To Kiss a Werewolf

by Molly Snow

  The rain finally decided to shake itself loose from the gray clouds all at once in showers that rapped hard against the bed and breakfast’s roof. Caleb and Gordon had diligently worked on a fire in the fireplace with some chopped wood already there waiting to be lit. When it raged so much they had to hurry and close the glass before flames licked their way out, the two gave each other high fives.

  Ted and Marsha were dressed in some night clothes with matching bunny slippers, and took ownership of two overstuffed chairs beside the hearth. All the goo was mopped up, the floors rather smelling like Pine-Sol than what Stella had to admit formerly had a fragrance like lime Jell-o. Maggie had spent much of the time being an overzealous hostess, chattering up a storm with the guests, offering cheese and crackers, and passing out brochures to occupy them out in the formal room.

  Kit wore some rubber gloves and was busy cleaning some dishes leftover from the night before, including the ice cream bowls and spoons from their bedroom. “In that drawer there are clean washcloths,” she told Stella. “You can use one to wipe down the counters.”

  “The counters look clean,” Stella said.

  “Yeah, they do, but I just feel gross now in this house. I feel like double and triple washing everything. Oh no. Are we going to talk to the police about this right away? They may think we’re tampering with evidence by cleaning all this. What do you think?”

  “At this point, I don’t know what to think.” Stella pulled out a washcloth with a hummingbird embroidered on a yellow background. “I mean, yes, we do need to tell the police about all this, but obviously not tonight.” She squirted some dish detergent onto the little towel, bubbled it up with water, then got to work wiping the white tiles.

  “This is so unfair.” Kit stopped scrubbing a plate and turned around, folding her arms across her chest. “You and I didn’t hurt Mrs. Partridge. It was all Maggie and Gordon. We did nothing, but I’m afraid we’ll get into trouble too, now.”

  “Kit, we were all acting crazy last night. I seem to remember you telling Caleb to throw the lamp at her.”

  “What are you saying? That I was in a conspiracy to murder? You saw the lady. She was more freaky than ever last night. And what was with how she cracked herself up off the floor and acted like everything was dandy candy, even offering to make us pancakes! If I had asked her to put syrup on them in a happy face, I’m sure she would have obliged.”

  “Shhhh.” Stella stopped wiping. “Kit, I know, I know. Maybe she was in shock. But listen, don’t worry about it. We were afraid, and I believe we acted purely out of fear and self defense. They have to take that into consideration.”

  “They do?”

  “Sure they do…”

  Kit came over and wrapped her arms around Stella and cried. “I hate this place. I can’t wait to be home. And you were right; I can’t believe I thought Mrs. Partridge was a zombie.” Stella patted her on the back and held onto her for a while before breaking apart and getting back to work.

  Stella rinsed her washcloth and moved to the island. As she turned a corner, she noticed a couple tiles with hairline cracks through them. She scrubbed them extra, recalling what Kit said she witnessed of Damien’s rage. Now he was just another guy to add to the pile of let-downs. When would she learn to really get to know a guy before opening her heart? And, still, after everything she and Damien went through, a lone butterfly fought to take flight within, trying to get her heart to flutter over the moment they had in the kitchen, and over the moment they had at the beach.

  Stella joined Maggie and Kit back in the kitchen to go over dinner plans. Thankfully Mrs. Partridge’s grocery shopping gave them more to choose from.

  Caleb soon entered with a plate filled with cheese and crackers. “He won’t touch a bite. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Stella took the plate and put it in the refrigerator for him while Kit responded, “He probably doesn’t have much of an appetite, after finding out his grandmother’s dead. This is so terrible, him being all alone in there for all these years. No social life whatsoever. Has never seen the sun. Maybe we should invite him to come out to dinner with us.”

  Stella shook her head, and got busy chopping onions. “I doubt he wants to have dinner with us, let alone see us at all. We’re a bunch of cretins.”

  Maggie finished tying an old apron around her wide waist, and said, “Caleb, he knows it was an accident, doesn’t he? He doesn’t think we are actual murderers, does he?”

  “Huh, I hope not. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. He doesn’t want to talk to me. His last words to Damien and I were he wanted to be left alone to die.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” said Maggie, finally successful with tying a bow behind her back. “Did he tell you what he did with the body? We’ve checked everywhere, and couldn’t find her.”

  “N-no.” Caleb wiped some hair out of an eye. “I didn’t think to ask him that. I already feel strange trying to feed him crackers when he doesn’t want anything.”

  Stella stopped mid-chop, and rubbed the stinging sensation of the onion’s fumes from her eyes. “I think we should leave him alone tonight. He’ll be fine without some food and water for a bit. We can try again tomorrow.”

  “You know,” Maggie cut in, “if he commits suicide, then that’s more blood on our hands.”

  That was a legitimate worry. They each looked at other seriously, awaiting an answer. Stella put down her knife and said, “We can take turns staying in the room with him.”

  “Like on suicide watch?” Maggie asked.

  Stella hated the sound of it, but it was what it was.

  *

  Dinner was proving to be a successful event, with the fire alarm having gone off just once in its preparation. Stella came out of the kitchen with the two other girls, carrying pots with hot pads. Marsha was already cooing, taking her seat right away and coddling her husband to sit down. Ted didn’t need to be told twice, as he already rubbed his stout belly in anticipation.

  “We do hope you enjoy,” Maggie said, placing her dish down last. She removed the glass lid and steam swirled out. It was a mish-mash of tortillas and beans with beef, layered with melted cheddar cheese. Stella couldn’t believe their luck when they saw the new package of burritos in the freezer, and applauded Maggie for her quick thinking and super mixing skills.

  “Interesting,” Marsha said. “What do you call it?”

  “Um, well, it’s a Mexican dish, and I confess I can’t pronounce it.”

  “Can someone else pronounce it?” Ted asked. “It truly looks very interesting.”

  Kit gave an attempt. “El Burr…uh…” And Stella cut in, “Burratas.”

  “Wouldn’t that be ‘Las Burratas’?” Ted took heaping spoonfuls, one after another.

  “Si,” Kit said with a nervous giggle.

  Stella took the lid off her pot, and a puff of black smoke erupted out. Inside was supposed to be fluffy white rice. Instead, a bunch of water bubbled around white clumps, and she didn’t want to guess whether or not the rice were hard or tender. The charred ring around it all made her pretty sure of the answer, though.

  “Ohhhh.” Marsha’s eyes lit up big and wide. “Would you look at this, Ted? It’s an authentic Mexican pudding. It reminds me of the dessert we had that one time in Puerto Vallarta. Remember that cruise, Ted?”

  He sniffed at it appreciatively.

  “Yes,” Maggie said fast. “That it is. A pudding. And it may seem as though the dish was burned, but just like a good fillet mignon, it needs a little fire to get it going.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Marsha eagerly scooped some onto her plate in a drippy, sticky mess. “See, honey, I knew this place would be worth every single cent.” She then looked at Stella and said, “We’ve been celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary. I am so happy we found this place. Like a cherry on top of our vacation.”

  TWENTY

  Thunder and lightning continued to crash throughout the night. Damien sat out in the s
torm, at the edge of the ocean, feeling the warm rain spray through his fur. He looked up to the moon and gave a long howl of mourning. The brake lights along the swerving road behind him disappeared, as all the cars were free from the traffic jam. Apparently the rock slide was taken care of. His father would be in town in less than an hour, and he hated the fact that he had no choice but to stand him up. After all these years. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

  Thoughts led to the strange dream with the Deathheads, and how they said his condition was “rad.” No, he couldn’t think of anything worth celebrating when it came to being part dog. He looked at his waterproof watch and decided he had enough time to at least catch a few waves, though.

  The sea was black and the waves were high, rolling and crashing louder than ever. Damien’s surfboard thrust through the swells, to catch a ride. Balancing on top of an especially monstrous wave, he bent his hairy knees and his thighs bulged like never before, looking like muscle grew on top of muscle. In the distance lightning spider-webbed into the water, illuminating turquoise patches.

  When finished, he shook the water out of his fur, drove to the bed and breakfast, and parked along the road, hiding his jeep with rows of trees. The lights were still on, and the front room’s curtains were open, showing a man and woman sitting in front of a fire. He also saw the new addition in the lot. They had visitors. For a moment he wondered if it was his father in the blue and white striped pajamas. Had he already arrived? He looked at his watch. It was 10:15. Uncle Leo said not to expect him until around 11:30. Maybe he made really good timing. The PAA wouldn’t open the home up to just anybody, would they? Who would the woman be? His father’s wife? His stepmom?

  If Damien wasn’t going to meet his father face-to-face, he wanted to at least get a good look at him. He shut his jeep’s door quietly on the way out. The air had that moist feeling after rain lets up, and now all his nose seemed to pick up was the scent of wet bark. He crept to about five feet from the front window, and crouched in a bush, peeking through its leaves to inside the house.

  The man was pretty big and didn’t have much hair. Damien watched him puff a pipe and talk to the woman. He felt no connection to him, didn’t think they looked anything alike. Then he saw the bunny-foo-foo matching slippers the man and woman both wore. “No way is he my father,” he said. So the PAA let some strangers in, after all. They apparently made themselves comfortable, ready for the evening to spend the whole night. Strange. When Kit walked out of the kitchen, seemingly fine with it all, he felt better about the intrusion.

  A moment later it felt as if several eyes were on Damien, watching his every move. But now he couldn’t see anyone but the strangers, and they were busy talking to each other. Kit had walked away. He turned around to eye the parking lot and forest, just in case. Yes, there were definitely eyes on him, but from where exactly he couldn’t tell.

  His ears picked up a sound of heavy breathing, then a twig snapped in the distance. Damien whipped his whole self around, and crouched, darting his eyes every which way. Then he heard running, multiple feet stampeding away through the brush. There was no time to think further. He took off running in the direction of the sounds. His bare feet were padded so well it didn’t hurt to tramp along rocks and sticks and stickers at great speed. The trees whooshed by at tremendous speed. He thought he had gained on the stampede, but they soon were farther from earshot, proving that although he had been fast, he wasn’t fast enough. When he returned to his jeep, he rested, waiting for his heart beat to slow to its normal rate.

  *

  Stella offered to watch Seth next. It would be best to do her duty and get it done with. She kept the lights out but opened the heavy drapes to let in the moon’s glow. Still, she had to step around the room slowly to not trip. There was no expectation of actually talking to the grandson, currently covered from head to toe under the bedspread. Her cell phone would occupy her time while sitting on the carpet at the foot of the bed. Fingers flicked fast across a word puzzle. After that, she’d probably move onto a game of matching colored jewels. The field trip definitely took some unexpected routes.

  But after just a few rounds of her game, the bed springs creaked. The mirror attached to the dresser across from her, gave view of the lump stirring around, tossing and turning. The whole thing suddenly felt so eerie. Kit should have joined her.

  Suddenly, he spoke in a soft, high tone. “What’s your name?”

  Stella opened her mouth but it took a moment for her name to come out. “Stella.”

  “Stella?” he repeated. “That’s a lovely name.”

  The phone’s screen went dark from lack of activity, and the shadows in the room moved in on her. “Thank you,” she forced out.

  “My grandmother’s dead,” he said.

  “I’m… really sorry.” For a moment, she wondered if that was a warning. Would he jump out at her and get revenge?

  Seth stirred a bit more, and then paused. “Tell me about your life… out there.”

  “My life?” What would she say? “I’m sixteen, and I go to high school…”

  “Ah, yes. I have read about school. Tell me, what’s it like? Do you like it?”

  There wasn’t much good she had to say, but to tell that to someone who could never experience it, seemed very ungrateful. “Sure, there’s a lot to like, I guess. School has lots of other teens to get to know. You’re able to make lots of friends and study lots of subjects.”

  It sounded like he sighed to that. “What about dating. Have you dated? Please tell me, if you don’t mind. It’s just I can only dream of what that would be like.”

  Of all the things to ask her about. Her mind whirred with all the memories, especially the ones with Damien. “Yes, I’ve dated a few guys. Dating is much like a rollercoaster though, where things are usually really high or really, really low. I’m sorry… I guess I shouldn’t have brought up roller coasters, since you’ve probably never ridden one.”

  “No, it’s okay,” he assured. “I enjoy hearing it all. I can live vicariously to a certain degree. In here, in my imagination, the world is at my fingertips. I haven’t talked to someone other than my grandmother in so long. Please go on. What was your last boyfriend like? Was he handsome? What did you like best about him?”

  For whatever reason, she thought to describe Damien. She knew they were not literal boyfriend and girlfriend, but their recent drama had to amount to something. “Very handsome,” she said dryly.

  “Why is that, if you don’t mind? Was it is eyes, his hair, a combination? Do tell… I know it really isn’t my business, but I can’t help but ask. Please forgive me.”

  It didn’t feel inappropriate at all. If anything, it made her feel so sorry for the soul. Seth’s existence was so sad, so terrible, she would be nothing but rude if she refused to share. “His hair is a shiny dark brown, almost black. And his eyes are a deep brown. His smile is really bright, and it lights up his eyes really nice.”

  The bed creaked again, and Seth could be heard clearing his throat. “Black hair and brown eyes?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Please tell me more. What was his name?”

  “…Damien.”

  “What makes… Damien so special, if you don’t mind?”

  Stella took a deep breath and shook her head. “That’s the thing. I thought he was special, but found out differently today.”

  “Today?” he said with some excitement.

  “Yes. He’s gone now, and we’re over. So…” She thought then to change the subject. “Would you like some dinner?”

  “No,” he said right away. “…Excuse me; it’s just that with the death of Grandmother, I can’t imagine taking one bite of any offering.”

  Stella could imagine that were true. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Don’t be. What I would really like is to take my mind off of her passing. I would very much enjoy keeping our conversation going.”

  “…Okay.” Stella put her phone in her pocket and then fing
ered her long hair, bracing herself to continue. “What else would you like to know?”

  “What was your boyfriend before him like?”

  Billy? She really didn’t want to go there, but decided she could keep things pretty vague. “Billy was not a good boyfriend.”

  “Did he love you?”

  “No, he didn’t.” That darn chill went down her back that always came when talking about her past. “Maybe we can discuss something else. How about my favorite music?”

  “Did he not say he loved you?”

  Ugh. “He said he loved me, but that doesn’t mean it was true.”

  “Why not?

  “Guys lie, like all the time. Especially him.”

  It was silent for a long moment, and she leaned a hand back behind her, keeping an eye on the mirror. She touched something that felt like a shoe. She went to shove it aside, but it wouldn’t go. She looked down under the edge of the bed frame. It was a shoe, actually two, orthopedic Mary Jane’s. And they were attached to ankles with black stockings. “Seth…?” She wasn’t sure if she should ask it. Gosh, it was so gross. “Is your grandmother under the bed?”

  To her surprise the guy sat up, dropping the covers. In the mirror they made eye contact. It was still dark in the room, even with the moonlight as their companion, but Stella’s blood turned cold as she recognized the chiseled features and deep-set eyes. “Billy?”

  “Stella, don’t be afraid.” He was quickly at her side with a hand around her mouth. It just made her freak out more. She did not want him seeing her, touching her. And his breath smelled like dirt. “Please,” he went on, “I do love you… I just need to make things up to you. How can we be together? You have to tell me how. I’ll remove my hand, but if you scream or run, Stella, you’ll leave me no choice but to hurt you. Do you understand? You can’t let the others know I’m here.”

  She nodded, just to appease him, and pulled his icy fingers off her lips, trembling the whole time. “Billy, please… I broke up with you. I moved away from you. When I said we were over, I meant it. What do I have to do?”

  “I need to hear that you love me again.”

  “But I don’t. And I won’t ever.”

  “Listen, love, I have a surprise for you, but you have to be a good girl and stay right there. Just stay put a moment while I grab it for you. It surely will make you happy.” He nearly leapt to the other side of the room, and was back in less than a second. His eyes were super intense. “Can you believe I got these for you? They are your favorite.” In his hand was a single rose. “It’s black, love. Black. Just like you wanted. I figured out how to make them.”