The High Priestess - The Darkest Desires Series

THREE OF SWORDS - I

S

oft pink tears dribbled down the frozen faces. Slacked jawed, empty gazes; they looked out across the dusky grounds. Sweet morning dew glistened on the grass, in the reeds, and on the dead men's hair. The birds chirped in the distance, their songs high and sharp, their bellies fully of the dead men's eyes. Even the sun was rising to say hello, burning the chill in the autumn air and highlighting the gruesome scene before Detective McQueen. It could have almost been peaceful, if it wasn't for the ugly red and blue flashing lights that were casting everything in an ugly hue. Officers all around were stamping their feet fighting the cold that had yet to be chased away, while the coroners team struggled with wading boots and strode out to meet their bodies. McQueen took in the scene again, holding onto the gold cross that hung around his neck. It was already starting to leave an imprint in his hand

Two dead, both male, swayed in the chilly breeze that tunnelled through the bridge they hung from, naked as the day they were born. This was a fact brought to the forefront of McQueen's mind as a camera flashed to the side of him, illuminating the bodies. The twisted strips of floppy flesh that peeled off their legs, shone in the darkness and imprinted themselves onto his eyelids. Bones gleamed in the contrast of dark and light as the rivulets of shins and knee caps peeked from behind shredded muscle and loose tendons. The skin had long turned pale and mottled with purple bruises making it a wash of monochrome colours. Any blood left in their bodies had collected along the coarse ropes looped around their necks creating permanent blooming, red wreaths of their final moments.

McQueen felt he should at least be slightly numb to this kind of sight, but instead he felt the same revulsion he always did. It was a slight comfort however, that he wasn't numb to their death. Numb to death would mean he was ok with it and even though they would be in a better place, no one deserved early entrance into God's pearly gates. Brushing off his revulsion, McQueen instead took in the land around him, using his training to see what was often missed.

"A whole lot of feck all." He grumbled softly.

The bodies had been hanging out for a few hours from what Doctor Cassidy said. Tissue decomposing, eyes gone and putrid smell that twisted up your nose if you stood downwind in the wrong place. They were long dead. A rough rope hung around each of their necks which had been looped into the stone railings. The bridge itself was beautiful. Late eighteen-hundreds, it was a smooth, gentle slope, all hand carved out of creamy white stone. The vision was marred by the bodies though. Yet, either side were great expanse of green, lush grass, with dark green pine trees towering either side. It was the idyllic scene of the English country side with miles of land to travel, all leading back to one grand Hall. You couldn't see the Hall from here, but there were lights on the horizon and two officers had been sent to find the land owners, as well as the two previous Officers who'd failed to return.

"All right!" A strong, feminine voice called out, "Be gentle with him." Looking back to the bridge, McQueen saw Doctor Cassidy guiding one of the bodies down towards the gently flowing water. The sound of bone clanking made McQueen flinch, and he couldn't help it. He'd seen death before: gunshot wounds, stab wounds, strangulation, but he'd never seen shredded skin and muscle. Never had he seen a staging such as this one. Staged suicides in other cases, yes, but these poor men of God, they'd been hung, and that wasn't the worse of it. Muscles shredded, tendons snapped, the entire lower half of the two bodies had been chewed up by a wood-chipped, or something to that effect. Bones gleamed through the red carnage, all the way up to where loops of intestine hung out. Probably not a wood chipper, but something had stripped flesh from bone.

"Hear me Father... Hear my prayers." McQueen muttered as he watched the young teen drop the last three feet limply into awaiting arms. "Be with God, our Father, Your power brings us to birth, Your providence guides our lives, and by Your command we return to dust." McQueen rushed, his cross in one hand, while he kept his eyes on the deceased. It would be disrespectful otherwise.