needy, when Ellie was clearly someone who had read a lot of Horatio Alger books as a child, and still put a great deal of stock in those ideals of hard work and self-sufficiency.

  “If you’ll forgive your welcome, I’d be pleased if you’d come inside and have that drink,” said Harriet, stepping aside so that Fin could enter.

  It was a handsome home; everything in it was clearly old, but it was all well cared for. Fin complimented a tall cabinet made of honey-colored wood that was so polished it almost glowed in the low light of the front room. Mrs. West was pleased to have it noticed.

  “It’s a cutlery cabinet,” she said, opening one of the doors and revealing some old silver and more curiously, some implements carved of what looked like ivory. “Ellie’s grandfather—Robert’s father, I mean—crewed whaling boats, and bought many nice things for his young wife, once upon a time. He also carved the scrimshaw that you see there.”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Mrs. West sighed. “The truth is, Mrs. Coulthead, I don’t know when Ellie will be home,” she said as they continued into the kitchen. “She and her father had a bit of a problem . . .”

  “Even after meeting your daughter once, I can see how they’d have their differences,” said Fin.

  Mrs. West looked relieved to have to be no more specific. She handed Fin a glass of tea cold from the icebox. Fin sipped it; it was good.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “You’re being very kind to me, especially given, well, everything with the paper and all.”

  “That seems really more the fault of that dreadful reporter,” said Mrs. West. “If people are going to hold some sort of drunken debauch at their house, I’d really rather not know about it. Robert feels differently, and I see his point, but . . .”

  “I’m not usually one to poke my nose into other people’s business, either,” said Fin. They were getting on so well she decided not to dispute Mrs. West’s characterization of the party, even if she felt it was a bit harsh. “I know that must seem strange, given that I’m here, but I really desperately need to speak with Ellie.”

  Mrs. West looked at Fin appraisingly. “She’s staying with her . . . husband.” Fin was curious why Mrs. West had hesitated, but elected not to press. “You’ll have to go around Robin Hood’s barn to get there; they like their privacy. Let me just write it all down; there are a few turns, and I wouldn’t want you to get confused.”

  “Thank you,” said Fin, and sipped her tea while Mrs. West went into the other room and returned with a scrap of paper with several lines of directions written down in a neat, even, schoolteacher’s hand.

  “When you see her,” said Mrs. West, “will you tell her I miss her? And if you see my son Lester, please tell him . . .”

  Mrs. West’s voice cracked, and she took a moment to dab at her eyes with her apron. Fin pretended not to notice as she finished her tea. Mrs. West made a feeble protest as Fin rinsed out the glass and set it on the drying rack, but Fin told her not to be silly.

  “I made trouble for you. Unintentionally, but I did. The least I can do is not leave dirty dishes everywhere.”

&nbs
p; “Well, thank you,” said Mrs. West, in a polite but guarded tone that made her sound as well as look like Ellie. Long Islanders and their pride! Fin didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

  “I really can’t thank you enough, and I’ll give your regards to your children,” continued Fin, with an eye to the door that brought Mrs. West to her feet. She would have been happy to sit in the clean, pleasant kitchen for longer, but she didn’t want to be around whenever Mr. West returned. “I really ought to be on my way, though.”

  “Of course.”

  Fin found herself once again on the Wests’ doorstep when Mrs. West said, “My husband is a good man, you know.”

  It was difficult to know what to say, as Fin wasn’t sure she did know that. So she just nodded.

  “He’s been disappointed frequently. That makes a body bitter,” said Mrs. West.

  “Well, I don’t know him from Adam, but I’d say he’s had more than just disappointment. After all, he has a lovely wife, a nice home . . . Your daughter is really quite a go-getter, and I’m sure your son is wonderful too.”

  “Just the same, it wears a man down, feeling useless.”

  It was as if Mrs. West were begging Fin to forgive her husband, not just for what had happened today, but for something bigger, something too large to speak about within the solid walls of their house.

  “I know all about feeling useless,” said Fin, rather than agreeing or disagreeing with the woman. “Thank you again for the tea, and for the directions. I hope Mr. West comes home in a better mood than he left it.”

  Fin had thought to try to find Ellie tomorrow, but she was now quite determined to see this through and get her answers today. Looking over the directions again, she was eager to get on with her investigation—after all, it was only just past two.

  She had plenty of time before she’d be missed. Or rather, she thought wryly as she started up the Ford, before the car would be.