We come to the door blocked with the yellow tape I’ve become all too familiar with. The strong tinge of copper and bowels punch me in the gut.
“Ugh.”
“I know,” Carter agrees.
“You already smell it?” Sacha asks.
“Yeah, I do.”
“No,” Fel says.
I feel their gazes glued to my back. I ignore them as Carter peers around and opens the door, holding the tape up as we can duck under. It takes me a minute to realize what I’m seeing. The walls are speckled with blood. Clumps of flesh and what I suspect are organs dot the floor. There are numbered signs everywhere. The gruesome scene has me afraid to look at the victim. I push past my instincts and peer at the man. My heart leaps into my throat. His face is twisted into a mask of pain and terror. His lips are frozen in a silent scream. Despite the white film of death that covers his blue gaze, I can see the pain etched in his irises.
I glance down and balk at the caved in chest cavity. My stomach roils. Saliva coats my mouth. Turning away, I press the back of my hand against my lips. His chest looks like pulp. Clawed to the bone, and dugout, it has the consistency of pulled pork.
“Jesus Christ. He was alive when this happened?” Sacha inquires.
“Yeah, he was,” Marcus says softly.
“They took his heart,” Carter states.
“Are you sure this isn’t a Shifter problem?” I ask, thinking of the damage their claws can do.
Carter shakes his head. “No. We’d never leave this much meat. The only way we’d do anything this publicly would be starvation.”
“So, none of you ever goes off the deep end?” Fel says.
/> “Even then. They would not work this hard just to eat the heart. In addition, as far as we can tell, the heart is intact. They must’ve needed it whole,” Marcus explains.
“That’s why we figured the ball goes into your court,” Carter adds.
I peer around the room to keep my eyes off the man who’s far too emotive in death. My gaze lands on pictures of him in a uniform. A shadow box boasts a purple heart. The man is a national hero. He deserved so much more than this.
“I won’t say there are no rituals that use hearts, ’cause that would be a lie. I can’t imagine why his would be worth risking exposure for though,” Sacha says.
“Agreed. It doesn’t make any sense,” Fel seconds.
My brow furrows. “What do the police say?”
“They’re more concerned about how this happened in a building full of people, and no one saw or heard a thing,” Marcus drawls.
“Unless they did, and they’re afraid to talk. I mean, if I saw what it was capable of, I wouldn’t be lining up to narc,” I say.
“Fair point,” Carter whispers.
“I think we should let this settle down and come back and see if anyone will speak,” Fel suggests.
My gaze is drawn to the wall beside the door. I carefully move over to it and wave my hand slowly over the area. “There’s something here.” I whisper a reveal spell and find a faint and rapidly fading serpentine-like squiggle with a hooked ending and slash like lines.
“Did you see it?” I whisper to the girls.
“For a split second,” Sacha replies.
“I need paper and something to draw with.”
Carter hands over a notebook and a pen and I sketch the sigil. This is the first break we’ve gotten. There’s no doubt in my mind this is connected with the body snatchers. The odds of two bizarre incidences happening this close together are small.
“Does this mean anything to you?” I ask, holding up the crude drawing.