The Craving (20 page)

“You mean with Michael?”

“Why not? Michael’s a great guy.”

“A great guy?”

Charlie had no reaction.

Simon looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping—there was a group of college-age kids a few tables away, but they were distracted and too far away to overhear anything—and then practically whispered, “Michael’s a total psychopath. He killed my ex-boss and shot two innocent people in cold blood. He’s probably killed other people too. He tried to kill me, and he’s the one who did all of this to us.”

“That’s why I love him,” Charlie said.

“Because he’s a killer?”

“No, because he gave me this gift. Did you see how fast I was running today? Do you know how amazing it felt?”

“Yeah, I know exactly how amazing it feels, but what happens when the world finds out that we’re…” Simon was going to say
werewolves
but said instead, “…different. What happens then? We’ll be treated like total freaks. Will you think it’s a gift then?”

“No one’ll find out,” Charlie said.

“You were on national television today.” Simon had raised his voice. Quieter, he continued, “You don’t think people’ll wonder how a fireman won the New York City Marathon?”

“I didn’t win.”

“What?”

“I didn’t win. I faded at the end and finished ninth. I
could’ve
won if I wanted to; I could’ve set a freakin’ world record. But I was smart. I knew winning would be too much.”

“Ninth, first, it doesn’t matter,” Simon said. “How many interviews did you just do? How many people are tweeting and Facebooking about you right now? Don’t you think people’ll find it strange that a nonrunner was able to finish ahead of so many top-class athletes?”

“I couldn’t help it, I had to run, I had to feel what it was like. Come on, you don’t feel that way sometimes? Like you can do anything?”

Simon flashed back to that day in the gym when he’d benched 360 pounds, the muscle heads surrounding him, chanting, “Go, go, go…”

“What if they test your blood?” Simon asked.

“Michael said our blood’s normal,” Charlie said. “Well, when we’re normal humans anyway. When we’re wolves, it’s different.”

If this was true, it was the best news Simon had gotten all day. He’d thought he’d have to avoid doctors and blood tests for the rest of his life. He’d been afraid a blood test could potentially prevent him from getting a job too.

“It’s still a crazy risk,” Simon said. “Not just for yourself, but for all of us. Did you tell Michael you were running in the marathon?”

“No, and he’ll probably be pissed off about it too. It’s against his rules.”

“Rules? What rules?”

Suddenly Charlie looked uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact, as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to. “I shouldn’t really be talking to you about any of this; that’s against the rules too.”

“I don’t
understand what you’re talking about,” Simon said.

“Forget about it.” Charlie seemed even more uncomfortable.

“Forget about what?”

Charlie hesitated, then said, “Michael told me and Ramon not to try to find you. He said you’d come to us when you were ready. But maybe you are ready. Maybe that’s why you showed up today.”

“No, I showed up because I saw you on TV.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to come find me. What made you come?”

Remembering how horrific he’d looked in the bathroom mirror, Simon said, “I was just … concerned.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” Charlie said. “Seriously, when I saw your face, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve been wanting to thank you for weeks.”

“Thank me? What for?”

“You saved my life. If you didn’t kill Olivia, she would’ve killed me.”

Simon looked around nervously, but the college kids still weren’t looking over.

“You know she was Michael’s girlfriend, right?” Charlie continued. “He said he was her soul mate. But he was glad you got rid of her too. She would’ve been trouble for all of us, that’s for sure. I mean, she was out of control.”

“I didn’t kill her for Michael,” Simon said. “I killed her to save you and Ramon.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re a hero,” Charlie said, “as big a hero as me, or anybody I work with, and you didn’t just save my life either. You know what they say? Save one life, save a million lives.”

Simon had never heard of this expression, if it actually was an expression. He said, “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You saved me and thanks to you I pulled a kid, nine years old, out of a fire last week. See? Being a hero, what’s it called?
Heroism.
Yeah, heroism, it trickles down. That kid might save people when he grows up. He might become a doctor or find a cure for cancer, and it’s all because of you, Simon Burns.”

“What if the kid grows up to be a mass murderer, the next Hitler. Was I a hero then?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Charlie said. “You saved a million lives. That’s the bottom line.”

The waitress arrived with the beers.

Charlie raised his glass and said,
“Prost.”

Since when did Charlie toast in German?

“Prost,”
Simon said, and took a sip.

“Ah, you didn’t look me in the eye when you said
prost
,” Charlie said. “Michael said that means you’ll have seven years of bad sex.”

“How about seven years of no sex?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, “like that’s gonna happen.”

“It’s happening already,” Simon said.

Charlie put down the glass, looking concerned. “You’re joking, right?”

“What?” Simon said. “You mean, you can have sex without…”

“A condom?”

“No,” Simon said. “I mean without … you know … transforming.”

“Oh yeah, I wolfed out a couple times. That’s what Ramon calls it—
wolfing out
.” Charlie smiled. “But Michael helped us out with it. I don’t mean actually helped us out, but he taught me how to deal with it. You know, gave me strategies.”

“What about when you get angry and excited?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like today. When I saw you on TV, I was surprised, as you can imagine, and maybe my heart rate surged, and I … well, I at least started to turn. It was terrifying. I thought I’d kill my wife and son. I didn’t know what to do.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing,” Simon said. “I mean, I somehow stopped it. I turned on the shower, got under cold water, and that made me change back.”

“It probably wasn’t the water,” Charlie said.

“Really? Then what was it?”

Charlie was about to answer, and then his expression changed, as if a new thought had suddenly come to him, and he said, “That’s why you need Michael; that’s why you need us. You should come to the brewery tonight. We’re meeting up at, like, nine o’clock.”

Simon shook his head and couldn’t help laughing. Go back to the brewery? Where he’d killed that crazy she-wolf, Olivia? Where he’d had the most horrific night of his life? And hang out with Michael, the homicidal maniac who’d caused it all?

“As appealing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass,” Simon said.

“Sorry to hear that.” Charlie was suddenly avoiding eye contact again, looking concerned. He took a long swig of beer, finishing the pint, then said, “I really shouldn’t be here. Michael told me not to see you.” He closed his eyes and flared his nostrils. Then his eyes opened and he said, “He’s not here, but it was still a big mistake.” He stood.

“Where’re you going?” Simon asked.

“Gotta get outta here,” Charlie said. “My ex wants me to take Nicky tonight. But do me a favor? If you see Michael again, I mean
when
you see him again, don’t tell him I saw you today, okay? And definitely don’t tell him I told you anything about the brewery. Let’s keep this our secret, okay?” He sounded like a child who’d done
something wrong and was afraid he’d get in trouble for it with his parents.

“It’s not a big deal,” Simon said.

“It is a big deal,” Charlie said seriously, raising his voice.

The college kids looked over, and then the waitress came out with a tray of plain hamburgers. Charlie’s nostrils flared again, and Simon’s probably did too.

“Here you go,” the waitress said. “Ten rare burgers, no buns, no fries.”

When she placed the tray on the table, Charlie sat back down and grabbed one of the burgers and ate it in two bites. Simon was eating with his hands as well, devouring the meat as if it were the first meal he’d had in weeks.

In silence they polished off the other burgers, completely focused on the chewing and swallowing of the food, not looking up from the plate. Simon felt as if the rest of the world disappeared, and it was just him and the food, but when he swallowed the last bite he saw that they had put on quite a show. Everyone in the garden was watching them, including the waitress, and a couple of the guys from the kitchen had even come out to watch. At first Simon was confused—what was the big deal about two guys eating some meat?—and then it kicked in that to most people two guys wolfing down burgers like they were going to the chair probably seemed pretty weird.

Simon tried to explain the behavior away with a wide smile, as if saying,
It’s okay, nothing to see here, it’s all under control
.

Yeah, like anyone believed that.

Finally eyes shifted away as people in the garden resumed their conversation and the staff resumed going about their business.

“I should really get going,” Charlie said, tapping the side of his
running shorts, realizing he didn’t have his wallet. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet home, couldn’t run a marathon with it.”

“It’s okay, it’s on me,” Simon said.

“Thanks, bro,” Charlie said.

He came around the table and extended his arms as if about to hug Simon. Simon was anticipating the hug, the security of Charlie’s strong arms around him, pulling him in close.

But then Charlie backed away and said, “Hope to see you soon,” and left without looking back.

“D
id your husband give you any idea where he was going?”

Alison Burns was in the living room on the couch and two cops; one stocky with a receding hairline, Officer Granger, who was asking all of the questions, and a taller, younger officer, Roberts—who barely seemed to be paying attention, chomping on gum—were on chairs across from her. This was the third time the stocky cop had asked her if Simon had told her where he was going, and it was getting pretty annoying.

“I told you,” she said, “I have no idea.”

“Is there someplace he usually goes when you have a fight? A bar? A diner?”

“Maybe the gym. That’s the only place I can think of.”

She’d already given them the address of the New York Sports
Club where Simon worked out, but the cops hadn’t seemed very interested.

“Look, honestly, at this point there’s very little we can do, ma’am,” Granger said. “If I were you, I’d call around to some places and see if you can find him, but even if we find him there’s really not much we can do.”

“Can’t you get him help, at least hold him for twenty-four or forty-eight hours, or whatever the law is?”

“Not without just cause. If he’s causing a public disturbance we could take him in, or if you want to file a formal complaint, but do you really want to go down that route? Do you really think you’re in danger?”

“You saw what he did to the bathroom door,” Alison said, “and you should’ve heard him, growling like an animal.”

“I understand, ma’am, but he didn’t actually do anything to you, or to anyone. And you said he’s under the care of a psychiatrist, right?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t helping. He’s crazier than ever.”

“What exactly’s wrong with him? I mean officially. Is he schizophrenic, manic-depressive … ?”

Alison uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again. “No, he has a, well, behavioral disorder. Or he might have one anyway.”

“Behavioral disorder? What does that mean? He’s on meds?”

“Yes.”

“Has he been violent before?” Granger asked. “I know you said he’s never hit you or been abusive in any way, but does he have a history of violence in other relationships?”

“No, his problems have been pretty recent.” Alison paused, figuring out how to explain this, then went with, “You see, I think, or
we
think he has something called lyncanthropic disorder. It’s a condition where a person believes he’s a werewolf.”

This got Officer Roberts’s full attention.

“A werewolf?” Granger said, smirking.

“Yes,” Alison said, ultra serious. “You see, his ex-boss was killed—it was a big story in the news last month—and Simon felt responsible. This is what we believe anyway, and he’s been trying to deal with it in therapy.”