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Tucker nodded. “A lot of dead vampyrs. A lot of valuable artifacts.”
It made perfect sense. Despite their protected status, colony culls were still poorly regulated affairs. The bodies were supposed to be cremated afterward, but many went missing. People took souvenirs, including the police meant to safeguard the bodies. Barbara had once caught a young cop with a penis in his lunchbox. And that wasn’t a euphemism.
A cull of this size could be the Doc’s big payday. His retirement fund.
“Let’s say that was the Doc’s plan,” Barbara said. “Was Marcus’s murder part of it?”
“Maybe the Doc thought an attack wasn’t enough.”
“You think he set Marcus up?”
“It’s possible.”
She tapped her chin. “But the killing still has all the hallmarks of a vampyr killing. Why would a vampyr want to see their own colony culled?”
“Perhaps we’re looking at this wrong,” Tucker said. “What if this vampyr, this killer, isn’t one of the Colony?”
Barbara frowned. “An outlier?”
It was rare, but some vampyrs did live apart from colonies, usually because they had been cast out. And usually, they didn’t last too long. Isolated from their colony, a vampyr was vulnerable. They often got into trouble searching for food or fell prey to illegal hunters.
Vampyrs might once have been regarded as fearsome monsters, but those days were long gone. UV flares for self-defense were readily available online and many homes had UV security lights. UV guns, grenades and “light bombs” were supposed to be restricted to law enforcement, but some still found their way on to the black market. Living as an outlier was dangerous. Only the most damaged and desperate vampyrs chose that life.
Barbara mulled Tucker’s suggestion over. “Okay, but I keep coming back to the ring. Why would the perpetrator want us to know they killed both boys?”
“Killers often like to boast about their crimes.”
“Human killers, usually.”
“You think this is a human killer now?”
“No. But…maybe the motive is more human.” Her mind was whirring. “Most vampyr attacks are opportunistic, driven by hunger and need. Often there are minor attacks first, where the victim survives. There’s usually an escalation. But there’s none of that here.”
Tucker nodded thoughtfully. Barbara continued, a theory forming in her mind.
“We’ve worked on the assumption that this is the same—a vampyr driven by the desire for blood. But what if our perpetrator is simply driven by the desire to kill? The blood is a bonus. The pleasure is in the murder itself. And in getting away with it.”
Tucker’s face creased. “Like a serial killer?”
“Possibly. And why do serial killers usually send messages to the police?”
“To taunt them.”
Barbara nodded, a coldness seeping into her gut. “And to let them know they’re not done yet.”
34
The chapel was dimly lit. Cold crept between gaps in the wooden frame and the floor was dirt and sawdust. Makeshift pews were arranged in front of an altar, behind which hung a large, white cross.
It was a functional space. Still, Colleen had tried to make the best of the raw materials that God had provided. To create a warm and relaxing ambience for worship. Choral songs played softly and the scent of incense drifted up toward the rafters. A pastor should do all they could to welcome people, both the faithful and those who weren’t yet part of the flock.
A willing Christian was always better than one who felt obliged or forced to convert to the path of righteousness. After all, the duty was hers. To lead sinners from temptation. To show them the light, as she had been shown the light. To take those, even the ones some would call irredeemable, and convert them to God’s care. That was her mission.
She had shed her coat and sat with her head bowed, enjoying this time of contemplation. The cold didn’t bother her. Never had. She felt herself insulated in God’s love. Warmed from within by her own sense of purpose.
The boy’s murder was a tragedy. But perhaps it was a necessary sacrifice. God had his reasons. He wanted the people of Deadhart to see the evil that shadowed them. You could not live side by side with Satan. You could not compromise with the Devil. Evil, in all its forms, must be banished. She had learned that at a young age. The Devil wore many faces.
Prayers and protests were not enough. Christians were soldiers. They needed to fight for their way of life. Just as Colleen had fought to become who she was today. To escape her background. To change her destiny. She was a patient woman, and she had waited a long time for this moment. She smiled to herself, aglow with conviction and belief.
