ELEVEN
Oddities and Curiosities , an unusual name for a business, is even more strange in person.
It’s hard to see anything through the dust and cobwebs on the windows besides decorative skulls and black candles on the shelves within view.
There isn’t any movement from what I can tell, but an eerie piano crescendo plays loud enough to hear from the sidewalk.
A paper sign with shop hours dangles from the front door, and judging by the marker corrections, the times this place is open has dramatically reduced over the years.
Bells chime overhead when I open the door, and it’s apparent whatever incense the owner is using to try and mask the mildew odor perforating around the small space, isn’t working.
Only a few of the ceiling lights remain on while the rest are seemingly as dead as the taxidermy animals in a disorganized line behind the counter.
A fox, rattlesnake, beaver, and even a peacock all watch me take a cautious step inward.
Skeletons and rubber bats dangle from the roof, complementing the spiders made to look like they’re crawling on the fake webbing of the walls.
A coffin rests on a stand at the center, propped open to reveal silver trinkets in jars and vampire gag gifts, such as plastic or wax fangs and an assortment of capes.
Classic movie monster posters are scattered throughout the room, the majority of them crooked and on the verge of falling off the Victorian wallpaper.
At the back of the store next to a small closet is a bookshelf, and areas where a book might’ve been at some point are marked by distinct absence of dust.
“Oh,” a thin, lanky man says with surprise, carrying a box from the closet. While the top of his head is bald, the sides are a long, wiry gray. His glasses are round and thick, giving his dim blue eyes a larger than normal appearance. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t realize I had a customer. Damn hearing aid has been on the fritz for a while now.” He sets the box on the counter and holds his arms out to the sides like a vaudeville performer. “I am Lenny Ostrowich. Welcome to Oddities and Curiosities!”
Okay, so the store name fits perfectly. “I was wondering what kind of information you have—” I pause and clear my throat, feeling utterly ridiculous for what I’m about to say next. “—about werewolves?” He’s either going to laugh in my face or try and sell me some novelty werewolf repellent, either way, regret seeps in that I not only came here, but was spotted by Nik in the process.
“Ah, lycanthrope,” he says in nasally glee. “You came to the right place.”
I exhale the nervous breath I was holding. He doesn’t think I’m some lunatic. No, he waddles to the bookshelf with determination and thumbs through the selection, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his long nose.
“Where did I put that damned book?” the man says to himself, guiding his finger along each spine. “Eureka!” After bringing it to the counter, his arthritic hands shaking the entire way, he flips it open toward the middle. “The mark of the beast.”
I step forward, inspecting the page alongside him. There’s a drawn image of a werewolf on the right next to the text, less like the Wolfman poster staring down at us and more resembling what I watched Nik transform into. Body completely covered in fur. Long, lethal claws. Sharp fangs protruding from wide jowls. He didn’t become some canine or a cheap Hollywood depiction. Nik became the creature in this picture, and had he not been chained up, there’s no telling what would’ve happened.
“This legend has been told for a hundred years,” Lenny says and drags his finger on the text written in some strange language. “Give or take, dear. My Russian isn’t quite what it used to be.” He chuckles and I laugh on impulse, still unable to focus on anything but the image and the words I can’t quite make out.
“See this?” he asks and points to a paragraph in what could only be described as ancient runes. The letters aren’t quite letters, and if I stare at them long enough it might make me throw up everything I’ve held in all day. I shake my head and pinch my mouth tight. No, Lenny. No idea what your weird symbols mean. All I know is there is SOMETHING out there trying to make me a goddamn appetizer.
“This is the story of the first.” His voice hits an excited octave. “A deal was struck, and when the agreement was defiled … a curse was brought upon the entire family and their progenies. Old magic. A dangerous one at that. Every time a full moon rose to its place in the sky, the world would see them for what they really were.”
It doesn’t take a linguistics major to figure out the word his boney finger hovers over. There’s an M. Something that resembles an O. And the rest are random alphabetic letters that look nothing remotely English. But judging from Lenny’s tone, I can make out the rest on my own. Monster. These people were cursed to show their true selves whenever the moon was full. To wreak havoc on anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. A beast hidden beneath human flesh. The same animal Nikolai showed me last night despite his pleas for me to get out while I could. I didn’t listen, and now all I see when I close my eyes is the haunting silhouette of something stalking toward me.
Volk , the next paragraph read.
“A wolf,” Lenny finished.
Volk . No. There’s no way I was too stupid to look up the name of the club. Volk. Wolf. Even if someone translated it they would be none the wiser entering Club Wolf. It was a catchy name. Little dots above the O. Accented signs at the front glowing down to the pavement. Never in a million years would anyone stepping through the front doors guess there’s something far more sinister going on inside. A club in LA run by werewolves … It sounds like something out of a cheesy tabloid or a B-rated horror movie. But it is true. I know I’m not imagining things or using this as some sort of anchor for my own past trauma. Werewolves are real. And Nikolai Vostik is fucking stalking me for slaughter.
“It says here,” Lenny continues, breaking me out of my trance. “Silver will not kill them, but it is enough to irritate them. Dull their heightened senses.” He snorts, nose wheezing around the rims of his glasses. “So, they’re as allergic to silver as I am to dairy.”
Never mind Lenny and his inability to digest lactose. Silver isn’t some werewolf killer like the movies made it seem. It irritates them. Dulls their supernatural senses. It will hurt them but won’t exactly kill them. So why would Nik give me this? I hold the necklace in my fingertips, dragging the crescent moon from one side of my neck to the other. It was left outside my apartment the day after he told me not to come back. Was it some weird form of protection? If Nik was preying on me, why would he give me the one thing to forfeit his upper hand? Ego , I think and scoff in my head. Bad enough he’s wealthy and successful, but he also knows there’s no way I can outrun him. Typical fucking wolfman.
“How can someone even kill a werewolf? Seems like a suicide mission,” I ask and give a slight laugh, doing my best to appear more curious than in dire need of step-by-step instruction.
His face draws serious, a grave expression complete with wide, magnified eyes from the glasses he continues to push up the brim of his nose. “Oh, you’d have a better chance convincing the church the Devil isn’t real. Look,” he says, his tone as grim as the next page. There’s a decapitated wolf head mounted on a spike and the unmistakable furry body set ablaze in what looks like a bonfire behind it. “You have to remove the head. During the day would be more practical, no way a human could take on a wolf that’s transformed. Then, you must burn the body.” He runs his shaky finger along the page, reciting the translated words aloud. “Says any wood will do, as long as it’s hot enough to send the beast back to the hell from whence it came.”
Great. Not only am I being followed by a werewolf, but if I want to put a stop to it, I have to add manslaughter to my small resume. Wolf slaughter? I’m not sure . But I have no idea what in the fuck I’m going to do. He’s following me, leaving claw marks on my door, dropping gifts on my welcome mat, and if I can’t manage to cut his head clean off that magnificent body, I’m going to end up being his next meal. I’ve always scolded myself for picking the wrong ones, but holy shit, I have severely outdone every relationship thus far. Guy who ghosted me after I said I wouldn’t fuck on the first date, step aside, there’s a whole ass werewolf trying to eat my ass whole .
Lenny must notice the blood draining from my face because when he shifts to me, his large eyes soften. “All wives tales, of course. Don’t be fooled by my relics,” he says proudly, waves his hands to every corner of the room and whispers, “it’s just a myth.”
Yeah… a myth. A myth shedding its own skin in the loft above an LA staple. Doubling in size and ferocity while all I could manage was trying and reason with it. Nik. He didn’t look excited before the change. Surely, he wasn’t happy I was there to witness it. No, the man letting go to the monster hiding in plain sight was as terrified as I became once it happened. And when those golden eyes went black, it was almost like I was unrecognizable. A different thing inhabiting his fur-ridden body. Ears as pointed as a knife and teeth even sharper than one. The howl. That horrible sound plaguing my ears after I ran, and ran, and fucking ran as fast as my legs would carry me. This isn’t a myth. Nikolai is out there. And if I wasn’t sure before, I am now. He is watching me.
“What … what does this say?” I ask, swallowing against the sandpaper drying my throat.
Lenny glances from me to the spot on the book I point at. “ Dobycha. Prey. It says once a wolf has found its prey, they cannot outrun it. A wolf will die before they let them get away.” His wrinkled face pinches solemnly. “Running is unwise, for a wolf longs for the chase. Whoever is unfortunate enough to get chosen … they better get acquainted with the idea of a very painful death.”
He flips to the next page and an unmistakable feeling of dread drains the blood from my face. There’s a drawing of a woman, fear highlighting every one of her features. And standing devastatingly close behind her is a werewolf, sinking its impressive teeth into the base of her neck. Blood splatters along the page in large black droplets. Pure pleasure is sketched in the wolf’s eyes and slouched brows, almost like it’s smiling while it rips her apart. It’s becoming clear now how incredibly fucked I am.