The Frenzy War

by Gregory Lamberson

  Damn it. “Tell Candice we need backup. I’m going in.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Henri steered the stolen SUV across Thirty-second Street. Three people scanned the stoops of apartment buildings and closed shops for signs of life.

  “No sentries,” Michael said beside him.

  Valeria sat quiet in the back.

  “Make the call,” Henri said.

  “I want a better look first,” Michael said.

  Henri slowed to a stop as the SUV passed the mouth to the alley. He looked over his shoulder at Valeria, who raised her night vision goggles to her eyes.

  “The alley’s clear,” she said. “Fire escapes … windows … rooftops. I don’t see anyone.”

  “Take no prisoners,” Michael said.

  Casting a final glance around the area, Henri backed the SUV into the alley. He looked behind him, focusing on the commercial Dumpster against the alley wall. Approximately fifty feet from the street, the SUV came to a stop just shy of the Dumpster, and Henri killed the engine.

  They sat in darkness, waiting and watching.

  After several minutes, Michael pressed a button on his headset. “Angelo?”

  Henri heard a faint sound: Angelo’s voice coming from the speaker in Michael’s ear.

  “We’ve arrived. Stand by.” Michael turned to Henri. “We’ll signal you.”

  Henri nodded, then watched Michael and Valeria get out of the SUV. In his rearview mirror, he saw them creep toward the Dumpster. Valeria hunched over and clasped her hands, giving a boost to Michael, who scrambled on top of the Dumpster without making any noise. Michael grabbed Valeria’s hands and lifted her until they were face-to-face, then she set one foot on the Dumpster, followed by the other. They turned to the wall, setting their hands upon its concrete top.

  A moment later, they disappeared.

  Valeria landed on the garbage-strewn pavement like a cat, her gloved fingertips brushing the ground for balance. At the same time, Michael landed beside her. They faced a brick courtyard illuminated by three lights mounted on the walls around them. Without saying a word, they scanned the shadowy terrain. The green glow of Valeria’s night vision goggles made everything in sight appear alien. Michael nodded to her, and she pressed a button on her headset.

  Come on in.

  “Oui.”

  Michael moved to his left, making room for Henri, so Valeria moved to her right. She heard the SUV door close, then the sound of Henri climbing onto the Dumpster. A moment later, he dropped between them and secured his night vision goggles. The three of them rose in unison and strode forward over discarded cartons and cans and bottles.

  Hearing a sudden sound to her right, Valeria spun in that direction, drawing her tranq gun as she crouched to fire it. A pair of rats scurried behind a garbage can. Exhaling, she stood erect, holstered her weapon, and faced her comrades. She could not read their expressions behind their goggles.

  Michael jerked his head toward their objective, and they moved to a steel door set in the side of the building on their right.

  Michael pressed the switch on his headset. “We’re ready.”

  Valeria heard Angelo’s reply over the speaker in her headset: “It’s about time. I’m on my way.”

  Henri drew a crowbar from beneath his coat.

  As the man in the long black duster descended into the passageway between the funeral home, Karol slid down the SUV’s passenger seat, peering over the dashboard. She wished that Willy had not hung up, and she tried calling him back, but he didn’t answer.

  “Tell Candice we need backup. I’m going in.”

  She pressed auto dial for the task force headquarters.

  Candice answered midway through the third ring. “Detective Sergeant Smalls.”

  “It’s Williams. Our suspected lookouts are gone, and there’s an SUV parked in the back alley. A Caucasian male wearing a long black coat just entered the passageway beneath the funeral home. This could be it. Willy’s going in alone from the rear to monitor the situation, and we need backup.”

  “Copy that. I’m putting out the call now. Wait for us to report to the scene.”

  “Negative. I’m going in after my partner.”

  “That’s an order, Detective.”

  “I can’t hear you, Sarge. You’re breaking up. I’ll try not to engage until backup arrives.” Karol closed her cell phone and slid it into its holder. When she got out, she locked the doors manually to avoid the chirp-chirp caused by the remote. A gust of wind blew garbage along the sidewalk, and a man in a peacoat zigzagged toward her in a drunken manner at the end of the block. She wanted to run around the block to the alley but feared she would reach Willy too late, so she crossed the street, resisting the urge to draw her weapon in public. She saw her reflection in the funeral home’s glass front doors and tensed up as a taxi passed behind her.

  Veering to her right, Karol stared down into the darkness of the passageway, then pressed her back against the wall beside the steps, listening. Across the street and down the block she saw a uniformed doorman smoking a cigarette. She raised her gaze above the lit windows to the darkened sky, then took out her phone and tried Willy again to no avail.

  Seeing no other choice, she stepped before the opening to the passageway, set her hand on the butt of her Glock, and descended into the waiting darkness.

  Mace had not fallen asleep yet when his cell phone rang. He knew from Cheryl’s lack of movement that she was awake too, pretending to sleep. He picked up the phone and saw Smalls on the display. He did not turn on the light. “Mace.”

  “We’ve got possible activity at the funeral home: an SUV parked in the back alley and one Caucasian male entering a passageway near the front entrance. Willy’s investigating the alley, and Williams told me she was backing him up before she turned off her phone.”

  Damn it, Mace thought, getting out of bed. “Call everyone in.”

  “Even Shelly and Norton?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Copy that. I’m locking up now. Do you want me to call in uniforms?”

  “Negative. I’ll see you there.” Hanging up, he took a pair of slacks out of the closet and pulled them on.

  The light on Cheryl’s side of the bed came on, and she sat up. “Trouble in the big city?”

  Buckling his belt, he took a fresh shirt from the closet. “Too soon to tell.”

  “Please be careful.”

  He ignored the ache in his shoulder. “I always am.”

  As he hurried out of the house, he was glad that Patty prevented Cheryl from following him. Driving along Fourth Avenue, he waited until he was five minutes away from home before he set his magnetic strobe on the SUV’s roof and flipped the siren switch.

  Valeria watched Henri wedge the crowbar’s end between the edge of the steel door and its frame. They stood in silence, waiting for Angelo, who appeared at the opening of the passageway that ran between the funeral home and its neighboring building.

  Angelo had already secured his goggles over his face. He turned to the wall closest to him, with his back to them, and spread his legs. Steam rose as he hosed the bricks with his urine. Then he zipped his pants and joined his comrades. “Sorry,” Angelo said to Valeria.

  She ignored him. What did she care if he relieved himself? He had been spending most of the day standing in the cold and wandering the shops along Twenty-eighth Street within sight of the funeral home.

  Michael nodded to Henri, who leaned against the crowbar, pressing his hands against its shaft with all his strength, a grimace on his face. The door sprang open, a piece of metal skidding across the ground, and Michael caught the door before it could slam against the brick wall. Darkness yawned before them.

  Henri returned his crowbar to his belt and entered. Valeria watched him turn from left to right, surveying the interior. He reached inside his duster and drew his Blade of Salvation free of its scabbard. Without facing them, he beckoned them forward with his free hand, which then grasped the handle
of his sword.

  Michael entered next, followed by Valeria. Michael drew his Blade, and she did the same. They stood in a service corridor with linoleum tiles, a pair of locked doors to their right. Angelo entered behind Valeria, leaving the door ajar. Valeria waited until he drew his Blade, then turned back to Henri and Michael. Michael gestured with his sword, and Henri moved forward, pressing his back against the wall as he rounded the corner ahead. They walked in single file about ten feet apart, giving themselves room to swing their swords if necessary.

  Henri reached another door at the end of the corridor. He grasped the knob and pulled the door toward him, hopping back at the same time, poised to strike with his Blade. Valeria followed him and Michael into a space with two stainless steel doors—perfect squares—recessed side by side within a ceramic brick wall. Because of the intensity of the green night vision on the wall, she assumed the ceramic bricks were white.

  Ovens, she thought. Crematories.

  Michael motioned to her and moved to the crematory on the left, leaving the one on the right for her. Releasing her grip on her Blade with one hand, Valeria stood before the crematory door, threw its latch, and jerked its handle down. She swung the door open, revealing the empty man-sized slab resting on tracks inside the oven. Michael pulled the slab out like a drawer, inspecting the space beneath the tracks, and she did the same. Then she closed the door at the same time Michael did.

  They entered another narrow corridor, where Henri opened a door and peeked inside. Leaving the door open, he proceeded down the corridor to yet another door. Michael glanced inside the room, and then Valeria did the same. She saw a wide stainless steel table with drain holes drilled into it, a double sink, and a counter covered with jars of cotton balls and chemicals.

  An embalming room.

  Grateful no cadaver lay upon the table, she moved on. The next door was wider and manufactured of stainless steel, with a matching lever handle. Michael had left it open, allowing frigid air to spill into the corridor. Valeria peered inside the refrigeration room at eight empty gurneys. Considering how many werewolves had been killed the last few days, the Dominis weren’t doing much business. She moved on, leaving the refrigeration room door open for Angelo, and a moment later she heard him close it.

  Henri led them through a door into a carpeted area that opened into three chambers. A wider corridor with wooden walls intersected with another corridor ahead, and Valeria knew they had entered the funeral home proper. Henri opened a wide wooden door and entered the first of the three chambers.

  Valeria followed Michael into the chamber, where pedestals displayed a dozen different models of caskets. The four of them fanned out, circling the caskets, making sure no beasts hid inside them or behind the pedestals. The night vision goggles made it impossible to discern the different colors used for the caskets and their lining, but she noticed different styles and engravings in their construction.

  When Henri exited the display room, he looked from side to side, as if trying to decide which way to go next. Then he turned motionless. Michael joined him and froze as well, and when Valeria stood beside them, what she saw chilled her: down the corridor, shapes skulked toward them. Valeria counted four, each beast traveling on all fours close to the floor. They made no noise, their snouts open to reveal jutting fangs, their eyes bright green in the night vision, their ears pinned back in an aggressive manner.

  “Attack formation,” Michael said.

  Angelo moved close to the wall on his right, and Valeria positioned herself halfway between him and Henri on her left. She assumed Michael had distanced himself from Henri as well.

  When the four beasts reached the end of the corridor, fifteen feet away from Valeria and her comrades, they rose on their hind legs, which seemed to change proportions in relation to their trunks. Growling, the beasts opened and closed their front claws, which retained the arrangement of human fingers despite their extended length. In Valeria’s estimation, these monsters differed from those they had slain in the Lourdes’ home: they showed no fear of the Blades or those who wielded them. Two of the monsters moved to her right, two to her left.

  They’re trying to box us in, Valeria thought. The animals showed cunning.

  But the Inquisitors had their own strategy and closed their ranks. Valeria moved forward, focusing on the werewolves who faced her and Angelo. She stood with her back to Michael, and Angelo with his to Henri. She heard Michael’s Blade scrape against its scabbard and knew he had sheathed it.

  “Val, switch to your gun,” Michael said.

  Sliding her Blade into its scabbard, she drew her tranq gun and aimed it at the beasts, shifting her gaze from one to the other. She knew she would have time to fire only one dart before the creatures sprang on her.

  Snarling, the werewolves pressed closer.

  With his Glock drawn, Willy peered inside the SUV parked in the alley: empty. Setting both hands on the Dumpster behind the vehicle, he swung his legs onto the metal lid, pushed himself forward, and leaned over the top of the wall, staring at the courtyard below. He vaulted over the wall and landed in loose garbage. With his back against the brick wall, he held his Glock in both hands and scanned the courtyard. Then he moved forward, facing the passageway that led to the front of the funeral home, and stopped at a metal exit for the Dominis’ business and saw it had been left ajar.

  Willy knew Karol had probably just finished calling Candice for backup. He also knew that backup would not arrive for some time but Karol would arrive at the scene momentarily. He could not decide whether to go in on his own or wait for her.

  Fuck it. I’m a lieutenant now.

  Besides, going alone meant less risk to Karol. He swung the door open and took out his flashlight, which he activated. A circle of light, not unlike a full moon in the sky, appeared on the wall. Raising his Glock, he stepped inside and looked around, swinging the flashlight in each direction.

  Some kind of service corridor.

  He followed the corridor, his flashlight beaming off’ the floor, walls, and ceiling. Opening a door, he shone the flashlight along white porcelain bricks and stainless steel squares and knew he had entered the Dominis’ crematorium. He crossed the room to another door and opened it.

  Somewhere ahead, a man screamed.

  With the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, Willy sprinted forward. He passed a number of doors before reaching a final door at the end of the corridor. Then he heard it: the snarling of animals. Snarls like he had heard when Patty was murdered, only multiplied.

  Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s all true.

  He seized the doorknob, but his hand froze. Then he flung the door open and aimed the flashlight at an unbelievable tableau.

  The snarling of the werewolves grew louder, and Valeria heard the scrabble of claws behind her.

  Henri cried out and fell to the floor with one of the beasts clutching the wrist of his sword hand between its powerful jaws. He screamed, and at the same time Valeria heard the clanging of metal as his sword fell somewhere behind her. She also heard Michael fire his tranq gun, producing a startled yelp from the beast remaining behind her, then draw his Blade.

  “Shoot it!” Angelo said.

  She aimed her tranq gun at the beast gnawing on Henri’s arm, then raised it to fire at the two creatures advancing on her.

  They stopped in their tracks at the same time.

  “Save Henri!”

  She dropped her aim again, but Henri had managed to pull his own tranq gun from its holster. He pressed it against the breast of the creature and squeezed the trigger, the sound of the shot muffled by fur. The beast’s entire body seemed to flinch, but it refused to release its hold on his arm.

  Valeria fired at the closest beast, the tranq dart sinking into its chest. The creature yelped with a spastic flinch and jerked it out. Holstering her gun, she drew her Blade once more, which allowed Angelo to sheathe his sword and draw his tranq gun, which he fired at the other beast.

  Brandishing her Bla
de, Valeria prepared to aim a blow at the neck of the werewolf chewing on Henri’s arm, but the beast pulled Henri so that the screaming man blocked her path. Not yet unconscious, the other beasts moved slower. Angelo drew his Blade again and extended it before him, holding the two monsters at bay. Just as Valeria wondered how Michael was managing with the only werewolf that had not been tranquilized, the creature leapt over Henri, landing beside the two dazed creatures.

  Three on three, Valeria thought.

  Then light flared in her goggles, and she heard a man’s voice.

  “Police!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Willy clamped his Maglite on top of the Clock’s barrel so he could hold the weapon with both hands and aim within the light. The moving circle revealed only glimpses of the figures tangling inside.

  A man wearing night vision goggles turned toward him, looking almost inhuman. Then the light passed over the head and shoulders of a pair of furry and ferocious-looking creatures that snapped their heads in his direction, their eyes a solid shade and their teeth almost as long as human fingers.

  Werewolves.

  Willy recoiled, and his heart skipped a beat. His first instinct was to shoot the creatures on sight, and he had to remind himself that he was tasked with protecting them from their human antagonists. At this moment, that objective seemed insane. The monsters darted out of the light, and he heard snarls coming from every direction before him. His flashlight exposed the legs and arms of other people and monsters, their blurred motion preventing him from getting a count. Another tight-lipped face with goggles came into view and ducked away, the corner of a long coat swooping through the beam like a bat.

  On the floor, a man thrashed around, his arm pinned between the jaws of a powerful-looking beast. A sword sliced the moon circle, its silver blade reflecting light at Willy, and severed the man’s forearm. He screamed and rolled away from the werewolf as blood gushed out of his new stump, painting the floor.