The Frenzy Wolves

by Gregory Lamberson

  At the far end of the space, Colleen spoke to a young man with glasses. Seeing Carl, she glanced at her watch.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Carl said. “It took me longer to get everything together than I expected.”

  “What a surprise,” she said.

  “You’ll be glad you waited.”

  “I bet you didn’t bring the scotch, either.”

  “I’m all out, darling.”

  Before he could hug her, Colleen turned her back on him and led him into her small glass-faced office, which had a view of the city. Awards and certificates covered one wall, and a monitor played MMN on the other.

  “You’ve got five minutes to wow me.” Colleen sat at her cluttered desk.

  “That’s all I need.” Carl took out a DVD. “I shot this footage myself.”

  “I’m on the edge of my seat.”

  Carl opened the tray of Colleen’s Blu-ray player and set his DVD inside it. The machine swallowed the disc, then daytime footage of the deli filled the screen. “This is a deli I staked out today. Seven hours of sitting on my butt.”

  “Fascinating.”

  He fast-forwarded to the nighttime footage outside the community center. “I followed the deli owner to this building a few blocks away. It’s a community center. Notice all the lights are off. See the people going through the gate? I decided to investigate.”

  “Why were you watching that deli in the first place?”

  “I’d rather not say. There are other aspects to this story I’m still putting together.” The basement of the community center filled the screen. “The basement windows were all boarded up except this one. There was a gap in it. I opened it wide enough to fit my camera through for a look-see. There were about a dozen people down there.”

  “It looks like an AA meeting,” Colleen said.

  “I thought the same thing.” On-screen, Gabriel faced the seated people. Carl tapped the screen. “That’s Gabriel Domini.”

  Colleen put on her glasses. “The funeral director?”

  “And co-owner of the Synful Reading bookstore.”

  “Where’s the audio?”

  “I’m not a freelance cameraman. I shot this with a flip-screen camera. I couldn’t pick up what they were saying.”

  “Nice job.”

  Three men entered the basement. “The guy in the middle is Raphael Domini. Not one law enforcement agency has produced a motivation for a European terrorist organization to travel to the US and target the businesses of these two men.”

  “But you’ve got the answer?”

  “The historic Brotherhood of Torquemada used swords called the Blades of Salvation to execute people accused of witchcraft and being werewolves during the Spanish Inquisition. The only mention I’ve found of this is in a book called Transmogrification in Native American Mythology by Terrence Glenzer, the first victim of the Manhattan Werewolf two years ago.”

  “I remember. The police found one half of a broken sword in Glenzer’s safe,” Colleen said.

  “And they recovered the other half of that sword in Central Park on the night those cops were killed.”

  “The Manhattan Werewolf is still out there,” Colleen said.

  “Maybe he ran away when the National Guards came to town like people say, or maybe someone killed him.”

  “Like the Brotherhood of Torquemada?”

  “That very well could be the case. I believe Pedro Fillipe, who was also killed in Central Park that night, belonged to the Brotherhood.”

  On-screen, Raphael lunged at Gabriel.

  “Trouble in la familia,” Colleen said.

  “You have no idea.”

  The brothers disappeared from view.

  “Are you pitching me a news story or a reality series?”

  “You tell me.”

  Two figures leapt into view on the screen, and Colleen did a double take. “What the hell?”

  “This is real. Those are real.”

  “What is this, a dogfight?”

  “What dogs walk upright and stand seven feet tall?” Carl froze the picture. “Those are the same shirts the Dominis were just wearing.” He resumed play, and the werewolves snarled at each other.

  “This is a hoax. It has to be. Those are special effects.”

  “No, dear. I was there. Those are living creatures.”

  “The other people aren’t even afraid,” Colleen said.

  “Because they’re all the same.”

  “Wolves?”

  “Werewolves.”

  An Asian woman turned to the camera and pointed straight at it. She said something, and the camera angle shifted to the ground.

  “That’s where I got into trouble. They chased me to my car. One of them broke my window and held on to the door while I drove off. I saw it up close. I looked into its eyes. This is no hoax; these things are real. I barely escaped with my life.”

  Colleen stared at the blank screen. “Werewolves . . .”

  Carl leaned over her desk. “I can’t prove it, but the Manhattan Werewolf was one. You remember the stories when that Indian got killed? That was across the street from Synful Reading. Tony Mace was in charge of that case, and he was on the scene. He must have told the NYPD brass what he saw, and that’s why they shuffled him off to Floyd Bennett Field and the K-9 Unit. Then the Brotherhood came to town and went after the Dominis in a way that couldn’t be covered up, so the big shots pulled Mace out of mothballs because he was the only person who knew the truth.”

  Colleen blinked. “Tony.”

  “Everything connects to him, and you got caught up in it. So did I. And now we’re sitting on the story of the century.”

  Colleen opened a desk drawer and took out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Why bring this to me?”

  “The networks will never buy it. In their eyes, I’m trash, nothing but a yellow journalist who turns out dime-store true crime books.” He gestured at the newsroom. “But you need my brand of sensationalism.”

  Colleen handed him a drink. “Do I?”

  “Hell, yes. Plus, you want to know why the Brotherhood chloroformed you and kidnapped Cheryl.”

  With her eyes never leaving him, Colleen gulped her scotch. “What do you want?”

  “I want to report this story on TV. I want to do all the follow-up work. I want to do live remotes, and I want a weekly half-hour interview show to call my own.”

  “You want to be an on-air personality.”

  “Who else do you have?” Carl raised his voice. “Cheryl isn’t coming back. Michael O’Hear? He’s the opposite of sensational. You need this as much as I do.”

  “This could backfire. We could be laughingstocks. I could lose my job.”

  “No guts, no glory. Gomez is out there. He’s part of this too. Someone is going to break this story. I’m begging you—let it be us.”

  Colleen tapped her fingernails on her desk. “Play it again.”

  Rhonda followed the others into the three-bedroom apartment where Lincoln lived. Daniel supported Lincoln, and Diane and Raina held T-Bone upright between them.

  “Mom works the night shift, and my sister’s got her own crib now,” Lincoln said between gasps.

  “Stop that heavy breathing,” Rhonda said. “I had my arm cut off, and it grew back. You guys will be fine.”

  Lincoln detached himself from Daniel and fell into an armchair. “Set T on the couch.”

  Diane and Raina deposited T-Bone on the sofa. He grimaced.

  Lincoln pulled up his bloody shirt and gazed at the wound in his torso. “It doesn’t look so bad.”

  “Of course it doesn’t,” Rhonda said. “Our bones are rock hard. The bullet never got past your ribs. The act of Transformation heals the tissue. I guess you never paid attention in Sunday school.”

  Diane and Raina went into the kitchen and returned with two chairs, then went back for two more.

  Rhonda took off her coat and draped it over a chair. “Don’t get comfortable yet. We have to wash the bl
ood out of these clothes.” She peeled off her bloody shirt. Blood caked her chest. When she removed her bra, the clean surface of her breasts stood out against the crimson around them.

  The others gaped at her.

  “Don’t be shy, boys and girls. We may not have to worry about the cops, but we do have to worry about your parents, starting with Lincoln’s mother.”

  Daniel took off his coat, then his shirt, and kicked off his shoes. Diane and Raina removed their coats and tops. Rhonda finished stripping first and went to the couch and started undressing T-Bone. Daniel joined her, and Diane and Raina helped Lincoln out of his clothes. The uninjured Wolves stood nude before Lincoln and T-Bone.

  “Try not to get blood on the furniture,” Lincoln said to T-Bone.

  “Do you have a washer and dryer?” Rhonda said.

  “Yeah, but they’re small.” Lincoln scratched around his wound. “Damn, it itches so bad.”

  “Because your skin is healing, dummy.” Rhonda turned to the others. “Let’s wash these off in the bathtub before we stick them in the machine.”

  In the bathroom, they ran water over the clothes and watched the blood swirl around the drain. Then they loaded the clothes into the washer. They took turns showering and washed the tub again.

  “Now we have to wash the towels,” Raina said.

  “So do it,” Rhonda said.

  “What now?” Daniel said back in the living room.

  “Let’s have an orgy,” Lincoln said.

  Rhonda set a towel on the sofa beside him and sat on it. “No, I think we’ll watch the news.”

  Twenty-One

  Carl entered the Manhattan Minute News studio with Colleen. A grid of ceiling lights shone down on the two-person desk with a bright green screen behind it. Two cameramen stood behind large broadcast cameras. Michael O’Hear looked up from the desk with raised eyebrows.

  “Michael, I’m sure you know Carl Rice,” Colleen said.

  “Yes, I do,” Michael said with obvious disapproval.

  “I love your work,” Carl said in an insincere tone.

  Michael stood. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I work here now,” Carl said. “We’re colleagues.”

  Michael looked at Colleen with disbelief in his eyes, and she nodded.

  Carl stepped on the set and gestured to the seat Michael had just vacated. “Do you mind sliding over one? This is my segment.”

  Michael moved over to the other seat and shot Colleen a confused look.

  “Introduce Carl as a contributing editor,” Colleen said.

  “All right.” Michael stretched the words out, articulating his displeasure.

  Carl sat in the primary seat, then leaned over to Michael. “Wait until you hear this story. You’re going to love it.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  A short woman wearing a headset and holding a clipboard came over and held out one hand. “Hi, I’m Julie, your director.”

  Carl shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Julie turned to Colleen. “I just read the copy for the teleprompter. Is this for real?”

  “Yes,” Colleen said.

  “Okay, then, let’s get started.” Julie retreated to the shadows in the rear of the studio. “Camera A, you’re up. Camera B, stand by.”

  “Remember what I said,” Colleen said to Carl.

  Carl beamed. “Let’s make history together.”

  Colleen joined Julie.

  “And five, four, three, two, one,” Julie said.

  The light on camera A glowed red.

  “Welcome back to Manhattan Minute News. For those just tuning in, I’m Michael O’Hear, and it’s now my pleasure to introduce you to Carl Rice, who joins us tonight as a contributing editor.”

  “Camera B,” Julie said into her headset.

  The light on camera A faded as the light on camera B flared. On the monitor, the medium shot of Michael cut to a two-shot that included Carl.

  “Thank you, Michael.” Carl turned to camera A.

  “Camera A,” Julie said.

  “When you see this exclusive Manhattan Minute News report, you might mistake it for a fictional story, but I assure you that is not the case. I was an eyewitness and the cameraman, and I stand by its authenticity.”

  “Camera B close-up,” Julie said.

  Colleen watched Carl’s head and shoulders fill the monitor.

  “Two weeks ago, New York City came under attack by a group of Europeans who called themselves the Brotherhood of Torquemada.”

  “Roll images,” Julie said.

  Photos of two teenagers filled the screen.

  “These terrorists beheaded Jason Lourdes, age eighteen, in the occult bookstore Synful Reading and abducted Rhonda Wilson, also eighteen. Lourdes and Wilson were employees at the store . . .”

  Still nude in Lincoln’s apartment, Rhonda sat forward on the towel on the sofa. She had not expected to see Jason and herself on the news station. She loathed Carl Rice for writing Rodrigo Gomez: Tracking the Full Moon Killer and The Wolf Is Loose: The True Story of the Manhattan Werewolf.

  “Hey, that’s you,” T-Bone said.

  “No shit,” Raina said.

  “Quiet, both of you,” Rhonda said in a flat tone.

  Photos of Jason’s and Rhonda’s parents appeared.

  “Over the next several nights,” Carl Rice said in a voice-over, “Lourdes’s parents and Wilson’s parents were executed, their homes destroyed. Some of the victims were decapitated by swords.”

  Rhonda parted her lips and tried to hold back tears.

  “The Domini Funeral Home and Synful Reading were destroyed in bombings,” Carl said. “Both businesses were co-owned by these men.” A photo of Gabriel and Raphael, dressed in suits, was shown. “Gabriel Domini and his brother, Raphael.”

  Carl Rice came back on-screen. “The Dominis have a sister, Angela, wanted for questioning by police regarding the murder of John Stalk, a tribal policeman. Stalk traveled to Manhattan from upstate New York during the hunt for the serial killer known as the Manhattan Werewolf. He was killed on the fire escape of a building across the street from Synful Reading. Witnesses claimed Stalk was killed by a ‘large animal covered with black fur.’ Angela Domini disappeared after the incident and has not been heard from since.”

  “Tony, wake up.”

  Mace rolled over with a groan. “What is it?”

  Cheryl had already turned on the overhead light and the TV. Carl Rice appeared on-screen, sitting behind the Manhattan Minute News desk. “It looks like Colleen gave Carl a job, and he’s spilling everything.”

  Mace sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He stared at himself on the screen.

  “The man in charge of the Manhattan Werewolf investigation for the New York Police Department was Captain Anthony Mace, who had previously brought to justice Rodrigo Gomez, the Full Moon Killer, who escaped from Sing Sing Correctional Facility last night.”

  Gomez’s mug shot appeared next to the photo of Mace.

  “Mace wasn’t so lucky with the Manhattan Werewolf, who was never apprehended.” Carl returned to the screen. “Mace was put in charge of a joint NYPD and FBI task force assigned to capture the Brotherhood of Torquemada.”

  Photos of the Brotherhood of Torquemada appeared, forming a rogues’ gallery. Mace bristled at the sight of Valeria Rapero.

  “Mace was allowed to remain on the task force even after the Brotherhood abducted his wife, Cheryl Mace. His task force located the Brotherhood’s Newark, New Jersey, hideout, and in a pitched battle, killed the terrorists. Cheryl Mace and Rhonda Wilson were rescued.”

  Mace’s cell phone rang, and he answered.

  “Are you watching this?” Jim said.

  “I’m trying to.”

  “Call me back.”

  Mace shut the phone off and found himself staring at a familiar building.

  “This is the Mott Street building that houses Mace’s task force. Until now, its location was a secret.”
/>   “Damn it,” Mace said.

  Carl returned to the screen. “What no authorities will admit is the Brotherhood’s purpose for being in the United States in the first place or why they targeted the Domini, Lourdes, and Wilson families.”

  Cheryl raised one hand to her mouth.

  “As detailed by the late historian Terrence Glenzer in his book Transmogrification in Native American Mythology, the Brotherhood of Torquemada was formed during the Spanish Inquisition, and the men who wielded the Blades of Salvation were charged with executing men and women accused of witchcraft . . . and lycanthropy: in plain English, werewolves.”

  “Oh, my God,” Cheryl said.

  Mace’s expression turned grim.

  “It is no secret that I’m an acknowledged expert on both Rodrigo Gomez and the Manhattan Werewolf, and I’ve strived to bring to light the secrets of both of these killers,” Carl said. “Tonight I bring you evidence of why the Brotherhood of Torquemada came to our country and why its members targeted two of our citizens, Gabriel and Raphael Domini.”

  Grainy footage of a dark building appeared.

  “Acting on a tip, tonight I staked out this building. The Grand Concourse Family Values Community Center in the Bronx. The building appears to be closed, its windows dark, but I discovered clandestine activity in its basement.”

  “What the hell?” Mace said.

  “A meeting made up of residents of our fair city. Who are they?”

  An image of people in a basement froze, and a red circle formed around the head of one man. An enlarged screen capture of the man appeared next, recognizable despite the grain.

  “This is Gabriel Domini.”

  “Oh no,” Cheryl said.

  Mace swallowed.

  As the footage resumed, three more men appeared. The image froze again, and a circle appeared around the head of another man, followed by an enlarged screen capture of him.

  “And this is his brother, Raphael Domini.”

  The footage resumed, and Raphael and his companions took their seats. Gabriel spoke to the people sitting before him.