Some sort of hydraulic mechanism, she thought. Her eyes darted to each of her captors. They regarded her with what looked like revulsion. Her frightened breathing sounded louder within the confines of the muzzle.
The leader nodded to the black man, who set his pouch down on a small table. Peeling back Velcro straps, he revealed a set of gleaming scalpels.
Rhonda’s heart pounded in her chest.
Removing a scalpel, the black man nodded at the woman.
“A demonstration.” He approached Rhonda, who focused on the scalpel. “Call me Henri. I want you to know who I am. I want you to have a name to curse as I take you apart.”
Rhonda wanted to scream.
Henri looked her body up and down, as if searching for a sensitive spot. He tapped the scalpel in the palm of his free hand. Then he brought his arm up, the scalpel reflecting light even in the gloom.
Rhonda pressed the back of her head against the slab as the blade slashed down, opening her torso in an angle that ran from above one breast to below the other. Blood spurted out at the man’s face and chest, and his features assumed a rapturous expression.
Rhonda found her scream.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two and a half dozen men and women, representing different neighborhoods from the boroughs of New York City, sat in the Domini Funeral Home’s viewing room. They wore dark suits and black dresses, as if in mourning, and sat on folding chairs with padded cushions.
Gabriel walked to the front of the room, a closed casket on the pedestal behind him, followed by Raphael, with Lawrence and Leon standing along the walls like sentries. Gabriel raised his hands and the whispering voices faded out. He measured the faces staring back at him and saw many emotions but mostly apprehension.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said.; “We’ve obviously got a situation on our hands that can’t wait.”
Bennett Jones, a grocer from Staten Island, rose. “This is all your fault. You should have closed down Synful Reading after your sister left the country. It was foolish to leave it open. Now look what it’s gotten us.”
Some of the Wolves muttered their agreement, and Gabriel felt Raphael’s anger rising.
“Would I ever tell you what to do with your business? Synful Reading’s been in my family for forty years. It’s an institution in that neighborhood.”
“That’s the problem. It’s too well known, especially after that so-called reporter wrote his book about the Berserker.” Bennett returned to his seat.
The Berserker was a term the Greater Pack had used to describe Janus Farel before they learned his true identity, Julian Fortier.
Gabriel kept his tone even. “I won’t argue this point. You may be right.”
Saphire Kuda, a gypsy who ran a flower shop in Washington Heights, stood. “I just want to know one thing: Are these killers Torquemadans?”
Gabriel saw bodies tightening before him. “For now, we have to assume so. They killed Jason Lourdes and abducted Rhonda Wilson, then killed Rodney and Jen Lourdes, Tim Riegert, Kyle Chadler, and Samuel Minsky.”
“And burned down Rodney and Jen’s house,” a gray-haired man named George Allen said without standing. Allen, who represented the Upper East Side, had been an advisor to Angus Domini, Gabriel’s father, when Angus had led the pack before Gabriel.
“Every Wolf who’s been executed so far has been decapitated. The police have determined that a sword killed Jason. After seeing the body, I concur. Five decapitated Wolves in one location suggest at least five swords.”
Murmurs became gasps.
Anne Wong from Prospect Park half rose. “Five Blades of Salvation?”
“In all likelihood, yes. But not necessarily. Any sword could do the job if it was strong enough, and if its wielder knew that decapitation is the easiest way to kill us. But the methodical nature of the attack, coming less than a day after Jason was killed, indicates a team of individuals with combat training and knowledge of our society. I fear the worst.”
The voices in the room rose once more, and Gabriel raised his hands in a placating gesture. “These assassins aren’t our only problem. Raphael and I saw Jason’s corpse. He had begun to Change when he was killed. His face had just started to alter its shape. My sources confirm the corpse—and the five carcasses of the others—were sent to Quantico, the FBI’s headquarters in Virginia. There’s no way for us to recover the remains as we have in the past or to destroy them. Just as we have to assume our enemies are Torquemadans, we have to assume the government of this country is becoming aware of our existence.”
Eyes widened and jaws opened.
There, it’s out, Gabriel thought.
Joe Sevin, a tall black Wolf with salt-and-pepper hair, stood. “If the Torquemadans left Jason’s head behind when they took Rhonda—”
“Then they didn’t care if they exposed us or not. They may even desire that exposure to cause such a panic in this city that it’s harder for us to mount an offense against them.”
“What about Rhonda?” Anne said, rising all the way.
Joe settled into his seat.
“Again, all we can do right now is speculate. They didn’t kill her; they took her prisoner, which means they have a use for her.”
“To torture her until she gives us all up,” Manny Moses, a white-haired lawyer from Long Island said, jumping to his feet. “That girl will be the end of us.”
“I have faith in Rhonda,” Gabriel said. “But finding her is a priority.”
“Two years ago, we worried about the Berserker exposing us. Now, this”
Cecilia Perez, a pediatrician from the Bronx, stood up at the same time as Patrick Reily, a housepainter from Astoria. Patrick motioned for Cecilia to speak first.
“If the Torquemadans identified Rhonda and Jason just because they worked at the bookstore, then they also must know you and Raphael are Wolves. This funeral home is probably under observation.”
“You’re probably right. That’s why we had you all come here dressed as if you’re attending a service.”
“They could still follow us when we leave …”
“They could, but there are thirty of you.”
“It was reckless of you to summon us here like this.”
“I didn’t want to take a chance on exposing a safe location.”
“So you took a chance on exposing us instead. Thanks a lot.” Cecilia sat with her jaw clenched.
“They must suspect every one of your workers is one of us,” Patrick said. “And then there are mutual contacts among us: shared doctors, lawyers, dentists … Every connection puts each member of the Greater Pack in danger. And if the Torquemadans don’t have the resources to make those connections, the FBI will.”
He’s right, Gabriel thought.
Before he could comment, Eddie appeared at the back of the room.
“What is it?” Raphael said.
“Someone’s here to see Gabriel,” Eddie said. “One of us. But a stranger.”
Gabriel glanced at Raphael, who raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be right back.”
Heads turned as Gabriel followed Eddie out of the chamber.
“What’s his name?” Gabriel said as he and Eddie crossed the corridor.
“He wouldn’t give it to me. He said you’re the only one he’ll speak to.”
Rounding the corner, Gabriel saw through the glass front doors a tall man standing beside David outside. As he and Eddie neared the door, David turned in their direction and the stranger did the same. Gabriel had never seen him before.
“Let him in,” Gabriel said, stopping outside the office.
David opened the door, and the strange Wolf entered the lobby. He had short, curly black hair, and Gabriel sensed kinship with him because of something in his eyes: the burden of leadership.
“I’m Gabriel. Who are you?”
The Wolf stood before Gabriel. “My name is Elias Michalakis.”
Valeria watched as Henri used a rag to wipe the blood away from Rhon
da’s torso. Rhonda’s head quivered, her eyes wild, and sweat trickled down her face like teardrops. Valeria feared the young woman was about to transform again. Then she blinked at Rhonda’s body. Her flesh was smooth and undamaged, with no sign of the deep gash Henri had inflicted. Valeria had read about the beasts’ healing powers in reports, but seeing them in action caused her to feel awe. Why had God granted such abilities to these unholy monsters?
“You see?” Henri said.
Valeria nodded.
Michael moved closer to Rhonda. “We don’t want you to talk. If we did, we wouldn’t have muzzled you. For now, we just want you to know that we mean what we say. We don’t make idle threats.”
He held out one hand, and Rhonda lowered her eyes to see it. Henri withdrew a second scalpel and set its handle in Michael’s open palm. The two men stood on either side of their prisoner, scalpels raised.
Rhonda locked her pleading eyes on Valeria, who swallowed.
Michael pressed the blade of his scalpel against Rhonda’s throat. “This very fine precision instrument has a blade sharp enough to cut off your head.”
Rhonda’s gaze shifted to Michael, who said, “We know that decapitation is the best way to deal with your kind.”
Rhonda’s breathing quickened, her naked breasts rising and falling, and deep, whistling breaths filled the cone of her muzzle.
“But killing you isn’t what we have in mind. You’re far too valuable a specimen for that. The beauty of having a captive with remarkable healing prowess is that no matter how badly we torture you, you won’t die on us.”
Michael drew the scalpel across Rhonda’s throat. A narrow red line appeared in her flesh, and blood poured out like a waterfall. Rhonda’s eyes bulged in their sockets as blood flowed down between her breasts.
Valeria felt nauseous. She knew that Rhonda was not a human being, but she looked human enough, and the gaping neck wound made Valeria taste vomit. But she fought back the sickness in her stomach. It would be unacceptable for Michael to witness such squeamish behavior.
She’s just an animal, she told herself. Worse: she’s a demon.
Valeria’s body turned rigid when she saw the irises of Rhonda’s eyes expand, blotting out their whites.
“Here we go,” Henri said.
Rhonda’s body tensed, her veins pressing against her flesh, which rippled. Her fingers and feet extended, and as her muscles went spastic, black fur spread over her body. Within the confines of her muzzle, she issued a pathetic-sounding howl. She strained against her bonds, attempting to free herself, but the wire woven into the leather straps held her in place.
Michael glanced over his shoulder at Valeria, who drew her tranq gun, then nodded at Henri. The two men leapt at Rhonda, slashing her with their scalpels.
“I’m the last member of my cell,” Elias told the assembled Wolves. He stood between Gabriel and Raphael. “The Torquemadans wiped out the rest in a sneak attack. They abducted a member of my team, killed him by cutting off his head, surgically reattached his head, then dropped his corpse off at our doorstep with a bomb wired into his sternum. The resulting explosion killed the rest of my team and left me badly wounded. One of our party was female. She was pregnant.”
Gabriel studied the expressions of the Wolves, shifting between shock and outrage. With their population dwindling, a pregnant female represented a grave loss.
Manny rose. “You said you’re the last member of your cell. What about other cells?”
Elias’s face remained deadly serious. “In Europe? I know of none. The packs there were brought to the brink of extinction decades ago, thanks to the Torquemadans. We lost contact with each other one by one. If any Wolves survive there now, they do so without the benefit of Wolf society, and they’re hiding like animals.”
“How is it possible?” Anne said. “This war was fought in secret. How could so many be dead?”
“The process of our genocide in Europe took centuries. The Inquisition, of course. The first and second world wars didn’t help, and neither did decreased fertility. We took a good number of them with us, though.”
“How many are left?”
“There have always been just six Blades, so there have always been six assassins to wield them and six apprentices to take their place. In the past, there’s also been a small support network assigned to facilitate travel, lodging, weaponry, and medical aid. I believe we successfully eliminated much of their support. That’s why they’re taking such bold steps now; they’re like cornered rats. There can’t be more than a dozen active members of the Brotherhood left. Maybe only half a dozen, one for each Blade.”
The Wolves murmured in dismay.
“A dozen?” Raphael said.
Gabriel cast a disapproving look in his brother’s direction.
“How could a dozen humans pose such a threat to us?” Anne said. “There are thousands of Wolves in the US, almost two thousand here in New York.”
Elias offered Anne a smile that suggested he held little regard for her math skills. “But they have the Blades of Salvation.”
Anne threw up her hands and sat, Manny right behind her.
“We don’t share your religious beliefs or your superstitions,” Gabriel said in a diplomatic tone.
“Then how do you explain six Wolves murdered in one twenty-four-hour period?” Elias said.
“It just takes a sharp enough sword or ammunition powerful enough to destroy a Wolf’s head.”
Elias looked out at the crowd. “You must believe in the Wolf gods …”
“Our ancestors were gods. But the time of the gods has passed.”
Elias turned to Gabriel. “I’ve heard of your strange beliefs. I can’t accept them, but I can tolerate them. We need the strength of unity. My people are gone. As far as I know, our kind only exists in North America now, at least with any semblance of organization. And we need organization to track down these killers. I’m here to help you, but as long as I live, so do the beliefs of the European Wolves.”
“Help us how?” Patrick said, rising.
“You need my knowledge and experience. I know these Torquemadans well.”
Saphire stood up on the other side of the aisle. “If there’s no more than twelve, why do we need your help? All we have to do is locate them.”
“They’re moving fast, trying to kill as many of you as they can before you can find them. They operate in secrecy, but their goal is also to expose you, to draw other humans into this war. To some degree, they have already succeeded.”
“Like Janus Farel,” Gabriel said.
Elias raised his eyebrows, then nodded. “We found Janus in a drug den, destroying himself in the fashion of human addicts. He voluntarily entered such a pitiful state after a hunter killed his mate here in the US. We took him into our cell, cleansed him, and trained him to fight the Torquemadans alongside us.”
“Julian was my childhood friend. Did you send him back here?”
“No. He returned on his own after we expelled him. Our method of warfare was to strike at the Torquemadans in a manner that suggested human terrorists. Janus wanted to reveal his true nature to the world, to elicit fear in mankind.”
“He was a true terrorist.”
“An extremist”
“And yet the first person he killed in New York was Terrence Glenzer, a man who possessed a Blade of Salvation.”
“Half of a Blade. I admit I provided him with that information.”
“Two years ago, his actions nearly exposed us. You set that plan in motion.”
“No. Janus killed many humans in other states before he came here. I merely directed him to kill Glenzer and retrieve the Blade so it wouldn’t fall into the Torquemadans’ hands. Then he disappeared.”
“We killed him before his plan to instigate a war between the species could succeed.”
“But he came close. I saw the reports on TV: National Guards swarmed this city. Tell me, who killed him?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Our sister,” Raphael said.
Damn it, Gabriel thought.
“One female against Janus? I’m impressed. And skeptical. Where is she now?”
“That isn’t important,” Gabriel said.
“I have no interest in avenging Janus. I loved him like a brother, but brothers follow different paths.” He glanced at Raphael. “As I said, his methods were too extreme for me to accept.”
“And what methods do you propose now?” Raphael said.
“First, you need to adopt a buddy system: two families in every household, watching each other’s backs. If the Torquemadans know who all of you are, that will cut the number of potential targets for them in half. Second, you need to create a plan for searching the city and its boroughs. We have to sniff them out.”
“We already have such a system in place, easy to implement,” Gabriel said.
“But only in Manhattan,” Raphael said. “The outer boroughs are too large. Plus, there’s New Jersey.”
“Then start with Manhattan and work your way out. It will take longer, but it’s the only way. The Torquemadans operate as my cell did—in absolute secrecy, leaving no paper trail behind.”
Raphael glanced at Gabriel.
Gabriel looked out at the faces of those waiting for his answers, then turned to his brother. “Do as he says.”
Sitting in a booth with high wooden backs in the rear of Gracie’s pub, Mace sipped his scotch and waited. A crowd had formed for happy hour, and the bartender, a pretty blonde who knew how to smile for a tip, played a selection of recent pop hits.
Jim Mint made his way through the animated bodies and sat opposite Mace. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Could you have found a dive with less light?” Mace said.
“I’m just being discreet. This joint’s a little too trendy for cops.”
“You said I could handpick my own team. Here’s the list.” Mace slid a napkin across the nicked table.
The Frenzy War Page 10