in on him. It was as if they al knew. They could sense the monster in their ranks. The sun shone down upon him like a
spotlight in an interrogation chamber,
revealing al his secrets. He knew now
why vampires shunned the light.
It took a long time before Joe pul ed
himself together enough to go to his next class, a sociology class based on the
writings of Joseph Campbel cal ed
"Man and Myth." He'd taken the class hoping they'd get more into vampires
and werewolves and other cross-cultural demons. The professor kept promising
to get to those topics but so far al he seemed to talk about were dragons and
fairies and the Christlike resurrected
savior myths that seemed to pop up in
culture after culture al over the globe. He squeezed into a desk chair and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as
possible. Stil , he felt as if every eye was upon him. A few of the students from this class were the same students from his
psychology class and he could hear
them whispering about him behind his
back. His own roommate was among
them.
Joe spent so little time at the dorm that he barely knew the kid. Al he knew was that his dad was some kind of computer
whiz who made twice what Joe's parents
made and spoiled the hel out of their
effete, social y inept little son. He was an absolute cliche of nerddom. The kid was always on the damned computer. His
entire life revolved around it.
Joe could count on his fingers how many actual conversations he'd had with the
guy. But then, Joe was never home
anyway. Most of his time these days was spent at his apartment in the abandoned tenement building south of Market Street or at the library. Now, with Alicia tied up in that old building, he'd be spending
even more time there.
"He gives me the creeps, man. And I have to live with the guy!"
Joe caught a few random snippets of
conversation and bristled with a silent rage. His rich, computerrole-playinggame-geek roommate was adding more flame to the rumors and innuendos.
"I hardly ever see him. He leaves right after classes and sometimes he doesn't
come back to the dorm at al ,
sometimes not for days. I saw him in the library one night reading about serial
kil ers. I came back the next day and he was stil there, in the same clothes,
reading the same book, as if he'd never left. The guy is weird."
"Yeah, he's weird, and fucking huge! He could probably snap your neck with one
hand," a slender black kid from the track team interjected just as the professor
began to scribble on the blackboard.
Joe looked at what Professor Douglas
was scribbling and got excited. At last the man had gotten off dragons and
saints and onto something Joe was
interested in.
"Shape-shifters. Werebeasts. The loupgarou, the Wendigo, the poor cursed soul that turns into a wolfman by the light of the ful moon. We've al heard of
werewolves but there are other
werecreatures in myths and legends
from almost every corner of the globe.
They appear in the folklore and
mythology of almost every culture. The
Inuit tribespeople have a legend about
the Adlet, a race of dog people that were the result of a mating between an Inuit tribeswoman and a great red dog. These
weredogs are said to stil haunt northern Iceland in search of human flesh. You'l see this theme of human animal
couplings resulting in monsters repeated over and over across cultures.
"These could have evolved as a way to warn against what would have been
seen as aberrant sex acts involving
animals. The Slavic people have a
legend that beautiful women who misuse
their physical gifts to seduce men and
cause mischief may return from the
grave as sultry shape-shifters cal ed
rusalki who, like the legends of
mermaids and sirens, lure men out to
sea to watery graves. It's easy to see the warning here. Most legends are based
on fear and the fear of the power of a
woman's sexuality is very powerful even to this day.
"Then there are people who are said to have become monsters by making pacts
with Satan. The Portuguese have the
legend of the Bruxsa, a woman who
turns into a gigantic birdlike harpy and sucks the blood of her own children.
Germans have the boxenwolf, which is
more like our traditional werewolf and is likewise believed to be a person who
has made a pact with Satan for the
power of the wolf. The warning there is again quite obvious: Stay in the church. Don't stray from the religion of your
culture.
"The term ghoul comes from a mythical shapeshifting creature from the Arabian desert that transforms endlessly from an ox to a camel to a horse and has a
voracious appetite for human flesh. In
Ghana there's a demon cal ed the dodo
that often appears as a snake and is
rumored to be another ravenous
devourer of humans. In Japan there's a
fox demon cal ed the kitsune that is said to possess humans and deplete the
energy of its victims, draining them dry. Some of them are humans that have
turned into werecreatures and others are demons that can simply appear as
humans."
"How do they turn themselves back?" Joseph didn't care what the other
students thought of him now. He had
questions to which he desperately
needed answers.
Professor Douglas turned toward Joe
with obvious annoyance at having his
lecture interrupted.
"Yes, Joseph? You had a question?"
"The werewolves that are just humans who have turned into monsters. How do
they turn themselves back into humans?
How do they get rid of the curse?" The professor scratched his ratty
overgrown goatee and pondered
Joseph a moment, perhaps trying to
decide if the boy was genuinely curious or just trying to make some kind of joke. He'd had Joseph in the previous
semester and knew that the serious
young man was not genuinely the
comedic type.
"Wel , let's see. There are many different theories on how to rid yourself of the
curse, according to various legends,
though none of them seem to have a
very high success rate. General y, once you invite these demonic animal spirits inside they are nearly impossible to get rid of."
"But-"
Joe wiped the sweat from his brow and
tried to steady his voice. He could feel himself growing more and more
agitated, his desperation evident in the way he fidgeted in his chair and rang out his hands constantly.
"But you said there were many theories about different cures. What are the
theories? What's the cure?"
"Wel , we'l get to that, Joseph. I don't want to get off track. First I want to
discuss the different myths themselves
and their similarities," the professor said, trying to keep from losing control of the discussion.
But you know, right?" Joe rose from his chair. He was sweating again and he
had a look of desperation in his eyes.
"Uh-oh. Here we go again," one of the other students mumbled. Joe was pretty
sure it was his roommate. He ignored
him.
"I me
an, you know what the cure is?
Right?"
"Joseph. These are just myths. Now take your seat, please."
Joe looked around and, realizing that he was once again making a fool of
himself, slipped back into his chair.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor."
Professor Douglas peered curiously at
Joe over his glasses.
"That's quite al right, Joseph, and I promise we wil get to your question. It's just difficult to real y understand the cure without understanding the disease.
"You mean how they became
werewolves in the first place?"
"Yes, the theories on that vary from culture to culture and even within
cultures. There are a number of different ways to evoke the animal spirits. The
most common way as in the shamanic
`skin walkers,' the French loup-garou,
and the vicious leopard men of West
Africa, is to don the skin of a wolf. Some don ful skins and some, as in the loupgarou or the berserkers, wear only a belt or a vest fashioned from the hide of the animal they wish to become in order to
invoke the transformation. Others rub
their skin in salves and ointments made of animal fat or even human fat. The
leopard men drank a magical
concoction brewed from the intestines of their human victims, which they believed gave them their lycanthropic abilities. Some believe you need only drink water
from a werewolf's tracks in order to
become one yourself.
"There are magical texts, which
prescribe complex rituals for the
invoking of the werewolf spirit. One
recommends removing al of your
clothing and rubbing your skin in a
magical ointment made from the fat of a wolf and mixed with anise, camphor, and opium, then donning a wolf pelt and
drinking beer mixed with wolf's blood.
You can see how such a complex ritual,
particularly with the imbibing of alcohol and opium, coupled with the person's
desire to become a wolf could easily
lead one to believe he had indeed
transformed.
"There are likewise many cults and sects that have wild drunken orgies in which
live animals and even humans are
consumed and animal hides are worn.
During these rituals many of these
initiates believe that they have become animals. The Maenads, who worshipped
the wine god Dionysus and the horned
god of the forest Pan, had wild drunken bacchanals in which they consumed live
animals and humans and let wolf pups
suckle at their breasts. The Is-sawiya, a shape-shifting cult from northern and
western Africa, likewise engaged in
these wild organized rituals in order to gain their powers. During their
ceremonies they would dress a calf or a bul in human clothing and then rip it to shreds and devour its flesh raw."
"But that's for people who wanted to become werewolves. What about those
who were cursed, who became
monsters against their wil ?"
A round of snickers circled the
classroom. Joe turned around to glare at them and the room fel silent. He turned back to the professor.
"Wel ... there's usual y only a few causes for that and that's either by being
scratched or bitten by someone who is
already a werewolf or by involuntarily
drinking their blood, or by being cursed by a witch or sorcerer."
Joe paused for a moment in deep
thought.
"So, let's say someone is bitten and gets infected with this virus. How do they cure themselves?"
"You mean for those who have become lycanthropes involuntarily, I assume?
There are some who believe that if you
sever the lineage at its source, the
original shape-shifter that spawned that particular line, then you wil release al those wolves he created from the curse. That original werewolf would be the one who acquired his abilities voluntarily. He may stil don a wolf's skin when he hunts and he'd probably be envious of his
offspring who manage the transformation without any trinkets or rituals. But most agree that the only surefire way is a
silver bul et through the heart, severing of the head, or burning them alive."
Joe shuddered and fel silent. If what he suspected was correct then the man
who'd abducted him over a decade ago,
stabbed, mutilated, and nearly kil ed him, was the werewolf he needed to kil in
order to be free. Joe stared at the
professor in shock, not hearing another word the man said.
He was thinking about confronting
Damon Trent again.
Chapter Thirteen
Joe went to his art class and was
surprised to see the model from the
afternoon before waiting for him at the door.
"Here! I wanted to pay you for that painting."
She stepped forward and thrust a check
into his hands for one hundred dol ars.
"You don't have to do that. I can't take this."
"Are you saying you don't need it? You mean you aren't a starving student like the rest of us? What's your secret?"
"No, I'm not saying I don't need it. I definitely need it. I'm starving more than you could ever imagine."
"Then take the money."
Joe slipped the check into his pocket.
"You can use it to take me out to dinner if you'd like."
"Uh ... I'm kind of involved with someone at the moment."
"In love?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure."
"But you don't cheat on her?"
"She satisfies me."
"Wel , that's good then. Keep the check, though.
And if you ever need ... more, then you give me a cal , okay?"
"But I don't know your number."
"It's on the check."
Joe pul ed out the check and saw that it did indeed have her name, address, and
phone number printed on it. The model
studio and dropped her robe. She
smiled as Joe stumbled into the room,
staring at her in that desperate way he had about him.
You're going to be mine, big boy, she
thought.
Joe sat down and immediately attacked
the canvas. In minutes he had run out of red paint. His canvas looked like a
massacre.
The model wasn't his type but something about her set him afire. She was such a wil ing victim, like Frank but a female. There was no way he could have sex
with her, though. Not after what had
happened with Alicia. He was afraid of
what he'd do to her. Besides, it would
have felt like cheating.
"I need more paint."
The teacher walked over and stared at
his gruesome canvas. She gasped
audibly.
"I ran out of red."
"Uh ... yes ... I'l go get you some more." She scurried away from Joe, nearly
tripping over the easel in back of him. Joe could smel her pheromones and
those of the model comingling in the air. It was like having a menage a trois
through his nostrils. The model's nipples were erect and pointing right at him. Her eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his crotch. She licked her lips when she saw him
looking at her. Joe turned away.
"Don't tempt me," he growled under his breath.
The teacher came back with the red
paint and Joe once again took his
frustrations out on the canvas. It was
bloodied and bruised when he final y left the ro
om for his next class. He left it sitting on the easel and felt some pride when he saw the model and the teacher
staring at it and whispering.
Let them fuck each other. It's a -bel of a lot safer than what I'd do to them, Joe thought as he hurried off to math class. If anything could douse the fire in him it was sitting in a classroom balancing
equations for an hour and a half.
Joe sat through over an hour of math,
trying his best not to think about the
scrumptious meat chained up in his
bedroom. The numbers on the page kept
jumbling up in his head and at the end of the class his paper was stil blank. He bal ed it up and tossed it in the trash on his way out the door. He'd much rather
get an incomplete than a zero.
Joe left the mathematics lab and walked back across campus to the library. The
sun was beginning to set and the fog
was already rol ing slowly across the
manicured lawn toward him. A cool
breeze slipped through the trees and
across the grass, whispering beneath
his clothes and across his skin. Joe
sighed and shivered. After having his
face glued to a page ful of senseless
mathematical equations for over an hour, the cool moist evening air was
refreshing, soothing. It calmed the beast inside him.
Joe felt relaxed and sedate as the fog
caught up to him and sucked him in. Stil , he could not stop thinking about Alicia. He didn't want to hurt her again. He had to find a cure for himself.
He tensed as he remembered what
Professor Locke had said:
Sever the bloodline. Kil the original
werewolf.
Hopeful y, there was another way. Joe
hadn't thought about Damon Trent in
years. Not until the hunger had started to come upon him and he'd looked into the
bathroom mirror to see the same pitiless lust-clouded eyes of his long-ago
victimizer staring back at him. He should have known then that the-man-had
passed something evil on to him.
The librarian looked up and smiled
nervously as Joe entered the building
and stalked past her desk. Joe rol ed his massive shoulders and smiled back at
her with a leering smile as he dragged
his eyes over her thick curves. Her smile faltered and fel from her face, landing in a hard trembling line. She lowered her
eyes and turned away. Joseph smiled
wider.
Joe struggled to maintain control over
the beast raging within him but the smel of her perfumed skin was driving him