Very strange.
The click of Grigori’s shoes drew my attention up to him.
“Gabrielle, Caleb,” he said, clasping his phone in his fist, “we need to go. There’s been another murder.”
Chapter 7
I scowled at the snowy scenery we drove past while Caleb chatted with Grigori. We had a serial killer on our hands—oh, excuse me, serial killers. There were at least two of them. And it was my job to capture these sickos. In the middle of a blizzard. While bloodthirsty vampires were holding a trial I needed to stay far away from. Happy fucking holidays to me.
My cellphone vibrated as a text from Oliver came in.
What address are you staying at, Sabertooth? I want to mail you your Christmas present. Long distance bosom hugs for my favorite consort in the world. Muah!
My lips twitched as I read Oliver’s message. I sent him my address before setting the phone aside. God I missed my friends.
The car slowed as we approached a line of parked vehicles, and I glanced one final time at the map of Romania resting on my lap. I’d snatched it up back at the station when I’d learned that the second murder scene was located in an entirely different region of Romania. One that had taken us over two hours to get to.
Two areas had now been circled, representing the two crime scenes. The latest one had occurred in Bistri?a-N?s?ud County, located northeast of Cluj.
I set the map aside as Grigori parked the car along the side of the rode, and then the three of us hopped out.
Caleb, Grigori, and I followed the stream of inspectors into the forest. Like the last crime scene, this one was also located in the woods. By the time we arrived at the small clearing where the second body was located, investigators and crime scene technicians swarmed the area.
An inspector approached us, greeting Girgori and eyeing Caleb and me. Just like the pathologist, his eyes lingered on my face, and I saw a mixture of lust and repulsion within them.
Ah, infamy, thou suck.
After exchanging a few more words, the inspector handed Caleb and me a set of gloves and motioned for us to follow him.
I tugged on the gloves and weaved through the throng of officers and forensic technicians. My breath caught when my gaze landed on a wooden altar. The victim still rested on it, a thin film of snow now covering her body.
I couldn’t look away from the peaceful expression on her face. Laying there, she reminded me of Snow White. Dark hair, pale skin, delicate features.
The group of us approached the altar, each focusing our attention on the latest victim.
Unlike the last altar, which seemed to grow out from the earth itself, this one was made of polished wood and intricately carved. Had it been set up specifically for this murder? If so, that took an amazing amount of time and organization.
I crouched down and studied the designs cut into the wood. Flowers and fruit were carved along the edges of the altar, and inside them were a series of images broken into frames. In one, a female figure knelt in a field of flowers. In another a man held a screaming woman. In another a different woman stood alone, a desolate expression on her face. The images were sad and disturbing, and I couldn’t make sense of them.
I pushed myself up and stared down at the body laid out in front of me. The twine noose cinched tightly around her neck was still there, now discolored with her blood. I pressed my lips together as my eyes moved to the severed skin below it, where her throat had been slit. Just like the first victim.
My eyes traveled down. She wore a white gown marred by a deep crimson stain above her heart. A third wound—probably a stab wound to the heart—again, identical to the last victim.
My nose flared at the smell of blood. She smelled heavenly. Literally. The scent hit the back of my throat and I could taste holiness in it. It should’ve been impossible to sense, but I could, just like I could feel evil. I knew that if I had a sip of her blood, I’d taste God in it.
Another angelic victim. The similarities between the two deaths were so precise. So organized.
I circled the body, wanting to get a look at her feet. Would that detail be the same too? Could the killers really have replicated the first murder so completely?
As soon as the victim’s feet came into view, my mouth thinned. Blood and grime stuck to them, just like the last victim.
My eyes moved back to the white shift she wore. No one wore an outfit like this in the winter, which meant she’d changed—or someone had changed her. And the exposed skin along her hands and arms was unblemished. She hadn’t fought her attackers either.
None of it made any sense.
Finally, my gaze landed on her face. Death had already turned her loveliness into something disturbing. The snow that came to rest on her forehead, nose and mouth didn’t help. No living person would lay in the same position long enough to collect that much snow.
A gust of wind blew through the trees. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched a few strands of the victim’s hair stir in the breeze. She’d never again be able to brush that hair from her face.
I closed my eyes. Now was not the time to think of her as a human. Not if I wanted to keep it together.
I breathed in and out in an effort to calm myself. Instead, my back went ramrod straight as a smell caught my attention. It was the same smell I noticed back in the morgue. The smell of ash and something else, something floral.
I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand landed on my arm. “What is it?” Caleb asked.
I’d been so hyper focused on the crime that I’d forgotten about the people around me.
My eyes moved to his. “I think I know our killer’s scent.”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “Could you follow the scent to its source?”
I chewed the side of my lip. “I could try.”