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Small Town Monsters

5

flesh.”

Artemus’s voice had a chilling effect on Kurt. “I’m not following you.”

“There are things in the periphery—abominations. We shun them with logic. With cold hard facts and what we call science. But you can’t look something in the face and tell it that it doesn’t exist.”

“What are you saying?” Kurt asked.

“My boy, Danny, was a werewolf.”

Kurt smiled; he couldn’t help himself. He leant back in his chair and put a hand up to his mouth to try and cover his mistake, but the damage was already done. El chupicabra, Sasquatch, werewolves; what was next, the Creature from the Black Lagoon?

“You smile,” Artemus said. “A fool’s gesture under matters of such weight. I have no use for smiles, scowls, or any other part of what people offer. I’m … content. I’m … prepared, and I am content.”

The smile fell away from Kurt’s lips. “I’m sorry; I don’t believe in werewolves.”

“You should.”

“What about Danny’s mother?” Kurt asked.

“Long dead. Crushed she was, under the tires of a coalman’s truck. I was left alone to care for the boy. He was a good boy to begin with.”

“You said he went bad.”

“That he did. It was in his sixteenth year. There is an ancient part of the soul that we all share as human beings; it’s the part of us that is lascivious and violent; the part that craves death; not the death of ourselves; that would countermine the purpose of our existence. This part of the soul craves the death of others. And in that death, this part of the soul craves the flesh and blood of the freshly killed.”

Kurt winced. He was starting to understand why Artemus lived on his own.

“And if we ever give succor to this dark part of the soul,” Artemus went on. “It gains power and craves more. And that