The Frenzy Way

by Gregory Lamberson

  Mace had never forgotten those eyes, which exhibited extreme intelligence and derangement at the same time. As Gomez sat opposite him, he almost appeared cross-eyed. The Full Moon Killer reached for the phone, and Mace did the same.

  “Sheriff Mace,” Gomez said with a malevolent smile.

  “Captain.”

  “It was just detective when you brought me in.”

  “Things change. People progress. Situations evolve.”

  The wildness drained from Gomez’s face. “But your situation evolved because of me, didn’t it?”

  “If you mean that I was promoted because you murdered five women or because I caught you, the answer is no. In the police department, a detective has to take a test to become a lieutenant and then another one to make captain.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here, Captain.”

  Mace said nothing.

  “I’m glad it’s you who came, though. I thought it was that reporter Rice again. I’m tired of him.”

  We have that much in common, Mace thought.

  “That was some book he wrote, huh?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that.” Why did he feel compelled to explain himself? “He asked for my cooperation but I refused.”

  “Don’t be so modest. You came off looking like a real hero.”

  “Most of those quotes were cobbled from the newspapers. Some were made up.”

  “Yeah? Well, I did cooperate. I told him my whole life story.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Gomez’s father had deserted him, his mother, and his younger sister. Then his mother’s boyfriend had beaten him. When he’d caught the bastard molesting his sister, he’d put him in a coma. By the time Gomez was released from the youth facility, his mother had become a crack whore and his sister had been placed in foster care. He’d run with a gang for a short while, but he proved incapable of functioning even within that society. At the trial, he had admitted to killing his first prostitute at the age of twenty.

  “We got a copy here in the library. It’s all worn-out and falling apart because it’s the first book cons read when they arrive. Everyone wants to know all about me. You might be a star on the outside, but on the inside it’s all about me. Did they shoot that TV movie yet? I hope they cast someone cool as me, not some soap opera faggot.”

  “Is that why you did it, Rodrigo? To be famous?”

  Gomez stared at him for a long moment. Mace felt like he was being evaluated. “No, man. I didn’t kill those women to be famous. And I didn’t do it because of all the hostility I felt toward my mother, either. I’ve heard that shit from one shrink after another. They’re all wrong.”

  “Then why? It never came out in the trial, and Rice only guessed at your motives.”

  “What do you care after all this time?”

  Mace debated how much to tell him. “Can’t you guess?”

  Gomez snorted. “I knew the second I saw you. You’re after the Wolf Man, aren’t you?”

  Mace tried not to show any emotion, including surprise. “That’s right.”

  “That’s an ambitious boy you got there. Killed a cop, wow.” He leaned closer to the glass, and his voice turned cold. “I wish I’d done that.”

  Mace didn’t allow his expression to change. “Do you? Do you wish you’d killed me?”

  Gomez shook his head. “No. I owe you but not that way.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why do you owe me?”

  “Because you stopped me. You stopped the killing. Not in here.” Gomez looked around the room. “But these people don’t count, do they? Used to be cats who checked in tried to mess with me to prove how bad they were. So I made examples out of them. Bit one guy’s nose off. Ate another dude’s fingers. Did some things I won’t cop to just for your entertainment. Now no one messes with me.”

  He’s going offtrack. Got to rein him in. “You wanted to be stopped?”

  An almost imperceptible nod. “Hell yes. More than you’ll ever know. I didn’t get off on killing, no matter what anyone says. That’s the difference between me and this new guy. He gets off on it big-time. Gets off on the attention, on toying with you. Not me. I hated doing the deed. I hated myself for giving in to the beast.”

  Mace’s heart skipped a beat. “The beast?”

  “The animal inside me. The monster. Always fighting to get loose, to be free. I tried to keep it under control, to bury it deep inside, but it always tore its way out. An uncontrollable rage to kill. I couldn’t stop it. I tried to kill myself a bunch of times, but I never had the guts to go through with it. The urge always came back stronger. It … called to me.”

  “What about now?”

  “Look around you. It doesn’t matter if it gets loose in here. It’ll never truly be free again. And that’s what I prayed for.” He swallowed. “Thank you kindly, Sheriff.”

  Mace tried not to show how stunned he felt. “Rodrigo, why the full moon? You killed three women, laid low for a month, then killed two more.”

  “The moon?” Gomez’s eyes glazed over. “The moon sang to me. It touched my core, my inner being. It put me in touch with my true self. And I hated it. This other guy you’re after? He loves the moon, loves the night. I can tell. He’s like me except that he’s not afraid of his true nature. He knows who he is. What he is. And he likes it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Eighteen years earlier

  “We only Change at night,” Grandpa Jed said. They stood on the hillside behind the cabin, illuminated by a three-quarter moon, facing the woods. “That reduces the possibility of us ever being seen. Now, strip to your skin.”

  Julian looked at his grandfather with uncertainty. “Go on now, unless you’ve got an unlimited wardrobe. But since I helped you carry your bags in, I know that ain’t the case.”

  Stepping out of his sneakers, Julian stood on the damp grass. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and discarded it, then unzipped his jeans and wiggled out of them. He shivered in the cool night air. “Your underdrawers too.” Julian felt himself turning red all over.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, son. I got no interest in seeing your privates. But I got no interest in buying you new drawers, neither. Drop ’em.”

  Tucking his thumbs inside the waistband of his briefs, Julian slid the white fabric over his thighs, then his knees, then around his ankles. He stepped free of the underwear and cupped his hands over his penis, which he felt shrinking.

  “You’re tense. Gotta let that go. Close your eyes.”

  Julian closed his eyes.

  “Good. Leave them closed. Take a deep breath.”

  Julian sucked the night air into his lungs.

  “Deeper.”

  Again.

  “Better. Now keep breathing like that. I want you to relax and feel the night. Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Don’t ask me any questions. Just do as I say. I want you to get your bearings. Breathe in your environment. Listen to the woods beyond us. Do you hear those crickets?”

  “Yes.” He heard them loud and clear.

  “How about the tree frogs?”

  Julian concentrated, cataloguing the different sounds he heard in the woods. “I hear them.”

  “What else do you hear?”

  Focusing on the blackness in his mind, he isolated those sounds he could not identify.

  “While you’re thinking on it, I want you to picture the moon overhead.”

  Visualizing the moon, he felt his chest expanding. He felt something else too: his muscles seemed to grow stronger and his flesh tighter. He wanted to be free, to abandon his puny body. Then he heard footsteps in the woods: an animal hopping. “I hear a rabbit!”

  “Good. Now picture your heart beating in your chest.”

  He imagined the inside of his body. Muscle. Organs. Blood …

  “Do you see it?”

  Julian saw the organ beating in his chest, purifying his blood, so red. “I do!”

  “Can you feel your heartbeat?”

  Thi
s was a new experience for him. “Yes …”

  “Now concentrate on the rabbit.”

  His heart … the rabbit … his heart … the beat … “I hear it.”

  “Don’t open your eyes, no matter what you feel. I want you to take the deepest breath you can.”

  Sucking in oxygen, he felt his muscles grow even tighter.

  “Make your hands into fists. Tighten your calves. Clench your stomach.”

  Julian did everything his grandfather said, but he didn’t feel any different. Then his legs and arms cramped at the same time.

  “Keep your eyes closed!”

  Shaking all over, he strained to keep his eyes shut.

  “Now shift your muscles.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  “Shift, shift!”

  The cramps spread throughout his body, burning his muscles and bones. “Argh …”

  “Get down on your hands and knees.”

  With his eyes still closed, Julian tried to ease himself down onto the grass, but his head struck the ground. The pain intensified. Fire! Agony!

  “Ignore the pain you feel. That’s normal. Bottle it up inside you. Listen to the rabbit’s heartbeat.”

  Julian concentrated. He heard his heartbeat … and the rabbit’s footfalls … jumping through brush … and then he heard it: low at first, then growing louder: another heartbeat. In his mind he heard the two hearts alternating beats, one of them his own. He inhaled a hundred different scents from the woods; all of them caused his senses to tingle. Breathe … breathe … breathe.

  “Keep it all inside you. You want to scream, don’t you?”

  He wanted to die. “Yesssssssss …”

  “Then do it.”

  So he died. All at once his body folded in on itself and tore him inside out. And then he was reborn.

  “Scream!”

  Julian screamed, and his scream became a howl.

  Free!

  With his eyes open and seeing so much, he charged forward into the woods, illuminated by moonlight. He galloped on all fours, leaping over bushes and ignoring the twigs that his palms and the balls of his feet compacted beneath his weight. He weaved between trees, faster than he believed possible. He sensed an owl overhead, a mouse to his left, a snail to his right. Then he saw it: the rabbit hopping away from him. He knew its hopping was no match for his speed, which he increased. He bore down on the white creature, which veered left, then right. Then he closed his powerful jaws over its hindquarters and tasted sweet, hot blood, and for the first time in his life he felt truly alive.

  Julian felt the pain even before he had fully awakened from the dream. Fire consumed every muscle, organ, and bone in his body. The high-pitched scream that dragged him to consciousness left his throat feeling like an open, bloody wound. He tried to sit up in his bed, but that only sent daggers of pain hacking at his stomach muscles. Throwing his head back into his pillow, he believed his body was being ripped to pieces by some unseen beast. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  Grandpa Jed appeared in the doorway, holding a silver tray with a pitcher of water and a glass upon it.

  “Help me!” Julian spat the words out in a tortured gasp. “Relax, boy. You’ll live.”

  “It hurts—everywhere.”

  “That’s because you Changed last night. Your muscles, your bones, your teeth—every part of you Changed. Your body destroyed itself, then rebuilt itself. Your real self came loose. That’s bound to hurt, especially at your age.”

  “I Ch-ch-changed?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Swallowing, Julian imagined what it would feel like to have gasoline gushing down his throat. “… don’t remember …”

  “Remember your dreams. Running through the forest. Hunting. Eating your first kill. All of that really happened.”

  Julian remembered everything with clarity, including his painful Transformation.

  Grandpa Jed poured him a glass of water. “Drink this. Drink the whole pitcher. Then I’ll bring you another one. Your muscles need it to heal. It’ll be days before you can even get out of bed and a week before you’ll feel strong enough to Change again. But remember this: every time you Change, you’ll heal faster than the time before and you’ll be stronger. Every Change will be easier than the one before it.”

  Gulping the cold water, Julian realized he couldn’t wait for the week to pass so he could Change again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Stalk drove his Jeep out of the NYPD impound lot at Pier 76 on West Thirty-eighth Street. Angela sat beside him, staring out the side window. They had barely spoken since she had fetched him.

  “Thanks for getting me,” Stalk said. “I think they would have held me the full twenty-four if you hadn’t.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He steered the vehicle downtown. “I’ll try not to involve you in this again.”

  “Too late.” Her voice became a monotone. “He came into the shop this morning.”

  Stalk stole a glance at her, curiosity piqued. “Who?”

  “The Berserker.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am.”

  Stalk returned his gaze to the street. “What did he want?”

  “He said he was looking for a copy of Transmogrification in Native American Mythology.”

  “Glenzer’s book?” Stalk had read all of Glenzer’s published work.

  “Yes, but I don’t think he really wanted it. I think he just wanted to know who else had come in for it recently. He was smart enough to ask for my personal copy to find out if anyone had wanted it badly enough to buy that. He also wanted to announce his presence to us—to taunt us.”

  “He’s playing games, all right. Has been since he started all this.”

  Angela’s eyes remained focused on him. “There was a cop back at the station. A detective. Italian, I think.”

  Stalk nodded. “Captain Mace. He brought me in.”

  “He’s the one I gave my copy of the book to.”

  Stalk considered this. “You don’t say.”

  Stalk parked the Jeep in a lot down the block from Synful Reading, and he and Angela went to her apartment, where he saw food laid out on the table: roast beef and mashed potatoes.

  “Don’t eat it,” Angela said, turning away from him. “I made it for dinner last night.”

  Stalk picked up a piece of meat and chewed it like jerky. “It’s delicious. My favorite, thanks.” He spied the open metal door on the other side of the room and stopped chewing. “Angus?”

  “He died overnight.”

  Stalk looked at the meat in his hand, felt self-conscious, and set it down. Stepping close to Angela, he eased his palms onto her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know how it feels.” He felt her tense up, then shrug out of his grasp.

  “Don’t.”

  His voice softened. “Why not?”

  “It brings back too many memories.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  She faced him, eyes moist and angry. “Yes, there is. I don’t want to remember those feelings.”

  Reaching out, he touched her cheek. “I never stopped loving you.”

  She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “And I still love you. I can’t help that. But I’m alone now.”

  He moved closer, his shadow darkening her face. “You still have me.”

  Angela shook her head. “I don’t. I never did. Don’t you see? You’re walking around with a death wish. You always have. And you know what they say about wishes.”

  He caressed her face with his other hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  She blinked back tears. “You’re wrong. Every minute you spend in this city brings you closer to death.”

  He offered her his best cocky smile. “Yeah, but it’s the same for everyone in New York.”

  “Don’t you dare joke about this! I don’t want to lose you too.”

  He slid his hands over her shoulders, then do
wn her bare arms, settling them around her waist. “You’re not going to.”

  A teardrop escaped the corner of her left eye and trickled down her cheek. She made no attempt to wipe it away. “I wish I could believe that.”

  Stalk applied slight pressure on the small of her back, guiding her closer to him. “I’ve got enough faith for both of us.” Leaning forward, he kissed her lips. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss, gently at first and then with urgency. Stalk pulled her body against his, inhaling her scent and tasting her tongue. They tugged at their clothing with the familiarity of old lovers and discarded them on the floor, then stood naked before each other. Her body was as hard and perfect as the last time he had seen it.

  Taking his hand, she led him into her darkened bedroom, and they climbed onto her bed. He teased her wet opening with the head of his erection, then plunged inside her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his buttocks, pulling him deeper inside her as she bucked against him. They stared into each other’s eyes, keeping no secrets. Her lips curled back, revealing her gums, almost snarling. Slick with sweat, their bodies strained against each other, their gasps keeping time with their movements.

  Angela rolled over, raising her ass high into the air. Stalk seized her curves in his fingers and drove himself into her vagina from this new angle. Moaning, she backed up against him. He slid his hands over her hips, controlling his trajectory and producing whimpers from her. Her inner muscles gripped him, and he felt the pressure becoming too great to contain. She drove her fists into the mattress and threw her head back, whipping her long hair through the air. She looked over her shoulder at him, then looked away. He pressed his teeth on that same shoulder, and she yelped.

  Their bodies trembled together as shuddering spasms weakened their legs. Stalk groaned as Angela cried out, and they collapsed onto the damp sheets, panting for breath, and clung to each other.