Sacrificial Prerogatives

Part 2

Manhattan

Silas and William approached the building where three patrolmen stood guard. A;; were pale and glanced around furtively as if expecting an attack at any moment. When they saw the two detectives approaching, one of them swallowed hard "Detectives. Bodies are in the back room. Best steel yourselves."

They nodded as they went inside. Once in the back room, Silas swallowed down the bile that threatened to regurgitate everywhere and William gasped loudly. Three severely mutilated bodies lay in a heaped in the corner like discarded toys. Their throats had been slit, their faces branded with strange symbols, eyes and tongues savagely removed. Odd writing covered every inch of the walls in blood and Silas didn't need to check the bodies to know they had been drained of their life's fluid to provide the ink.

William stood there dumbfounded. Silas, however, felt a strange excitement. They would catch this villain! "William. Ask the patrolmen about witnesses. I'll continue here."

William, his face pale and his hands shaking, left without a word.

Silas looked at the floor noticing that there were no drag marks from the bodies. Rather, there was a trail of blood drops as if a paintbrush had been dipped in it and carried across the floor. He studied the drops and splatters, noticing with satisfaction that there was a partial footprint. It was however, a strange print indeed, vaguely animal-like in appearance. Standing next to it, he could see that it was massive. At least three sizes larger than his own. That would explain the condition of the bodies. Whoever, or whatever, did this had to have been incredibly strong.

He moved to the writing and began copying it into his notebook. An hour later he had finished and had but one spare page left in his book. He turned to see William. "No witnesses I take it?"

"None. A vagrant found it like this and reported it."

"Were the victims known around here?"

"The patrolmen had asked. No one remembers anyone matching their descriptions."

Silas frowned. "So, our victims were brought here, then were murdered."

"Were they prisoners? Kidnapped?"

Silas examined their wrists for the tell-tale marks left behind by manacles or ropes. "No, I don't think so. No cuts or bruising. They came willingly, or perhaps at the barrel of a gun. "

"Any ideas?"

"A few." He showed William the footprint. "Our killer shouldn't be too hard to spot, he is after all, quite massive."

"How so?"

Silas pointed again at the bloody print. "See there, his feet are at least three times the size of my own."

"Impossible! These have to be fake, or something else."

"No, I don't think so. Improbable, perhaps, but not impossible."

"That would make him what, seven or eight feet tall?"

"At least."

William shook his head in disbelief. "I don't buy it." He paused, then pointed at the walls. "What about the writing?"

Silas found it strange that William was ignoring the prints but didn't comment further. "I don't know. I might know someone who will, however."

"You check with your friend, I'll get the word out to look for anyone of unusual size."

Silas nodded. "Meet at the station?"

William nodded, turned and left. Silas looked once again at the scene. "Who would do something like this?"

After a few moments, he too, turned and left. As he did, he looked at the patrolmen. "Have the morgue pick up the bodies. Make sure no one else enters." The patrolmen nodded and Silas rubbed his temples in frustration. There was much going on here that he did not understand, and it vexed him greatly.