It was a sight Karim had grown painfully familiar with since the curse had set in, but had still not gotten comfortable with. He was crouched in a dark corner of the alley, sobbing as quietly as he could. He didn't dare to clear his tears with his hands though. Bloody stains had already riddled his hands, and he certainly didn't need more on his face. The vile rats and stray cats avoided the gaunt man weeping in the alley; their instinctual minds could sense the predator within him, and avoided him rather than gamble with their lives. Above him the city of Cairo continued to sleep as though Karim was nothing. A desert wind idly soared above the decaying rooftops of the shadow drenched city, weaving past great mosques and humble tenements with equal ease. Had Karim been looking up, he might have reflected on how truly small base man is compared to the natural world. He of all men would know this, as the blood on his hands attested to.
Eventually, he got back on his feet and staggered out of the alley, his path illuminated by the smallest sliver of the moon. His tattered clothing afforded him little insulation against the winds blowing through the streets, and his steps were marked by small shivers. He had lost the day's alms to the change from man to monster, and found himself without food or a place to rest. Every night, save for the new moon, was like this however. Every night, he would battle the demon that had burrowed into his soul and turned him into this vicious akh-theeb, brother to the wolves. He didn't understand why God would afflict him with this terrible curse. Not that he had lost his faith. No, his faith was all that kept him human in this new state. However, his doubts and confusion saw him seeking succor from the faiths of the land. Desperation had become his way of life, the desperation of animal.
The other vagrants of the streets, human as they were, could not sense Karim's secret as readily as the vermin. They continued sleeping or wandering, heedless of the demon in their mists. A few were casting arrows, and as Karim passed by, his fellows shouted obscenely for him to join in the game, but Karim shook his head weakly. Despite the distraction offered by the rush of gambling, he needed a much more potent vice at the moment. The streets were silent as a cemetery, with most of the triumphant city's people still sleeping, a world away from the evils that thrived in darkness and wore the masks of men by day. The desolation helped Karim forget the ache in his belly, and for that he was thankful. As usual, his path took him towards the church he had attended when he was a child, so he could receive the Lord's forgiveness yet again. He hated himself for begging God to continue cleansing him of sins committed while he lost control of the wolf within, but without it, his soul would be wounded beyond redemption, dooming him to Hell, where there would surely be more demons like him.
He rapped on the iman's door when he arrived at the temple, taking a deep breath to steel his perpetually frayed nerves. It always made him nervous when he came here, despite the frequency of his visits. He should have nothing to fear, for he knew the iman very well, and trusted him enough to share his sins with the old holy man. Naturally Karim could not bring himself to speak of his curse; instead he claimed he was mad, and compelled to murder at night against his will. Although the iman was initially suspicious, his pity for the genuinely remorseful vagrant he had watched grow up overcame him.
When Father Nibel answered the door, he had clearly been woken up from slumber, but hardly seemed surprised to see Karim in the light of the candle he was clutching. He simply ushered Karim in through the back door of the church without a word. Karim sighed deeply as he shifted his gaze downward with shame. Nibel left his charge to think in silence for a time, until they reached the iman's table. A pot of cold lentils and beans, set aside for a morning meal, was all that could be seen on the table. Nibel placed his candlestick on the table next to the pot, allowing him to see Karim in the flickering light. Before the old man quivered a younger man, stretched gaunt and sickly by his struggles. Karim's pitch black hair had grown long and wild, reaching down his shoulders and swinging past his eyes. His eyes were reflections of the terror he felt, and his clothing, shredded trousers and shirt, was soaked in blood. Nibel motioned for Karim to sit at the table wordlessly, before sitting down himself, exposing his own white haired and aged visage to the light.
"Karim," he said softly in the tone of a wizened man, "what brings you around here at this hour?"
"I'm afraid I've committed grievous sins against my will again," Karim replied weakly, "and I'd like to receive forgiveness in the eyes of the Lord.
"You still refuse to see a doctor to rid you of this madness?" Nibel said with a deep, vaguely disappointed sigh.
"No madhouse could hold me when I lose control, and being so near to others would only endanger anyone trying to heal me. You've know this."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. Although you cannot fight this on your own."
"I have God. He'll show me the path in time."
"But remember my boy, the Lord helps those who help themselves. He'll grant you forgiveness, but you must save your soul on your own."
"I... know," Karim said softly.
"There's a spoon in the pot, feed yourself first while I prepare to receive your confession," Nibel said reluctantly. He then departed from the table, and Karim sated his snarling belly, preparing to do the same to his soul. All the while, the wolf in his soul growled with satisfaction.
Document: Excerpt from a Cairo Newspaper
Mysterious Murders Continue
Another murder was committed last night just outside Cairo, and although the method of death was similar to others, the police say there is little evidence for them to work with. Like previous murders, it appears that the victim was stabbed and slashed numerous times in quick succession, with no murder weapon to be found. Police say that they suspect that there is one culprit responsible for all the murders, although they admit they are still a long way from identifying that culprit. The Colonial Governer is said to have called Scotland Yard in Britian for assistance in solving the crime.