“Do you really want people to know about your feat?”
“I like that you called it a feat. I figured you’d feel a little more revulsion than that.”
Michele ignored him and tried to steer the conversation back toward reasons he shouldn’t kill her. “I could have run away. They let me go.”
“You did run away. I found you at the hospital.”
“I had a chance before that. I stuck around because I want to tell this story.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what, you want to write The Dastardly Deeds of Ivan the Werewolf?”
“Something like that.”
“Or maybe Interview With a Werewolf. Let Anne Rice sue.”
“If you let me go, I’ll make you famous.”
“If I wanted to be famous, I’d walk onto Oprah’s set and transform in front of her cameras. Then I’d rip out her throat. I appreciate your efforts, Michele, but there’s really not much you can offer me.”
“I disagree.”
Ivan smiled. “Well, I mean, there’s that. You like it wolfy style?”
Michele felt the blood drain from her face, but tried to keep her voice steady. “Why are your aspirations so low?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have this incredible power, something that’s so amazing that nobody who hadn’t seen it for themselves would ever believe it could be true, and yet you just use it to kill people.”
“Killing people is fun. It’s better than not killing people, I’ll tell you that.”
“There’s so much more you could do.”
“Like what? Bring canned food to homeless people? Teach our children about the wonders of volcanoes?”
“You could be a superstar celebrity. How much earning potential do you think a werewolf in the public eye could have?”
“A lot, until somebody put a silver bullet in his heart.”
“There are plenty of rich celebrities who a lot of people want to assassinate and they do just fine. With that much money, you could keep yourself safe.”
“I’ve got it! Maybe I could be a superhero!”
“Maybe you could.”
“I could be Werewolf Man, and I’d go around biting evildoers. I could wear a furry cape with a big W on it. Oh, man, I never even dreamed I had so much untapped potential. You’ve opened up a whole new world for me. How can I ever repay you?”
“I’m serious, Ivan.”
“Are you trying to become my manager or something?”
“Maybe.”
“I think you’re talking just to keep yourself alive. I think you’re too adorable and innocent to actually want to go into business with a big bad werewolf, who would probably ruin all of his promo ops by going on bloody rampages.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re certainly an opportunist. I admire that. But, again, let’s say for the sake of argument that I was interested in your idea. Maybe I looked in the mirror one day and said ‘Golly, I’ve devoted my whole life to evil. How shameful. Woe is me for my poor decisions. I must balance out all of the death and destruction by doing good deeds.’“
“I didn’t say they had to be good deeds.”
“You mean I should become a supervillain? Now that might be cool.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“What’s a good name for a werewolf supervillain?”
“Ivan...”
“What about Wolf Killer? No, wait, that sounds like I’m killing wolves. Death Wolf. Blood Wolf. Ghost Wolf. I’m not really a ghost, but that sounds kind of scary, doesn’t it? Beware the evil done by the Ghost Wolf. Oh, hell yeah.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“No, but thanks. You really aren’t very good at trying to negotiate yourself out of death. The only thing I might need you for is a sweet piece of ass.”
“If you try it, I’ll rip your dick off.”
“There’s no need to be crude. You could have just said ‘penis.’“
“I’m serious.”
“Are you? Do you really think that I’m afraid of you? With all the people I’ve slaughtered today, you expect me to be worried about you injuring my wee-wee?”
“If it gets anywhere near me, you’ll lose it. I promise you that.”
“See, now, you almost had me convinced to go along with your idea about cashing in on my werewolf fame, but then you had to go and threaten my genitalia. Rude, rude, rude. And yet, strangely arousing.”
“Try it and see what happens.”
Ivan laughed. “Relax, sweetheart. There’ll be no sexual violence tonight. I’m not the kind of guy who needs to take it by force, if you know what I mean and I think you do. I am going to murder you, though.”
Michele clenched her fists. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry...
“Nothing to say to that? Surprising. Do you want to know how it’s going to happen?”
“Okay.”
“I love how you tried to sound brave when you said that. Here’s the plan: I’m going to pull this van over to someplace nice and secluded. I’m going to search through the radio stations until I find some appropriate mood music--hopefully they’ve got a jazz station around here, but if not, we might go for some classic rock. Then I’m going to walk back there, open the van doors, and then I’m going to stand there and stare at you. You know that creepy feeling you get when somebody is just staring at you, where your skin crawls and you can’t concentrate on anything else? You’ll have that, except you’ll know that as soon as I’m done staring at you, I’m going to kill you. I might stare at you for a minute, I might stare for an hour, but when it’s over, I’m going to very slowly unlock the cage.”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
“No, I think I’m making a wise decision. Don’t interrupt my scenario. After I open the cage, I’m going to--”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“I don’t care what you want to hear, little lady. You’re going to hear what I want you to hear, and I want you to hear about your upcoming horrible death. If you want to put your hands over your ears and go ‘la la la la la’ there’s not much I can do, but it would be kind of childish.”
“There’s no reason to kill me.”
“I want to. That’s a pretty good reason. I mean, if you really think about it, there’s no reason to eat a great big chocolate chip cookie dunked in a glass of cold milk, but it’s something you’d want to be doing right now, isn’t it? You’re my cookie. That’s what I’ll call you from now on. How’s it going, Cookie?”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, see, now you’re just resorting to expletives. Not cool, Cookie. I guess that means you’re done trying to have an intelligent conversation, which in turn means that it’s time for you to die. Oh well.”
They drove in silence for a few more minutes. At one point Michele had to choke down some vomit, but she still didn’t cry. She refused to cry.
Ivan stopped the van and shut off the engine. “Here we are. Looks like you’ll be dying in...actually, I don’t know the name of this place. It’ll be in the obituary, though. Your family will know.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“That’s already been well established. You’re not bringing anything new to the table. Offer me something better than the lame observation that I have a choice in the matter. Come on, offer something now. You’ve got ten seconds. Nine...eight...seven...”
“I can bring you George and Lou.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Did you bond with them? Got some of that Stockholm syndrome going on, huh? Sorry, Michele--I mean, Cookie--but I feel like I have no other choice but to messily kill you.”