Embrace the Wolf Page 4

  “Oh, no. No. Don’t go. I’m here. I’m listening. Please don’t go. Go on with your story.”

  “If you insist, Father. You do wish it, do you not?”

  “Yes, Yes. Please go on,” he said reluctantly.

  “Very good, Father. Well, over the years I refined myself. I came to know myself much better. Actually, being here is the inevitable extension of all my evolution to date, but more of that later. That dear girl had taught me how to heal that terrible separateness between me and other people, that mystery. With my new tools people were known to me, simple and clear, straightforward, no deception, no lies. Oh I hate liars. I had solved the mystery. I had my hands on truth. How many philosophers can make that claim, I ask you. When I ask a question, I get answers. You’d best believe that.” The stranger stopped abruptly.

  Father Shannon moved closer to the screen. He couldn’t tell if the stranger was still there. Hope and dread churned in him as he peered into the lattice work that separated them.

  The stranger began anew. “I’m sure you’re hoping to hear of a traumatic childhood, beatings, abuse, abandonment. No. Sorry. Not so. My parents aren’t divorced, alcoholic, poor. They never beat me. Not once. In fact, they never denied me a thing. I hardly remember them at all. They had little impact on me or I on them.”

  “I remember as a child I used to destroy my toys. And my mama would tell me that was a ‘no-no.’ I hated being told no. I wanted to do whatever I wanted, no limits, no nos. I’ve always broken rules. My will, my way. Do what I want. Did my mama tell me no once too often or not enough? Who knows? Can you believe what a fragile species we are if I’m the result of a no too few? Maybe I’m a biochemical glitch? Does it matter? Let me tell you I’ve studied mankind for these last few years now, and I’m not that strange, you know. Everyone wants to do what I do at some time. What do you think the families I’ve destroyed would do to me if they found me? Pray for me? Not likely, Father, not likely. But I’m sure you will, won’t you?” The stranger laughed. “Think about it, Father. I am wish unlimited, power without end, no bounds. Perhaps I’m not so strange after all. I’m part of all men, unbound. Am I not superior? Let me tell you, Father, I sleep like a baby. I am successful, respected, comfortable. Life is simple, clean. I don’t know anxiety, sadness, guilt, shame, depression, insecurity, doubt. No painful emotions. I know joy, contentment, happiness.”

  “Are you not lonely, my son, for the company or the love of others?” Father Shannon barely got his words out.

  “Lonely? No Father. Happiness is my self. Do I miss the love of others? I could just as soon ask you if you miss the love of a roasted chicken, for that’s what you all are to me—food.”

  “What do you think, Father? Can you answer me? Is there a place in your heaven for me?”

  “God loves all. All who would turn to his ways, no matter how late, how far they have strayed. You were gifted with an immortal soul in his image. You can lose it, but you can’t destroy it.”

  Fingers snaked through the grate and clutched it. “Oh no, Father? Can’t destroy it? Let me tell you I’ve made people turn on themselves like cannibals to escape me. There’s nothing I can’t make a person do. Give me three hours alone with you, Father, and you’d …” the stranger’s breath came rapidly.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I’m here to seek forgiveness for my sins. I’m sorry I lost control like that. It’s been quite a long time. Very unseemly of me. Where was I? You’ve confused me. I’m going to have to go back to the beginning. There was a time you’d have rued those words, Father. But I’m beyond that now. I have worked hard to purge myself of anger. I never really was angry, you know. But there was this frenzy. I was like a child at Christmas with a new toy when I was opening a person up—when I was getting close. Had to control that. I lost my head a couple of times. Got overzealous and that was that. Lost them. Jesus, that used to infuriate me. I’d have to go out and get another one. Right away. That was dangerous, let me tell you. But I was young. I needed to learn discipline. It’s a game of inches. Ha, ha. I like that. Well anyway, you know sometimes I’m not sure it’s the pain I’m after. I mean it works. But I sometimes think it’s breaking the taboos I crave.

  “Nothing is forbidden. It just happens that ‘don’t hurt me’ is such a big no-no. I hate masochists. That’s why I left the dub. You know I realized that the game was just that: a game. If I’d been just into the pain I could have stayed there. Lord, there were some people you could do anything to. But they wanted the pain so that lost its appeal to me. It was doing what other people didn’t want done that I adored. That look in that girl’s eyes showed me the way. I could never play the game anymore.

  “The pain is just a tool, you see. Kind of like prayer is for you, I guess. I bet I get better results, Father. Does God answer all prayers, Father? My people answer all my calls. Have you ever seen the human soul, Father? Well I have. It’s a goggle-eyed shrieking thing that shakes all over and wets itself. If that’s God’s image, good luck.”

  “God answers all prayers, son. The answer is not always yes.”

  “Oh that’s good. I like that, Father. I do. Excellent. Well, let’s see. No-nos, no-nos. There is no no I am subject to. No realm where you can evade me. No action, no thoughts, no feelings, but that which I and my tools will to be. I am in control, my will, my possession. There is no secret, no separation, no hiding, no mystery. The inside is outside. The pain focuses the totality of their being. My every movement yields a corresponding response. I am everything to that person. A god, if you wish. I learned this on the winos of this country. Perfecting my art, you see. Trimming the herd. Cutting out the weak, sick, those unfit to survive. No one lamented them. They died without leaving a trace in our society. They had removed themselves from their families and friends. No one missed them. As I grew older I reached greater heights of dexterity and discipline; I once kept one alive for thirty hours. Thirty hours. It defies belief. I did things medicine would say was impossible. I tried to research it. Apparently no records are kept. It’s a lost art. Well, as I grew older the demands began to exhaust me. It requires almost constant effort. Any respite and the damn things crawl back under a rock. So I studied. This led me to my next great discovery. You know in some ways you’re right, Father. The soul or spirit may or may not be indestructible, but it’s a damn sight hardier than the tissue. I needed to extend my domain and develop more efficient methods.

  “This was when I discovered children. Mind you, there were technical problems to surmount. They were easy enough to harvest, but their pain tolerances are too low; you can’t really get fancy with them. They die too easily. But they’re the heart of the family and that’s the heart of the herd. Take them and you rip the fiercest bond of the species. Wouldn’t you agree, Father? Father? Oh, I’ll go on. I know you’re out there.

  “Children, their innocence makes them so easy to seduce. There’s no end to the supply. But it isn’t really them I’m after at this point. Oh, I know there’s something in their purity and innocence that makes destroying them like pissing in the temple—destroying the holy of holies. But it’s those silent parents out there. Those wishes, dreams, so fiercely held that I was after. Think of it. Each death radiating out in a lattice of guilt and rage, fear and sorrow without end. This would be my kingdom: pain everlasting. Long after the flesh has failed to transmit my message, the soul goes on. Such efficiency, such breadth of scope. I had found the solution to my aging, a legacy that would go on forever beyond me. To legend, to myth. The missing ones like black holes torn in the fabric of families. Around the edges, as close as they dare to get they would embroider stories, lessons, signposts to their children and their children’s children to avoid that place. I would leave a mark on all those lives for generations. As long as there was memory, I would be there. In each and every house. Whew. My goodness. Well, I feel so much better, Father, let me tell you, having gotten that off my chest. This was the right thing to do. I was ready to share my creation with another. What
do you think, Father? No. Don’t answer that. Give it some thought. Hell of a tale, isn’t it? I’m taking my show on the road these days. You know—revisiting the scenes of some of my greatest triumphs, my earlier crops, to see what has come up after all these years.

  “Thanks for the talk. It’s been a pleasure. You probably saved a life today. Who knows? I’ll be back. This confession stuff is exhausting. We’ll talk about a suitable penance next time. Some Hail Marys, okay?”

  “That won’t …” Father Shannon snarled.

  “Listen, I want to come back. I mean I really want to seek God’s forgiveness. Can I come back tomorrow, huh? What do you say?”

  “You may come back.”

  Father Shannon was surprised at his feelings. His hands were clutching his knees and his teeth hurt. He heard the other door open and close. For reasons he could not fathom, nor truth be told did he want to, Father Shannon opened his door to the booth and went quickly out of the church. He saw the stranger striding swiftly away, heading toward the only house at the end of Point Repulse whistling in the late afternoon sun like you or me.

  Chapter 8

  Anyone who doesn’t believe in entropy isn’t doing his own laundry. I mean, where the hell do all those socks go? I stuck my head in the dryer, looking up and all around. The black holes of the universe are filled with solitary socks looking through eternity for their mates. The universe is coming apart at a rate equal to the number of socks lost per load. Believe it.

  I pulled my head out, waved bye-bye to my latest lost footwear, and went back to the bedroom to find a new pair of socks. I slipped them on and then my Bally loafers. I stood in front of the mirror silently thanking John Weitz for making stylish clothes for a size 48 regular with .45 caliber underarm deodorant. Navy blue suit, white shirt, rep tie. Rebellion in colored jockey shorts. I passed muster and went out to my car.

  I would rather have waited until night to see Lester, but my best chance of getting past his security was in the afternoon lull before one of his shows. I pulled up onto the Beltway and headed out to Potomac: Bethesda’s bigger, richer brother; the flashiest address in suburban Washington, “Megabucks City.” Home to orthodontists, bankers, paper chase lawyers, and the longest running whips-and-chains show in the area.

  I hadn’t seen Lester Kroll in over two years, but I heard from him regularly: invitations to his Halloween party each year that I always declined. I’d done some work for Lester keeping his good name unsullied. He’d lied to me up the kazoo. When I’d sorted out what was what, I was ready to hang Lester out to dry. However, a lot of not-so-innocent people would have joined him. I didn’t do that, and that left Lester very worried about me. He couldn’t understand not exploiting a weakness, and behavior he can’t understand worries him. So the invitations came regularly. I never went out there for his S & M smorgasbord. The VCR version would be out the next day. No thanks. Once is too much. But if anyone knew the heart and soul of Washington’s latex underworld, Lester did. He’d know who our canine commandant was, if anyone would. It was worth a try, at least.

  I got off at River Road and headed west. Past Burning Tree: “The President’s Country Club.” Past the Deutsche Schule, through the old village square toward Seneca. The last time I’d been up this way had been to pick thornless blackberries, hung up on trellises. A man-made pleasure now, delivered without the back breaking, finger pricking work nature first demanded for it. I hoped tonight would go as easily, but I doubted it.

  I pulled my car to the side of the road and looked at my watch. It was a little after two P.M. I wanted to go in with a caravan of cars. Pretty soon a pair of Mercedes, a Porsche, and a Datsun 280Z rolled through. I joined the parade. The stone archway had a brass nameplate: Count Aleksandr Karoly—also known by a lucky few as Lester Kroll of Pump City, Alabama.

  I parked in the corner and waited for the others to get out and head in. Tires squealed in the driveway and a car slewed into the lot. All heads turned.

  If there’d been a cherry on the roof of the car you’d have seen the fastest convening of the American Amnesia Society on record. The car pulled up next to me. There was a girl inside, alone. She turned to look at me for a second. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail on the top of her head. Her eyes were rimmed in black and silver makeup. Small crystalline tears of makeup dripped from each eye. She was one of the girls Lester had on hand at the house so that there would never be any permutations that would go unrealized. She was grabbing a bag from the back seat. I slid across my seat. She opened her car door and started to slide out. I opened mine and wedged it against hers and got out to talk to her.

  “What’s the matter with you, asshole? Why don’t you close your door, dammit.” She tried to squirm out and suddenly lurched to her right. “Oh fuck! I broke one of my heels. You stupid shit. You know what these cost?”

  I slid out of my car and stood between her and the house. “Listen, I just want to—”

  “I don’t give a damn what you want.” She looked up at my face. “Christ, what’s the matter with you. There’s plenty to get inside. You don’t need to get physical out here. Listen, let me go, dammit. I’m late and the count will really be pissed.”

  I didn’t move. “Wait a minute.”

  She gritted her teeth. “If he comes out here looking for me and I tell him you wouldn’t let me in, Kurt will fuck you up good. So you better let me go, Mister. I mean it.”

  “No. You listen a minute. I don’t want to do anything to you, with you, or near you. But I do want to see the count and I don’t think he will want to see me. All I want for you to do is let me in with you when you go in. After that I’ll deal with Kurt and the count.”

  “Oh yeah, right. Kurt would kill you.”

  “Listen, sweetheart—and I know you won’t believe this—but the last time Kurt was short with me it took three months to rebuild him. So don’t use Kurt to scare me.”

  “What are you gonna to do? Kill him? Man, I don’t want no part of this. Let me out of here.” She tried to back away from me. I grabbed her wrists. She dropped her bag.

  “I’m not going to do anything unless the count pisses me off. I just want to talk with him, and you’re going to help me do that. Right?” I was tired of this clenched teeth chatter and wished she’d just do it my way.

  “All right, all right. Just get off of me, you big ape. I’ll let you in. You just have to promise me that you won’t tell the count I did it. He’d kill me. I mean it. Have you ever seen him when he gets mad? Christ. He’s a crazy man.”

  “Your secret will die with me. Let’s go.” I leaned back, and she tried to kick me and run for it. Running on one five-inch spike heel is no mean feat. I reached and grabbed her around her corseted waist and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Look, goddammit, there may be lives at stake here, kids’ lives. Lester knows something. That’s all I want. Just a talk and I’ll be gone. If that means anything to you stop squirming and nod your head. Otherwise you spend the night in my trunk and I go in and do it the hard way. I’ll be sure to tell Lester you were a great help.” This whole thing was beginning to go sour on me, and I was starting to wish Arnie Kendall was here. Point him in the right direction and get out of the way. You can always reason with the survivors.

  She calmed down. I spread my fingers open a little. She whispered, “All right, I’ll do it. No tricks. Honest. I promise.”

  “You’d better, sugar. Next trick is you last. My normal jovial mood is about all used up. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  I put her down. She reached down and plucked off her outrageous shoes and threw them in the woods. “Shit. There goes fifty bucks.” She was wearing fishnet stockings attached to a black leather teddy, open to her waist; thick leather bracelets on her wrists; and a collar around her neck.

  “All right, Little Mary Sunshine, let’s go.” I followed her around the back of the house to a windowless door with a punch code lock on it. I slipped my arm through hers, pulled her close, and looked her squ
are in the eyes. “Do it my way and everything will go fine. You’ll go your way and I’ll go mine. You tell Lester I’m in the house and I’ll tell him you let me in. Fair enough?”

  She slipped her tongue out of her mouth and licked her lips. “Will you come see me inside? I’m in room six.”

  “Sure thing, blossom. Wouldn’t miss it. We can talk about old times. Let’s go.”

  She tried to nibble my ear and wrapped a leg around mine. Love with an anaconda. I didn’t know if being rough turned her on or this was a last-ditch effort to avoid going in, but I’d had it with little Miss Muffett. I grabbed her right arm by the elbow with enough force to numb her hand. “Stop it. You’re hurting me!”

  “Sorry. How gauche of me. Punch the code.” She tapped out the code with her inch long nails. The door slid silently open to a dark corridor. I’d never been in this part of the house. I dragged the girl along with me. The first room on the left was full of toys. I pulled my friend into it. Among many other things there was a gag lying on the bed and rows of leashes on pegs on the wall. I pulled down a leash and clipped it to her collar. Then the gag. She looked at it and at me and back at it. “I wanted to trust you, but you’ve been a real disappointment so far.”