4.10

For the first time since Chelsea had been murdered, Jessica had gone out.

And it had been amazing!

So many people dancing, grinding against each other, that it had been easy to get lost in the crowd. Easy to get lost in the music and drink. Easy to pick up someone. Someone her type was an added bonus. Blonde hair, blue eyes, small tits, and a big ass. The woman trailing behind her had all of those. Even had those pouty lips that you just wanted to suck on. Jessica had already felt them on her own lips and neck. They were soft and experienced. The best kind of lips.

It had taken three tries for Jessica to get her keys out of her pocket, two fumbles to find her door key, and only five to fit the key in the door lock. The five tequila sunrises she had were starting to sneak up on her. Didn’t help that Lacey, that was her acquired acquaintance’s name, couldn’t keep her hands and lips off of her.

The door swung open, and Jessica was promptly shoved in by the over-eager Lacey. Jessica did the tequila stumble before catching herself on the breakfast counter. An inebriated giggle left her before she turned around to get her eyes on Lacey.

Lacey closed the door, her deep blue eyes fixated on Jessica’s gray ones. They never left her even as Lacey locked the door behind her. Alarm bells went off in Jessica’s head, screaming at her that something was wrong. A look in Lacey’s eyes. A glee that was… wrong. The bells were silenced when Lacey’s teeth met her bottom lip. Chelsea used to do that. It drove Jessica insane, and her grip tightened on the breakfast counter, and her breathing sped up just ever so slightly. her heart hammered in her chest, as if trying to burst out and fly to the woman.

“C’mere,” Jessica slurred. That wrongness appeared in Lacey’s eyes again as she walked toward her, but Jessica wanted her enough she didn’t care. Didn’t care that even drunk a part of her brain was telling her to run. Didn’t care her heart was no longer beating fast from arousal.

Their lips met, and it was beautiful. Jessica groaned and Lacey smiled and deepened the kiss, tangling her fingers into Jessica’s short, dark hair. Then the blonde pulled away, leaving Jessica panting and staring up at her with pleading eyes. There was a smirk on the taller woman’s face as she ran a long nail down Jessica’s cheek. “It’s a shame I have to kill you. We could’ve had fun together.”  There was regret in her voice, though her eyes said something different. Maybe she did regret what she was about to do, but she was going to enjoy it all the same.

Jessica opened her mouth to speak, not exactly understanding what Lacey was going on about. She wasn’t supposed to kill her. They were supposed to have sex. That was the whole reason they were currently making out in her apartment. Being killed wasn’t on the list of things to do, and it was a shitty thing to joke about. Very shitty considering Jessica’s past.

That was something else she wanted to tell Lacey, but didn’t get a chance to. There was a sharp pain in her chest. It took breath and thought away. Her eyes fell to see what the matter was. Lacey’s hand had disappeared into her chest, splashes of blood bright against her pale skin. Jessica’s head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed, not understanding what was happening.

The real pain came when Lacey removed her hand. Jessica’s eyes teared up, a scream hanging on the edge of her lips, but a gasp coming out instead. Her knobby knees buckled and Lacey caught her, laying her gently down on the carpet.

Blood’s going to stain my carpet. A stupid thought, considering Lacey was holding her heart in her hand and pressing it to her soft lips. Lacey kissed her heart before taking a bit out of it. Who fucking kisses a heart before they eat it? Jessica wanted to ask aloud, but couldn’t find her voice.

“You don’t have to eat it,” came a male voice from behind her. Jessica wanted to turn to see who it was, who had broken into her apartment, but couldn’t find the strength to move it.

“Waste not, want not,” replied Lacey, her eyes moving to the man, a smirk on her face. “Besides, what else would I have done with it? Thrown it away?”

Jessica made a choking noise, angry that Lacey was making a joke at her expense. But she was ignored.

“Yes.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “When framing someone, you’re supposed to make the crime look nearly exact to the other crimes they have committed.” With one last bite Jessica’s heart was gone, only the dark blood on Lacey’s hands and lips remaining. “I’m still a Sin Eater as well. I do need to eat hearts every once in awhile.” Her eyes fell back on Jessica. “This one hardly committed any sins. It’s sad to have killed her.”

The man snorted. “She would have died regardless. They’re all going to die.”

A tired sigh left Lacey, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Too true,” she said with a hint of sadness. She stood up, running her bloodied fingers through her hair. “Do we really have to do this?”

There was a rush of footsteps and the man came into view. He was big, blonde hair, blue eyes, and handsome. So very handsome. The type of guy Jessica would date if she didn’t like women instead.

His large fingers wrapped around Lacey’s chin. “I want my war,” his tone so heated Jessica could feel the lick of flames. Then, his tone turned gentle and he released Lacey’s chin, running his fingers through her hair. “I know you feel for the humans, but their destruction cannot be helped.”

Lacey ran her fingers down the man’s chest. “Waking the Devil is a steep price to pay for a war with demons.”

The world was starting to go black, but Jessica could still hear the pair. “I was made for war. I need this.” The pair kissed. “The world will be better off without the humans. They have destroyed the gift my Father has given them. They no longer deserve to have this planet.”

The two were still talking, but Jessica could no longer hear their voices clearly. Just a bunch of jumbled words until soon there was nothing. There really is not bright light, was her last thought before crossing into the land of the dead.

3.5

Coffee, the dark nectar of life, was amazing at injecting caffeine into a groggy mind, but there was only so much that it could do. For instance, if you have stayed awake for longer than twenty-four hours, a pot will not do you much good. Detective David King was finding that out. He was making his second pot when his phone rang. He fumbled with the thing in his pocket before he was able to answer. “Hello,” he said, his gruff voice laced with agitation.

“Oh wow, someone isn’t having a good evening.” It was Anderson. There were times when King was happy to hear Ben’s voice, this was not one of them. If he could reach through the phone and choke the asshat, he would have gladly done so.

King pressed the phone between his ear and shoulder to take a sip of his coffee. “I haven’t gone to sleep yet,” he admitted. In all honesty, he hadn’t even known what time it was until his friend had called. 8:45. He was late for work. Surprised no one had called him before then. Captain probably had something to do with that. “You don’t call to chat. What’s going on?” Not when there was work to be had, at least. Anderson did call every once in awhile to talk or invite King to get a beer, an offer he took him up on most of the time. More so, now that he was alone. Tonight, however, he was all business.

“Doctor Phillips wants to talk to you.”

It was never good when Phillips, Bates City medical examiner, wanted to speak with anybody. That meant there was something strange with the examination. “I’ll be there in twenty,” King said and hung up, no time to say goodbye. Twenty minutes didn’t leave time for a shower, so he had to pray that he didn’t stink as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, not even bothering to change clothes. Gross, he knew, but he was on a bit of a time limit.

It took King fifteen minutes to reach the medical examiner’s office; his best time yet. The office was a lone, stout brick building with double steel doors as an entrance. There were limited windows and every one of them had bars going across them. It had always felt, to King, that whoever designed the building was trying to keep the dead from getting out. He knew that was not the case. It was so people didn’t break in and destroy evidence, which had happened on more than one occasion; security measures had been taken to ensure it would never occur again.

Doctor Charles Phillips was in his office, on the first floor, waiting for King. “You look like shit,” the good doctor informed him, never one for white lies. Doctor Phillips was a plump man with a head that grew out of his shoulders, skipping the neck. His eyes were so dark, they were almost black. A combination which had earned him the nickname Owl. To enforce the nickname, he wore horn-rimmed glasses.

“Is that your medical opinion, Chuck?” The glare King received from the shorter man could have melted ice. Chuck, in Phillips opinion, was the most idiotic nickname you could ever call someone named Charles. Owl wasn’t much better, but the latter would at least get a chuckle from him. “What do you got for me?”

“Some fucked up shit that I don’t know what to make of.” That had to be the first time King had heard Phillips admit to something like that. He was a man that enjoyed the strange. Liked to point out the disturbing facts in a murder and smile as he did so (you had to have some kind of dark humor in his field). It had to be really fucked up for him to say something like that. King waited for the man to continue. “C’mon. I’ll show you.” Oh yeah, this was fucked.

The medical examiner’s building was three stories, one on top, a basement, and a sub-basement.. The pair went down to sub-basement, which was where the morgue resided; the basement was nothing but filing cabinets full of records and old reports. The corpse of Andrew Wood was still on the examination table. All of the blood had been cleaned off of the man, making the gaping hole in his chest all the more out of place.

“I called as soon as I was finished examining the body,” Phillips started, walking to the other side of the table, “I thought you would want to see this.” Not really, but it was part of King’s job to look at such things. He really didn’t know what he was looking at, aside from a body missing a heart. So, he prompted Phillips to inform him. “This heart was not cut out.”

That certainly got the detective’s attention. “What do you mean it wasn’t cut out?”

“Do you see these marks?” Phillips pointed out scratches on the visible bones. King nodded. “They’re teeth marks.” Okay. They were teeth marks. What exactly was the significance in that. The lack of sleep slowed down King’s thinking. Phillips gave him an annoyed glare. “Something ate his heart out of his chest. While he was still alive, mind you.”

No. That wasn’t possible. Only an animal was capable of doing something like that, and there were no signs of anything other than humans in the house. No prints, no hairs. Not to mention there had only been handprints, human handprints, on either side of the body’s chest. A human could not eat through human bone. Jaw muscles were not strong enough. “Are you sure they’re not tool marks?” King knew he was insulting Phillips just a bit, but there had to be another explanation. There just had to be.

“Nope. They are definitely teeth marks. From what, I have no idea. Not my field. I’m having someone come by and look. She should be able to let us know what it could be.” Phillips covered the body, finished with the macabre show. “I can tell you, whatever it was, it was pretty big.”

Jessica has said something about a big dog, but the detective tossed the thought aside. He already knew no animals had been in the house. No use coming back to it. “When will your expert arrive?”

“Tomorrow, but I really don’t think she’s going to be much help. I have never seen anything like this before, and I’ve dealt with animal’s before.”

King cast a skeptical eye. There had to be some kind of animal that matched these marks. This murder was unusual, but it was not unnatural. “Let me know what she says.” He would have preferred to be there when she arrived, but he was going to have to sleep sometime.

“Will do. I already faxed my full report to the station. It should be on your desk by now. I emailed it, too. Just in case.” The fax was more for the Captain than King. Captain Williams was less technically inclined than most, though he was just a short five years older than King.

The pair headed out of the room, and up the stairs. Only King left the building, Phillips returning to his office. The air outside was nice. A little on the warm side, but there was a nice cool breeze to even it out. It was also quiet; the medical examiner building was on the border of Bates City, and was the only building active building in the area. Quiet enough he could think. Mostly about Woods’ heart. He still couldn’t fathom the idea that something had ate the man’s heart, while he was still alive. What would drive someone, or something, to do such a thing?

When King reached his car, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket. When he saw the name on the screen, he froze like a deer in the headlights. It was his wife, Tabitha. Ex-wife. He was going to have to remember that. Well, sort of. They weren’t technically divorced. They were never going to get back together, but they were still married. Yeah, didn’t make sense to him either.

After the third ring, he picked up. “Hey, Tabby,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear the drain in his voice. She, being his wife, always knew when he was exhausted on the phone. He was trying to avoid a lecture.

“Hello, David.” It was so nice to hear her voice. That was the first time she had called him since their separation. Hearing her calm, gentle tone had always put him at ease, made him feel loved, and it did the same still. “How have you been doing?”

“I’m doing good.” Just a little white lie. No need to made her worry about him. She had enough on her mind with her father, Owen, and his Alzheimer’s. He wanted to be the last thing on her mind. “How about you?”

“Doing okay. Could be better. Could be worse.” A silence fell between the two, neither knowing what to say. King could imagine her tugging at the end of her strawberry blonde hair as she tried to think of something to say, which she finally did. “I heard someone killed your killer.”

King rested his head on the roof of his car. Not exactly where he wanted this conversation to go, but he felt it necessary to respond. He still wanted to hear the sound of her voice. “Yeah. I’m trying to catch them now.” When the news caught wind that The Crucifix Killer had been murdered, there was celebration. People were glad the streets were safe once again! What they failed to realize was that someone possibly much worse had killed the man. They just gave credit to some good samaritan. It was wrong, but not their fault for believing that. The details of Andrew Woods’ murder had not been made public. No one knows what that woman did to him. If they did, they would not be so happy. Just as scared, or more so.

Another silence, this one much different than the first. Tabitha wanted to say something, King could feel it, but she didn’t know how to put it into words. There was a murder to solve, but he could give her the time he hadn’t before to collect her thoughts. “Get off the case. I have a really bad feeling about it. Please, get off the case.” There was fear in her voice. Genuine fear. Tabitha had gotten bad feelings before, she believed herself to be a “sensitive,” but had never sounded terrified as she did right then.

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” he sighed. Since he walked into Woods’ house, something had been telling him to get out. To get off of the case. Hell, to get out of town. Something, he didn’t know what, was going to happened, and it wasn’t going to be good. Woods’ death was just the beginning. Tabitha just confirmed that fear. But he couldn’t go, couldn’t get off the case. A morbid curiosity had taken hold. He had to know who that woman was. Had to. No matter what, he was going to find out.

King practically felt Tabitha’s jaw clench. She knew exactly why he was staying. “Fine. Just be careful. I don’t want Anderson to have to call me to tell me you’re dead.”

“I’m always careful,” he tried to reassure her.

“No, you’re not,” she replied, her voice trembling. King’s heart shattered. His wife was scared. Terrified for his safety, and it was mostly his fault. Getting off the case would be easy. All he had to do was tell Captain he wanted off, and that was it. Captain Williams had told him several times that if he wants off a case, or doesn’t want to take one, he didn’t have to. There were plenty of other detectives that would gladly do so. But King just couldn’t let go. He had to solve them. Had to know who did it and why. Had to face the monsters himself. It was the same this time, but he knew it was going to be dangerous. Felt it in his bones. Tabitha felt it, too.

Tabitha sniffed back her tears, and exhaled slowly. “I have to go. If I stay on here any longer, I’m going to cry, and then I’ll have to kick your ass.” They shared a chuckle, at the inside joke. The first time she had said that, was when he had asked her to marry him. She had started to bawl like a baby, and then got mad at him for it. Told him she was going to kick his ass for making her cry. She said it on their wedding day as well. It was during their first dance. Her head had been resting on his shoulder, her long, strawberry blond hair down and sway in time with the dance, and her normally pale face red and puffy from crying. She had whispered it in his ear so no one else could hear. It had been the second happiest moment of his life, the first when his daughter was born nine months after that.

“I love you, Tabby.” He poured his heart into those four words, hoping she could hear the love he still had for her. Even if they never got back together, he wanted her to know how he felt about her. She was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and gave him the greatest gift in the world.

“I know you do,” Tabitha said, and then hung up. That stung. Stung quite a bit. He wanted badly to hear his wife, say she loved him as well. It would have made it night. But he couldn’t blame her for not saying it. There was no doubt that she loved him, but she had been upset with him. Once again, he had chosen his job over her. She had just pleaded for him to drop a case, afraid for his safety, and he had blew her off. If the roles had been reversed, he would have been pissed as well.

King placed the phone in his pocket and got in the car. For ten minutes, he just sat there, thinking. Thought about Tabitha, what he wanted in life, and the case. He had to solve this case. No matter what, he had to do it. He was already on it, firmly latched, and couldn’t let go of that. But he wanted his wife back. That wasn’t going to happen unless he got himself off of the job. Retiring was an option. He had already done his twenty years. Had solved many cases as a detective. Captured many monsters. There would always be more monsters, but there will more people to catch them. The good were always outnumbered, but they would have to fight them regardless. He could always help as a consultant, if it was asked of him. But the case he was currently on had to be solved

His mind was made up. He started the car and drove to the station. When he informed Captain Williams of his intentions, the man looked at him, a grin on his face, and said, “About damn time.” At least one of them was enthused of his decision.

2.1

There was a lot more blood than Detective King remembered. It covered the first step completely and a pool next to where Andrew Wood’s body used to lay. The wall had splashes of blood on it and the second and third steps. There was even some on the front door. King couldn’t help but be amazed on how it got there.

The voids between the blood and the floor almost made a perfect outline of Andrew Wood. Made things easier. King saw where the body laid. Still didn’t give him any clue how the woman killed him if she did at all. He found it hard to believe that the petite woman he saw overpowered Andrew Wood, who was slim but strong. There were always more circumstances to consider. The body was found near the bottom of the stairs. He might’ve fallen, and the woman took advantage.

(He refused to believe he saw the woman hurdle the fence.)

King tore his eyes from the blood and headed toward the kitchen. There, they found a butcher knife (it’s always a butcher knife) with blood on it. It had already been bagged and taken in for evidence. In its place stood a folded, yellow card with the number six stamped in black. He was still waiting to hear on the blood and fingerprints. It was prioritized, but it would still take weeks or months to see results. At least, they can eliminate Andrew Wood’s fingerprints- King refused to call him the victim. The only blessing of this investigations. The woman found they alive wasn’t a blessing, but a miracle.

Olivia Gray was the name of the survivor. She vanished from her home over a year ago, right before Wood has started his little “artworks.” Much to her luck, Andrew Wood kept her. Infatuation had to be it, but King wouldn’t know until the woman talked. King wanted badly to go to the hospital and speak with her, but the doctor advised against it. Olivia had gone through a traumatic experience, and would scream at every man that walked into her room. She gotten violent with one had to be sedated.

She also wouldn’t slept until they gave her the sedative, too afraid to close her eyes. King understood. Olivia believed that if she closed her eyes, she would wake up chained in Wood’s basement. To her, being rescued might have been all in her head, having envisioned it so many times during her captivity. Fortunately for her, when she opened her eyes, she would still be in a hospital bed, albeit restrained.

Giving the kitchen one last glance, King headed into the dining room. There, they found the corpse of Penelope Adams. Wood’s latest victim. There were already depictions of a Bible scene carved into her body, the branded crucifix on her chest. King knew his Bible pretty well, but didn’t know the scene was on Penelope’s corpse. It might be because it wasn’t complete. Not that it really mattered anymore. The Crucifix Killer (he hated calling him that) was dead and it would not help him catch his newest murderer. He was sure she didn’t give a damn about the Bible. Just like Andrew Wood had known nothing about the Bible.

“What’cha thinkin’?” someone asked from the kitchen. King turned and spotted Kevin Anderson, a fellow detective and friend. Detective Kevin Anderson was tall, broad shouldered with short blond hair and blue eyes. Some ladies at the office liked him to a Norse God, especially when he smiled. King saw Anderson was extraordinarily handsome. Could have been a model or an actor, but he was a cop instead. King never bothered asking why. Didn’t matter. Anderson did what he loved, and that was enough. Though if he had chosen a different path, it might have been easier to take care of his wife and kids.

“I’m thinking if your shirt was smaller, you wouldn’t have buttons,” King shot at his friend, eyebrows raised. Anderson’s light green button up shirt was on the verge of busting at the seams. Normally, the man took extra care of his appearance, but it seemed he was in a rush that morning. Not that King could say much. He was in the same clothes he wore last night.

The man’s laughter sounded good on King’s ears. Been awhile since he made someone laugh. “Yeah, it shrank in the wash. Made it to the station before I noticed.” Anderson looked at the shirt. “Got no one else to blame. I tried to give Gabby a break. She’s always looking after the kids.” Gabby was a sweet and quiet woman. Sometimes, King thought something was wrong, since she looked no one in the eye. Anderson said she had always been like that so he ignored it. The kids, three of them, were outgoing like their father though. Nothing but smiles and laughter.

King nodded, feeling a little pang of loneliness. He had yet to tell anyone Tabitha, his wife, had left him. Wasn’t any of their business, and he didn’t want to talk about it. The only people he had spoken to about the separation was Tabitha and their daughter, Amber. Amber said she had seen this coming a long time ago and was surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. That stung. Stung more than he would have liked to admit. He knew it too, that Tabitha wanted out, but said nothing. Tabitha needed to figure it out, and then she finally did.

“So, what’re we looking at?” Anderson asked.

King couldn’t be happier at the change of subject. Though this topic wasn’t much better. “I have no fucking clue,” he admitted to his colleague. “We got a bloody knife in the kitchen, but the only blood in the house is from our dead suspect. We got a body with its chest ripped opened and no sign of its heart. A witness that claims our murderer had a dog with her, but no sign of any animals even being near the house.”

“Don’t forget the woman that can jump a six-foot privacy fence like its nothing.” Anderson was lucky looks couldn’t kill. “Woah! I’m not making fun of you, this time. The techs checked the fence and there were no scuff marks,” he explained at King’s confusion. “The neighbor confirmed that someone went into his backyard, too. Shame he didn’t see her face.”

Shame indeed. Jessica Matthews had been little help in that department. She had been inches, inches, away from the suspect, but couldn’t describe her. The sketch artist got so frustrated that he walked away. Just took his stuff, and walked out. No one at the department contacted him since. He left a partial drawing, but it wasn’t enough to put out in the public. It resembled nothing human.

Jessica had burst into tears when she saw the picture, apologizing for not being any help. King had given her a gentle pat on the shoulder, an awkward “there, there,” and sent her home. They would try again another day. Tensions were high and emotions wild with lack of sleep. King was feeling it though he refused to sleep. He wanted to look at the crime scene one last time, hoping to find something. All he found was frustration.

King glanced around him one last time, then headed to the front door. He was the murderer. “I come in through the front door,” King said, speaking loud so Anderson could hear. Physically running through a scene helped him get a clearer picture of what happened. Anderson was the only one that understood and will help him. “The light to the dining room is on, and I go there.” He headed to the dining room.

It was Anderson’s turn, playing Andrew Wood. “I’m hiding in the kitchen, waiting for the perfect time to kill you.”

“There is a body on the table. I look at it and then headed to the kitchen.”

“That is when I strike.” Anderson moved toward King and made a motion of stabbing the man in the stomach.

“On reflex I shove you,” King remembered about the scuff marks on the floor, “and remove the knife, dropping it on the floor.”

“This scares me. I get up and run to my bedroom and grab my bat.” This was where the re-enactment stopped. The blood kept them on the first floor.

“I follow you up there. I walk, knowing I have enough time to kill you.” They both move by the stairs.

“This is the part I don’t understand,” admits Anderson. “Just how the hell did she get him to fall?”

This is the part you don’t understand, King started to himself, not the fact that the woman was stabbed and kept moving? Aloud he said, “She kept moving until he was at the top of the stairs and shoved him.” It was what he would have done.

“So he falls, is dazed, and she cut his heart out while he’s still conscious.” Neighbors heard screams. “Man, that’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah. Even more fucked up is she took it with her.” Anderson’s eyes were wide with awe when he turned to King. “Yeah. We couldn’t find it anywhere.”

“Man. I’m happy I’m not the lead on this case.” Anderson laughed and gave King a hard pat on his shoulder. King winced. Anderson was a lot stronger than he thought and his love taps was hard.

“The biggest question,” and the case was riddled with them, “is how the woman knew Olivia was in the basement.” King looked at his friend and got a shrug in response. It wasn’t helpful, but it wasn’t Anderson’s fault, even King didn’t know the answer. They already ruled her out as an accomplice. She would have known where he lived and hadn’t needed to scare the piss out of Jessica Matthews (literally). Maybe Wood told her while she slowly dug out his heart, but that was even more doubtful. According to neighbors, there were no breaks in his screaming except for breaths.

“You should sleep on it,” offered Anderson.

Sleep sounded good. Sleep sounded amazing. It also sounded unobtainable. No harm in trying though. “Yeah,” King conceded, “you’re right. I’ll see you later.” King walked out the door, got into his car, and headed home. During the drive, he phoned the captain and explained what he had found, or lack there of. Captain gave him a “good job” and “see you tonight,” before hanging up.

The house was quiet when he got home. No one was there to greet him. He thought of getting a pet but pushed it away. He had barely been home enough to care for his wife, how would a pet fare? No. Being alone was best for him. Give him time to think about what he had done.

But first, he needed to clear his board. He had a new case to focus on. Sleep? There was no time for sleep. He would sleep when he was dead.

1.6

Detective David King of the Bates City Police Department stared at the woman across from him. She had short brown hair, sharp features, and was petite, five-two and maybe a hundred pounds on a good day. Her wide eyes were gray and stared at the ashtray in front of her. There was a lit cigarette pressed between her pink lips, the ash long from failing to be flicked. The smoke seemed to dance joyfully around her head before climbing higher and gathering in a swirling mass a few inches above her head. It was her third cigarette since King had entered the room, about an hour ago, and her hands still shook when she finally removed the thing from her lips and flicked the ash in the ashtray. Most of it landed on the table, annoying the detective immensely.

Detective King was reaching the end of his patience, but still he kept quiet. Jessica Matthews had went through a traumatic experience, and if pushed too hard, she might possibly shut down. She was attacked by a woman who was looking for her co-worker, Andrew Wood, who turned out to be the Crucifix Killer, the man that had killed her lover, Chelsea Davis. At that moment she was blaming herself for Chelsea’s death and wrestling with the feelings of enjoyment or despair of the murder of Andrew Wood, who she had believed was a friend. There was a lot on her mind and he could afford to give her a few more minutes. Not like he was going to catch the murderer overnight anyways.

While Jessica took a long drag off of her cancer stick, King turned to the left and looked at his reflection in the two way mirror. His age was starting to show, though he didn’t feel forty-two was that old. Gray hairs were peeking through his short black hair along the sides of his hair. Wrinkles had appeared seemingly overnight marring his once flawless dark skin. Along with crow’s feet, there were bags under his dark brown eyes revealing the exhaustion he felt, though not because of his age. That night had been a long one. He had already been pulling long hours, trying to figure out the Crucifix Killer and had been planning on going home when the call had come in. Someone had figured out who the serial killer was, and was planning on killing him.

He dropped what he was doing and rushed to the address that had been given. Never in all of his years as an officer and detective had he driven so fast, weaving in and out of traffic. When he had made it to Andrew Wood’s house, he was the first on the scene. The first to find Andrew’s corpse in front of the stairs with a gaping hole in the chest where his heart should have been. Dark blood was splashed along the walls and stained the hardwood floor, a trail of it leading into the kitchen. Ignoring the plastic-covered dining room, the only source of light, he headed into the kitchen in hopes of finding Andrew’s murderer in there.

A fear gripped him that he had never felt before. It had started as soon as he entered the house, but got worse the deeper he went in, careful not to step on any blood and contaminate the crime scene. His palms were starting to sweat and his hands shook, making it hard to keep a grip on his gun. Sweat was pouring profusely down his forehead and into his eyes. A tremor started in his breathing and he felt the paranoia of something watching him crawl across his skin. The fear and paranoia held him so tight that when a woman sprang from the basement, he had froze. It wasn’t until she had flung open the back door he had regained his senses and shouted, “Freeze!” When she did not, he had fired and chased after her. He got off two more shots, one of which he was sure had hit her, before watching her jump over a six-foot fence as if it were nothing.

As he had given chase, more officers had arrived, and searched the house. One of the officers had bravely traversed the basement and found the woman chained to the wall, babbling incoherently. When he got close to make sure she was alright, she started to scream and did not stop. The EMTs had to sedate her so that they could get her out of the chains and to the hospital. Detective King had decided to stay out of the way and had not caught a glimpse of the woman until she was carried into the kitchen. The state of her tore a hole in his heart. Clothes and skin dirty, but her hair perfectly clean. He had already knew something was wrong with Andrew Wood, but seeing that woman cemented the idea. Was he happy the man was dead? No. He had wanted the man in the hands of the law and dealt justice in the courts. That would have been much more satisfying for him. Instead, King got two dead bodies and another murderer to catch.

And that was why he now found himself in front of Jessica Matthews, hours later, running on no sleep. Since she was the only one alive and coherent enough that had seen the woman’s face, he was hoping to get a description good enough to put it out on the news. Maybe someone else had seen the woman somewhere and would be kind enough to call in a tip. Anything to get this case moving in the right direction so he could go home and sleep in his empty bed.

It had been six months since his wife, Tabitha, of nineteen years had packed up all of her things and moved out. The longest six months of his life, made longer with the Crucifix Killer case, the very reason his wife had left. She said he was too obsessed with the case and she could no longer handle it. She needed a break from him and it. No divorce papers were filed, but there didn’t need to be. The marriage was over and she would not be coming back. For a while Tabitha had been looking for a reason to leave him. The Crucifix case gave her the perfect excuse. He just let her go, knowing there was nothing he could do that would change her mind. Once Tabitha was set on doing something, she would do it. Didn’t stop him from continuing to wear his wedding ring though. He didn’t plan on finding someone else, and it just felt good on. Made him comfortable in this time of chaos. At least their daughter was older and living on her own.

Jessica took a long drag off of her cigarette and exhaled. “Never thought I’d see you again or this room,” she said, a humorless smirk on her face. The last time she had been in that room with Detective King was when Chelsea Davis had first gone missing. The girl had blonde hair and blue eyes and immediately King suspected that she had been taken by the Crucifix Killer. After the body was found there was one last interview with Jessica just to see if she could think of anything that she might have forgotten, a clue overlooked. A fruitless expedition, she being too distressed to recall anything. “Looks like you’ve aged ten years since the last I saw you.”

King gave a low chuckle though it had not been a joke. He knew he had aged quite a bit from the stress, but he hadn’t believed it was that much. Hopefully, Jessica was exaggerating. “Been a long night,” he retorted. “For both of us, I’m sure.”

A snort left the young woman as she snuffed out her cigarette. “That’s an understatement,” she said as she grabbed another cigarette from her pack sitting on the table. Normally, there was no smoking in the interrogation room, but it had been decided to let this one slide, though no one had foreseen her smoking that much.

She took another long drag, held it for several seconds, and then exhaled slowly, tilting her head to face the ceiling. “That woman, you should stay away from her.” She moved her head to look him in the eyes. “She’s not… normal.”

“What do you mean?” Anything to keep her talking. There might be something important in what she says, no matter how crazy it might sound.

“When she first came in my back was turned, but my hair stood on end and I felt a crawling sensation up my spine.” Her eyes had taken a distant look as she recalled the scene. Detective King decided it best not to interrupt her. Might make her lose focus. “I turned around and saw her, and knew there was something wrong with her. All I wanted to do was run, but I couldn’t move. At first I thought it was just me, but when I looked at the customer’s, they were backing away from her as well. A couple of them left.” That reminded the detective too much of the fear he had felt when he entered Andrew Wood’s house. It was too similar to be a coincidence.

“I greeted her like I usually do with every customer, and she immediately asked for An… him.” King never thought he could hear so much disdain from a single word. “I thought she was going to kill me when I said he wasn’t there. I think she might have if she hadn’t left.” She glanced down at the cigarette burning in her hand. “I’ve been trying to quit smoking. Up til today, I hadn’t had a single one. But that made me need one. I got one out of my boss’ secret stash and went outside. She was there waiting for me. Somehow, she knew I was a smoker. It was like she smelled it on me.”

Jessica’s breathing had quickened and she took a moment to calm down. “She threatened me and then took my phone. When she was calling him, she told me to play dead. I didn’t understand why, but I kept my mouth shut. While they were talking she started to go through my pictures. She found one with Chelsea in it. That’s when she figured out who he was.”

That was something he couldn’t’ keep quiet about. “Are you telling me she didn’t know that Andrew Wood was the Crucifix Killer before she came to you?” They had been going on the idea that somehow the woman had figured out who Andrew Wood was, had decided to take her own brand of revenge. Her motive. Hearing her say that changed the game. Now, as far as they knew, the woman had no motive to kill them man until after attacking Jessica. Just what in the hell had that woman been after?

“No, she didn’t. I was out of my mind with fear, but I saw the realization in her eyes when she saw that picture.” She flicked her ash and then took a hit. “She asked for his address and I gave it to her. I thought she would kill me if I didn’t.” That last bit was a lie, but the detective overlooked it, hoping no one else noticed. He didn’t think she deserved to get accessory to murder with all that she had been through. And it wasn’t like they could threaten her with it to get more information, since she was already telling them everything she knew. “She kept my phone.” They had already located it at Andrew Wood’s house. “I guess for the GPS or something. After that, she left.” She sighed and her gaze fell to her hands. “I wonder why she didn’t kill me?” It was said quietly, as if hadn’t intended to say it aloud.

The question might not have been directed toward him, but he answered it regardless. “You weren’t her intended target.” Jessica glanced up at him, confused. “Maybe she didn’t want to cause unnecessary bloodshed. She didn’t kill you because she didn’t have to.” His gut was telling him that was right. That this particular murderer only killed who was necessary. A hitman of some sort? But who would have wanted Andrew Wood dead? Yes, he was the Crucifix Killer, but that was the only thing that had been going for him. He was a barista, for God’s sake. Not really on the scale of importance. Unless he screwed up the wrong person’s coffee. Could be possible. He had seen people murdered for less.

“Before we let you go, is there anything else that you can remember? Anything that she could have said or done that caught your attention?” She really hadn’t given him too much to go on, but he hadn’t been expecting much. The last time they had talked, he had gotten the impression that Jessica was a bit of an airhead and really didn’t pay close attention to anything other than what she deemed important for herself.

There was several seconds of silence while Jessica played everything in her head. “She didn’t seem to know how to use my phone.” She gave a fake chuckle. “It’s funny really. A woman told me she would kill me if I ran away, and I can’t help but think how she couldn’t use my phone.”

“Was she an older woman?” The description Jessica had given the artist hadn’t been a very good one. Just that the woman had reddish-brown hair and she was about five-five. An approximate age would be nice though he didn’t think it was really going to help too much. It was something more than what they had to go on.

“No. She looked like she was my age, maybe a little older.” So early to mid twenties. “She also had a dog.” Detective King asked her if she could describe the dog. The look she gave him said that she would remember that thing for the rest of her life. “It was big. Bigger than any dog I had ever seen in my life. Like, bigger than me big. Black. Very black. I didn’t even see it until it stepped into the light. It’s teeth were long and sharp, and it’s eyes were yellow. I don’t know what kind it was, but it was not one I had ever seen before, or heard of.” She snuffed out her cigarette. “I know this is going to sound crazy and I know it can’t be true, but I got the feeling that the dog was just a puppy.” Her eyes met the detective’s and he could see that she was being serious.

Jessica threw herself back into her chain and started to rub her eyes. “I’ve told you everything that I know. Can I go now? I would like to take a shower before I go to sleep.”

Detective King allowed her to go, having no more questions for her. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his wide nose. At the moment, he had a dead serial killer that had his heart ripped out. The suspect was a woman in early to mid twenties, with reddish-brown hair, that was about five-five, and could hurdle a six-foot fence. Oh, let’s not forget the giant black dog that’s supposedly a puppy.

This was going to be one hell of a case. He hated it already.

1.5

There were quick footsteps from behind her, and Grace turned around just in time for a knife to meet her stomach. An inhuman roar left her mouth, and she shoved Andrew Wood away from her, sending him flying back into the kitchen. She grasped the handle of the large kitchen knife and ripped it out of her, dropping it on the ground. Instinctively her hand went to the wound to staunch the blood flow, but there was nothing there, though blood had been on the blade. The wound hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to bleed out and die. That left her attention wide open for Andrew Wood.

When Grace turned to Andrew Wood, his light blue eyes were wide. For several moments, she looked at him. He was handsome, she had to give him that, and many of the woman probably thought he was charming. It must have been easy for him to kidnap those women. To make them trust him and then abuse that trust. They probably hadn’t even realized what happened until they woke up in a dark room by themselves chained up, crying for help. Only no help would come for them. Just Andrew Wood. And then he would kill them as if they were nothing. Nothing but a meat canvas to do his crap artwork on.

The hunger crashed into her like a wave in the ocean, but this time she welcomed it. There was no need to worry about harming an innocent person on the streets. Her meal was right in front of her. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. Never had she smelled anything that could compare to what Andrew Wood smelled like, and as soon as the scent had hit her nostrils her eyes had rolled in the back of her head. Thomas Jackson could not compare to this man, and she had thought he tasted divine. What would Andrew Wood taste like? Would it be like taking a bite out of the fruit from the gods or possibly the gods themselves?

No matter. Grace was going to eat him regardless of what he tasted like. She was hungry, he was there, and he had been the one that injured her. The one that had brought upon her need to feed. He needed to suffer for it. The hunger was a monster all of its own and he needed to realize what he had awakened in her, what he was unleashing upon himself. It would be a short-lived revelation but one he needed to experience.

With her quarry so close, the change started. Her teeth lengthened and her lips thinned as her mouth grew wider, giving her a grotesque smile. Her ears became much sharper and she could hear Andrew Wood’s heart start to race as he backed further away from her, pure panic on his face. The acrid smell of his fear attacked her nose, drowning out the tasty scent of his sins, and she nearly wanted to turn from him, but forced herself to take her first step toward him. Lucifer wanted the man dead, so he must die. And she was just too damn hungry to turn him away.

When Grace took another step, deliberately slow, toward him, Andrew Wood took off running. She had been expecting that and already had her hounds set up so that he couldn’t leave the house. If he tried to leave through the front door, which he did, one of her hounds would be there blocking his way, forcing him up the stairs, exactly where she wanted him. The rest of the pack was up there, waiting outside of the windows for him. She wanted him to know there was no chance of escape. That no matter where he went, something would be there to block his way to the outside world. She wanted him to feel trapped and the dread that came with being cornered. A part of her even wanted him to fight back, as a cat would do, just so she could see his face when it failed. That would bring her the greatest pleasure, and it was less than what he deserved. If there had been more time, she would have put him through more. Not only was her hunger calling, but the cops would be there soon.

Still, she wanted to take her time. It was hard not to run after him as soon as she heard him run up the stairs, but she didn’t. She waited until there was a muffled cry from above, choosing to walk. There was no where Andrew Wood could go and it would not take long to find him at all. From what she gathered from her pack, there were only three rooms, including a bathroom. Hiding in the bathroom really was not an option for the man, so he would choose one of the other two rooms. All she had to do was open the doors and listen. The one with the heartbeat was the winner.

There were still stomping footsteps from above when Grace made it to the first step. As she walked up the steps, she started to listen to his panicked movements, taking great joy in them. The way he was frantically running around made her believe it was his first time being afraid. He must have thought of himself as a big bad wolf among sheep. Now, he realized there were bigger more frightening things out there. Real monsters. Things that made children afraid of their closest and under their bed. Nightmare inducing creatures that were unnatural in every way. And he had tried to kill one of them.

For some reason, Grace found that humorous and started to laugh. The laughter started as a strangled gurgle at the back of her throat,creeping herself out. It started to change into something that resembled a human laugh when her mouth started to form back to normal. She laughed so hard she had to lean against the wall. “Did you really think that you were the biggest predator out there, Andrew?” she taunted, starting to head up the steps once again. “Did you think that killing a couple of women made you something special?” Provoking him was becoming a little bit fun. It made her giddy to see what he might do next.

There was no reply. She never expected to get one. Andrew Wood was too busy trying to either find a place to hide or a weapon to fight her with. Either way it was futile. Grace would find him no matter where he was. As far as the weapon was concerned, she would have thought he would have learned with the kitchen knife. It was going to take a lot more to kill her, and the more damage he did, the hungrier and more pissed off she was going to get. He was doing nothing but hurting himself by hurting her.

“You know, it’s really rude not to answer someone when they ask you a question,” she said as soon as her foot touched the top step, a smile on her face. The smile was wiped off when a bat came flying at of her face. Somehow, she managed to dodge it. Though barely. She felt the bat brush against her hood. It was a little too close for her comfort and she was upset at herself that she had not heard him there. She had gotten just a little too cocky. Andrew Wood may only be human, but humans were resilient creatures as she should have known, having been one until recently.

“That wasn’t very nice,” she said sharply, taking stock of Andrew Wood’s appearance. He was sweating profusely, his breathing ragged, and his eyes still wide. There were color in his cheeks from his running, but he was mostly pale. All the makings of a terrified man. A sight that Grace drank in with pleasure. “What are you trying to do, kill me?” she joked.

Andrew Wood apparently didn’t find it very funny and took another swing at her. She easily dodged that one, taking a step back. That put her back to the wall, but it also put Andrew in front of the stairs. If she could get him to turn right, just a little bit, his back would be to the stairs. He was afraid of her enough that if she took a step forward, he would step back and take a tumble. The fall might kill him, but she was sure that it would just disable him for a few minutes, long enough for her to eat what she wanted without a fight. There was no guarantee that it would work, but she decided to give it a try regardless, taking a step to the left.

The poor bastard played right into her hand. Grace watched in surprise as Andrew Wood fell down the stairs. There was a sickening crack when his head hit the hardwood floor. For a breath, everything was still, waiting to see if Andrew had survived his fall. When he groaned Grace let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and started down the stairs saying, “You know, I really didn’t think you were going to fall for that one.” When she reached the bottom, she stood over her him, feet on either side of his hips. She stared down at him. “I gave you way too much credit in the brain department.” She knelt down on top of him, straddling his waist. He just stared up at her, too dazed to move. “No matter. You’re dead anyways.”

Before she even completed her change Grace lunged forward and took her first bite. An agonized scream left her victim, but she could no longer hear him. All she could think about was satisfying that hunger. With the first bite her mind went numb. His taste was so exquisite her eyes rolled in the back of her head. It made her speed up with the feeding. Over and over again she bit into his chest, the scream crescendoing until they suddenly stopped, the heart consumed.

Euphoria washed over Grace, but she did not have time to revel in it. She needed to leave the house and quickly. They were far off, but she could hear the wail of sirens. They could be heading toward this house or somewhere else, either way Grace wasn’t going to stick around and find out. With the help of the handrail she made it to her feet, leaving a nice bloody handprint behind; there was no time to worry about evidence and she put it into the back of her head (it would just lead to a dead woman anyways). Her knees wobbled fiercely, making it very difficult to walk. Most of her weight was supported by dragging her shoulder along the wall until the strength came back to her legs, having decided to go out the back door instead of the front. Andrew Wood’s neighbors were probably watching the front, and there might be less of a chance of her being seen by going the opposite way.

She had made it into the kitchen when she heard it. Somewhere below her, a woman was screaming for help, one that had not shown up in Andrew Wood’s memories as she ate him. There was a basement in that house. A basement that must have been soundproofed and did not have a visible entrance. If her hearing wouldn’t have been as sensitive as it was now she probably wouldn’t have heard it, it so faint. No normal person would have the ears for it. Meaning if Grace did not find a way to find that woman now, then she was probably going to die in there, screaming for help.

The sirens were getting closer and there were more of them. If Grace left now she would not be seen by the cops, but that meant the woman would not get found and would die. If Grace saves the woman, she was most likely going to be seen by the cops. There was no ace up her sleeve for escape, so she was going to get caught. Most likely, they were going to shoot her. Seeing how she had just sated her hunger she really didn’t want that to happen. Finding another person to feed on would be a pain in the ass. One that she really didn’t want to deal with. Still, could she leave the woman to die?

No, she couldn’t. She was a monster, but she couldn’t leave an innocent person to die. “Fuck! Find an entrance quickly,” she commanded her hounds, taking a little of her frustrations out on them. They didn’t seem to mind and eagerly jumped to do as she commanded. While they searched the rest of the house Grace decided to stick to the room she was in, the kitchen. It was small with barely enough room for the appliances it had. The refrigerator, a nice stainless steel one, was along the right wall next to the a matching stove. There were cabinets above the stove and a long counter next to it ending at the dining room entrance. On the left were counters and cabinets along with a microwave, a few storage containers, and a nice spice rack, but nothing leading to a basement.

She was on the verge of giving up when the smallest of her hounds started to scratch at the backside of the refrigerator. Without a second thought Grace rushed to the refrigerator and pulled it completely away from the wall, and spotted the door behind it. The door, painted white to blend in better with the wall, looked as if it had once been a dutch door, but the top half was removed and a wall put in its place. It looked uncomfortable for her to get in, she had no idea how Andrew Wood had crawled in and carrying someone on top of it.

Grace shook her head. There was no time to dawdle. The police were getting closer by the second, and she needed to get the woman out of there. There was no telling what kind of shape she would be in and if she needed medical attention. Though the woman was shouting pretty loudly, so physical harm must have been limited. No telling what kind of mental damage the woman had gone through. What Andrew Wood had done wasn’t exactly something most people sane would be able to handle.

When she reached for the door handle she was surprised to find it unlocked, a small blessing. She quickly pushed the door open and crawled inside. The flight of stairs she went down were rickety enough she wouldn’t have been surprised if a foot went through one. They were not well maintained whatsoever. It led her to believe that the basement had been hidden long before Andrew Wood had lived in the house, and he had managed to find it. Or the last few tenants hadn’t bothered to use the basement. Either way, those steps needed some serious love. And the basement as well. It looked as if it hadn’t been clean in a very long time, though the soundproof foam covered most of the walls, little cobwebs hanging from between them.

“Please, help me,” the woman begged. The woman was chained to the wall and it was obvious that she had been there for a while. Dirt caked her face and neck, but there were streaks on her cheeks from where tears had fallen. Her clothes were ragged and her wrists and ankles were raw from where the chains had rubbed. Desperation turned her wide blue eyes wild. The most disturbing part of all was her long blonde hair was perfectly maintained. Andrew Wood had taken great care of her hair, his favorite part about her.

The basement was dark, which was a blessing. If the woman had seen Grace covered in blood she might have freaked out, making it rather difficult to help her. Grace quickly inspected the chains. They were thick, heavy, and padlocked tightly together. There was no way Grace would be able to rip them off without hurting the woman, and there was nothing to cut them off with. Searching for the keys was out as well. There just wasn’t enough time.

“Listen,” Grace started gently, “I have to leave.” The woman started to panic, begged for her to stay, and tried to reach for her, but the chains stopped her. “The police will be here in any minute. I’ll leave the door open. You just have to keep shouting for help.” With that Grace walked away, ignoring the woman’s pleads for her to stay.

There wasn’t much time for her to feel sorry for the woman. She had to get up the stairs and out the door quickly, the cops having already pulled up to the front of the house. Her hounds were waiting for her in the kitchen, all just as anxious as she and herded her to the back door, and she flung it open. Just as she was about to run out she heard a man shout from behind her. “Freeze!”

Grace just ignored the man and kept running. The worse that could happen would be he shot her. It would hurt like a bitch, but she would survive to live another day. Besides, she was sure if she stopped her hounds would have attacked the officer for threatening her with a weapon. The chances of him surviving such an attack would be slim. Being shot was ten times better than having a dead cop on her hands. Cops did not take kindly to one of their own being murdered.

The officer fired his gun and a bullet rushed by Grace’s ear. It was a little close for comfort, but she kept moving, determined to make it to her dilapidated apartment. She heard a gunshot and immediately moved out of the path of the bullet, not fast enough and it grazed her arm. The pain was searing and she wanted to cry out, but she could not afford to stop. Not like she was going to leave a blood trail anyways.

Before her and the pack, there was a six-foot privacy fence. Easily, the six hounds were able to jump over the fence, but Grace had doubts that she could make it. There was no time to change direction though, or to stop. She had to climb and hope she could make it, her hounds telling her she would be just fine. Much to her surprise, she cleared the fence. There wasn’t any time for her to stop and marvel at her accomplishment so she kept running. Ran and ran until she made it back to her apartment, slamming the door behind her and locking it, not wanting anyone to barge in while she was asleep (God only knew how her unconscious body would react).

There wasn’t much time until the sun rose so she started to strip as she headed into the bathroom, wanting to get Andrew Wood’s blood off of her. In the bathroom she turned the knobs until water rushed out of the shower head and jumped in, not caring what temperature the water was. As quickly as possible she scrubbed herself until she believed all the blood was gone, turned off the water, and grabbed the towel she had previously used that night to dry off. It still a little damp. Then, she headed to her bed and laid down not bothering to get dressed. It had been a long night, and it wasn’t long before the darkness of unconsciousness took over.