The Craving (37 page)

Then he saw the door near the mirror. He had no idea where it led, but he realized that this could be his best chance to explore this part of the brewery. Was it possible Michael had the remedy stored up here?

He opened the door and saw that it led to a large closet or storage area, but there was nothing stored in it, just empty shelves. He continued through till he reached another door and went in, entering into a large kitchen. This was probably the room Michael had gone into that time when he brought out steaks and beers for the guys. There was a large, industrial-size stove, the kind that would be used in a restaurant. There was a large fridge. It was empty inside, though, and didn’t seem to be plugged in.

Simon continued through the kitchen, not sure what he was looking for. Maybe there was a keg or some sort of container or something
that would hold beer. There were a couple of large cabinets along the back wall. He opened one—nothing inside. He checked the next one—nothing as well—and when he closed it he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned and saw Michael standing behind him. He seemed to have come out of nowhere.

“You scared me,” Simon said. “Sorry, I was just looking for you … It’s easy to get lost in this place.”

“You’ll leave now,” Michael said.

Simon’s heart was thumping. If Michael hadn’t been suspicious about him already, he was now.

“Okay, great, I need to get going anyway,” Simon said.

When Simon left the bathroom Michael was waiting, holding open the door for Simon to exit ahead of him. In the corridor on the way to the pool table, Simon smelled it.

“There’s someone here,” Simon said. “You can smell a scent, can’t you?”

“He’s not an enemy,” Michael said.

Simon was confused but knew that asking more questions would be pointless. Besides, he just wanted to get the hell out of there.

The stairwell was well lit now. As they approached the floor where they’d killed the detective, the human scent got stronger and then Simon saw a young black guy, in his midtwenties. He was in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt but had a large mask over his mouth and nose, like the ones doctors wear, and he was wearing thick leather gloves and holding an old rusty shovel. Simon could also detect the scent of the blood of the PI, but it was much less odorous than before.

“Hey, what’s up?” the black guy said.

Simon didn’t know what else to say so he said, “Hey.”

“Leave now,” Michael said to Simon.

Simon knew he should leave as soon as possible, but he said, “Wait, who is this guy? What’s going on here?”

“Eddie is my driver,” Michael said.

“Your driver.” Simon had to repeat it. “So why is your driver…” Simon noticed that the body was gone; there was just a faint red stain on the floor. “What did he do with it?”

“Don’t worry, it’s taken care of,” Eddie said. “That’s what I get paid to do.”

“What do you mean, taken care of? What does that mean?”

“The bones are in the oven,” Michael said.

Suddenly Simon had thoughts of Nazis again.

“Oven? What oven?”

Michael looked at Eddie.

Eddie said, “It’s down in the basement.”

Simon noticed that the elevator door was open and there was a big rusty wheelbarrow in it with the detective’s remains. Simon had to look away or he would’ve gagged.

“Looks like you wolves enjoyed your meal, huh?” Eddie said. “Hardly no meat left at all, just bone. That’s cool. Makes it easier for me to clean.”

Eddie scraped the last bits of the body off the floor with the side of the shovel.

“Are you serious?” Simon said to Michael. “You think if the police investigate they won’t know what happened here?”

“I’m good at cleanin’ up after a job,” Eddie said. “I have lots of experience.”

Simon couldn’t see Eddie’s mouth, but his eyes narrowed as if he were grinning.

“This is the twenty-first century,” Simon said. “Maybe burning bodies worked fifty or sixty years ago, but it won’t today. There’s
probably detectable hair and blood all over this place. And what if the police find the oven? You really think they won’t figure out what’s going on?”

“You will leave now,” Michael said.

Simon was looking around—at the elevator, at Eddie, at the stain on the floor—in disbelief.

“When the man says it’s time to go, it’s time to go,” Eddie said.

Realizing that trying to be logical was pointless, Simon followed Michael downstairs.

On the ground floor Simon said, “Okay, so what happens next? Are you going to teach me how to assimilate, to control my behavior? If not, I’m warning you, I’ll screw up. I’ll turn at the wrong time, when people can see me, and you know what a disaster that’ll be.”

The only light was filtering in from the stairwell area. Still, Simon could see the outline of Michael.

“You want to kill me,” Michael said.

Simon didn’t know what to say. It seemed as if Michael was always a few steps ahead.

“You can’t hide from your desires,” Michael continued. “I see it in your eyes right now.”

Simon didn’t know how Michael could see anything in this light.

“It’s not true,” Simon said. “I—”

“It is true.” Michael wasn’t yelling—he never yelled—but his tone was insistent. “You are like me now. You share my blood, you share my desires, but until you admit your desire to kill, you won’t be able to control the wolf inside you. The wolf must be free.”

“I thought I proved it to you today,” Simon said.

“No,” Michael said. “Today you shared a meal, but you didn’t kill. You must kill to prove you are one of us.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Simon said.

“You will kill the detective,” Michael said.

“But the detective’s already dead.”

“The woman detective,” Michael said. “Detective Rodriguez.”

Simon had to smile. “Come on, I know you don’t joke around, but you’re joking this time, right?”

“She’s a threat to the pack,” Michael said. “She must be killed immediately.”

Not smiling anymore, Simon said, “Come on, seriously, we’re not going to kill a cop.”

“I won’t kill her,” Michael said. “
You
will, and the pack will share in the feast. That is how you will prove you are truly with us.”

“Look,” Simon said, “we … I mean, I can’t kill a cop. First of all, the police are relentless when cops are killed. I’ll never get away with it.”

“If you don’t kill her, I will, and then I will kill you, but I won’t share you with the pack. I will feast on you alone.”

Simon knew he had no choice, at least for right now. He had to agree to this craziness and figure out a plan later.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do whatever you want,” Simon said. “But how do you want me to do it? I mean, am I supposed to attack her at her desk in the police station?”

“We’ll come for you,” Michael said.

“I’m sorry, what does
we’ll come for you
mean?”

“You will leave now.” He opened the door for Simon to exit.

Then, when Simon stepped outside onto the dark street, Michael let the door slam.

A
lison was trying her hardest to be patient. It had been only about four hours since Stephen Tyler had started following Simon, and she knew she couldn’t expect instant answers. Still, knowing
something
would have been nice. Even a quick text from Tyler to let her know where things were at would’ve been great, but she’d texted him twice and so far she’d heard absolutely nothing.

It didn’t help that Jeremy had been in a mood all day. When Alison had returned home from meeting with Stephen and relieved Christina from babysitting duties, Jeremy had a fit—probably because he hadn’t napped and hadn’t had much lunch—clinging to Christina’s leg when she was leaving and then crying for her when she was gone. Jeremy had always had more separation anxiety than most kids—that was just the way he was—but Alison had been in enough therapy to realize that this was just his way of dealing with all the stress he’d
been through lately, trying to get attention or control over the situation.

Alison wished she could have a fit herself, let out stress, because she was wound up and overwhelmed. Besides having to deal with Jeremy’s tantrums and waiting for Tyler to call, she was thinking about her busy schedule tomorrow. She’d taken a personal day from work today, but tomorrow she had to go in and she had back-to-back meetings from eight thirty
A.M.
on. Christina wasn’t available for sitting, so luckily Alison had been able to arrange for Jeremy’s friend Matthew’s babysitter to watch Jeremy tomorrow, but Matthew lived downtown on West Sixty-seventh and the earliest she could drop off Jeremy was eight fifteen, so she’d have just fifteen minutes to make it to her first appointment, all the way back uptown on the East Side at Mount Sinai Hospital. Even if she got Jeremy up, dressed, and out the door by eight, it was going to take a minor miracle to find a cab and make it to her appointment—that she couldn’t be late for—on time. And tomorrow was just one day. What was she going to do the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that? Now that it seemed as if Simon, for whatever reason, had officially checked out of this marriage, it was hitting Alison that she was going to be a single mom, something she was completely unprepared for. She’d have to find some kind of day care for Jeremy, maybe try to hire back their old babysitter, Margaret, but that would mean going into savings and she wouldn’t be able to afford it for long. If she got divorced, she’d have to sell the apartment and move to a smaller apartment or to an outer borough.

Alison needed a drink. There was a bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge. She didn’t know how old it was, but did it matter? She poured a glass and drank it in a couple of gulps. She didn’t feel any more relaxed, though—just a little sick on top of being stressed out.

She put Jeremy in bed, read him
Where the Wild Things Are
, then went out to the living room, checked her phone—still nothing from Tyler—and did some research on one of the drugs she would be pitching at her nine o’clock.

“Mommy, I think there’re bugs in my bed.”

Jeremy had come out of his bedroom, clutching Sam, his stuffed bear.

“Sweetie, Mommy has a lot of important work to do now, okay?” Alison said. “So can you please be a good boy and go into your room and go back to sleep now?”

“Will you lie in bed?

He made his adorable pouting face that was impossible to say no to.

Alison figured that if she didn’t get into bed with him, he would be going back and forth out of his room for the next hour, which she definitely did not have patience for. So she lay in bed next to him, and within a few minutes he had fallen asleep, and maybe the wine was finally kicking in because she was sleepy, falling asleep as well, and then her phone, which she had brought into the room with her, vibrated, indicating a text message.

Jolted awake, she checked it, angry that it was from Simon:

Where was Simon texting from? Was Tyler following him or not? Why wasn’t Tyler getting back to her?

Now she was wide awake again, way too agitated to sleep or get any work done. She went back out to the quiet living room and suddenly felt like this was a glimpse of her future. Going forward, this was
how her evenings would be—she’d be stressed out, alone, overwhelmed. She checked her phone again and angrily deleted the text from Simon. She wanted to call Vijay. She hadn’t spoken to him since yesterday at his apartment and hadn’t texted him since afterward when she wrote to tell him she’d had an amazing time with him and he’d texted back:
Yeah, it was awesome.
She’d been hoping he’d text her first today, even just to say hi, but he hadn’t, which wasn’t really a big deal since it had only been one day and he was a busy doctor, after all. But she also felt a little ridiculous waiting for a text from him. They were adults, colleagues—well, kind of colleagues, but still. Why not just call him?

Without further debate she called him, got his voice mail after four rings, and left a message: “Hey, it’s me, Alison. Just wanted to say hi and see how you’re doing today. I had a wonderful time last night and…” She couldn’t think of anything else to say; she had to end this quick. “Anyway, well, talk to you soon. Bye-bye.”

She clicked off—loving the first part of the message, hating the second part.
Bye-bye?
Ugh. She wished she’d thought it through first, but whatever, didn’t she have enough to stress about?

As she washed up and got ready for bed, she couldn’t stop fantasizing about Vijay. It had been nice, even soothing, just to hear his voice mail. He had such a calm, down-to-earth demeanor, like a bedside manner, and always seemed to make her feel happy. Maybe she’d been overstressing about her whole situation—maybe her single, post-Simon life wouldn’t be so dismal. She and Vijay could start spending more time together, maybe even become a serious couple. They both had busy lives, but lived in the same general neighborhood; it could be the perfect situation. And they definitely had great chemistry and a strong connection. He’d mentioned he wanted kids someday, and she certainly wasn’t opposed. Okay, so she knew she was getting way ahead of herself now, but so what? She imagined living with Vijay,
maybe moving into his place, at least temporarily, until the baby was born. Jeremy would have a sibling, which would be great for him, and she would have a solid, dependable, attractive, successful husband.