Wrath White - Succulent Prey

Joe now had his pants down around his thighs and his enormous erection in hand, furiously masturbating as he continued stuffing steaming handfuls of broiled flesh into his slavering mouth. He looked down and spotted Alicia, who was now almost at his feet. Instantly he recognized the hunger and lust in her eyes.

After shedding the rest of his clothing he dropped beside her and offered Alicia a piece of Frank's blackened calf muscle. Stockholm syndrome, Alicia thought, even as she opened her mouth wide to receive the gift.

Without chewing she slurped down the hot flesh and felt a chil vibrate through her as the horror of what she had just done gripped her. This was soon fol owed by a tingle of arousal at having done it in ful view of her lover and captor. Joe began ripping off more of the flesh and feeding it into Alicia's mouth as he kissed and caressed her neck and breasts, building her passion. Boiling-hot blood dribbled down her neck and cleavage as she consumed more and more of Frank's corpse. Joe lapped the stream of liquid life from her skin and used his knife to cut the duct tape from around her wrists, then her ankles, al owing him to kiss his way up her thighs to her moistening sex.

Lost in rippling waves of ecstasy, Alicia blindly reached out and ripped off another piece of Frank's flesh. Even without looking at it she knew what she had grabbed as soon as her hands closed around it. Stil she tugged hard until it tore free. Joe rose up from between her legs and slid himself inside of her as she brought Frank's severed penis to her lips. She clenched the charred organ between her teeth and

Joe bit down on the other end as he thrust his own hardened flesh deep between her thighs. They reached a mutual screaming, snarling release almost immediately as they shared the exotic delicacy. Alicia col apsed into the arms of her captor and together they lay in the glow of the campfire, watching

Frank's remains sizzle, crackle, and burn to a charcoal cinder.

The two detectives had been waiting al day for the autopsy report from the body they'd found in that old apartment building south of Market Street. They both had a bad feeling about it.

"You think that could be our librarian?" Volario asked.

"No reason to assume that yet," Montgomery said. "That building was pretty far from the campus."

"Yeah, but did you see her shoes?

Kenneth Cole. Not Prada, but not exactly Payless either. Pretty nice for a homeless woman or a streetwalker."

"Which stil leaves a whole host of other possibilities. A lot of people get kil ed in this town besides prostitutes and derelicts."

"Yeah, but anybody with shoes like that has to have a job and that means somebody would miss her if she was gone. And the only recent missing person we have matching someone of that height and body type is the librarian."

"Height and body type? We don't even know if that was a woman yet. And how could you tel if she was big or smal with half her flesh missing?"

"The leg. Some slim model type wouldn't have a leg that thick. And she was stil wearing those Kenneth Cole pumps, which would lead me to believe it was probably a woman."

"You know as wel as I do that that's no safe assumption in this town."

The phone rang and they both reached for it at the same time. Montgomery got to it first.

"Detective Montgomery here. Yeah?

Final y! What did you find? And did you get a match? Damn. Okay. I'l be by to pick up the report later. Thanks for the cal."

"What? Was that the lab? What did they say?"

"They matched the librarian's dental records to the corpse."

"I knew it!"

"And they also confirmed the presence of saliva in some of her wounds. Those were human teeth marks. In case there was any doubt, we've definitely got a serial kil er on our hands."

"Not a serial kil er. Not according to the FBI. He won't be classified as a serial kil er until he kil s three more people. Right now al we have is a homicidal sexual predator with one victim."

"You got any doubt that there are more victims out there or that there wil be?" Montgomery sighed. "Nope. You're right."

"I guess we need to take a trip back to the col ege?"

"We need to talk to that kid they were al talking about. That Joseph Miles.

Everyone we spoke to said he'd probably kil ed her and that was before we even knew she was dead."

"That's just because they think the kid's weird. He's probably just one of those death metal gothic freaks that like to act dangerous and mysterious to impress girls."

"Yeah, that could be. But that's probably what the cops in Columbine thought about those Trench Coat Mafia kids before they went on their murder spree. For some of those kids it's more than just a fashion. Some of them real y are disturbed."

Professor John Locke had spent al morning answering questions from the police about his student, Joseph Miles.

"You say he was obsessed with serial kil ers? How could you tel? I mean, this is a course about serial kil ers. One could say the same thing about you or anyone else who attends your class." Detective Montgomery was a large, athleticlooking black man with a short

Afro and sideburns. He wore a midlength leather coat and dark sunglasses that he had a habit of tilting down to the tip of his nose when he spoke so he could look over the top of them directly into your eyes. He looked like something from a seventies blaxploitation film, a poor man's Shaft. His eyes were deadly serious, though, and he spoke in clear, crisp tones like a newscaster or a politician and not the slang drawl you would have expected looking at his haircut.

His partner was a middle-aged Spanishlooking guy who wore a pin-striped suit that looked like someone had fried a hamburger on it. What hair remained on his balding cranium was pul ed back into a ponytail barely the length of a thumb. He looked more like a mafioso than a cop. He didn't shake hands or introduce himself when they walked in but immediately walked over to the bookcases on the wal and began scanning the titles.

Professor Locke fol owed the greasylooking detective with his eyes while he answered Detective Montgomery's questions.

"So what made this kid any different from the rest of you?" the detective continued.

"Joseph took it al very personal. Whenever you suggested that these people were just crazy or evil he became very defensive, even hostile. He had a theory that there was a virus that creates signature sex murderers."

"And what did you think of that?"

"It's ridiculous. But I didn't want to discourage the boy so I told him to continue researching it and if he could find proof of his theory I'd give him an A for the year."

"Perhaps he was doing research when he kil ed that librarian?" Detective Volario asked, seeming to take interest in the conversation for the first time. The professor glared at him and shook his head in annoyance as if he were speaking to an ignorant and petulant child.

"That's a rather extreme supposition. People don't kil to get good grades.

They kil because of severe psychological problems."

You mean he's crazy?"

"Not legal y, no. At least, there's no way I could know that without testing him. But even if he's innocent, and please remember that he very wel may be, I stil wouldn't turn my back on him. He's got a lot of problems."

"You act like we're planning on lynching him or something," Detective Volario said with a sneer. He was holding a large volume titled A Criminal History of Mankind. "You read al these books, Professor?"

"No other reason to have them," Professor Locke replied.

"I guess it's no wonder that you attracted one of these monsters to you then." The professor ignored him. "Do you have any other questions, Detectives?"