She sobs and coughs before meekly replying, “You really don’t love me?”
I try to search within myself. I’m fond of her. I hate that I hurt her. I wouldn’t mind having her in my life once she’s had some time to move on. But I don’t love her. “I don’t.”
She hangs up. The light changes. I try not to enjoy my Mexican food too much. It seems in bad taste to be stuffing my face with a burrito when the girl I was considering moving in with is crying on the other side of town, but it is an incredible burrito.
At least I can have one healthy relationship.
Chapter Two
Abigail
I wash the blood from my hands in the bathroom sink. There’s no mirror, but I don’t need to see my reflection to know I must look terrifying. The smell of the well water fills the room as I splash my face, and I’m pleased to see that no blood comes off. It had been a clean hunt and a quick kill; the only blood is on what can charitably be called my hands.
It’s a little past eleven, and I need to get to my diet support group. It’s only a fifty-five-kilometer run away. I stuff the deer carcasses in a heavy-duty burlap sack and make it in about forty minutes. My stomach growls, but I do my best to ignore it. There aren’t any people around, which helps a little. Nothing else would do.
The Community Center is as packed as ever. The run-down mall, whose only notable feature is the impressive number of broken windows, keeps away all but the most curious explorers. It doesn’t look as if there is anything left in it to destroy or loot.
Though if anyone did make it in, they’d be eaten or sold within minutes. Rows upon rows of stalls fill the hallway, with each large room hosting numerous events throughout the night. There’s a long line at the fake ID stall, as always. I have a few more years before I’ll have to look into that.
I find my favorite venison dealer and hand him the heavy bag. He glances inside, peeling fabric away from the wound, and in a thick Russian accent announces, “Two good-size bucks. There must be almost two hundred pounds of meat here.”
My skeletal fingers unfurl as I hold my hand out. “Cash, please. Canadian.”
“If you’d like to trade, I could get you a much better rate.” He scratches at his horn; it always seems to itch when he’s trying to rip me off. I would love to play poker with him.
“Boris, I can’t eat any of the stuff you sell. Give me the money.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I have a good deal on silver. You never know when you could use it.”
“Why do you even have silver?”
“I ask myself that question every day now.” He rubs at his thick beard as he stares at the carcasses. “Very well. Five hundred dollars.”
My mouth drops, and he takes a step back. I close it in what I hope looks like a smirk. “I could get someone to sell it to humans for two thousand easy; that’d still leave me with at least fifteen hundred.”
“Then go do so. That is the best I can offer you, Abigail. Venison doesn’t move as quickly here as it does in other markets.”
“One thousand.”
“Because I like you, I will give you eight hundred. You know this kill was not difficult for you. I think you will take deal.”
He’s right. I will take deal. “Fine, but only if you throw in that silver necklace.”
He holds up the one I’m looking at, a small but ornate cross. “Eight hundred and fifteen grams of silver? May I ask why you want it?”
I shake my head and stare down at him. “I can trade it to someone else later.” He doesn’t need to know that it’s because having something shiny to wear might make me feel pretty for half a second. He’d laugh. “Do we have a deal?”
“Very well, Abigail, very well.” He places the bills and the necklace in my outstretched hand. I stuff it into the pockets of my torn-up XXXXL hoodie. I weave through the rest of the stalls toward the third converted room on the left. The door is still open; my haggling must not have taken as long as usual. I should’ve tried for more. I walk in and plug my phone in the corner. There are rows of charging stations around the building, and no one would dare steal here, but I’d rather keep an eye on it. It’s the only thing I have left from my old life.
I look around at the large circle of beings. Most sit on chairs, and those that can’t have found a spot on the floor, save for the one hovering. I sit between Ashley and James. They’ve been coming here even longer than I have and are the closest friends I’ve made since I started. The remaining members file in and find their seats, and Ben closes the doors. There’s no time to chat, but I’ll talk to them after since they always stick around for a while. Neither of them has any place worth heading back to either.
“I see we have a new face joining us today,” Benjamin says, gesturing to a hooded figure I don’t recognize. Ben rises, his five-foot frame making the change hardly noticeable. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
The figure shakes its head.
He nods. “That’s okay. Take all the time you need. We don’t judge. Is there anyone who does want to share?”
Robert stands. From what he told me when I started out with him as my sponsor, he was one of the founding members, but plenty of others have said that isn’t true. All I know is that he’s been coming here longer than I have. “I messed up last night. I know this is why we avoid having relationships with humans: it’s not safe. I haven’t talked about her before since I really didn’t want to get that lecture, but I guess I needed it. You all were right. I really screwed up. I ate her. I couldn’t stop. I’ve been so hungry.”
The man next to him—I think his name’s Frank, but he’s pretty new—puts his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “It’s okay, man. We all make mistakes.”
I nod, as does Ben. “The important thing is not to give up,” Ben adds. “I know you fell off your diet, and it’s okay to be disappointed in yourself, but you can’t take that as an excuse to eat more.”
Rob nods. “I know. I know. I’ve heard it all. I can’t believe I did it. I thought she was the one. Twenty years clean, five years with her, and I messed up.” He licks his lips, and my stomach growls again. How did he hide her when I was at his place? I should’ve smelled her. “I told myself that I could just have a nibble, that it’d be fine, but I kept going.”
“It’s how we live,” another voice says. I’m not sure who.
Rob shakes his head. “I can eat animals, and I have been. I’m not starving. I don’t have an excuse. She looked so delicious, and I messed up.”
“It happens,” I say. “Just because you can eat other things doesn’t change how hard it is to stay clean. You’re not made for it. The fact that your body can handle eating other things better than mine doesn’t mean that it’s what’s natural. Instincts take over; it’s why we keep our distance from them, but you were brave to try otherwise. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” Every fiber of my being wants to do the same. To find someone and devour them. I can’t. I won’t. Not again.
“Abigail’s right,” Ben says. “You’re an ogre. It’s in your nature.”
“She’s all the evidence I need that I failed.” He gestures toward me. “She can only digest humans, and here I am, able to live just fine off other foods, and yet I ate my girlfriend. I’m a monster.” He holds his massive head in his hands, weeping. “I really loved her!”
My claws dig into the reinforced metal chair. I miss being around people; I miss my old life, even after all these years, but I won’t go down Robert’s road. It’s too dangerous. I can barely smell a human without wanting to eat it, and I’m starving.
“Can I speak?” I hope I’m not interrupting, since Rob definitely needs to be comforted, but his story is making it hard for me to think about anything else. “If Robert’s done, I mean.” It’s taking so much work to keep my voice; it almost falters into a bestial growl. The hunger is too distracting, but it always is.
Robert raises his head and nods, baring his tusks in a pained smile.
“Thank you.”
My nails rake on the metal as I try to gather my thoughts. “It’s been two years since I’ve last eaten. I know I should find a place to live that doesn’t smell like my last victim, but it’s hard to find a place out in the country.” Several people nod, and a few voices echo my thoughts. “I’ve been a wendigo for six years. I know most of you already know my story, but I figured I should be fair to the new guy.”
The figure inclines its head.
“The hunger has been getting worse. I’m scared that I won’t be able to go on. My stomach growls constantly, even more than it did when I first changed. I don’t know if I’m immortal; I don’t think anyone like me has ever gone this long without eating. Maybe I’ll keel over tomorrow.” A few gasps and polite chuckles answer me. “I don’t know what to do. All I can think about is food. I need to eat. I tried eating a deer the other day, even though every fiber of my being told me not to. I threw it up right away.”
Robert stares. I’m sure I’m making him feel guiltier, but I need to get this off my chest.
“Is there anyone else here who can only eat humans?” There aren’t many of us.
The hooded figure raises its hand. That’s something, but it doesn’t help me figure out how to keep going. He’s too new. He has no experience.
James the incubus taps my shoulder. I turn and meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you’re in a similar situation.”
“I know I could probably feed without killing. I have it easier than you do.”
I grumble. He’s right. I have it the worst of anyone in this room. There was one other wendigo in the group when I joined, despite how much more common we’ve become, but he left a week after I’d started. I look around for anyone else.
“Maybe it isn’t so wrong to give in sometimes?” James offers. A hushed murmur runs through the group. It’s always a taboo subject. We don’t require abstinence; it isn’t as if you’re kicked out of the group if you eat someone, but it is frowned upon. Actually suggesting moderation is seen as enabling.
I meet his eyes, tears forming in mine. “The hunger is insatiable. If I give in again, I don’t know if I can ever stop.”
He frowns, chewing on his lip in what even I have to admit is a sexy manner. Lucky bastard. Nothing I do is sexy anymore, but then again, I’m not a sex demon. “Save pieces for later and eat them sparingly?” he offers.
It’s tempting, but I shake my head. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
Ben clears his throat. The hooded figure is still holding its hand up. We all quiet as we wait to see what might come out of its mouth. If it has one. “Thank you,” it offers in a soft, heavily accented, masculine voice. I can’t quite place it. It pulls down its hood to reveal no head at all. I’m not sure how it supported the hood in the first place. “My species is defined by our cannibalism, much as yours is.” The words clearly take some effort, and they still sound muffled without the hood. “I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do this. I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome here. I’m glad to see I am not alone.”
I finally realize that the words are coming from his torso. So he’s an anthropophage. He is a long way from home. “Me too,” I admit. Maybe we can make it through this together.
A few more people share, but it’s just the usual catch-up like, “I’ve been five years without eating a human because I can live off animals.” One other person has fallen off their diet, but it’s been almost an entire week, and they say they are managing to stay off the human again.
The hooded man bows to me once the group ends, but someone grabs his attention before I can talk to him. Ashley and James stay by me, Ashley pulling me into a hug. She smiles up at me, her desiccated cheeks doing their best to dimple. “I’m really proud of you, Abby.”
I sigh and lean back in the chair, my head several feet above the headrest. “There’s not much to be proud of.”
“There’s lots. You’re still managing. I didn’t say it in group because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I fell off the wagon a month ago. It’s why I wasn’t in group then. I was tempted to go back. I mean, I can just eat dead people; it’s not like it hurts anyone.”
I wondered why she hadn’t raised her hand when I asked if anyone else could only eat people. She really wanted to avoid having to say anything. I knew it was a stupid question anyway. “But you managed to stop?”
She nods, yellow fangs showing through her slight smile. “It wasn’t easy. I ate three people that week.” Her eyes widen, and she waves a gray hand before her. “They were all dead beforehand. I wasn’t hunting.”
“I’ve wondered if it would be worth it for me to try the same. If they weren’t too rotten, it would probably work, but I don’t know.” I sigh, and it comes out as a whistle as the air pushes past my fangs. “It’s the curse of my kind; the hunger keeps growing and growing. If I ate, what would stop me?”
She holds me tightly, and I rub her back, careful not to scratch her with my claws. It’s nice to be touched. It has been a long while. If only she wasn’t straight.
“We should get going,” James says. “The slave market is getting started up next door, and I know how the smell gets to you.”
He’s right. Fresh meat calls to me, and my stomach lets out a roar I’m sure everyone hears. I wipe a speck of drool from my chin. “Yeah, let’s get out of here, please.”
We hang out for another hour before parting ways. They both have some shopping to finish before the stalls start closing, and I’m not up for being in the building. I hug them and let them finish their errands. I take a casual walk back to my cabin, sticking to the woods and sparsely populated areas as best I can.
* * *
After I lock the door, I climb the stairs and throw myself into the too-small double bed, my legs dangling over the edge. I pull my phone out. It’s at ninety percent. I should be able to use it until tomorrow night.
I’ve grown adept at using the screen with my new hands. I barely have to touch it. I learned this the hard way and had to find someone at the market who could replace the screen twice within my first year. I rest it against an open palm and let the thumb of my other hand glide across the screen. I have a missed call.
From Elizabeth.
I stare, swallowing, trying not to think of my hunger. Maybe it was a butt dial? There’s a text message too.
Hey, is this still Abigail’s phone? I know it’s been a long time. It probably isn’t your number by now, right? Sorry, random person who isn’t my old friend, just ignore my rant.
I miss you. I know I messed things up between us, but you were my best friend for so long. I have other friends, I’m a functioning adult, I’m managing, but even after all these years, I still catch myself wishing I had you to talk to about my day. You meant so much to me, and I’m sorry I threw it all away. If you’ve come close to forgiving me, do you think maybe you could call me sometime? We could catch up.
I stare, blinded by tears as I reread it again and again. I miss her too. More than she could possibly know. My stomach growls, and I exit out of the message. I can’t. It’s too dangerous. I could hurt her.
The phone vibrates, and I risk a look. It’s her. She’s calling again. At two in the morning.
I don’t know what possesses me to answer the phone. It might be the bit of me that still wants to feel human, the bit that bought the necklace I’m wearing, the bit that wants to see how my old friend is doing and pretend that everything is normal. I fear that it’s the part of me that wants to eat her instead. I should fake a voice. I can sound like anyone in the world; I can tell her this isn’t her friend’s number anymore, and she should stop calling.
But it’s two a.m., and my friend needs me. I’ll let myself believe that’s the reason. “Hello?” My voice is my own or at least the voice that was once mine. It’s the only voice I ever use. The other wendigos I’ve met all talk in the horrifying bass growl I make when I’m not paying attention. I guess I’m just pretentious.
“Holy shit.” That’
s Elizabeth all right. “It’s really you. Which is good because I just realized how late it is and how crazy I sound.”
Hang up. Abby, just hang up. “It’s me.”
“Wow.” She sniffles, and I can see her like she was the last time, young and stubborn and ready to take on the world. And head-over-heels in love with me. This is a terrible idea. “I’ve really missed you.”
I choke back a sob, the sound coming out so utterly inhuman, I’m amazed she doesn’t ask what it is. I wipe away tears. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
She lets out a dry chuckle. “That’s a hell of an understatement. It was my fault, though. I know it was. I shouldn’t have tried to change things; we were perfect as best friends, and I was just being an idiot asking for more.”
Oh, you stupid fool. You really think that was why? I loved you too. I told you I did. “It’s okay.”
She sighs. “Where are you living now?”
Lie. Come up with something. Maybe she’s moved? “I’m just outside Toronto.” It has to be the hunger taking over. That’s why my body isn’t doing what I want, isn’t it? I’m luring her into a trap. I’m not just desperate to see my best friend. I’m going to kill her.
“Oh really? Find a nice place in Mississauga?”
I glance outside the window to the still woods surrounding my cabin. “Not quite.”
“Well, I’m still here. I have a practice in town, actually. I’m a real live therapist.”
I could use one of those. I’d chew on my lip if there was enough left of it. I should tell her to never call me again. It’s the only sane course of action. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
My Date with a Wendigo Page 2
