Chapter 11

The Wraith watched as his trophy drifted off into unconsciousness once again. He found it fascinating that the human body could endure so much for being so fragile.

He was almost done with her just one last thing to do, but it will have to wait till she wakes up again. He fed on her as she screamed in fear and pain; it was a potent brew. Her blood was laced with endorphins. He got a high from it.

He sat in a recliner watching the recording of his work. It was almost as good as actually being there. He pondered how he would preserve her body, and it hit him out of the blue as he fed on her.

He managed to purchase all the necessary equipment and chemicals without any suspicion. Of course, it helps if you just take them.

Yes, he couldn't wait for her to wake again. For her Grand Finale'. Also, I will have to sew up all those holes if this is to work. Yes, more fun he thought, getting up and running down to his happy-happy room.

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Sheriff Thompson couldn't find any records or any strange murders or disappearances. He didn't expect much, just hoped there might be something to go on.

He had been keeping his eye out for any missing persons reports. Nothing in that arena either. It was frustrating to sit and wait for the killer to make their next move.

With nothing but a note to go on, he had hoped that it was just a prank. His gut was telling him something else entirely.

He jumped a little when his phone started to ring.

"Millersville Sheriff's office, Sheriff Thompson speaking."

"Hello, this is Edwin Taylor at the post office; I was wondering if someone could do a wellness check on Edna Johnson; she didn't show up for work and didn't answer her phone. "

"Very well, I will go myself and check on her."

With that, he put on his hat and was on his way to Edna Johnson's house; her not showing up for work was a very odd occurrence.

It was a short drive to her place. Everything seemed in place. The house was locked uptight. There wasn't an answer to any of his knocks. Peering in the windows showed nothing out of place. Still, something felt off about the whole area.

His Deputy Cory showed up as Sheriff Brad filled him in on the situation. He decided that the only way to make sure everything was alright was to break in.

Making as small of a hole as possble in her front door, they gained entry. Once inside, they divided up the house, Brad to the upstairs and Cory the downstairs.

As Sheriff Brad walked the upstairs hallway, everything seemed normal and quiet; it was when he searched her bedroom and adjoining bathroom that he knew who the serial killer's first victim was.

There wasn't anything out of place except for her nightclothes neatly piled on the hamper and the missing shower curtain. He knew, though, that this is where it had happened.

Calling for Cory to get the forensic lab to come and see if they could find anything, he knew it was a long shot at best, but you never know unless you try.

With a sigh, he left the house to go and search the area around the house as Deputy Cory taped off the site.

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Daisy started reading the letters; at first, they were like pen pal letters, but they became a deep friendship and understanding over time. Till finally, she started reading a letter that made her blush.

Holy cow!! Aunt Clara did have someone in her life. Wondering why she never told her, she kept reading, and each letter was more and more heated. Finally, another letter was her Aunt being all excited because he was coming to visit.

It wasn't till she read the end of the letter that she realized who her boyfriend was. It was the same guy in the picture, the same one that waved to her that night. Clearly, they were lovers; she just didn't know what had happened to Micheal. Did he leave, or did he die?

He had to be the reason she would find her crying now and then.

Micheal Deveroe.

She put all the letters and photos back into the box. It was time she talked to Edna about the past and Aunt Clara.

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Nicholas Lucas was going through his expenditure journals for the last three years. He wasn't happy with the pattern he was finding.

Every month for the previous three years, his wife had taken out Eighty-five thousand dollars. Along with the monthly stipend, he gave her twenty thousand to maintain the household.

Not to mention the extra she needed for her personal use. It was well over Two Hundred and thirty thousand dollars. What the hell is she doing with all that money because he found out today that she hasn't been paying the servants their bi-annual bonuses either.

He also discovered that she was planning a costly and lavish ball to find their son Noah, a bride. No matter how many times he told her to back off and let Noah find his mate, she would just amp up her activities more.

He was sitting there in disbelief, realizing that he would have to investigate his wife. They weren't all that close, but still, she was his wife, and they did have a son.

Deciding it was best to contact Noah and tell him what he found and about the ball his mother would ambush him with.

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A loud snickering could be heard as a servant approached, cringing that was never a good thing to hear coming from that witch's bedroom.

Judith was snickering at her cleverness; she put a bug on her husband's phone; low and behold, she found out where her son was hiding.

She would make that servant pay for lying to her. She never liked that woman anyway. It was like she could always tell when she was up to something, and she would run and tell Nicholas.

Not sure of how to catch her son. She decided that she would wait till it was closer to the ball to fetch him, that way he would have less of a chance of escaping her this time.

Yes, that is what she would do. Act like she was being a concerned parent and letting him have some time to himself and then go and announce his rest was over and that it was time for him to choose one of the females she had chosen.

Thumping her perfectly manicured nails on the surface of her desk, she contemplated what else her husband had been up to.

He better not get in the way of this ball; she needed to also get into the account again; she needed more Elixir. It wasn't lasting a full six months anymore. It was lasting only about a month now. She needed it before the ball.

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Edna woke to incredible pain; there wasn't a place that didn't burn or have stabbing pain. When she was able to look down, she discovered that the evil son of a bitch was sewing up all of the stabs and cuts that he inflicted on her.

She was sure that he wasn't doing this to save her life. It was just more torture for her; she watched his face through blurry eyes. He was enjoying himself.

He looked up at her; she wished she could at least swear at him, but she was silent as ever, and the asshole smiled at her like he was making love to her.

He used a sponge and warm water to clean her off when he was done. She had one spark of hope at that moment. Perhaps he is going to let me go. Maybe he is washing away the evidence and will drop me off somewhere.

She knew there was no hope left to have; he got out a long tube with a huge IV needle on it. It wasn't anything normal you would see in a hospital. It was too big.

Her eyes widened in horror as he shoved the needle into her upper arm. The pain was worse than anything that he had inflicted on her before. He injected another one in her other arm.

That was when she realized through all the pain that he was killing her right now. She passed out with the last thought that he was embalming her alive.

He watched in fascination as live tissue became dead. He knew the minute her heart stopped beating. Second, later her breath stopped. The convulsions were beautiful and exciting to watch. He wished he had popcorn.

When the process was completed, he took her off the x shaped bed and put her in a red dress. He decided that he wasn't going to keep his masterpiece. Instead, he inserted his scroll into his statue, ensuring it was where the Sheriff should be able to find it.

Now my pretty, it is time to display you where our good sheriff will be able to gaze on your beauty. He did hope that the Sheriff wasn't too much of a backwoods moron that he couldn't enjoy good art.

It would be a tragedy if his hard work were wasted on someone who couldn't appreciate the finer things in life. Still, that is the burden of the artist. Too many just don't understand great art when they see it.

He patted the corpse on the ass. Don't you worry, I will make sure you are noticed. You will be remembered now, that is for sure. He laughed into the forest and the dark of night.