Animals We Made

Werepup | Part 5

Death is a business.

This I recognized from a young age.

Standing in the dark, I worried the Valentino Family couldn't protect me here.

I looked up at the moon.

Daddy served the consigliere—and for what? The mafia owed us nothing in the end. Without debt there is no loyalty in the business of death. Our years aren't free. Nothing is.

Adolfo emerged like a wrinkled vampire from the shadows of the alley.

I drew back.

"My wife says I'll get myself killed," the journalist confessed.

"She's right," I told him.

Now he frowned deep. "What's goin' on, kid?"

I trembled as I explained: "Ralph is my pup. We keep him in a shack with no windows at night so the moon won't illuminate him and he won't turn."

"Turn?"

My ears went numb in the cold black. "He turns into . . . something different."

Adolfo gazed off at the flickers outside the alley and into Harlem's vibrant underworld.

"Lenny," he said. "Non ne posso più. What does different mean?"

My breaths quickened. "He . . . kills."

"You said he's a pup."

"I know, but . . . but . . ."

"Would you like to be analyzed by someone who can help you with your thoughts?"

My hands folded. "Adolfo, please. I'm not out of my mind. You're my last chance. Keep Ralph in your home, out of the moonlight, and I promise he'll stay small—and—and he's real cute, too. Just do me this favor. I beg—"

"Lenny, I could have reported your father and brother to the police."

"Just . . . What?"

"You know why I didn't?"

I realized I'd been panting, so I caught my breath.

"Why?" I said.

"Because ya love 'em. Your world is hell. I know those men your father and brother killed were crime lords. That's the game. You don't have to be part of it, though."

"Neat speech." I balled my fists. "Are you gonna help me or what?"

"Only if you let me in."

"Well, I need a place for Ralph, that's all."

"So you're the boss, huh?"

"Yeah."

Chuckling, he looked me up and down, then sighed. "Follow me, kid."