by Dan Foley
“I’m not hungry,” she argued.
“Yes you are, you just don’t realize it,” he told her. What he couldn’t tell her was that the encounter with the ghost had drained him mentally, and that their lovemaking had drained him physically. He needed to eat. “We need good food, music and a lot of people. You know anywhere like that?”
Charlotte gave him a withering look before answering. “Bobby’s Barbeque Barn.”
“Sounds great. How do I get there?”
Twenty minutes later they were eating smoked ribs and corn on the cob. Wolf would have loved to have the snake-bit beans, but passed since he was spending the night at Charlotte’s. After one bite, Charlotte must have realized that she was hungry too. She dug into hers like she hadn’t eaten in days. Between them they finished off three orders of ribs and four ears of corn. Charlotte ordered a beer, but changed her mind when Wolf ordered iced tea.
They stayed for two hours, drinking iced tea, dancing and talking about everything but the incident with the ghost. Then they went back to Charlotte’s where they spent a restless night snuggled in her bed, each dreading the talk they’d be having in the morning.
14 – Acceptance
Charlotte stared across the table at Wolf and blew across her coffee cup. She knew she was stalling, but couldn’t bring herself to ask the question that needed asking — what happened in that pickup yesterday?
Wolf seemed as reluctant to talk about it as she did, but he finally reached across the table, took her hand, and said, “I’m sorry you had to go through that yesterday. I had no idea you were going to look in that pickup.”
“What the hell did happen?” Charlotte demanded, even though she thought she knew what the answer was going to be.
“You were attacked by the ghost of the man who killed himself in the truck. He was a sad, nasty man who hated the world when he died. His ghost was more of the same. He’s been haunting that pickup since the day he killed himself. He tried to take my power when I found him, but I beat him and left him cowering in the knee-well on the passenger side. When you opened that door, he took all his anger and frustration out on you.”
Charlotte shuddered. “I thought I was going to die, and then you were there. What did you do?”
“I destroyed him. I got into his mind and tore it apart. He’s gone and he’s never coming back.”
Charlotte shivered and hugged herself, then asked, “Could it have killed me?”
“No — not unless you let it. It can only get inside your head. If it scares you bad enough you could have a heart attack. One guy on the boat withdrew so far into himself that he never came back ... even after the ghost was gone. But you can fight back by getting into its head. You just have to be strong enough.”
Charlotte thought for a minute, before answering, “I don’t think I’ll ever be that strong.”
“You don’t have to be. I’ll always be there for you,” Wolf told her.
“Grandmere said she could see them too, and that there weren’t any around here that she knew of other than that one in the swamp.”
“Old Ben,” Wolf agreed. “We both know about that haint. She wouldn’t have known about this one. She had no reason to go near that pickup.”
“So there could be dozens around here you don’t know about.”
Wolf considered this before answering. He didn’t want to scare Charlotte, but he didn’t want to lie to her either. “There could be, but I don’t think there are. If there were, I would have seen them by now.”
Charlotte cringed when she heard this. The man she had always wanted was sitting across the table from her, but was the terror that came with him more than she could live with? She honestly didn’t know. “I need to talk to Grandmere,” she told him
When Charlotte and Wolf walked into the house, Grandmere saw the stress in Charlotte’s face and, ignoring Wolf, went straight to her. “Come in dear, tell me what happened”
“She …,” Wolf started to say, but Grandmere turned on him. “Hush, you. I’m talkin’ to Charlotte. Why don’t you go take a ride or somethin’?”
Wolf looked at Charlotte for support, but she nodded her head in agreement with Grandmere. “Fine,” he said, but obviously it wasn’t, and stomped out of the house. A minute later they heard him rev the Torino’s motor. It was followed by the sound of tires spinning through oyster shells and a chirp of rubber when the tires hit the road.
Grandmere shook her head and then turned to Charlotte. “That boy, he don’t understand women. Now, you come sit on da porch and tell me what happened.”
When Charlotte stood at the door to the porch, nervously looking out over the bayou, Grandmere said, “Don’t worry child, you safe. Nothin’ in that bayou gonna bother you here.”
“What about Old Ben?” Charlotte asked, eyes searching the swamp.
“That old haint stuck in that swamp. He cain’t leave it, no matter how much he might want to. Besides, that spook ain’t interested in you.”
“How do you know that?” Charlotte demanded.
“Cause you ain’t got no power in your blood. That’s all he’s interested in.”
“But you have the power if you can see ghosts. Doesn’t he want you?”
“Maybe a little bit, but I don’t go in that swamp an’ he cain’t come out. Da other thing is, my power ain’t that strong. I never fed it, I just let it be, an’ it sleeps most da time.”
“Could Melvin do that — let it sleep?”
“Too late for that. That power been growin’ in him ever since he fought that ghost back on that submarine. Now da only thing he can do is feed that power ... and get stronger. He get strong enough, ain’t no old haint gonna mess with him. Now tell me what happed yesterday.”
Charlotte told her about her encounter with the ghost and Wolf’s reaction to it.
“If that boy rip that old ghost out that pickup and destroy it, he be stronger then I thought. Corse that ghost was goin’ after you and that make a difference.”
“What difference?” Charlotte asked, hoping she already knew the answer.
“Day boy is sweet on you girl, but you know that. But like I already said, can you live with what he is? He say them boys in da Navy call him Wolf, an’ that exactly what Melvin is, a Wolf. You prepared to love a Wolf?”
“God help me Grandmere, I already do. I’ve loved Melvin since high school. Maybe even grade school.”
“Well, then, go get him, just let him think he da one doin’ the catchin’. But, once you get that boy, you got to let him be da Wolf he is. You can’t be trying to turn him into somethin’ he ain’t.” That was the thing that scared Charlotte the most. Could she do that?
After leaving Charlotte and Grandmere, Wolf just drove with no real destination in mind. He still felt good after his night with Charlotte, but when he passed the pickup where the ghost had terrorized her, the power within him surged. The ghost was gone, but the truck was a reminder of what the shade had done to her. Just keep driving, he told himself. If he stopped he wasn’t sure what he would do to the truck. Break all the windows? Set it on fire? That wouldn’t solve anything, no matter how good it might feel. What would Mose do? Let it go, that’s what. What’s done is done. I can’t let the anger control me. It took over yesterday and I destroyed a spirit. I can’t let that happen again.
But, as much as he tried to let it go, he couldn’t. As he drove south toward the delta, the thing inside him fed off his anger. Soon it would be strong enough to come out.
After two hours of aimless wandering, Wolf came upon a building with a sign outside, Stella’s Catfish Shack, and realized he was famished. All he had had at Charlotte’s was a cup of coffee. When he pulled the Torino into the small parking area outside the shack, he got dirty looks from two good old boys sitting at a weather-worn picnic table off to one side of the building. They were drinking Dixie beer and picking at something from a paper plate on the table between them. There were also six empties sitti
ng on the table.
Shit, Wolf thought as he stared back at them. The big one looked like a small bull ... or a large hog. He was at least six-foot five and two-hundred and fifty pounds. The smaller one, there always has to be a smaller one, reminded Wolf of a swamp rat. He was maybe five-foot five and if he weighted a hundred and sixty pounds if would mean he had rocks in his pockets. He was wiry, though. Wolf could see the muscles in his arm stand out as he crushed the empty beer can he had been drinking from. Wolf had grown up with guys like these. The kind that had been bullies in grade school and high school, and thought the world owed them something since dropping out.
By the way they eyed the Torino, and the Connecticut plates, Wolf knew they were going to be trouble. On another day he would have put the Torino back in DRIVE and driven away, but not today. Today trouble sounded good, so he got out and went in to the shack, barely glancing at them on his way in.
An old woman inside looked up when Wolf entered. “Help you?” she asked, not getting up from the chair she was sitting in.
A board on the back wall served as a menu. Today Wolf could have catfish, or ... catfish. “I’ll take an order of catfish and a coke if you have one.”
“Coke’s in the ice-box,” she said, pointing to an ancient refrigerator. “You can get yourself one and have a seat outside. I’ll bring your fish out when it’s ready. Comes with fries. That all right with you?”
“Good enough,” Wolf answered and went to get his coke. When he opened the refer’s door, he found it stocked with Coke and Dixie beer. He sorely wanted a Dixie. He even reached for one before letting his hand detour to a Coke. He found a church-key on a string hanging from the wall and used it to pop the top off the bottle.
When he walked back outside, Wolf found exactly what he had expected to find — the “good-old boys” were leaning back up against the Torino waiting for him. Assholes.
“What you doin’ down her in Louisiana, Yank?” the big one — asshole one — demanded.
Wolf ignored them, knowing it would piss them off. Instead, he walked over to the table they had been sitting at. “Hey, Yank, I’m talking to you,” asshole one said.
“You talking to me?” Wolf asked in his best Robert De Niro impression. It was lost on the idiots leaning against his Torino.
“You see anybody else around here, faggot?” asshole two said.
Wolf took an exaggerated look around before answering, “Nope. Unless you mean that faggot,” he said, pointing to asshole one. That did it — the good old boys left the side of the Torino and strolled toward him.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Wolf said to himself as he stood up to meet the men. He didn’t wait for them to reach him. In his experience, victory went to whoever got the first shot in. Instead, he rushed them and hit asshole one in the side of the head with the coke bottle. The man didn’t go down, but the blow staggered him. Wolf was turning to face asshole two when a roundhouse punch caught him in the side of the head. The shorter man was faster than Wolf had thought he would be. The blow staggered him, but he still managed to avoid the man’s next punch. It sailed by his face without connecting. Wolf took advantage of the miss by landing his own punch on the man’s face. That’s when the big guy he had hit with the coke bottle slammed Wolf from the side and he went down. When he tried to get up, asshole two grabbed him by the shirt and pulled it over his head. Asshole one then kicked him in the side. Wolf stayed on the ground and rolled onto his back. That’s when all hell broke loose.
Wolf screamed in agony when a searing pain that felt like fire, and had nothing to do with the kick, ripped through his chest. Asshole two, who had been rearing back to take his turn at kicking him, froze when he saw a small, crimson-red thing erupt from Wolf. “What the fuck?” was all he managed before the thing was clawing its way up his body toward his face. Asshole one stared in horror as it ripped the shorter one’s face open.
“What’s going on out here?” the woman from inside demanded when she rushed out the door. She screamed and ran back inside when she saw the creature clawing at asshole two’s face.
When Wolf picked himself up off the ground, the little red familiar hissed once in asshole two’s face and then raced back to its master. Wolf put his shirt back on, returned to the Torino and left. He was battered and bruised, but strangely exhilarated and at peace. The familiar that had been growing inside him, and feeding on his anger, was out. Right now it was sitting in the passenger seat licking asshole two’s blood off its claws. Mose had called his, his assistant. Wolf didn’t know what he was going to call his, but he was glad it had come out when it did.
As soon as the Torino was out of sight, Bubba, asshole one, made his way back to his buddy who was just picking himself up of the ground. “Where the fuck did you go?” asshole two, Skeeter, demanded when his friend tried to help him up.
“I … it,” Bubba stammered, but broke off when he saw Skeeter’s face. It was covered in deep scratches. Blood was dripping off his chin. “Holy shit! That thing really tore you up.”
“The fucking guy had a rat! It attacked me!”
“Jesus,” Bubba swore. “Next time I see that asshole, he’s a dead man.”
“You best be leaving that boy alone,” a woman’s voice said from just inside the shack. “He ain’t no yankee, and that wasn’t a rat. He’s dangerous. You don’t wanna be messing with him.”
“Dangerous, right,” Bubba snorted. “Well, dangerous or not, I’m gonna kick his ass when I find him.”
“You do that,” Skeeter said, touching the scratches on his face. “But I never want to see him — or his rat, again.”
When the boys left, Stella made a phone call. If this was something Renee La Pierre was interested in, she had to call her. If she didn’t, and Renee found out she knew about the man, the old witch might not be happy.
“Miz La Pierre, this is Stella Shaw,” she said when the call was answered. ”I own the catfish shack down by the delta. There was a man in here today you might want to know about. He got in a fight with some local boys down here. He sent them boys packing, but he had some help — a hairless red swamp rat. He was driving a fancy red car.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’ll stop by to see you tomorrow,” Renee La Pierre told her. “Make sure you’re there.”
“Yes ma’am, I will be,” She answered. Stella really wasn’t looking forward to a visit from Renee La Pierre, but if the woman said be there, come hell or high water, she’d be there.
15 – Revelations
Charlotte came rushing out of the cabin when Wolf pulled into Grandmere’s. “Where have you been? I’ve got to get to ...” She stopped short when she got a good look at him. “What the hell happened to your face?” she demanded.
“Little misunderstanding with some boys down by the delta,” Wolf answered a bit sheepishly.
“What were you doing down by the delta?”
“Just driving. Trying to wrap my head around us.”
Charlotte was surprised and worried by his answer. Was he going to dump her? “What about us?”
“It’s going to be hard to be just friends after last night. But after yesterday, I’m not sure you’ll want to be with me. If you can’t, tell me now before this goes any further.”
“Do you want it to go further?” she asked, hoping he would say yes.
Instead of answering, Wolf pulled her over to the side of the road and turned to look at her. “I do if you do. Do you?”
Here goes, last chance to back out, Charlotte thought. She considered it, but only for a second. “Of course I do,” she answered, and meant it.
“Then take the day off work, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“I can’t, not two days in a row. Tomorrow’s my day off. We can talk then, or tonight, when you pick me up. You will pick me up, right?”
“Of course,” he answered.
“Good, then just drop me off, there�
��s no need to get my truck if you’re bringing me home. Bring some clothes; you’ll be staying the night.”
After he dropped her, Wolf went back to Grandmere for some advice.
“You love this girl mon chere?” Grandmere asked as they sat on the porch looking out over the swamp.
“I think so,” Wolf answered.
“This no time for thinkin’, this a time for knowin’. She deserve that if you goin’ to ask her to be a part of da life you goin’ to be livin’.”
She was right, of course. Life with him was going to be filled with worry and danger. “I’ll talk to her tonight, tell her ... everything. If she still wants to stay then, at least she’ll know what she’s in for.”
“You do that. You tell her everythin’ ... everythin’ you done so far, everythin’ you think you might do in da future.”
“I will. But how do I tell her about this?” Wolf asked, and drew the little red familiar out from under his shirt where it had been hiding.
“Ha, you got one them now. When did he come out?”
“Today,” Wolf answered, and then told her about his encounter with the two rednecks.
“What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
“Then you got to give him one,” Grandmere told him. Then she thought for a minute and said, “Why don’t you call him, Lil Wolf?”
Little Wolf? Why not? But the familiar had to agree to it. “How about you? You like it?” he asked the familiar. The creature answered by climbing onto Wolf’s shoulder where it sat staring out at the swamp.
Wolf was waiting outside the Seven-Eleven when Charlotte got off work. She was carrying two Styrofoam cups. “I thought you might like a real cup of coffee,” she said, and handed one to Wolf. Little Wolf was tucked into the pocket of a windbreaker sitting on the back seat.
“Yes!” Wolf said as he accepted the cup and took a sip. Then he handed it back. “You’ll have to hold this until we get to your place, I don’t have any place to put it.” The drive only took a few minutes, so the coffee was still hot when they sat down in her living room to talk. Wolf took the couch. He placed the windbreaker, with Little Wolf in the pocket, on the seat next to him. Charlotte took the only other seat in the room, an overstuffed easy chair that had seen better days.
