Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men - By Regan Wolfrom Page 0,69

that bat up here?”

“No sneaking required. That was Dad’s Plan B for you.”

“No heart getting ripped out of my chest?”

“He was probably being dramatic. He usually uses a rock or a heavy branch.”

“Not very wolf-like,” I said.

“Don’t worry... he was still going to bite you and all that.”

“Why the hell would he want to do that?”

“That’s what the spirit wants. That’s what my spirit wants me to do to you right now. He wants to taste your flesh.”

I knew it was just a matter of time before his spirit won out and made me his next nibble; this was the same kid who couldn't peep on a bathing lady without pulling down his pants.

I wanted to pull back from him, towards the ladder, but my wrists and ankles were still bound. I waited for his next poor attempt at a choke-out.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, Vanessa.”

“Then untie me.”

“I can’t. I... I can’t take that chance. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

He nodded. “Not until I know I can trust you.”

“Why the hell would I ever trust you?” I asked. I wondered if I should have thought things out a little before saying that.

“I love you, Vanessa.”

“That’s good to know.”

He knelt down and picked up the towel and the roll of duct tape.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Until I can trust you.”

I heard my goddess whispering to me.

Taste his flesh.

I could feel the urge within me.

“Wait,” I said. “What do we want to do about your father? We can’t just leave him here.”

“I’ll put him under the trailer. In the same spot he meant for you.”

“He’s pretty waterlogged. You may need some help.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I can trust you.”

He stepped closer with the towel and the tape.

I threw myself towards him with my mouth open to his neck. I crunched down as hard as I could into his skin, tasting the metal in his blood.

And then I felt her rise to the surface.

I opened my eyes to find the bones and blood of the younger spirit wolf lying on the platform of my dive tank. I kicked them into the water as though that would make them disappear.

I knew I’d have to fish them out.

I started the fire in the woods, only a few dozen yards from The Wolfman’s trailer. It had been a dry summer, so it was no surprise to anyone that a careless cigarette could cause such damage.

Once the flames had reached the trailer’s propane tank it was all over for The Wolfman; apparently he’d been in the trailer with his son when the explosion happened.

No one else was hurt, thank god.

My uncle took the insurance and shut down the park; he knew that there wasn’t any money left in the place. We all crossed The Bridge and went home.

I don’t dive for pearls anymore. There are some in the lake, from the freshwater mussels that you’ll find almost everywhere in L’Anse Bay, but that’s not what I’m meant to do.

Most nights you’ll find me walking the woods that stretch from the tip of Keweenaw Peninsula to somewhere in Wisconsin. I carry my bat and I listen to the whispers, and I wait for the dark spirits.

One day I’ll find another one, and I’ll know to swing the bat and take my bite.

It's a part of me now.

Born Again At Granny's Cave

IT STARTED in her chest, right near her heart. The flames spread quickly. Within seconds her entire body from her hair to her toes was burning up in front of me.

I hadn’t known what was happening at the time. There’d been no lighter fluid or gasoline, no exploding boilers or burning SUVs... Kara had just been lying there in my arms. The shaking had stopped and her eyes had turned glassy, and I’d just realized that I’d lost her.

And then she caught on fire.

I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that Granny’s Cave is a shithole by design; god-awful music, dark wood panels on the wall that make you feel like your trapped inside a giant tree... I think they do it all on purpose, some way of getting you to drink a little more of their eight dollar draughts.

If it hadn’t been for Callum and his baseless optimism I would’ve been halfway home to East Van and the comfort of my neatly-categorized porn folders. But I decided to stay, even though there weren’t that many women around. The place was mostly packed full of guys with edgy piercings and poorly-placed tattoos,