Violets are Blue

"We're closed for business right now. Sorry." He was polite and smiled graciously, even seductively. "Maybe a little later, ladies. Why don't you two come back tonight? How about that?"

The short girl snapped, "You don't have to get an attitude. We were just making conversation."

William lazily ran his hand back through his long blond hair. He continued to smile. "Oh, I know that. So was I. Who could blame me for chatting up two beautiful girls like yourselves? Like I said, maybe we'll see you later tonight. Of course we'll take your blood for the cause."

William and Michael decided to take a stroll toward the Sava

"I do want to take someone. Maybe right here in this oh-so-fucking-pretty river park," William finally said.

"He'd do nicely," Michael said, as he pointed out a slender male in a black T-shirt and blue-jean cutoffs.

"Or maybe just a snack. How about that delectable two year old in the sandbox there? Yum. Much better than that sickly sugar sweetness I smell everywhere."

William enjoyed his brother's humor. "That's pralines you smell. The barbecue is supposed to be especially good here too. Very spicy," he said.

"I don't want any stringy pork or beef." Michael wrinkled his nose.

"Well," William finally began to relent, "maybe we could have a quick bite. What do you see that you like? You can have anything you want."

Michael pointed out his choice.

"Perfect," whispered William.

Chapter 46

This was bad. There had been another grisly vampire-style murder — in Sava

Even from the air, the seaport city was stu

There had to be a reason this was eluding all of us so far. The killers had to be playing out a complex story / fantasy. What the hell was it?

An FBI sedan was waiting and it rushed us to the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. The church was on East Harris, in the historic district. Police cruisers were parked everywhere among the antebellum homes. So were EMS vans.

"The highways around Sava

"Not the kind of visitors the chamber of commerce, or especially the residents, probably want to see here," I said. "Kyle, what the hell is going on? The killers are working right in our face. They're telling us something. They strike in beautiful cities. They murder in public parks, in luxury hotels, even in a cathedral. Do they want to get caught? Or do they believe they can'tbe caught?"

Kyle looked at the church spires up ahead. "Maybe it's a little of both. I agree, though. They are reckless for some reason I don't quite fathom. That's why you're here. You're the profiler. You're the one who understands how their sick minds work."

I couldn't get the thought out of my head that these killers wanted to get caught. Why did they want to get caught?

Chapter 47

Kyle and I got out of the sedan and hurried toward the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. A gold-and-white ba

The twin spires of the church rose high over the city of Sava

The murder had been discovered less than two hours ago. Kyle and I were in the air minutes after we heard the news from the Sava

The sweet smell of incense was in my nose. I could see the victim as we entered the cathedral. I groaned and felt a little sick to my stomach. It was a twenty-one-year-old male, which I had known from the early reports; an art history major at the University of Georgia named Stephen Fenton.

The killers had left Fenton's wallet and money. Nothing had been stolen — except his shirt.

The cathedral was large and could probably hold as many as a thousand worshipers. The flow of light from the stained-glass windows created a pattern of colored patches on the floor. Even from a distance, I could see that the victim's neck had been torn open. The shirtless body was toned and sculpted, just like the others. It lay at the foot of a station of the cross, the thirteenth. The floor was stained with blood, but not much liquid remained.

Did they drink the blood here in the cathedral? Was this about sacrilege? Religion? The stations of the cross?

Kyle and I approached Stephen Fenton. A body bag was already laid out in the nave. Technicians from the Sava

Kyle and I knelt over the body together. I pulled on a pair of plastic gloves. Kyle almost never used them. He rarely seemed to touch evidence at a crime scene. I had always wondered why. His instincts were good, though.

But if we were both so good, why didn't we have any clue as to where the killers had gone or when they might strike next? That was the question that nagged me more and more at each murder site. What was this gruesome rampage about?

"They're so goddamn impulsive," I muttered to Kyle. "I suspect they're both under thirty. Maybe early twenties or even younger. I wouldn't be surprised if they were in their late teens."

"Makes sense to me. They don't seem to have any fear at all." Kyle spoke softly as he looked at the student's wounds. "It's as if a wild animal has been turned loose. Like the tiger. First in California. Now here on the East Coast. The problem is that we don't really know how far back the killings go, or how many killers are involved, or even if they're working out of this country."

"That's three problems. Three subsets that require answers we don't have. Your agents still talking to people at the Goth and vampire clubs? The Internet? Somebody has to know something."

"If anybody knows, they're keeping it to themselves. I have over three hundred agents full-timeon this case, Alex. We can't keep this heat up."

I looked up at the wooden station of the cross. It depicted Jesus being taken down from the cross and laid in his mother's arms. The crown of thorns. The Crucifixion. Piercings. Blood. Was blood the co