Darcy dear,
I have thoroughly enjoyed our correspondence by letter. Having you as a penpal has meant a lot to me. After all, five years is not a short time and I feel like I’ve really gotten to know you. To think that we’ve never met in person! Everytime I get one of your letters I can’t help but wonder how similar you are to your “written self”. You’re so sweet in your writing. Our caravan is coming through your neck of the woods around the fifteenth. Unless you’re adverse to it, we’re thinking to stop by and say hi in person!
Remie
As she read over the letter again. Our caravan? We? Darcy lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment along with her two cats, Moochie and Bast. There was barely room for them let alone Remie and his… family? She looked across the space and winced. Empty pizza boxes and half-folded laundry covered a floor that hadn’t been vacuumed in at least a month. If she was going to have company, Darcy had her work cut out for her.
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Deep cleaning the apartment took Darcy a full week. The further down the layers she got the worse it seemed to be. At one point, Darcy found an entire half loaf of forgotten garlic bread face-down on the carpet. It had been quite the experience getting the grease out of the carpet. But now that she was done, Darcy could barely recognize the place. The garlicky odor lingered despite the liberal application of linen-scented spray, but fresh litter had thankfully resolved the other smell.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day that Remie arrived.
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Bast’s keening screeches were Darcy’s first alert that someone was approaching her “balcony door”. It wasn’t exactly her preference to live on the first floor of the complex with a sliding glass door that led basically right to the street. But rent was two hundred pounds cheaper on the ground floor.
The first knock was quiet. The hollow thumps on the glass were slight and were more akin to taps. Darcy hastened to draw the heavy black-out curtains back to peek around them. A very scruffy man stood there, clutching a filthy cap in his hands under the heavy shade of the tree just outside the door. His unkempt hair was greasy and had been slicked back with his fingers. Darcy could see the tell-tale tracks in the unruly mop.
“C-can I help you?” she asked through the glass.
“Ah, I believe that this is the residence of one Darcy Hamilton?”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe. And you are?”
A brilliantly white smile split the man’s face. The dirt smudges on his cheeks and nose made quite the poor caricature of a clown. “Hi Darcy. It’s Remie! From our letters?”
“Oh!” Darcy threw back the curtains fully and unlatched the door. Who was she to judge? Maybe he just got off work. He sorta looked like a mechanic. She pulled open the door. “Caught me by surprise! I’m not sure what I expected you to look like, but I suppose not this!”
“No worries, no worries! May I enter your lovely home?” Remie shifted slightly to keep the summer’s sun off his face.
Darcy could feel the waves of heat from where she stood. “Of course! Come on in. Boots off please, and shut the door behind you.” She gestured with her hand. “So, you mentioned that you were traveling with a caravan in your last letter. Where’s the rest of your… friends?”
One heavy boot thunked down next the other as Remie finished doffing them. “Family. We travel a lot. They had a few things to prep, so they’ll be joining us later…if that’s alright with you?”
“Sure! I’d love to meet your family!”
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“You don’t mind if they also come in? There’s four of us altogether.”
“Well, we’ll be a bit cramped, but sure. If they don’t mind cramping together in here, they can come in too.”
Another brilliant smile. “Thanks Darcy!” The smile quickly turned into a yelp of surprise. Bast had quickly made a beeline for the boots to give them a good sniff. Apparently whatever she smelled there was unpleasant because she began to growl and moan. Her back was arched and her ears were flat upon her skull. Wide eyes stared up at Remie and a mighty black tail swished agitatedly back and forth.
“That’s what you get for imbibing your foot fetish Bast baby.” Darcy scooped the angry cat up in her arms to throaty yowls of protest. “Sorry, Remie, Bast just loves shoes and feet for some reason…do you own a cat yourself? She probably just smelled it on your boots.”
Remie shook his head even as he backed away slowly from the feline. “No…but I do encounter wolves from time to time. Maybe that’s it? I’ll put the boots outside.”
“Wolves?” Darcy was curious. “You’re gonna have to tell me all about that! I’ll put Bast in the bedroom for now. Moochie is around somewhere, probably hiding under the bed.”
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As the afternoon came and went, Remie had spoken about his work with wolves. With the numerous farms in the area, Fish & Wildlife contracted Remie and his family as specialists to track down the local wolf populations and thin their numbers.
“Wiley damn things, wolves. You think you’ve got them all tagged and the next season they’ve multiplied.” Remie’s voice was bitter as he sipped around his rooibos tea.
“Ugh. Culling. They’re such majestic creatures. Good for the ecosystem too!”
Remie’s bushy eyebrows drew into a line as he sighed and set his still-mostly full cup down. “Not everyone thinks the same way about wolves, Darcy dear. Many farmers see them as a nuisance to their cattle. They lobby the government, aaaaand then hire us.”
Darcy nodded pensively. “I know all about that. Literally wrote the book on it, even.”
A small laugh came from the man. “Yes. And… if I’m being honest, your book is the reason for my visit.”
“Oh?”
Before she could fully look up Darcy felt herself being ripped from her chair by her neck. Heavy hands pinned her to the wall. She struggled to breathe from both the shock and the impact to her windpipe. She kicked and beat at him uselessly.
“Damned wolf lover. Do you have any idea what those things are capable of? I watched them tear my lover to shreds before my eyes! I watched as they tore out her throat!” Sharp nails drew rivulets of red on Darcy’s neck. “Your goddamn book has garnered the attention of every media outlet this side of the country! We barely ever get any contracts now!” Remie’s voice was hoarse and dark.
Darcy’s brain was growing muddier by the millisecond as the lack of oxygen burned her lungs and true panic set in. She looked tearfully into the man’s eyes and her brain struggled to parse what she was seeing. Fangs grew from his gums and the man’s eyes were like rubies in his sockets.
“You never actually read those letters carefully did you? Idiot girl. When my family gets here we’re going to savor every drop of you.”
Through darkening vision, Darcy felt her struggling hands and feet growing limp. Her final thoughts would be the realization of just what she had invited into her home. Just as things went dark, Darcy thought she heard the bedroom door splinter open.
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Bast had been pacing the bedroom floor for the last several hours. She was too worked up to rest. Not while that creature was in her home. She had felt his sickening aura before he had even approached the door. At first, Bast had hoped that Darcy would send him away, but instead the fool child had invited the thing inside.
She tried to give it the benefit of the doubt, but the distinct smell of blood and silver on its boots threw those thoughts into the litterbox. It was a killer. It used the sacred metal for something so foul, so disgustingly evil that she nearly rent the creature in twain right then and there. But Darcy had taken her by surprise and locked her in here.
Hearing the sounds of a scuffle in the main room, Bast could take it no more. She called upon her heritage and charged straight through the door. She would not suffer Apep’s spawn to live another moment.
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When Darcy startled awake, the first thing she did was scream. The rest of the evening became a blur as the cops were called, the shattered glass of her balcony door was swept up and replaced by maintenance, and reports and statements were given. Bast was found covered in blood and viscera and rushed to a vet. Moochie - scared and still under the bed.
From the safety of their hotel room (without balcony or windows), Darcy pored over Remie's last letter again. As she took in each line it became suddenly clear.
I hate you.