Walking across the rusted rooftop, Patricia Hartwell took great pride in sitting down in her tattered plastic lounge chair and observing the carnage that the Cross-Killer had created earlier in the day. Using a set of binoculars, Patricia smiled at the futility of the emergency crews and crane operators trying to clean up the mess within the river. “Annoying little ants, you know that she’s going to do it again.” A dreadfully unpleasant half-dead female voice cackled. “Yet, the handi-work should bring the real target out from the shadows. Come visit me, Special Agent.”

Tossing the binoculars to the side, Patricia happened to catch a glimpse of her black and green gangrenous skin. “This shell is deteriorating quickly.” Once considered a fairly good-looking and well-built firefighter of thirty-five years, Patricia Heartwell had seen many better days. Silky brown hair that draped to the bottom of her neck now appeared stingy, vine-like and coated in a sheen of oil that matched the look of a swamp. Patricia’s eyes used to be pools of brown understanding and hope that helped people in a pinch, given her job as an EMS worker. Opaque and shaped like sharp, deadly diamonds, the pretty orbs changed to solid objects of hate and chaos that matched her newer appearance.

“Yes, Patricia…you cry. Empower me.” The voice gurgled and coughed up muddy phlegm then continued, “It’s taken me about ten months to get this meat bag to this state.” Patricia ran her dirty hands through her hair and laughed. “Face it, Patricia no longer exists. No more boring life of tiny fires and useless talking, retired at fifty and useless.” She stood up from the chair and headed for the door that led deeper into the four-story building. “You now have a great title and will be remembered well beyond the fifteen minutes of your little retirement party.”

Feeding off of the personality within her, Patricia reached for the broken doorknob and watched the rust break and float off into the air. “Don’t worry, meatsack…Your time is almost up. Enjoy being…” She walked down the stairs, headed to her latest victim. “...The Cross Killer. Forever immortalized for death and destruction.”

Taking the time for a deep breath, The Cross-Killer enjoyed the scent of the dead fish smell that permeated the building, The Cross-Killer took the time to think of how she would handle the man known as Noah Osborn. When the familiar feeling of her stomach turning as though it would wretch, she knew she had the plan. “Very inventive…I like it. Should bring enough fear to feed from and prepare for Agent Miller.”

The Cross-Killer’s hideaway was genius for the time and usefulness. An old and abandoned fish processing plant that had been built in the late sixties and early seventies that serviced most of central Virginia with various saltwater and freshwater fish.

Simplicity had been what the designer of the building intended. Four walls made with cinder block with little places for venting and a few windows, and a ceiling made from iron and steel much like a normal warehouse. Beyond where there used to be four roll-up doors, was a decrepit and rotting pier where the processing plant could unload the boats as they came in and delivered their cargo of rockfish, oysters and blue crab only found in the Chesapeake Bay. Subsequently, it is the fish and oysters that left the smell behind that The Cross-Killer enjoyed the most. She could easily close her eyes and picture the layout of the floor where workers would quickly separate the catch into their own bins, and quickly stuffing the items in packed dry ice. Over the years, the scent permeated the entire building, seemingly oozing from the walls itself.

The Cross-Killer made her way through the big hall to one of the smaller out-of-use freezers and opened a door to reveal her latest captive, Noah Osborn. “How are you…” She started to speak and noticed that the man was either passed out or asleep. “...We can’t have this.” Emitting a low gurgling laugh, She walked over to Noah and slapped his face. “Wake up lamb. You will have plenty of time to sleep while you hang on the crucifix.”

Feeling the hard slap-punch, Noah blinked his eyes open and looked upon his kidnapper with disgust. “Proud of yourself?” He tried to retort. “Carnage is the word of the month thanks to you.” He spat on the floor near The Cross-Killers feet.

“So defiant while strapped to that metal table, Noah.” she winked one of her diamond-dead eyes and reached for a drill. “I really enjoy the fact that I get to add your lovely blood to the fish blood all over the floor. Just think about it like this, I am preparing you much like you’d scale a fish and discard its innards just to consume the flesh after nearly burning it.” She snarled, “You flesh beings are so strange. No matter.” She squeezed the drill trigger a bit and watched the stainless steel pin twist. “Just like your fish, you get to feel every bit of what is about to happen.” She walked around and knelt in front of Noah, “You have the fortune of me trying something new. It might be a bit rough without any sort of pain reliever, so I have these.” She layed out five little pens, “Epinephrine. I can’t have you dying in the process, that would defeat the purpose.” She turned Noah’s head to look at his crucifix. “You see that? You get hooks. So it's going to be like your flesh is tearing from your bones.”

Fear slowly creeping into Noah’s voice, the man attempted to get himself out of the situation he was in. “You know, you don’t have to do this. You have already made your mark.” He paused due to his teeth chattering, “You are already a legend in the eyes of other killers and stalkers.”

Patricia turned Noah’s head to face the fuzzy tubed television and strapped him firmly in place. “Nice try, Noah.” She pressed the button to make the drill zing again. “There are rules though. Thirty-one days in October, thirty-one days of death. Halloween and your demons demand it.” She snarled. “Interestingly enough, you are the only one not begging for their life, but rather trying to talk me out of it.” Patricia reached down and squeezed Noah’s triceps and found the thickest part of his humerus. “No lying, this is going to hurt. Do your best to watch the strangeness on the tube.” The Cross-Killer pressed the steep tip of the drill against Noah’s arm and depressed the trigger. Within a second the drill twisted into the skin and muscle of the man’s arm, sending blood and meat all over the table.

Unbelievable pain erupted from Noah’s arm and made the once proud sleuth-man scream out in unbearable pain. “PLEASE!!! ST—STOPPP….” He begged and tried to squirm as the metal dug into his arm and finally into the bone. When the smell of burning bone reached Noah’s nose, he tensed up and began to wretch to no avail. Agony rippled through his mind and in a flash, he thought that this must be how it felt to get an amputation. “W—WHY!!!???” He scream-cried and felt the drill retreat, providing a little relief.

Refusing to give the man a direct answer, The Cross-Killer picked up a cast iron hook that would normally twist into a wall until it was seated so it could hold heavy items in a normal home. She picked up a small butane blow torch and started to heat up the hook. “Look there. See that? The woman crossed her arms and tossed herself off a twenty-story building.” She spread some of Noah’s blood on her finger and drew a blood cross on his forehead. “Wait until you hear the interview.” She held the ring up for Noah to see, the iron red from the heat. A certain satisfaction welled within the Cross-Killer when Noah started to slowly sob and resign himself to the next part. She felt and fed off the fear for a few minutes longer, then twisted the burning metal into the hole she’d created.

Each twist of the ring cauterized the wound as the threads dug into Noah’s flesh and finally came to a stop where the drill had gone deeply into the bone. Noah for his part simply gave up. He thought about his other limbs and came to the conclusion that at least three more drill episodes just like the one he barely endured were coming. When the pain turned into a pulsing throb, Noah started crying once more. “In-interview?” He managed to push the pain from his thoughts and asked Patricia.

Once Patricia felt the heavy fear dissipate, she allowed Noah to listen to the television and how the family and friends of the jumper was actually a very happy person. How the person worked for a women's crisis center and generally liked taking care of others. Noah looked away from the screen and at the blood-stained floor. “That is a typical response. Family doesn’t like to paint a negative picture of their loved one.”

The Cross-Killer danced her way back to the television, hit a few buttons on the recording and brought it back to when the person jumped. “Watch closely, lamb. See if you can spot the anomaly.” Patricia went back and picked up the drill and started pressing on Noah’s left leg. “I am not in a super hurry, so just watch.”

Noah kept looking at the floor, actively refusing to look at the person jumping from the building again. “No way. I don’t honestly care. What difference does it matter if someone commits suicide? You are standing there drilling into my body with the intent of killing me.” Noah felt the fear and hopeless situation creep back into his head and heart.

Instead of depressing the trigger to plunge into the man’s leg, The Cross-Killer walked around and pulled Noah’s head up so he was forced to watch the recording. “It isn’t the suicide that I wanted you to see, although that is very thrilling.” She let out a sardonic laugh. Patricia advanced the recording frame to frame and stopped when it appeared a black cloud poured from the jumper's mouth. “That’s what you didn’t see before. Look closely, now.” The Cross-Killer shuffled over to the somewhat fuzzy screen and pointed at the four misty-looking arms with razor-sharp claws. “The eyes.”

Noah, with tears still streaming down his face blurrily gazed on the blob. “Th-they are…you…your eyes.” Noah squeezed his eyes shut and felt the tears wash away from his vision. “Chaotic and hate-filled diamonds…” He trailed off, wishing he could wake up from the nightmare he was currently in.

Patricia pressed the normal run button and let the other news start playing. “Ah, good you see it.” She cracked her knuckles, and picked up the drill once more and resumed her duties. Once more flesh ripped open, blood sprung all over the place and doused them both. The Cross-Killer leaned into the heavier leg muscles and watched the auger rip out more muscle. Music to her ears, Patricia listened intently as Noah screamed out in pain once more. Combined with the dread of the moment, Patricia felt herself grow in power once more. “Good, good…my little lamb.” She felt Noah go limp and the drill bite into bone once more without him moving. “We can’t have that.” Patricia finished tunneling into the man’s femur and added a second hook, cauterizing that wound as well. Swiftly she grabbed one of the five needles she brought with her and jammed it into Noah’s neck. Within a few seconds he was awake and still in quite a bit of pain. “There. At least we are halfway done. You are handling it like a champion.” She wickedly winked one of her diamond eyes.

Noah felt his heart racing and the pain unrelenting. He screamed out loud enough that his voice echoed through the whole warehouse in an attempt to regain some control over his body and mind. He felt the drill get placed on his opposite leg and waited for the pain to begin again, but it never came. Hearing a small metal chair being scraped across the cement, Noah turned to see Patricia sitting down and watching the television once more. “What now? You aren’t going to keep up the torture you sadistic bitch?” Noah carefully worded.

The Cross-Killer shook her head and pointed at the recorded items being played. “You see there are lots of strange happenings going on out there, and my body count keeps them from being…well noticed closely.” She paused and tapped her rotting bottom lip. “I was the first you know.” The Cross-Killer waited for a response that never came. “Oh, very well.” She paused to gather her thoughts, “I thought you being the little investigator and conspiracy gentleman you made yourself to be, that my little story would intrigue you.”

Waiting for the sharp pain to become a tolerable throb like before with his arm, Noah opened his eyes and looked at the screen once more. “Why do you care what I know? This is more of the torture you are planning anyway.” He sighed, “How long did you keep your other victims alive and terrified with your words along with your actions?”

“Once a detective, always a detective.” Patricia sat back down in her chair and fluffed her stringy and blood-laden hair. “Your kind always wants to know things. I mean look at the detectives who are still looking for DB Cooper over a matter of two hundred thousand dollars. They refuse to give up after what, forty or forty-five years?” The Cross-Killer licked the blood and meat from her fingers and smiled. “As I said I was the first.” She pointed at the screen, “There are many others now.” Patricia noticed that Noah’s eyes had begun to gloss over once more. “Blood loss, hunger and thirst. So much upkeep for physical bodies.” She snorted, “Alas, I only have the water from the lake out there, which given your time left should be safe enough.” She laughed and grabbed an old tin can that once held anchovies, then filled it with the murky lake water.

Noah grimaced as the mostly algae-infested water went down his dry throat. Deciding to drag out the time he had left in an effort to maybe find a way out of his situation, Noah relinquished and asked a series of questions. “You said you were the first? How do you know? You are right…” Noah felt residual pain in his leg and grimaced, “...right…I..Um…” He started crying once more to let the pain run its course. Sniffling and squeezing the tears from his eyes once more, the man continued. “...Always a detective, what are you?”

Without much forethought, The darkness that resided in Patricia and took on the moniker The Cross-Killer began talking slowly. “Much like a newborn doesn’t know what it is, I don’t know the full answer to that question.” This darkness recalled itself and its four arms with attached wicked claws, grappling and pulling itself free of the black and nearly boiling pit. “Like a child, I am self-aware and possess a certain amount of chaos and hate within my misty form.” Patricia stopped and stared off into the distance once more. “These diamond eyes saw that the black muck had tainted the trees and land all around where the pit resided.” Pausing for a moment, the darkness could once more see its amorphic blob of itself, “Possession and fear are what make me stronger.” It pinched the meat of Patricia’s arm and felt its claw tear out a chunk of the body. “While I can survive and can cause issues in my mist form, it is…much…more satisfying to take another shell.”

Noah listened the best he could through the burning pain in his arm and leg. Finally able to piece together a small plan, He took a risk and calmly asked what he considered the most important question. “Can you show me?”

Breaking free of its own birth trance, the Cross-Killer shook its head side to side. “Not a chance. It took me a few hours to gain control of this shell. I plan to transfer from this sack of rotting meat in due time.” It winked one of its empty soulless eyes and stood up. “You little lamb will be instrumental in getting me another body.” It let out a pure evil cackle, “Your other champion tracked you down as well.” Patricia picked up the drill and then continued, “Charles Sheppard, You know…or knew him.”

“Y..yes.” Noah stammered over his affirming word, “...Wh..what did you d..d..do to him.” He sputtered as fear and fright sought to consume him once more.

Patricia set the drill on Noah’s back and skipped upstairs. “It was quite inventive, even for me.” Opening another set of cargo doors, The Cross-Killer exposed another fifteen crosses and one bundled body. “Here we go. As you can see, you and this sack are just unknown lambs to the slaughter, a number to be reported. Halloween is such a fun time for your kind.” She tossed the body over a rail where it landed with a thud on the floor close to Noah.

When Noah jumped at the sound of the body hitting the ground, it once more irritated his new wounds, sending another jolt of white-hot pain through his body. He grimaced and drooled as he spoke, “W-What d-d-did you do to him. Oh lord…” He cried and shook helplessly on the steel table.

Laughing as she made her way back to Noah, the misty darkness that was Patricia answered Noah, “The short answer is exsanguinate.” She picked up the drill and resumed her work, digging into Noah’s second leg. “I bled the fool dry. His blood mixed with the black pool of lake water outside.” She felt the drill get stuck and reversed the auger, making Noah scream once more. “Music to my ears.” She laughed and managed to affix the burning ring into his leg, “Once I bled the little scientist dry, I used a warm fan and a little mist…You’d call it magic, and dried the corpse out.” Patricia felt Noah go limp once more and sighed. “You are becoming problematic.” She stabbed Noah with another injection of adrenaline and waited for him to again open his eyes. “I said you are going to die when I say so. Right now, I need you to be alive.”

Crying uncontrollably, Noah felt the loss of his friend and the ongoing white flames of pain echoing through his body. “You’ve wrecked everything he and I were working towards. We were trying to get the vampires of the area gone. Why?” He cried and jolted again when the Cross-Killer began working on the undamaged arm.

“Vampires?” The news washed over the Patricia-mist creature and she paused while the blood flowed from Noah’s arm. “I suppose it makes sense, lamb. Tell me..” She pondered the possibilities as she affixed the final burning ring into Noah’s arm, “...How do you know there are vampires? I assume you mean the creatures of human legend.” Patricia coughed up part of her stomach, where it was black and green. “Noah…” The dark creature float-walked in front of the abused man, and held her rotting hand in front of his nose. “Sleeping. Fine. I am done with you for the moment anyway.” She unbuckled Noah from the steel table and chained him to the wall in the same room, television still playing the strange news. “I need more information about vampires.” She watched the television as the reporter started a story about a grandmother who had just murdered her grandchildren and stuffed them into vacuum-sealed bags. “They don’t know much fear. So I can’t detect them with that ability.”

Patricia got up and walked to the brackish lake that overlooked the fish factory. “The more I interact, the better a plan I can come up with.” She looked up at the sun and guessed it was close to two o'clock, “Come on new meat, follow your breadcrumbs. Come save Noah you predictable bitch.”

When Elle pulled off the highway towards Noah’s Petersburg home, she’d been driving at a high speed with her blue lights flashing. Usually taking roughly over an hour, Elle got to the city limits within forty-five minutes. She pulled over to and stopped in an empty parking lot before punching in Noah’s address to her iPhone. “Cool. About three miles.” She spoke to herself and set the path.

Driving to Noah’s house was a test of her patience. She needed to see more of his detective work so she could figure out the remaining vampires and where her target, The Cross-Killer, was.

-It isn’t enough to stop the person, Agent Miller. You need to investigate why.-

A scary version of the thought dawned on her as she stopped the car in front of a one-story ranch. “What if there is no why. There is a chance this is just random killing.” She sighed and headed for the front door. Immediately she knew something was wrong. Where there should have been a door knocker, it was replaced with a crucifix. “Noah?” She knocked on the steel door and it swung open easily, having not been latched shut. “I don’t like this a bit.” Elle told herself and drew out her service .45 and headed into the house. “Noah, it's Agent Miller, call out if you can.” She pulled the hammer back on her pistol and took the house one room at a time, closing doors behind her as she did so. “Noah?? If you can alert me, just bang on something and I will come for you.” Elle waited and nothing but silence came from the man’s house. Sighing, Elle determined that the structure was empty and she replaced her pistol in her holster after placing the weapon back on safe and releasing the hammer to a neutral position.

Elle made her way back to the front door and then began to look over the house more closely since the home seemed empty and the front door open. Starting with the living room, Agent Miller saw the first signs of violence. Bloodstains on the carpet, broken picture frames and even the coffee table splintered into a bunch of pieces. Following the small blood trail from the living room to the kitchen, Elle knew that this is where the biggest part of the fight occurred.

Broken glass covered the floor in jagged piles with little bits of blood on them. Cutlery stabbed into walls, and even the dining table flipped over with a leg missing, which Elle found with blood all over it, “A bat. What the hell happened here, Noah?” Topping off the sight of the kitchen was the scent that lingered behind. Dead and rotting fish mixed with swamp water. Pinching her nose, Elle studied the kitchen a little more and discovered another crucifix that could hold something like a doll to it. It was after picking it up that she noticed the tightly wrapped paper affixed to the back of the cross. Uncurling the little note like a scroll, Elle began reading.

—

Agent Miller,

You have the unique opportunity to save Noah and capture me. All you need to find us is in the kitchen where you found this tiny note.

I will be looking forward to meeting you,

The Cross-Killer, Patricia Heartwell

—

Elle blinked and opened her FBI database and checked out the name left behind. “Interesting. Patricia was reported missing ten months ago by her husband?” Elle spoke aloud to herself. Elle read the rest of Patricia’s file and found out that the woman had been visiting friends out by the farms and had been due to return home a day before she disappeared. “Car found three weeks after disappearance, deep in the woods…covered in tar?”

Elle scratched her head impatiently and tried to make sense of the note in conjunction with the woman’s disappearance. Making her way back to her cruiser, Elle set down her iPad and opened her laptop and looked at the map of the surrounding cities and where the car was found. Using the function on the digital map to see a wider area, Elle zoomed the map out and spotted a lake. Raising one of her eyebrows, Elle highlighted what was called Moore’s lake. “Could that be it?” She pondered and typed the name of the lake in a search engine and smiled as the results came up. “Somehow I knew it. The lake was named after the fishing company that developed the land. That is a man-made lake.” Reading further, Elle began reading the last water readings that the City of Petersburg had performed nearly a year before. “Brackish and cannot sustain life. Diesel and oil products have made even swimming impossible for the lake.” Snapping her fingers and closing the lid to the computer, Elle started the engine and headed for the old fish factory. “I am sure the place smells like dead fish too, given the state of the water.”

Following the directions that her Tomtom provided from the dashboard, her drive took about ten minutes. When the indicator pointed to an overgrown and broken asphalt road, Elle turned off the map and headed down the unused road. Along the roadside were signs with peeled paint advertising the lake and Moore’s Fishing and Crab. “Established 1899?” Elle laughed and snorted to herself as the FBI cruiser made its way to the clearing that held the processing plant. Noticing the putrid yellow vines and the bubbling black lake, Elle shook her head and shut off the engine. “What a place.” She paused and heard cranes off to her right. “No way. She’s watching us.” Elle got out of her vehicle and walked to the trunk, and donned her bureau-issued AR-15. “This is a fucking trap, and you know it.” She muttered to herself as she checked the amount of ammunition in the clip.

Taking advantage of the sun’s rays to hide in the shadows, Elle made her way around the building and the one permeating thing she smelled was the exact same rotting fish scent that lingered at Noah’s home. Elle reached the south side of the plant and a light flashed on and covered the area in bright white light.

“How much longer are you going to walk around outside, Agent Miller?” The Cross-Killer asked. “I have watched you since you turned down Moore’s Lane.” Without being seen by the FBI agent, Patricia pushed the back door open and kept to the shadows. “Please come in, we have much to discuss. Unless you plan to shoot me now and get it over with.”

Elle waited for the motion sensor to turn off the light before she flicked on the night vision scope that was atop of her weapon. “As a matter of fact, I prefer we get this over with.” Elle snapped the safety to fire, took aim at The Cross-Killer’s head and pulled the trigger.

-Crack-bang!-

“One shot, one kill, Good job Miller.” Elle watched as Patricia’s head blew into pieces and the body of The Cross-Killer hit the ground and then twitched. “Noah?” Elle screamed and waited for a response that never came. Slowly, while still using the setting sun as her guide to enhance the night vision scope, Elle tracked across the entire main bay without spotting anything else that she needed to be aware of.

She glanced down at the body of The Cross-Killer and within a second, felt an icy breeze wrap around her neck and then dissipate like it never happened. Flipping off the scope and placing the rifle over her arm, Elle dug out a flashlight from her gear and spotted a set of fresh bloody footprints going to the second floor of the building. “Noah?” She attempted once more, breaking the silence. Again, nothing but the sounds of the coming night radiated in her ears.

-Was I too late?-

Elle took a deep breath and dismissed the thought. “If you already killed Noah, then why bring me here?” She spoke aloud and had another shiver go down the length of her spine, making her skin-pop with goosebumps. Holding the flashlight and peering into the shadows, Elle suddenly felt like she was vulnerable without the rifle in hand. Quickly tearing off some of her FBI tee, Elle used it to affix the bright light to the end of the rifle barrel and once more began to scan the bottom floor and where she was headed on the second floor.

-What was that?-

Hair went up on the back of Elle’s neck as she swore she saw something just outside the circle of light. Directly looking into the darkness provided no relief to the rising worry that had somehow found its way into her mind.

-Vampires hide in the dark. But…the corpse is still there.-

Swinging the rifle over where she’d killed The Cross-Killer, Elle gasped as she watched the remainder of the body disintegrate into nothing but a puddle of gangrenous goo. Once more off to her left, Elle felt a presence and fired her rifle in the direction. She scanned the area where she fired and only saw the hole in the cinderblock where the bullet hit.

-Not a vampire. What the hell am I dealing with?-

When the answer to that question came as a loud thud of a body wrapped up in tight bandages, Elle jumped backwards and accidentally pulled the trigger and sent a bullet into the apparent corpse. Shaking a bit more than she was used to, Elle set the safety on the rifle and walked over to inspect the body. Taking the time to scan the area once more with the flashlight, Elle slung the gun over her shoulder once more and reached into one of her cargo pockets and pulled out a couple of chem-lights. She popped the vial in the small plastic wand and let the green glow shine where she was standing, and used the other to mark the stairwell she’d used to get to the second floor. “Okay, this is number sixteen or something like that.” She reached for the top layer of the cloth that covered the dead person’s face. Taking a few minutes and using her tactical knife to cut away stubborn strips, Elle eventually made out the face of the person. “Professor…” She whispered and shook her head. “A little late to save you, apparently.” Internally, she knew the right action was to leave the building and get to her FBI cruiser and call for backup. “I can’t ask for backup when there is no one here…” She trailed off as the ice presence poured from the inky darkness and grabbed her throat, this time squeezing hard enough for Elle to turn blue and begin shivering from the cold touch.

Dreadful and authoritative, Elle heard a deep voice permeate her mind. “Good evening, my new Barbie. I know you can hear me now. I have to thank you for disposing of the sack of meat I was inhabiting.” Elle heard the inky dark laugh, causing her to shiver with fear. “Yes, feed me barbie. You want to know … why you are here?” It laughed once more and tightened its grip. “Entrapment.”

Already aware that the meeting was a trap of some kind, Elle had prepared for things like a kidnapping or the ransom of a federal agent. What she wasn’t ready for was the idea she’d become a slave. When the pressure on her neck subsided enough so she could grab a breath of air, Elle finally saw the creature that was holding her.

Made completely of both a black mist and a deep gray smoke, the ghostlike being blended easily into shadows. At any given time the thing had four amorphic arms that faded and reformed at the monster's request. Trying to focus on the beast rather than her own fear, Elle saw that her captor was devoid of a mouth and reasoned that it communicated through either some form of telepathy or because it was currently touching her. Lastly and most frightening were its eyes. While the diamond shape and blazing white pierced the darkness, there was a visible intellect that came through the never-ending cruelty. Elle knew at that moment that whatever this creature was doing, was intentional and thought out.

“So, a crucifix for me as well?” Elle managed to squeak out from the pain surrounding her throat.

Showing more of itself to Elle, the smoky creature resumed its tight hold on her neck and started giggling with an evil undertone, “Quite the opposite, Barbie.” One of the two remaining clawed arms slithered its way through the top of Elle’s skull. “Ah…” The misty monster expressed relief at the pain that shot from Elle. “Yes, that’s it Agent Miller. The pain is nice…but…” It seemed to swallow like it was parched for water, “...revenge is so much better. All of this anger will sustain me, new meat.”

Elle collapsed to her knees and fought to take deep breaths through the wincing pain pulsing from her skull. “Cryptic. Do you ever shut up?” Elle snarled and gasped once more. “Whatever you are going to do, just do it you sadistic monster.” Elle resigned herself to the fate of the creature and went limp enough that her rifle fell to the ground in a light crash of plastic hitting cement.

“Monster?” It floated down to be eye to eye with Elle. “I am the dark that's been jailed for hundreds of years. Your enemy is mine. They gathered us up once before you know.” The thing waited for Elle to put up another fight, but didn’t feel the woman’s determination any longer. “Since you believe in vampires, it is time you believe in at least two other things, my slave.” Using its fourth hand, the monster jerked Elle’s chin up and pulled until the helpless agent screamed. “Better…Your pain is wonderfully addictive.”

“Glad I could help.” Elle fought against the ice that started crawling through her veins, taking over her body and mind. “...the…the slow way you are giving information is another form of torture and control?”

Nodding in agreement, the dark mist seemed to give a smile from its diamond eyes. “Magic. There is a certain amount of people here that possess the ability to tap into the residual mystic energy that is slowly being replaced by your technology.” Having sent the ice flow all over Elle’s body, the creature left her mind alone for a few extra seconds. “The living darkness is the second. Beings like myself. The more I am connected to a host, the more I recall the time we were here before.” It waited a moment. “Your language would call my kind Shadewraith’s.”

Elle noted the name just before her personality seemed to blend with the one of her Shadewraith and all the pain stopped.

-Fate has made me fade away. Sorry Angelie…my..-

Slipping completely into Elle’s body, the Shadewraith made her new body smile. “That is so fun. Yes, you keep struggling.” It tapped its lip real fast. “There is a little more to do before The Cross-Killer is killed by the hero.”

Leaning over to pick up the rifle, the Shadewraith picked up the bandaged remains of the professor and grabbed a cross made of bone. “Anthropologist.” It laughed and used the bandages to tie the body to the cross. Hefting it over her shoulder, the imposter toted the large cross outside and to the designated place that had been dug out hours before. “Look at that. Your kind is too stupid to see you placing the cross, Barbie.” The Shadewraith laughed and affixed the crucifix according to its prior plan and headed back to the factory.

“Now your turn, Noah.” The creature emulating Elle opened the door and walked to the captive and pulled the tape off his mouth. “Time for you to experience what I worked hard for you to remember last.” The Shadewraith raised one of her thin eyebrows. “Yes, Thank you.” She poked Noah’s belly. “You were instrumental in giving me a new body. Your reward is coming.”

The shade picked up Noah and used the rings embedded in the man’s flesh and hung him on four hooks on the wooden crucifix and designed to pull on the rings. She dragged the last of her sacrifices to its location and made it face where the rescue crews were still working diligently to clean up the mess from earlier. When the cross was in place, Noah howled in pain alerting the folks close by. “Perfect timing, fresh meat. You scream. You’ll still be dead before they can free you.” Elle-wraith made her way back to the rooftop of the processing plant and watched as paramedics attempted to save Noah. Using The Cross-Killer’s sniper rifle, Elle planted a bullet between Noah’s eyes and laughed as the others ran for cover. “Goodbye Noah.”

Running downstairs to set up the scene, the pretend Agent Miller placed the sniper rifle on the wooden dock and wiped the weapon clean of fingerprints. Noting that she heard a bunch of footsteps coming from the woodline behind her, The Shadewraith took the time to play out a verbal scene that they could all hear.

“Patricia Heartwell, I am Special Agent Miller and I am placing you under arrest for the murder of at least sixteen people.”

Throwing her voice like a ventriloquist, the emulated voice of Patricia came out perfectly. “I am not going anywhere with you agent.”

-Bang! Crack!-

Elle-wraith fired off a round from her assault rifle and tossed a big cinderblock into the water, making it sound like a body had fallen into the devilish water. Moments later the police arrived on the scene and Elle held up her rifle and badge. “Agent Elle Miller, I just killed The Cross-Killer. She was about to shoot me with that rifle. I had no choice.”

“Perfect work Elle.” Deputy Director Powell responded. “The Killer was wanted dead or alive.” Sarah put away her service pistol and walked to Elle, and shook her hand. “Good work. Now let’s get you home and let me talk to the press.” Sarah shook her head with a smile on her face, “I knew I was right by taking a chance on you, Miller.”

-Now the real work begins. I have a few days left in the month to finish what was started. Get the others to assist and we will have our vengeance.-

The Shadewraith smiled and headed to her police cruiser. “Boss, if you don’t mind..” the beast paused and plopped in the car seat. “I have no interest in the reporters, I would prefer to get this stench off of me.”

Sarah giggled a bit and nodded, “Very well. I will see you in a few days. Take some time off and rest. Good work, Agent Miller.”

Drawing on Elle’s memory about the vehicle, the shade went through the motions of turning off the emergency lights and shutting down all of the FBI equipment, before driving back towards its new home.

-Don’t forget to take care of this shell. It needs food, water and exercise. Use Elle’s menus for takeout once back at her home.-

The Shadewraith drove silently back to Elle’s apartment, all the while watching the moon rise in the distance. “It seems you were obsessed with a girl named Casey Rivers. This body needs rest, then we will follow up on that issue.”