Exton

At the Manse….

I am in my surgical theatre, which has seen many an autopsy, but that does not seem called for here. There is but one mark of violence - bruises about the throat so deeply embedded that the tissues beneath seem crushed. The hyoid bone is broken, and the face bears the telltale pinpoint hemorrhages called petechiae. The woman was strangled; cause of death: asphyxiation.

The shifter patrol arrived before the killer could get away with the body, so he let it lie and ran. Curious… this would argue that the Hunger was not upon the ghoul when he slew his victim, else he would hardly have run without at least attempting to bear his prize away… or he was instructed to run, should such an eventuality present itself.

A ghoul with the Hunger upon it is as ungovernable as a Vampire raging with the Thirst. There is a guiding will behind all this, one that thinks and plans and executes those plans only after careful deliberation; a will, moreover, that can impose itself upon other ghouls and make them act in concert, for surely all these murders coming in so short a span cannot be coincidence.

To the best of my knowledge, ghouls do not organize into Clans or Packs as vampires and shifters do. It is unusual for even a partnership such as Sweeney and Mole's to exist, and the idea of a ghoul "community" would have been laughable ere now; but I cannot ignore the evidence of my eyes, nor what my instincts are telling me. Someone… some being, is organizing these ghouls into a force to be reckoned with. Why, and to what end? That is what I must learn if we are to bring these killings to an end.


There is a rap at the cellar door; and presently Sweeney and Mole are escorted into the laboratory, a sylph leading the way. "Gentlemen," I begin. "Would that this visit were purely social; but you know the circumstances attending my request. Here you may see the victim." - I indicate the body with a gesture. "It is my hope that you will see something that I cannot and so help to bring these killings to an end."

Two pairs of eyes scan the body in utter silence, eyes that miss nothing. Only a slight tightening at the corner of Mole's mouth gives away any trace of emotion. When they raise their eyes to mine again, it is Mole who speaks, his voice uncannily like that of Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein.

"You have seen what we can see, doctor. Strangulation, which means the killer wished to leave no bloodstains to show that a crime had been committed. If my information is correct, this was not the case at previous crime scenes."

"That is correct, though in most cases the scene was discovered too late for any clue to be drawn from that. Only the keenness of a shifter's sense of smell allowed us to know that blood had been spilled… except in the case of the first murder; first, I mean, to our knowledge. In that instance, an alley had been drenched in blood, the signs of which were evident days later - but again, it was discovered too late for this factor to be of any use in detecting the killer."

Mole nods. "You see what this means. They know, or suspect, that we are on to them, and they are working harder to conceal evidence of their crimes. I daresay they have become aware of some of our patrols and have drawn the obvious conclusion; though it is likely that they suspect the human authorities to be behind it, not an alliance of supernaturals." He permits himself a grim smile. "After all, who would believe such a thing?

For the rest… I believe that the ghoul who committed this crime was sent precisely because he or she had fed not long ago and would think with his head, not his stomach. As you are aware, Doctor, we're not at our best when we're hungry." That wry smile again. "Had he been Hungry, I have little doubt he would have attempted to take the body with him, even knowing such an undertaking to be impossible."


Danse Macabre sounds from my cell, interrupting our discourse for the moment. It is Tourmaline again. Another murder site has been discovered on the other side of town, though in this instance blood was spilled. It is the only way we know that murder has been done, for the killer took the body with him this time. Thank the Powers for the shifters in our patrols. I make a mental note to recommend that there be at least one shifter in each of our patrols so that none go without the advantages they provide.

I snap the cell closed. "Another murder, this one near the college campus. The killer got away this time, and took the body with him." Sweeney swears softly, and I turn my attention to him. "I take it, sir, that your assessment agrees with your colleague's?"

"It does, Doctor. I wish there was more we could tell you to bring these terrible crimes to an end. You know who we are and that we adhere to our agreement with you, but there were many at the meeting the other night who were ready to accuse us, if not condemn us outright. These crimes stain the reputation of all our people; but as not all humans are part of a street gang or affiliated with organized crime, so most of our people are good people, who wish only to coexist with humans - and with Others."

"While I live to prevent it, gentlemen, none shall lay hands upon you or yours. Still, I cannot be everywhere at once… I believe these patrols to be our best chance at solving these crimes and putting an end to them." I clear my throat. "If you have seen all you care to see, gentlemen, perhaps you would join me in a glass of Tokay and hear some of my thoughts upon the matter…."

I shroud the body in a sheet - the gnomes will see to a burial with appropriate rites in the Manse's cemetery - and we make our way upstairs to the parlor.