Wrath White - Succulent Prey

"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 mean, 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.

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 winked at him then walked into the art 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.