Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night

by Juliann Whicker

  The man glanced at me and showed me his teeth in something other than a smile. “What do Butchers have to do with it?”

  “Since you attacked a Butcher in my city,” Armand answered shortly. “Why would you attack a Butcher unprovoked?”

  “Unprovoked?” the man hissed. “Unprovoked? I’ve been hunting Butchers ever since Ravenburg, the Butchers who burned down our settlement, leaving heads on stakes.”

  He made as if to attack me again in his man form, but Armand growled a warning that stopped him. “Does he look like a Butcher who bothers burning things down? Butchers don’t behave that way. Other things masquerading as Butchers might. We’ve had some renegade Butchers here who caused some mischief, but nothing too serious. The real Butchers wouldn’t allow that. Tell me more about your town.”

  The grizzled man glanced from Armand to me before he shrugged and tried to bury his emotions. “We get travelling Butchers from time to time, but we’re not big enough to have a permanent actual Butcher. Twelfth night came and went. We didn’t have any wolves change this year, but then later, bodies started showing up, horribly mangled and missing a lot of parts, organs, tender juicy parts like a werewolf who didn’t get taken care of might consume. We got reports of other bodies in the surrounding towns. That meant either more than one wolf, or one that was far hungrier and vicious than he should be.

  After that, a Butcher showed up, made a big speech about how if we were concealing a monster in our midst we had to be destroyed. I personally interviewed every werewolf and none of them, I trust, had any idea of the wolf or wolves causing the damage.”

  He shook his head, gazing at me angrily. “He burned it all. Not only wolves, but everything. Children were screaming from the flames. Far more died that night than were mauled.”

  I glanced at Armand and we shared a look.

  “How far downriver is your town from here?” I asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  He growled at me. “How did you know it was downriver?”

  Armand stepped up and punched him in the face to get his attention. Werewolves. Not that I didn’t want to punch him in the face.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Around two hundred miles, more or less,” he finally said shaking off the punch. “I’m looking for justice.”

  “Maybe so, and maybe you’re just telling stories,” Armand growled, clamping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “We’ll keep you in lockdown for a good lunar while your stories are investigated. It would be a pity to let you loose if you happened to become a suspect.”

  I tossed him an instrument that looked like a pen but was more like a tazer that would give the wolf a direct volt of electricity to shut him down for a few hours. Armand used it before the wolf knew what was happening, collapsing in a heap between us.

  “How did you know it was downriver?” Armand asked.

  I swallowed. “Merlow. He mentioned an Amish settlement destroyed by a Butcher bringing accusations of human deaths. He’s afraid.”

  Armand raised his eyebrows and stood there, thinking, taking his time. “This darkness has been growing for some time. What is the C.M. doing about it?”

  I shook my head. “I’m supposed to look into it.”

  Armand snarled. “It’s not your place.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m The Butcher.”

  “And your duties grow heavier and heavier almost as if he’s trying to crush you.”

  I frowned as I thought of my father, my fist in his coat, lacking all discipline and respect. “Maybe I need crushing.”

  “One of my pack was at the museum, checking out the fine werewolf display and saw you hitting it with some girl. I didn’t know you had it in you, little brother.”

  I looked up at him studying his expression. Was he just trying to get a rise out of me, or was it something else? “I took the Jag out and when I brought it back, I…” I shook my head and looked at my fist. “I know better, but I don’t entirely care. I’m trying to care. This is a serious business, monster werewolves hunting humans, Butchers slaughtering everyone, it’s very serious, but all I want to do is eat a cream puff.”

  “So that’s what you call her?”

  I threw a knife at him, not a silver one because I didn’t want to kill him and knew that he’d dodge it. He did.

  “Don’t speak of her.”

  “But we’re best friends, didn’t she tell you? She fed me hundreds of muffins when her mean Butcher wouldn’t eat them.”

  I gritted my teeth, trying to understand what was going on. Why would he say that? It couldn’t be true. I wouldn’t let it. I turned around and walked away. Armand would take care of the wolf, and I would report to the C.M. about it. I would not take out a silver knife in response to his goading.

  “Where are you going, to taste a vanilla-jasmine cream puff before the other boys take them all? Be careful, Orion. You’re not allowed to feel anything. You’re not allowed to put one life above the greater good. Self-denial, self-control, self-sacrifice.”

  I walked away from him, one step at a time into the darkness and shadows.

  Chapter 26

  The Baker

  My weekend at my uncle’s house was actually pretty fantastic. Puffer was patient and incredibly knowledgeable about all things strudel. I learned so much I thought my head would explode, and then Sunday my uncle gave me a ride to the museum. I got my backpack, changed in the bathroom and then took the metro back to school in the afternoon. I had a big bag of strudel that Puffer had nodded soberly his approval over that I wanted to give Orion. I hesitated outside of his door before I knocked, but after waiting a few seconds, realized that he wasn’t there.

  “Is that for Orion?”

  I stiffened when I heard Toby’s voice, the boisterous, obnoxious tone that made me clutch the bag tight in my fist, like I’d hit him with it.

  “Toby, that isn’t your concern. If Daughtry has business with Tancetta, I doubt if he’d appreciate you inserting your nose in it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was more irritated or relieved to turn and see Mal standing there, auburn hair and long nose stuck in the air as he eyed Toby.

  “What’s this, are we having a party?” Francis draped his arm over Mal’s shoulder and grinned at Toby. “Too bad there aren’t any girls we could sneak in while Orion’s away.” He winked at me and I backed away from them.

  “Whatever. I’ve got homework to do.”

  “Yeah?” He left Mal and walked with me back towards my room. At least the other two boys didn’t follow. “What’s in the bag?”

  I shook my head. “Strudel. I stayed at my uncle’s house, and their Baker…”

  “Oh, you didn’t make these? Then I’ll just…” He snagged one out of the bag and popped it into his mouth before I could stop him.

  I rolled my eyes while he chewed thoughtfully, his eyes blinking rapidly as he smiled at me, possibly the first genuine smile I’d seen. “That’s good, Tancetta. Who is your uncle?”

  “Vincent Venetti.”

  “Ah.” He nodded his head like he knew that name, and I realized that he probably did. Everyone at that school had relatives who had gone to this school for hundreds of years as far as I knew. “Puffer’s the Baker, right? Can I have another?”

  I shrugged and held out the bag, not correcting him. “Whatever.”

  He took a handful that he shoved into various pockets while I tied the bag and kept walking towards my room. “Thanks, Tancetta. I had no idea Puffer did strudel.”

  The next morning I woke up to a knock on my door. I opened it up and saw Orion standing there, tall, strong, smiling at me like he had a secret I wanted to hear.

  “Francis told me that you have something for me.”

  I glanced over at the bag of strudel and shrugged. “They’re probably stale by now.”

  “Did you make them?” His eyes were intense, serious, like it was the most important question imaginable.

  “Yeah. I mean, Puffer showed
me some good techniques, but overall, I made them.”

  “Can I…” He started edging into my room and I glanced around, searching the room for signs of a female resident, but everything incriminating was out of sight.

  I gestured in and closed the door behind him. He froze at that sound, the soft brush of the door closing, like I was locking him away from the rest of the world for all eternity. I wanted to open the door and back away from him, but I was probably imagining his reaction.

  “Yeah, I mean, the techniques were pretty intense. I had no idea…” I grabbed the bag and turned around then stopped in front of Orion.

  He took the bag from my fingers without touching me. I felt a lurch of disappointment so heavy and thick that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Then he put his hand on my shoulder, his fingertips on the skin of my neck while he fished a Danish out of the bag and put it against his lips. For a moment I felt like his lips were on mine, the slightest pressure as I parted my lips before he opened his mouth and bit, white teeth against soft dough, like his teeth against my bottom lip.

  He didn’t look at me as we stood there, him eating strudel and me standing there, soaking him in and just basking in his presence. It seemed like no time had passed before the bag was empty and he blinked at me and with a smile withdrew his hand from my shoulder, slowly.

  I exhaled and crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “So, Violetta said that she saw you at the museum.”

  He nodded, his expression serious. “I met your sister. She left quite a strong impression.”

  I raised my eyebrows, channeling my brother while I scowled. “How so?”

  “Her appreciation of art is extraordinary. Tell me, what is her favorite kind of chocolate?”

  I fought my own smile and shrugged. “English is good, Italian hot chocolate is great.” I frowned at him. “Do you have her clothes? She said that she fell into a pond. I have this.” I grabbed the folded pile of black and white Cosplay clothes and put them in the strudel bag for him.

  He looked surprised and shook his head. “She wants her clothes back now?”

  I shrugged. “Next time I see her.”

  “When will that be?”

  I scowled at him. “I don’t know, whenever. It’s her favorite sweater.”

  “I was going to have it cleaned first. I thought I’d be able to return them in person sometime. Do you think…”

  “She asked me to get them for her. I don’t know what kind of girl you think my sister is, just because you got her undressed on your first date, but that doesn’t mean…”

  “Did she call it a date?” He looked pleased and for some reason I couldn’t maintain my scowl.

  I opened the door wide and gestured him out. “I’ve got to get dressed. You’re welcome for the strudel. Get out.”

  His eyes twinkled as he studied me, almost like he was going to challenge my ability to kick him out of my room. He put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll get you her clothes as soon as possible. Thank you for the strudel, Tancetta. Enjoy your day.” He gave me a strangely graceful bow before he strode out of my room, closing the door behind him, leaving me to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor.

  Did Orion like me, Violetta instead of Olivia somehow? It wasn’t possible and yet, the way he’d kissed me…

  The rest of the week was normal, me playing violin for Orion on Wednesday while he stood beside me and I closed my eyes and felt his arm brush mine and every particle of me rebelled and demanded that I turn and slide my arms over his shoulder and hold on and never let go. I baked for him that night and left the cinnamon rolls outside his door, and then the week was over and I was left with another weekend.

  I didn’t know what to do, but I needed to talk to someone who understood, someone who could tell me whether I was crazy or not, but who did I have? I ran my hand through my hair and paused. The Greek. The last meeting had been weird, but this time would be better, and I needed to talk to someone about the Orion mess. Saturday morning, I left the dorm, walking across the pavement to where the cab waited on the curb for me. I ducked in the back seat and slouched down, muttering the address to the driver while I pulled the jeans off of my legginged legs and pulled the skirt down from where it had been around my ribs, taking off two sweatshirts I had over a pink cashmere sweater. He still hadn’t given me back my clothes.

  I shook my head and tried not to think about it. It was over and it hadn’t really even begun. He’d been in a weird mood from the thing with Sebastian and Olivia. It didn’t make any sense since I hadn’t heard from her or talked to her since the first pond incident. Why would she tell him that I was dating her? Who knew what mind games Olivia played? The cabbie pulled up in front of Nick’s place which was actually The Greek’s. I paid him and ignored some comment about me being a cross-dresser before I walked over the sidewalk to the glass door of the barbershop.

  I opened the door, noticing that the normal jangling bell made no sound.

  “Hello? Greek?” I called, edging past the counter and the barber chairs swiveled in various directions. I paused when I saw my reflection in the sheet of mirror that hung along the back wall. I smiled at the pretty girl who smiled back at me. My smile faltered when I heard a sound, a muffled scuffle that made my heart lurch.

  I held still for a moment before I forced myself to edge forward, grabbing the broom as I walked towards the back. I kept my steps soft as I went until the Greek came out, his puffy face in a scowl.

  “What are you doing here? Didn’t you see the sign? Closed.”

  Just then an enormous dog jumped on him, showing white teeth at me before he sank the sharp canines into the Greek’s shoulder.

  I screamed and threw the broom, hitting the Greek while he struggled with the dog. My parents! The tiger! I ran out the front door, racing as fast as my heart until I hit a body, strong, firm, unyielding. I knew it was Orion by the coat, the chest, but more, the smell and feel of him. I grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the shop.

  “Knives,” I stammered, gasping. “You can help him. Please,” I added, looking up at his face, sweet chocolate eyes, cinnamon stick mouth in a straight line as he nodded and pulled out two knives before he slammed through the door.

  I held back for a few moments with my eyes tightly closed, hating myself for being a coward, but the teeth, the growling, my parents…It seemed an eternity that I stood there on the sidewalk, my heart slamming in my ribcage. What if Orion got hurt? What if something happened to him and I was too scared to do anything about it? I edged towards the door, but I just couldn’t.

  “It’s okay,” he said, through a crack in the door. It couldn’t be okay. The dog had eaten my hairdresser. “You can come in.”

  I had to count to five and take a deep breath before I could walk through the door, grabbing onto his hand before I walked inside, staring at the Greek where he held ice on his shoulder where the animal had bitten him.

  “You okay?” he asked me, like I was the one attacked by a rabid, blood-thirsty wild animal.

  I swallowed hard. “Where’s the dog?”

  He nodded towards the back, exchanging a look with Orion. “You can show her. Make sure she doesn’t get too close, you know?”

  Orion nodded back and slipped his arm in mine, leading me towards the back while I dragged my feet. In the back room, an enormous mottled gray dog growled and snarled from his cage, an impressive steel frame that didn’t so much as jiggle when the animal threw itself against the bars.

  I flinched and turned my face into Orion’s coat, terrified, beyond terrified.

  He put his hand on my hair, smoothed down my neck to my back before he spoke in a low gentle voice. “I helped get him into the cage. I think it’s part wolf. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s all wolf,” Armand said from the shadows past the cage.

  Orion stiffened, pushing me behind him while I frowned, trying to understand why Armand’s voice sounded so familiar. Low, dark, throbbing, slightly resentful, but also t
ired. So tired. I knew that voice. That’s the voice I’d heard…

  I gasped and turned, running for the second time out of the hairdresser’s shop, outside, searching the street for a taxi.

  “Are you all right?” Orion asked, sounding on edge behind me.

  I spun around, staring at him, the world spinning out of control around me. “No. I need a ride. Will you take me?”

  He nodded and gestured up the street where his car was parked lopsidedly in front of a pet store.

  I shuddered as I saw the puppies in the window that tumbled and growled, chewing on each other’s ears. Savages.

  I climbed in the car, closing the door and buckling up without looking at Orion, at anything. I couldn’t or I’d start to cry, to let the tears out and they’d fall, and fall, and never stop falling.

  “Left at the next corner,” I said, feeling numb.

  He didn’t talk, just drove while the wind blew the thoughts from my mind. I wanted to drive forever, to forget about everything, but eventually I told him to drive through the gates, the old metal bars open for everyone, alive and dead at the city’s cemetery.

  “Park under this tree.”

  He obeyed, pulling beneath the smoky rust of the leaves above us. The air smelled tired. Like dust and the end of good things. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I’d brought my jacket. I’d forgotten it. The two sweatshirts in my backpack would keep me warm, but of course I couldn’t wear them in front of Orion. I shouldn’t have brought him there. I glanced at him, but he only sat beside me, staring ahead expressionlessly.

  I wanted to tell him to wait in the car, but I’d have to talk, and the lump growing in my throat would come out with tears if I tried. I swallowed and got out. He came with me.

  They were buried beside a tree, their fairly recent graves covered in red and gold leaves. I dropped to my knees in front of her headstone, my mother, Laurel.

  Laurel Simon Tancetta, age 41. Loving mother, wife, gardener who grew things with love no water could make thrive.

  The words blurred, the gray headstone, the dark writing and the blue sky, the golden world that had darkened so much when she’d gone away. My father, beside her as he had always been beside her, but my mother had been the pie filling, the crispy fried chicken and creamy mashed potatoes, the Thanksgiving turkey and Christmas ham. Without her, I was just spinning, spinning, spinning.