Shadow Of Hearts (Emily Prentiss X OC)

Chapter 2: Ritualistic

The night crept by as the team pushed forward, their focus honed on the ritualistic elements of the case. Reid pored over ancient texts and cultural histories, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities, while Morgan and JJ continued their deep dive into the victims' lives, searching for any hint of connection that might lead them to the unsub. Meanwhile, Echo and Rossi worked together, tracing the origin of the mysterious perfume that lingered at each crime scene. It was an intense, exhausting process, but there was an unspoken determination that bound the team together—a shared belief that they were close to a breakthrough.

Emily found herself drawn to Echo's side more often than not. It was almost magnetic, the way they gravitated toward each other, exchanging ideas and observations in quiet, intense conversations. Echo's insights were sharp, often cutting through the noise to reveal a crucial detail that others might have overlooked. But beyond her brilliance, there was something else—a vulnerability that Emily glimpsed in those rare moments when Echo's guard slipped. It intrigued her, made her want to know more, to peel back the layers of the woman who had so quickly become an integral part of the team.

The turning point came in the early hours of the morning, when Echo and Rossi made a breakthrough with the perfume. They had traced it to a niche, artisanal brand that specialized in custom blends—scents that were personalized for each client, often with specific emotional or psychological triggers in mind. The realization hit them hard: the unsub wasn’t just using the perfume as a signature. It was a weapon, carefully chosen to manipulate the victims, to invoke specific memories or emotions that left them vulnerable.

"This perfume," Echo said, her voice tight with urgency as she relayed the information to the team, "it’s designed to evoke a sense of nostalgia, to transport the wearer back to a specific moment in time. Whoever our unsub is, they’re using it to control their victims, to make them relive a memory—one that the unsub is then able to exploit."

Emily felt a chill run down her spine. The implications were horrifying, but they also made sense. It explained the lack of struggle, the eerie calm that seemed to precede each murder. The victims hadn’t fought back because, in their minds, they were somewhere else—somewhere safe, somewhere familiar. And then, in their most vulnerable state, the unsub struck.

"Reid," Hotch said, his voice cutting through the tension in the room, "can you cross-reference this with any historical rituals that involve sensory manipulation, particularly smell?"

Reid nodded, his fingers already flying over his laptop. "There are several possibilities," he said, his voice quick and precise. "Many ancient cultures used scent as a way to connect with the divine or to enter altered states of consciousness. It’s possible that our unsub is mimicking one of these rituals, but with a modern twist."

The room buzzed with the intensity of their newfound direction. The pieces were starting to fit together, the patterns emerging from the chaos. But there was still one crucial element missing—the identity of the unsub.

Emily leaned over the case files, her mind racing. They had the motive, the method, but who was the person behind it? She glanced at Echo, who was deep in conversation with Rossi, her brow furrowed in concentration. Emily admired her determination, the way she never seemed to back down from a challenge. It was a quality she recognized in herself, and it only deepened her respect—and her attraction—for Echo.

As they continued to work, the hours ticking by, Emily and Echo found themselves paired up by Hotch, tasked with interviewing a potential witness who had come forward after seeing a news report about the murders. The witness was a woman in her mid-thirties, a local artist who had noticed a strange man lurking around her gallery on several occasions—always around the time of the murders.

Emily drove, the quiet hum of the car engine filling the space between them. She stole a glance at Echo, who was staring out the window, her expression unreadable.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Emily asked, breaking the silence.

Echo turned to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about the case," she said, though there was a weight to her words that suggested there was more on her mind.

Emily nodded, sensing that Echo wasn’t ready to share whatever was bothering her. "We’re getting close," she said instead, keeping the conversation on safe ground. "We just need that last piece of the puzzle."

"Yeah," Echo agreed, but her tone was distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere.

They arrived at the artist’s studio, a small, eclectic space filled with paintings and sculptures that seemed to pulse with vibrant energy. The artist, a woman named Lydia, greeted them with a nervous smile, her hands twisting together in a sign of her anxiety.

"Thank you for meeting with us," Emily said, her tone gentle as they sat down in the gallery’s small office. "We understand this must be difficult, but anything you can tell us might help."

Lydia nodded, her eyes wide and fearful. "I don’t know if I’m just imagining things," she said, her voice trembling, "but after I saw the news, I couldn’t stop thinking about that man. He was…strange. The way he looked at the paintings, it was like he was searching for something."

"Can you describe him for us?" Echo asked, her voice steady and calming.

Lydia took a deep breath, her hands still twisting in her lap. "He was tall, thin, maybe in his early forties. He had this…intensity about him, like he was always on edge. And he smelled—"

Emily and Echo exchanged a glance. "He smelled like what?" Emily prompted.

"Like…flowers," Lydia said, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall. "But not just any flowers. It was a heavy, sweet scent. Like something from another time."

The description sent a jolt of recognition through Emily. The perfume. The unsub had been at the gallery, likely scouting for his next victim.

"Did he ever speak to you?" Echo asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Only once," Lydia replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He asked about one of the paintings. It was an old piece, something I’d gotten from an estate sale. He seemed…obsessed with it. Kept asking about the history, who had owned it before."

Emily felt the pieces clicking into place. The unsub was using the paintings as part of his ritual, each one connected to the victims in some way. It was a twisted form of collecting, each murder a reenactment of a moment from the past.

"Can you show us the painting?" Emily asked, her pulse quickening.

Lydia nodded, rising to her feet and leading them to a corner of the gallery where the painting hung. It was an old, dark piece, the colors muted with age. The scene depicted a woman standing in a field of flowers, her eyes closed, her hands folded as if in prayer. There was something haunting about it, something that made Emily’s skin prickle.

"Do you recognize this style?" Echo asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she studied the painting.

Emily shook her head. "No, but it feels familiar, like something I’ve seen before." She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she tried to place it. "This could be a depiction of an ancient ritual, one that our unsub is obsessed with recreating."

Echo nodded, her gaze still fixed on the painting. "We need to find out who the previous owner was, and if there’s any connection to our victims."

The realization hung heavy in the air. They were on the brink of something, the answers just out of reach. But as Emily glanced at Echo, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. They would find this unsub, and they would stop him.