Page 5 of Dark Souls

“Then, sadly, I’d have to find a replacement. There are plenty of other delicious veins to feed off. Someone far less needy.” I fought the urge to laugh as he slammed his hand over his chest and pretended to fall back into the door.

“Ouch. Way to break a heart!” He stood straight again, smiling with mischief as he stepped forwards and grasped my hips in his hands. “We had fun at your parents’ anniversary gala, didn’t we? That was a date.”

I sighed. Yeah, okay, I slipped up there. It had been a date for all intents and purposes. And yes, the drama and excitement that unfolded that night had me on a high and horny. We had sex but I refused to feed from him during. That’s when our arrangement came about. We’d satisfy each other’s urges but we weren’t dating. And if I fed, we didn’t have sex and vice versa.

“And your family likes me. They let me take you to the gala so I am sure they’d be fine with us dating.”

“They like you in a ‘he’s not so bad for a human assassin’ kind of way, not in a ‘he’s perfect for our little princess’ way. And they did not let you take me to the gala. I ambushed them at the very last minute so they couldn’t cause a scene in front of hundreds of supernaturals. Trust me, the drama of dating me would not be worth it. Plus, you are human. It would never work. This situationship is so much better for us.”

“Hmm. You could always turn me. It would solve the human thing.” He bent down and nipped the skin on my shoulder as I scoffed. No chance. “But I do get off on sneaking around. Keeps things interesting. Though I’m surprised Little Miss Rebellious cares so much about what others would think.”

I spun around in his arms and narrowed my gaze. “The only people’s opinions I will ever care about are my family. Which is why we keep this our dirty little secret, meathead. You don’t like it? You know where the door is.”

“So brutal.” He smiled wider. Nothing deterred this man.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help finding GI Joe rather entertaining. He stepped back, tugging his gym shorts down his hips and freeing his still semi-hard cock before stepping out of them. I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow while he sauntered with so much bloody confidence over to the walk-in shower, turning it on and giving me a front-row seat as he lathered up his body with soap.

“Fancy joining me? Or just enjoying the show?” He winked. I scoffed, sliding myself up onto the bathroom counter. If I was going to watch, I might as well make myself comfortable.

I placed my palms on either side of my hips against the cold surface, tilting my head as I stared at his impressive physique under the steaming water. “Ronnie, have you been working on any murder cases lately where the victims’ organs were bitten?”

He gave me a sideways glance before shaking his head. “Nice try, Detective. But you’re getting nothing out of me.” I huffed and hung my head to my chest, kicking my legs as they swung back and forth. “Why do you ask? Because of the body you found last night?”

“Yeah. It just sparked this niggling curiosity in me. It’s not like I haven’t seen a dead body before. But I just really want to find out who this killer is and what their motives are. How their mind works. Were they killing for the thrill? The hunger? Revenge? Why not drink from the victim? Why bite the heart but then toss it away? Why leave the body where it would obviously be found? Why not try to hide their tracks? Do they want to be caught? Their actions contradict themselves. If only Archer would let me help with this case and make me an agent.”

“Take a breath, Princess.” Ronnie chuckled and I glared at him for using the title I loathe so much again. “Is this really about you wanting to become an agent? Because it sounds more like a fascination with the killer if you ask me.”

“It’s both. Don’t you find the killers you hunt fascinating?”

“No. I think they are monsters with no control or morals and it’s my job to end them, not to understand them.”

“That is rather narrow-minded, don’t you think? You thought my uncle was one of those monsters not so long ago, and now you’re practically buddies.”

“Well, he did kill a human. But that was different. Bit of advice, your cannibal serial killer is most likely just a psycho. One you should stay clear of and let the big boys take care of.”

Another arrogant wink was tossed my way. I grabbed the bottle of hand lotion and flung it at his head.

“Ow fuck, woman.”

“I wouldn’t talk so highly of yourself when your not-so-big-boy is on full display.”

He roared with laughter, his hand fisting his cock as I walked past the shower and headed for the door. Okay, so he didn’t have a small dick by any means. In fact, it was probably slightly larger than average for a human and he knew it, but still, why inflate his already gigantic ego?

“It’s not how big it is but how you use it, baby. And you seemed to like it just fine!” he shouted from the shower as I stalked out the door. Arrogant ass.

“For the millionth time, stop with the cutesy name shit!” I flipped the switch, plummeting him into darkness before the door shut behind me. I heard him cursing loudly as he fumbled in the dark, slipped and crashed down on his ass causing me to smirk.

Progress

StaringatthephotosI took on my phone, I pinched the screen to enlarge the writing as I read about the similar murder cases which spanned over the last few years. And how did these highly confidential cases fall into my hands? After quenching my thirst with Ronnie, my mind felt clearer and with it came a surge of energy and determination to force Archer to at least see how helpful I could be in this case. I headed to his office, going over and over all the reasons he should hire me, but when I reached the doorway, I noticed him at the end of the corridor in deep conversation with two men. And my plan changed. I saw an opportunity and I took it.

He’d left his office unlocked. I rushed inside and snapped as many pictures of the cases on his desk as I could before I heard his footsteps coming back down the corridor. When he appeared, looking a little startled to see me on my hands and knees on his office floor, pretending to look for my phone, I gave my best performance of relief at finding it under the chair. I immediately changed the subject to something he was obsessed with, asking how Amelie was doing. I left without him suspecting a thing and now I had more information on this killer, which I could use to impress the SIA with my insights and convince them to hire me. See, motherfucking wrecking ball.

Surely, if the same killer committed all these murders, there had to be some unknown link between the victims. While some victims were human and some were supernatural, they were all killed in the same brutal way. Most had organs removed, many bitten into and not always the heart. There was no time frame or schedule for these deaths. Some happened within days of each other, others months. There was even a dry spell of over a year. I started scribbling notes in my leather-bound journal, searching for any similarities within the subject’s lives. Most were criminals of some kind. Some had squeaky clean track records, which I didn’t trust, and a few of the supernaturals that had been killed had no previous history as if they hadn’t even existed before their death made them known. And these murders weren’t just happening in America. Archer had found similar accounts all around the world. Europe mainly.

I zoomed in on the gory images of lifeless bodies and how they were found. Instead of repulsion and empathy for the victims like many people would feel when faced with this brutality, I felt a magnetic pull drawing me in, feeding my curiosity even more. The killer displayed terrifying artistry in the way they killed these people, like how an impressionist paints a picture to invoke emotion or a reaction. Perhaps each kill had a deeper meaning to the victims’ lives. Sylvester, for example. He was thrown from the roof of his own apartment block. A rope and a number of knives and daggers, which belonged to Graidern were used by the killer to torment and play with Sylvester before killing him, were found up there. Maybe dangling him from the 350 ft building? The killer wanted his fear more than the kill. After removing his heart in a quick, brutal act, the killer tossed the body over the side as if it were worthless. Left in a dumpster, along with his gnawed heart, as if to say it was the grave he deserved. Or was I just reading too much into this?

I dropped the pen and rubbed my temples with my fingers. What was wrong with me? Why did morbid stuff like this intrigue me so much?

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