Chapter Eight: Eating Vitto

The wolf was very angry. The moon’s song was vibrant, filling the wolf with passion and playful fury. She got his scent from outside the house, where her prey and her father had sat smoking cigars so many times. It was out front, too, but it ended at his car. Frustrated, the wolf     whined. But what had brother said? “Use that big brain of yours.” And some part of Diana was still there, an angry, careless part of her. That part remembered where “Cousin” Vitto lived. Because hadn’t she been to his house almost as often? 

It wasn’t far to run. Not for a wolf. 

He had dogs. And a fence. But Diana was a clever wolf and she got over the fence by hopping back to a tree before leaping back again to land inside the fence. The same trick would not get her out, but she was not thinking about escape. Not just yet. 

The dogs were another matter, a pair of Doberman Pincers with their ears pegged and spiked collars. They looked mean, but not well cared for. When they barked, Vitto yelled at them. They were quiet for a time. They did not attack her. Even dogs have some common sense apparently. But they barked again when she approached the house. Vitto opened the door.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking mutts!” he yelled at the dogs.

Diana leapt for his throat. He must have seen her in the corner of his eye, because he gave a startled, little “Aaa-ah” noise, just before she barreled into him. Her claws pierced his shoulders and she felt his collar bones snap as her muzzle snapped forward. She just knew exactly when to bite down to take use of her forward momentum. Her claws shredded his shoulders and her fangs clamped down on his entire neck, chomping down with a crack and splash of blood. It was the finest thing she’d ever tasted.

On the entertainment system, a football player in yellow and blue pranced across the finish line and the building thundered with the sound of the crowd’s approval.  

Vitto, as prey, was not a fat fucking douchebag who beat people up and charged outrageous interest for a living. He was not a slug, doused in cologne and binaca to hide the smell of alcohol; unshaven and sweaty. He was a steak. A god damn prime rib dinner. Mm mm good. He was her first human meal, Vitto, and Diana—much to her despair—would never forget him. It seemed as if the crowd on TV was cheering for her as she chowed down on the mobster. She’d stopped thinking of him as her cousin, with whom she’d shared so many memories. It wasn’t a choice to be heartless. In fact it was her heart that told her the truth. He is the enemy. He is prey. He is food. Mm mm good.

Diana ate greedily. Young wolves need their strength…

The dogs barked a chorus outside.

Vitto hadn’t been alone. Guys like him didn’t make their guards stand around outside like servants, at least not all of them. Finally, someone responded. “What the fuck? Hey, Albert, what’s with the light? Vitto, you okay?”

Diana could hear his heavy footsteps quickening toward her. The hall lamp and the phone had been knocked from their table when she’d tackled Vitto. She turned, licking her chops, and darted forward toward the amber light of the entertainment room. The thug’s shadow loomed. As she leaped, she saw a guy in an Aerosmith t-shirt with big muscles and a shoulder holster. His gun was in his hand, but her spring put her inside his reach before he realized she was there. Then he died beneath her, his throat a mess of flesh in her jaws, before he fired a shot.

“OH, holy fuck!” Cried Albert, the other guard shot out of his seat, fumbling for his gun with surprise still dulling him. Diana leapt over the couch and on to his back, shoving him into the entertainment center. He made a brief scream, but it was cut off and drowned by another cheer from the sound system. The giant TV finally toppled forward and crashed to the ground as Diana ate his organs, too. Each meal seemed to give her power.

Mm mm good.

When she’d had her fill of Vitto, Diana loped outside and confronted the dobermans. They backed away from her, whimpering. She stalked slowly forward, growling low in her throat. 

* * *

Later, after she’d run a long time for the thrill of it, drank deeply of the freshest water she could find, and licked her chops, Diana felt the influence of the moon begin to wane. She was more conscious of what she’d done, but still had only the wolf’s feelings about it. Satisfaction. She drifted through the darkness before the dawn toward her home, her family. Her pack.

Diana dreamed of being a wolf creature, of killing a man and eating him, of running and living as a wolf. Then she’d dreamed of climbing in her bedroom window, naked and laying on the bed. AJ had figured out how to defeat the house’s security system a couple of years ago. Diana didn’t think she’d ever use the trick, but she was glad she’d paid attention. She missed him. Patrick had to pay. Diana hazily recalled her hunt as she drifted up from sleep. Revenge. It made her smile. It was possible.