Magic of Flame and Shadow by Kim Richardson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Kim Richardson
- Language: English
- Genre: Vampire Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The soft skin of his belly was torn open, marked by runes, symbols, and
letters carved into his chest. The deep, jagged cuts told me this was done
either by an amateur or someone in a hurry. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
Garish and unoriginal, if you ask me.
The victim’s eyes were missing, and blood trailed down his wrists
where he’d been cut. The scent of blood and entrails was thick.
I loved nothing more than to find a dead body before nine in the
morning, before my second cup of coffee. Caucasian by the light coloring
of the blood-soaked skin and male. He was just a kid.
Maybe seventeen years old. Possibly younger. And that—didn’t settle
well with me.
The sight was grim. The body hung from the wall like a painting,
pierced and punctured by an iron rod through each clavicle. The corpse was
pinioned out in the shape of an X, with cords stretched to hold the limbs
apart. Blood had dripped from the body and pooled on the wooden floor
beneath.
The runes and letters were carved into the victim in what I recognized
as Latin. My Latin was a little rusty, but I knew this word. The letters said
ANIMAE. Soul.
What the hell did that mean?
This wasn’t my first experience with a ritualistic killing. In my line of
work, these were as common as a sale at your local grocery store. I’d seen
my share of dead bodies, even those carved up in runes, but no matter how
many, when it came to kids, it brought some deep, primal rage up to the
surface. I hated nothing more than the killing of kids. Nothing.
But that’s not what had my blood pressure, or the hairs on the back of
my neck, rising. Nor was it why I’d requested this particular case.
It was the fact that I’d seen this particular way of ritualistic killing along
with those strange runes and symbols once before.
Exactly twenty years ago.
I could still see the face of the girl all those years ago, like it was
yesterday when I’d ducked under Fallburn Bridge on my way to see my
aunt, seeking shelter from the rain. She’d been strung up just like this boy,
the same runes and symbols carved into her chest and her eyes missing.
And she’d been still alive.
I shook those thoughts away and focused on the scene.
It told me two things: one, the culprit who’d done it wanted us to see it,
to show off his masterpiece. They were seriously twisted individuals.
And two, they were paranormal.
I could sense the echoes of magic—not much, just a soft humming and
enough to know that magic was performed here.
I yanked out my phone and began taking pictures of the body, the house,
everything. It was always better to have too many photos I could delete
later than not enough and miss something important.
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