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   Chapter 27 No.27

Demonspawn By Christina Engela Characters: 5012

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02

The door was unlocked, and opened easily as he turned the handle. The lights in the lounge didn't work anymore, but those in the adjoining kitchen did, although they didn't help much – the entire left wall and part of the floor and ceiling had turned black from the flames. The air was sour and acrid with the heavy stench of burning, and full of particles as the beam from his flashlight cut through it. The mirror still hung in place on the wall, blackened, and the frame had been reduced to charred carbon. The small table and chairs where Blaine had been sitting had taken the worst of the fire, it seemed, and had collapsed and fallen over. Bits of broken glass bottles and glasses and blackened lumps of material lay scattered about the carpet – all that remained of the items that had been on the table. The coffee table told a similar tale.

He looked at the wall where the message had been written in Blaine's own blood. 'Guilty' it had said. The entire surface of the wall had blistered in the heat of the blaze and had mostly peeled off. It – and the message – was probably in the ashes lying on the carpet at his feet! He suppressed the urge to punch something, and exhaled.

Someone – Mr. Billingham, had done a good job of eliminating evidence of foul play. Sure, arson was suspicious in itself, but under the right circumstances it could eliminate evidence tying the killer to the killing. And if Ralph eliminated all the evidence, there'd be nothing to hold him on by the time Mordrak

's useful is up to you – I analyzed the blood of all the specimens I got sent, and what came up is this: at the time of death, their blood was filled virtually to capacity with adrenalin and the corpuscles were in a state of shock. By the sheer amount of adrenalin and a few other telltale signs I'd rather not go into right now, I'd say with some degree of certainty these people died in a severe – I say again, a severe – state of nervous trauma or psychological shock."

"Meaning what, Doctor?" Lofflin queried wearily. "In plain Terran?"

"Meaning that these people didn't just die from their wounds, horrible as they may be – they died of fear. In short – they were so terrified that they died from seizures, or some of them would have, if they hadn't bled to death first."

"But why?" Lofflin asked perplexed, "What in hell could cause so much fear?"

"I don't know – but whatever it was, it must have been so terrible they couldn't face up to it without going insane. Poor bastards."

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