Kiss Me, Curse Me

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

“No, not here,” she said, inching away.

Ahanu grinned. Eager brown eyes taunting, he took Coreen’s delicate hand and whisked her back behind the old wooden cathouse anyway. He snuck a peck on her soft, white cheek.

“Give me your lips. I want lips.”

She resisted.

Quickly spinning her around as if to dance and catching her off balance, he tilted his blonde beauty back and leaned in slowly. Lip to lip, they enjoyed each other’s warmth and moisture on the very hot and dry desert day.

Swift graveled steps sounded from behind them.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you won’t.” Betty was very entertained by the youths and couldn’t wipe the smile off her strikingly wicked face.

They huddled close together, his arms wrapped around his captured little thing fancied up in a modest, white sundress.

Betty leaned down, bosoms and all, to smooth out her scarlet petticoats after using the outhouse. “You should be more careful—plenty of folks hiding in places that you might not be aware of. Especially around here.” She took her finger and wrapped it around a dark curl, giving Ahanu a wink.

He looked away from Betty and down at his girl. Coreen was still in shock, having never actually seen one of them leave the heathen place, where only the drunken dam workers dared enter.

“Go on back to the fair, little daughter,” said Betty as she eyed Ahanu’s long, black ponytail. The thing ran over his broad shoulders and down his neat waist. His white t-shirt was tight and perfectly tucked into his jeans just enough to see his affects. She just wanted a tug—just one . . . well . . .

Betty swallowed and bit her lip, in need.

Coreen flashed the middle-aged prostitute a jealous glare.

“Oh, don’t you worry about him. I won’t bite.” Betty teased, wiggling her shoulders a bit.

“She’s right. You should go before they notice.” He leaned in close to her ear, and Coreen shuddered under his breath. “I’ll meet you tonight,” he whispered. It was a long-awaited night. Their last had been back at the cave, but they had been scared off too soon to enjoy what they really wanted to.

His blue-eyed girl gave him a big, beautiful, bright-white smile; they squeezed hands and regretfully parted, Coreen disappearing down the narrow dirt alley.

“An engineer’s daughter—you’re aiming high aren’t you, Indian boy?” chimed Betty.

Ahanu looked down.

“Best you not get caught. They’ll throw you off the dam, they will, or add you into the freshly poured concrete

“You’re just a whore,” he said, feeling his old spite boiling up. “What do you know?”

“Don’t you whore me, lad. I’m a step up from you.”

“No, you’re not. I’ve seen you serve mine as well.”

“Ha . . . your kind . . . They come in here like the salmon run the falls. I only aim to please,” she taunted, pausing again for a good look at what she thought was probably the best-looking thing around lately. “Would you like to come inside?” She gave him an open palm and an inappropriate curtsey.

Ignoring her gesture, Ahanu set out past the outhouse, through the long, yellow summer grasses, enjoying the hot breeze though it didn’t offer much in relief. He avoided the dark forest edge and went south for ten minutes until he hit the edge of the high cliff.

The half-built dam loomed below him in the distance, thousands and thousands of workers sweating it out in the unforgiving temperatures, with no breaks. Grand Carnee Dam was going to be built, come hell or high water, even if Franklin Delano Roosevelt himself had to come out and do it.

The wages were good, and Ahanu, being old enough, had stood in line for days to join the mass of men attempting to build the biggest dam in the world.

“Name?” the old white man had asked him, beholding him top to bottom.

“Daniel White,” answered Ahanu.

“You eighteen?”

“Yes,” said Ahanu. “I really need the work. Come on. I’ve been in this line all day. I can work hard.” He held up his hands.

“A fool you are—eighteen. Take the money and run. That power money is coming. You don’t need to spend yourself here. No work,” the man said.

“I’m seventeen. I’m almost eighteen. Come on.”

The man said nothing and motioned the next in line.

Ahanu had known better at the time; the power money wasn’t flowing. It had all been one big lie to get them to sign that dotted line. His family needed the money badly. They didn’t need a Depression to know that times were rough.

“They’ll come and they’ll take,” his father always said. “They’ll take our lands, our food, and our women.”

Ahanu had not particularly believed his elders’ words over the years—the righteous ignorance of youth. He knew now though. He knew now.

The dam was a curse to his people. It was one enormous curse.



***



“Ice cream, they have ice cream. How’d they do that?” Coreen licked the cone, the white cold slipping down her parched throat.

“Magic, I’d say,” her short, balding father said. “Enjoy it. It’ll be gone in minutes. Look at that line.”

They left the wanton and moved out into the fair’s crowds.

“Where’d you go?” asked Hank, sneaking in real close. He motioned for a lick and was denied.

The ice cream was mouthwatering. It had been so long since she’d had anything like it.

“I thought I saw something,” said Coreen. “A white cat . . . it was cute. I had to see.”

“An alley cat?” Hank took her hand and watched her enjoying the cone as they pressed through the masses.

“Watch it, buddy!” Hank said when he bumped into a tall, brutish fellow, causing the man’s long-awaited ice cream to smear down his blue shirt.

The man’s only response was to throw a punch, knocking Hank back onto the dirt roadway. It was D Street, after all, and there would always be someone willing to brawl, festive crowd notwithstanding.

Coreen backed up along with the rest of the crowd to form a circle around the two.

“That’s enough!” Coreen’s father called out. “It was an accident.”

Hank stood, brushing off his khakis, cheeks bright red from anger and heat.

“Wheat!” the man shouted and went for another swing. Hank ducked.

Coreen licked away at her cone, oblivious to the melting delicacy running down her wrist.

“This isn’t the city, pal,” said Hank ripping off his white, button-up shirt to reveal his tight, white undershirt, then bringing his fists up.

With raised eyebrows, Coreen couldn’t take her eyes off him. Hank tensed his body and went forward with muscles flexed, legs apart. He’d boxed before. A small smirk spread across her face at the sight of him—her longtime boyfriend, who had always seemed slightly boring. The scene brought on a feeling of hunger in the pit of her stomach. She bit into the cone wafer and chewed hard.

The two dark-haired, strapping lads circled each other menacingly, preparing to fight. The taller man took a swing, and Hank ducked, sneaking a swift, firm punch into the brute’s gut. Hank backed up as the man curled over, then stood upright, swinging. This time, Hank took it in the other cheek. He toppled to the ground. Spitting dust, he tried to stand but quickly curled up as he took a hard kick to the ribs.

Coreen’s mouth fell open mouthing a quiet “no . . .,” and she continued watching.

The gathering crowd roared as the two got into full wrestle mode, rolling this way and that. Finally, a voice called out from the crowd, some indistinct order. The masses parted to the woman’s swift demand.

“Boys,” she said, hands on hips, her sweet voice slicing the anger and hatred. “Enough.”

Everyone went silent at the sight of the buxom brunette in red. It was as if they’d seen a ghost, they looked so shocked.

Coreen took the last bite of cone right as Betty winked at her.

The two fighters stood facing off, stunned, as if caught by the eyes of the devil. Betty just smiled with pearly-white teeth and shining, green eyes.

“Time to move on, don’t you think?” Betty eyed the crowd, catching a grin from her odd customer in the mix. “I’m Betty, if you didn’t know already. And this is my street, if you hadn’t noticed. That’s right, take a look around here. I own this strip.”

Some of the women winced, and many more men just smiled.

“I think you all knew but didn’t really want to admit it. I was here before you all came, and as I just said, move along a now, continue with your darling fair.” She curtsied politely this time, and the two dirty young men just stood glaring at each other, unable to staunch the rush of adrenaline that easily.

“Ah-ah-ahhh, boys!”She wiggled her red-nailed finger as she caught them preparing for another go at it.

Coreen yanked Hank toward her and her father and looked for some sort of face from Betty, but the mysterious woman had already disappeared off somewhere.

“Hank?” Coreen backed away from the dirty teen, thinking only of her dress. She wanted to look her best.

“I know. I had to,” he said.

Coreen’s father patted Hank on the shoulder. “He’s just one of many, okay? They rarely get time off and are just raring for trouble when they do.”

Hank brushed off and held his shirt in his hand, tightening the grip, wishing he had finished the guy off.

“Come on, corn on the cob sounds good right about now, don’t you two think? And anyways, soon it’ll be time to leave,” Coreen’s father said, nodding at the setting sun.

Hank slipped his dirty hand into Coreen’s, and she let him hold hers, though her thoughts wandered to another. They moseyed the busy streets till the sky turned pink, then orange, then black.



***



“Woo!” the observers cried as the jazz music strummed along, and the townsfolk danced, clapped, and yelled.

A still-dirty Hank twirled Coreen this way and that under the clear, starry night. Hank had convinced her father to let them stay for the night activities. It was odd that her father had even agreed to it. He was so stern all the time. She was always to be home by dark. The last time, she’d broken the rule. The fair was the first time she’d been allowed out again—a whole month. The cave visit had been worth it. It was all she could think about in her month of solitude. Hank had been her only allowed visitor. In her new freedom, she was really after something else, searching the faces with no luck. She unconsciously sighed.

“What?” Hank stopped dancing in the center of the grassy, lantern-lit circle, the couples buzzing around them.

Coreen avoided his grey eyes and sunk her head into his chest.

He lifted her chin up to look into her bright, crystal-blue ones. “We can go.”

“Maybe if we sit, I’ll catch my breath a little.”

“I’ll get you a lemonade, sweet and bitter,” he said eagerly.

He led her to a lone chair, and she sat watching the revelers in a blur, unable to focus on the merry mix. It was the kind of night where the heat lingered as the wind stilled. She wanted the wind—oh, how she craved it in that moment, just a little movement to wash away the foreboding humidity and her uncertainties. She focused back to Hank, who was boisterously chatting with a schoolmate, the two of them laughing, surely about the fight. Coreen stood, scanned the crowd one last time and glanced up at the low, full moon.

It’s too early, she told herself but left anyway.



***



The back trail wasn’t far off: to the end of the dusty D district, through the brush to the open fields, down to the Washington River, and along the bank for a ways. She knew the river by now—the lulled spots, the rocky places, where it was deep, and where it wasn’t. Along she followed until it curved just a little, leading into a shallow area. She sat on “their” rock. It was long and flat with just enough room for two. She waited, just her and the moon.

The river in this spot was quiet enough for her to know when she was no longer alone. She had not been waiting long when heavy, rushed steps sounded from the direction she had just come.

It’s not him, it’s not him.

Coreen jumped from the rock, losing her white shoe in the process. It was too late to turn back, so she pushed through the brush, through the sticker bushes, and farther into the trees, feeling a sharp pain strike her leg and creep up into her groin. It was distracting enough to make her want to stop, but she kept going till she was perfectly concealed, peeking her head out just enough to see.

Hank stood tall and slender where she had been sitting; he leaned down and picked up her shoe.

“Coreen?” His voice was lost on the water echoing across to the other bank. “Coreen!”

After waiting and calling until he was certain she wasn’t around, he continued up the river’s edge along the wilderness and away from people. Surely, she hasn’t ventured out too far, he thought.

Coreen hung back. She had a deep cut on her bare, white leg, and she didn’t want to move. The pain told her how bad it really was. She watched it bleed, watched a red puddle form on the earth and seep into it, the blood feeding the earth as it did her.

My life is fleeting.

It was the first time she had realized it to be the truth, and as this epiphany came, so did the wolf.

The deep, throaty growl filled Coreen with dread. She froze at first but mustered enough will to back herself up against the tall, strong pine. It was all she could do; she’d rather face the wild animal than go to Hank, so she sat, and it growled, and its eyes flashed an intense yellow as they caught the glow from mother moon.

“Go for it,” she whispered. “I’d rather die here and now than go back to a life that I’ll hate.”

The wolf stopped, and cocked its head a little, opened its mouth, and howled. The sound was so loud and so shrill that it pierced her very core. It was a thrill like she had never experienced before—as if she was the wolf and it was her, their energy becoming one in that moment. Locking eyes, they watched each other in silence and awe.

“Shoo, shoo,” came Ahanu’s voice.

The wolf hesitated, not following his command.

Ahanu moved between her and the wolf. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The wolf watched them both.

“Shoo . . .”

“Ahanu?” she called out, reaching at nothing, unable to see. Everything was black. She was blind.

“Coreen,” he said, kneeling by her side. “Your leg . . . you are bleeding, a lot.”

“I can’t see.”

“You’re hurt; you need water. Need to stop the bleeding.” He removed his buckskin shirt, ripped off a sleeve, and tied it around her thigh above the knee. “I’ll take you to my house.”

Her vision came back to her as the transient blackout passed. “No. We can’t go there. They can’t find out.”

“I’ll just say I found you.”

“They’ll know.”

“I’ll carry you home then.”

“No, my father will kill you. We can’t go there either. Somewhere else.”

“Then where? Where shall we go?”

“Shhh . . . I hear him . . .” said Coreen. “I hear everything and nothing at the same time.”

Taking a look, Ahanu watched as Hank stood upon the same rock on his way back to the fair, calling for his girlfriend again. Ahanu squatted low, Coreen in his arms. She was fading in and out. She came around to the calls.

“Hank?” she whispered.

“Shhh.” Ahanu leaned close to her, whispering in her ear to soothe her, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Coreeeeeeeen!” Hank’s desperation came through. He waited futilely for her to show up, then jumped from the rock, and ran back along the trail towards town.

A few moments passed before Ahanu took the same route. He could have used the woods—he knew the way through—but it just wasn’t quick enough. Hank’s calls rang out ahead of him, and Ahanu slowed or increased pace accordingly, holding back amongst the trees to let Hank cross the open field first.

Coreen moaned something he couldn’t make out.

“I know. We are almost there. Soon.”

D Street had very low light—the kind to entice—and the fair had faded as the night had settled in. Just a few folks still meandered about, and the regulars had shown up. Ahanu snuck in behind the wood buildings as he always did—this time, however, not to watch.

The back door to the Betty’s was open, so he snuck into the unknown. The back room was just a storage area of sorts, with old mattresses, crates, chicken coops, and other random junk. The smell of cigars hung in the air, and a woman’s sultry voice carried from somewhere. The tune was low and seductive as the mystery woman sang the last note; the placed erupted in a roar of clapping and whistling. It was the last place he should be seen or be caught— but he and Coreen had no choice.

There was only one hallway leading to the front. They had nowhere to go. Ahanu kicked over a dusty mattress, laid his girl gently upon it, and went back outside to check the windows on higher floors.

He threw a rock at one of the windows but received no response.

“Come on,” he urged, throwing another.

A black-bearded man in a sleeveless t-shirt swung the window open. “Hey you! Get the hell out of here, kid.”

“I came to—” Ahanu started.

“Go!” the man said, waving a huge, white-knuckled fist.

“I need to see Betty.”

“Betty is busy!” he yelled.

“It’s an emergency.”

“There is only one kind of emergency that gets seen to here, kid.”

“Ed, who is it?”

Betty’s voice carried out into the night air with a tone so playful that Ed stopped his protests.

“Now who’s this we have?” She slipped her hand across Ed’s very broad shoulder and took a little look-see, making sure not to reveal her scanty, black garb. “Oh . . . it’s you.”

Ed frowned at her happy tone, but Betty dug in a nail and he let it drop.

“I need help,” said Ahanu.

“Don’t we all?” Betty teased.

“No . . . not like that. Please come down. It’s bad.”

“I don’t know your name, but I have a very good customer with me right now, as you can plainly see.”

Ed grinned, and she snuggled into him a bit tighter, placing her smooth hand on his strong chest.

“She’s hurt.”

“Who’s hurt? Wait . . . oh, I know . . . Blondie Locks. I’ll be down, just a minute.”

Fed up now, Ed attempted to protest by grabbing Betty by her waist. She whispered something in his ear, and he let her go with a satisfied smirk.

Ahanu snuck back in and knelt beside Coreen, who was waiting very patiently on the worn mattress. Betty entered and walked past them both in the dark.

“Psssst, over here.”

Now covered by a black silk robe, Betty stood before them tsk-ing at them. “What? What is so bad that you had to drag me away from what I was doing? He won’t wait long you know, so let’s hurry up here.”

“She’s bleeding badly.”

Betty knelt down next to him.

The smell of her was unusual, like some exotic perfume. Ahanu avoided eye contact, as it seemed her eyes were as black as her robe, and instead presented Coreen’s injured leg.

“She needs stitches. Bring her upstairs, and I’ll call in my guy, okay? You owe me for this,” Betty said. “I’ll help you, but my tabs run high, and I always collect.”

“Fine,” said Ahanu. The deal with the Devil had been made, but he didn’t care.

Her room was pink, overly floral, and decorated with simple white furniture. It was godawful, and Ahanu tried not to look at the surroundings or the sex devices.

“What? What is it honey?” Betty asked, seeing Ahanu’s disgust. “Hey . . . you came here. No judging. They don’t care anyways. I don’t know why you would. Open your eyes and see what it is. This is my place. I’m helping you.”

Ahanu laid his girl upon the heathen bed and took her hand while Betty shuffled some things out of sight.



***



His discomfort amused Betty, but she didn’t want to be rude. She examined the Indian’s every move. His skin was richly tanned and smooth; his lovely shoulders slouched in worry, all leading down to that waist and a firm hind. He moved like a predator, slow with intent, though the intent wasn’t for her. It was a crying shame. Betty held her breath, biting a finger at the thought of all the things she could possibly do with the young piece of meat before her. In her mind, she undid his ponytail and ripped off his proud animal-hide shirt, moved on down to his jeans. This imaginative bliss was rudely interrupted by an urgent knock.

“Come in,” Betty called in irritation.

“You sent for me, and I am here at your service. Whatever can I do for you on this hot misery of a night?” The man removed his dark-brown leather hat and bowed.

Betty smiled at Doc. He was old—so old in fact that his skin sagged away from his body, age spots so large they practically made him a new ethnicity. She wondered how he was even still alive.



***



“I can’t find her.”

Hank was frantic and out of breath as he stood on the doorstep of the freshly painted white house.

Coreen’s father, Patty, noticed the filthy white shoe in Hank’s hand. He held his arms close to him and bent over, as if he’d been punched in the gut. Sweat began to run from his thinning, grey hair down his tanned, round face.

“I saw her off in the distance, way ahead, going toward the river. I ran, but when I got there I only found this.”

“Christ,” said Patty. “I knew this was coming. I could feel this coming. I don’t know why. I’ve been worrying about her, but I kept telling myself to ignore it, that she’s fine. Now she’s gone and snuck off.”

Hank nodded, recalling his earlier conversation with the man. Watch her, he’d said. Keep an eye on her. He swallowed hard feeling the guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was bound to get loose one of these days. Come on. We’re going back out there,” Patty said.

“I only left her just a few minutes to go get her a drink. She seemed . . . off, or something, but . . . I’m not sure.”

“We’ll find her.”

Patty locked the door to his perfect little house with the brand-new, white picket fence. It was his pride. He’d worked his way up to that life, which was stable, except for his daughter. He was still working on her, had been for years.



***



“Well . . . what do we have here?” Doc’s voice was just as frail as his movements. He shuffled closer to Coreen, who was now unconscious. “This pretty little lady is in need of my services I can see. She’s very pale and . . .” he lifted her wrist, “she has a very weak pulse. The leg, I presume.”

Ahanu just nodded, taking note of the doctor’s underlying bad odor.

Blood oozed down Coreen’s calf as Doc carefully unraveled the tan, bloodied shirt wrapped around the wound. He examined the six-inch-long, deep cut, which by now had a redness spreading from all angles of it.

“It’s a good thing you called for me.” His voice changed from interested to serious. “You can assist me,” he said, nodding at Ahanu.

Unzipping his bulky black bag, the doctor placed a tourniquet around her thigh above the wound, then set out various bottles of antiseptics, numbing solutions and clean rags. He washed his hands and doused her leg in alcohol, cleaning the skin out from the wound.

“I want you to hold her down. She’s already out but could wake in the middle of this. I don’t want to give her a sedative considering her unconsciousness.”

Ahanu took hold of Coreen’s legs, cringing at the thought of what he knew was coming. He’d regrettably assisted in something dire like this before. He tried to push aside the thought of his sister but had a hard time.

Betty held Coreen’s arms without being asked.

“Okay . . . ready.” Doc inserted the needle without much of a peep from the girl. “Not good.”

“What . . . what does it mean?” Ahanu said, feeling the fear creep up on him.

“She’s lost a lot of blood. When did this happen?” The old man continued sewing fine stitches with his steady hand, an astounding feat considering most of his body waggled in some form or another. “It’s only been an hour or so,” said Ahanu.

“She’s severed a deep vein here. I need my crile please, the tool with the teeth. I need to repair this or the bleeding will continue.”

Betty and Ahanu watched as he repaired the severed vessel, spun the threads, cut and tied, until he wrapped the last bandage securely around Coreen’s thin, damaged leg and examined the girl’s face. Her expression was blank. The doctor paused and took her small hand from Betty, holding it for a long minute. He felt her pulse again on her wrist, then felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

He paced the room for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry to say this so bluntly, but . . . tonight could be her last. I don’t want any misconceptions here about my abilities. What is your name?” Doc looked the young man directly in the eye.

“Ahanu . . .” He covered his face with a shaky hand. “I mean Daniel.”

“Ahanu, stay by her side. I’ll be near. We need to watch for infection, as this is why she’s sleeping so deeply. Just the blood loss couldn’t have caused her full change in mental state. Whatever she touched had something on it. Could have been anything really . . . a fungus, germs; did you notice anything else?”

“A wolf.”

“A wolf?” He stopped packing his bag to face Ahanu again.

“He was there when I found her, but I don’t think they came in contact. I heard his howl. It was so loud. It was—”

“Odd . . .” Doc’s voice trailed off, and he took a seat in the plush, pink vanity chair, rubbing a hand over his weathered, stubbly face. “I’ve heard this before.”

Betty moved away from the girl’s head and stood facing Doc, uncomfortable, crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”

“Her spirit has left. I can feel it,” said Doc. “Her heart pumps. It’s keeping up, but not for long.”

“Her spirit . . .” Ahanu couldn’t look at the old man . . . he could feel it too—the underlying lack of something about Coreen as she lay there. She’d always had this life about her, this spark in her eye. The echo of her voice as they walked into that forbidden cave . . . it always rang through him. She had been so alive that night it had caught him off guard; she’d hidden her true essence, her energy at first. Slowly it came forth and ripened into a sweet nectarine that he had yet to take a bite of. He gripped her hand tighter and watched her chest move up and down.

“Mumbo jumbo, if you ask me,” interrupted Betty, giving her devilish smile, as she knew she was only toying.

“Stop it,” Doc snapped. “Don’t be cruel to the young doves.”

Betty laughed wickedly, as if to cover her jealousy or lack of manners.

“That’s enough. We don’t know what’s going to happen here, okay? She’s had contact with the Great Spirit—the wolf.”

Betty just shook her head in disbelief. “Uh. . . I’ve heard you go on before after a few, but I didn’t think you were serious about it. Come on, Doc. You practice medicine here, not voodoo.”

“It happened years ago to another young woman. In those days, the sky was clear, the salmon ran freely, and the spirit hid in the woods. We had a very small church, and we didn’t mix with the Indians well, even though we tried to push our religion on them. That old bastard preacher wouldn’t quit on them.”

Ahanu lowered his head.

“The wolf came one clear, hot night like this one,” Doc said somberly. “He stood back in the grass, hiding, but I saw him there, powerful and present. I wish I’d said something.

“Anyway, I got a call from a young clueless lad, whose sister had fallen ill suddenly from something—we didn’t know what at the time. She had a fever and she’d moan occasionally, mumble something about the moon, and she would fade in and out. On her third night, as I sat there with her, I heard his call. The spirit called out, and she died right there and then. He took her spirit away with him, though we knew it was really gone before. We could feel that she was absent and her mumblings were just his echoes or messages. He’s been awakened again by something.”

“I can’t hear this.” Ahanu put his hands over his ears.

“You need to hear it. This is your history, your people, your wolf.”

“My wolf . . . what are talking about? You’re crazy,” said Ahanu. “This is the first time I’ve seen him.”

“Yes, and he’ll come again. He’ll take and take till it stops.”

“Till what stops?” Betty was fascinated by now and had lost sight of her musings.

“Many died that summer, mysteriously, all random, all ages. You think this is just a fluke? It’s not. It never stopped till we stopped. The church, you see, was encroaching on the natives. We all thought we lived in peace and harmony with the natives, but we didn’t. They didn’t want our God, and we didn’t want theirs.”

“I thought you were an atheist,” said Betty.

“Shhhhh. I was. Not this week.”

Ahanu scrunched his face in confusion.

“You see, I bet it’s the dam, all those strange folks in town, all this bad energy here. He’s back. The old curse. That’s it, till it stops. Till he gets his fill.”

Betty spoke, hands on her hips, pacing. “Too late to change any of that.” She chuckled. “It’s already halfway built. Millions of dollars have been spent on it, decreed by the president himself. Millions of drops of sweat and blood have been poured into that concrete prison. Men have died. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Anyway, it is just an old wives’ tale.”

“It isn’t a tale. I lived it. I saw it,” the old man said gravely, staring at Coreen.

“Doc, are you sure you don’t want a drink? I just got a new bottle of premier Russian vodka in. It goes down so smooth. You’ll die for it.”

“I can’t believe prohibition is over,” he said.

“I bet you complained when it went in too.”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“So—” Ahanu started.

“What? You want some too?” Betty asked.

“No.” Ahanu stood, angry now. “I don’t get it all. What did she do to deserve this? A wolf? Come on. What am I supposed to do now?”

“There’s nothing you can do, Daniel,” snorted the queen of the female dark side. “Weren’t you listening to the story? They all died.”

Ahanu was furious now, all his fear dissipated. “I’m telling you both right now—she is not going to die, and I am going to do whatever it takes to ensure it. I can’t stand this town anyway. Whatever it takes.”

Neither Betty nor Doc spoke, just observed Ahanu, whose face was nearly ablaze.

“’Tis love,” said Betty in her floral tone in her floral bedroom.