The Frenzy War (16 page)

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.

Jim scanned the names on it. “Most of these are no problem, but Aiello's never going to let you have Landry. That's his right-hand man. Be reasonable.”

“I was reasonable last time. This time I'm going to do things the right way—my way. Don't dangle terms in front of my nose like a carrot and then jerk them away. If you want me to do this, Landry's part of the package. Otherwise, find yourself another boy, and try convincing
him
what he's up against.”

“This task force is supposed to be a discreet operation. How can it be if a captain is screaming at the higherups because you pilfered his looey?”

Mace stood. “I'll see you around. Or maybe I won't.” He pushed his drink aside. “Get this, will you? It's the least you can do.”

Jim motioned with both hands. “Sit down.”

With his eyes locked on Jim's, Mace returned to his seat.

“All right, you can have Landry.” Jim took out a business card and offered it to Mace. “Here's your new address. Get this thing up and running.”

R
honda heaved a deep sigh, her vision coming back into focus. Her throat, limbs, midsection—even her breasts— throbbed where the Torquemadans had violated her flesh with their scalpels. The wounds had healed when she Changed into human form, but the pain lingered. Sweat burned her eyes, and tears rolled down her lower jaw, along the edge of the muzzle, and clung to her brutalized skin like raindrops after a storm.

How much time did they spend torturing me?
No human being could have endured such abuse.

She thirsted for water.

No, I want blood. I want meat!

The leader reached for her head, and she flinched. He unbuckled the straps around her head and removed the muzzle, which he discarded. She breathed in fresh air.
The two men had barely broken a sweat going to work on her, and the female Torquemadan had just watched the whole assault.

“Last night we killed five of your people in their hybrid form,” the leader said. “I use
people
in the most limited sense of the word. You're animals. Worse than animals—demons. Two of those we exterminated were Jason Lourdes's parents.”

Fresh tears obscured Rhonda's vision when she thought she had none left. Mr. and Mrs. Lourdes had treated her like family.

Maybe he's lying,
she thought.

“We killed them the same way we did Jason. One member of our party died in combat, and another was wounded.”

Good. I'm glad. I only wish they'd killed more of you.

“We can kill your parents just as easily. We know who they are. We know where they live.”

No!
Rhonda pressed against the restraints, even though she knew it would do no good.

“We also know that Gabriel Domini is your leader and his brother, Raphael, serves as his right hand.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Rhonda said, gasping.