The Skin Demon

A murder in a rural village has a team of investigators from the city research it, but this case may be much more difficult than it appears.

 Somewhere on the countryside, three college girls drove along the dirt road into a small village. The sky was painted shades of orange and pink as the blond girl behind the steering wheel had the car come to a stop. She took off her sunglasses and looked up at the setting sun through the windshield. “I hope there’s a hotel or something in this hick farm. Too many horror movies have a bunch of crazies out here in the boonies.”

The black haired girl in the passenger’s seat rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Ashley, this isn’t a movie.” She rolled down her window and scanned the area. The small village was surrounded by forest. “But we don’t know the roads, and navigating them in the dark is iffy to me. We should ask the people here if there’s a place we could sleep.”

“We aren’t sleeping in someone’s house either, Becky,” Ashley said defensively. “They could be psychos or something.”

The dark haired girl named Becky sighed as she opened the passenger side door of the car. “Fine, I’ll go ask around.”

“I’ll come with you, Beck,” the brown haired girl in the back seat said and got out of the car with Becky.

“Hey, don’t leave me here alone!” Ashley whined.

“Just roll up the windows and lock the doors,” Becky called back at Ashley as she walked away from the car with the third girl. “She’s always been so damn needy. I hope I don’t have to share a room with her.”

“She’s not that bad,” the other girl said as the two approached a woman carrying a basket full of freshly picked, dirt coated potatoes. “Excuse me, ma’am, but is there a hotel or something here? We need a place to stay for the night.”

The woman stared at the two girls cautiously and looked over to tall hill on the edge of the village. “There is an inn up on the hill over there, where the road is covered in cobblestone.” She looked back at them with a very stern expression. “But I strongly advise against going there. It is an evil place.”

Becky and the other girl looked over to the hill and spotted the large brick building in the distance, surrounded by a crumbling stone wall and a brass gate. “So that’s the only place, huh?” Becky asked and looked back at the woman. “Thank you.” She turned and headed back to the car.

“Ashley’s going to hate that,” the brown haired girl groaned as she shook her head. “She’ll insist we sleep in the car.”

“I’m sick of sleeping in the damn car,” Becky said. “Cheryl, the car is damn cramped and uncomfortable.”

When Ashley saw the two girls approaching the car, she rolled down the window. “So what did you find out?”

“There’s an inn up the hill,” the girl named Cheryl said and pointed towards the building. “Before you say no, let’s at least check it out, okay? There’s strength in numbers.”

Ashley looked anxiously at the hill. “All right…” she said reluctantly, “we can at least check it out…”

The three girls drove up to the cobblestone road that led up to the building, through the open brass gate. Despite the crumbling wall surrounding it, the building itself was well maintained. The small garden by the front door was filled with vegetables and blooming flowers. The bricks on the building and the drapes visible in the huge windows gave off a welcoming atmosphere, even with the haunting effect the darkening sky had on the surrounding forest.

The three girls slowly opened the wooden front door and went inside. At a large, polished wooden desk not too far from the door sat an attractive man who appeared to be in his mid twenties. His long, wavy brown hair was tied back with a crimson ribbon, and his green eyes were locked uninterestedly at the game of solitaire he had before him. When the door closed, his eyes rolled up and saw the three girls, and the bored look in his eyes changed to excitement. “Oh!” He quickly rose to his feet, pulled the folded out of his navy blue velvet suit, and gave a gentlemanly bow. “Forgive me for my rudeness. Welcome to the Harte Inn; my name is Jonathan. How may I help you?”

All sense of fear drained out of Ashley and was replaced by a flirty smile. “Well hello then Jonathan. My name is Ashley, and these are my friends Becky and Cheryl. We need a room.”

“Well, there is two beds to a room, so either one of you must sleep alone or on the floor,” Jonathan gave a nervous chuckle. “As I am sure you can assume I do not get many customers due to my… location.” He turned and began to walk down the red carpeted hall. “Please, follow me. I will show you to your rooms.”

Ashley eagerly followed after him, but Becky and Cheryl hesitated before following. “Why do you have an inn in such a bad place like this?” Becky asked bluntly. “You’re obviously aware this is an awful place for such a business. It must be a complete drain on your bank account.”

“I actually live here,” Jonathan said as he stopped at the end of the hall and opened one of the doors. “I inherited this place from an uncle of mine, and I wanted to get away from the city. I just play inn keeper for fun.”

“Do you even have a legal business license?” Becky asked and crossed her arms across her chest.

“No,” Jonathan replied innocently and smiled. “That is why, in all honesty, I could not charge you for your stay. It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t some country bumpkin.”

Becky continued to look at him cautiously. Ashley hugged onto Becky’s arm and shook her. “Come on, we’ll be fine,” the blond girl said. “He doesn’t look like the violent type.”

“Indeed, I am not,” Jonathan said. “In honest, I detest violence. Things can be resolved purely by speech; people just choose the path of destruction because it is easier.”

“See? We’ll be fine.”

Becky sighed. “Fine, I give up.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Jonathan said and turned to a small table against the end wall. He pulled open a drawer and took out three black cloth masks, ending in a U shape. “As village tradition, I ask that you wear these as you sleep.”

“Village tradition?” Cheryl asked and looked curiously at the masks. “Why do we have to wear these?”

“There is a legend of a demon that steals the skin of lovely young women such as yourselves,” Jonathan said as each girl took one of the masks. “If the demon does not see how lovely your face is, it will simply pass over you. It is shaped that way so only your mouth and nose are shown.”

“Do you honestly believe that nonsense?” Becky asked and ran her fingers along the cloth strap that tied on the mask.

“I personally do not, but I just do as the villagers do.” Jonathan shrugged. “Some people truly adore small village customs. You know, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

“Fine enough, I guess,” Becky said as she walked into the bedroom. There were two beds against the walls, and a small desk. Beside each bed was a small table with a lamp on it, and a nicely woven, circular rug in the center of the floor. “This is a pretty nice room for a place out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I am glad you think so,” Jonathan said with a smile and gave a gentlemanly bow again. “Well, I shall leave you to rest. If there is anything you need, I shall be at my desk for a few more hours.” He turned again and returned to the desk.

A few hours later, as darkness blanketed the small village, the three girls were all together in the room, talking of their so far adventure. “I can’t wait to get to the next city,” Cheryl said as she filed her nails on one of the beds. “I want to go to the bookstore.”

“I hope they have something good,” Becky said as she was sitting at the desk. “The last bookstore was a massive disappointment.”

“I know, right? They didn’t have anything good… Just overflowing with stupid self-help books.”

Ashley sighed softly, not listening to the other two. She finally stood up from her spot on the floor and began walking to the door. “Well, I’m going to bed,” she said as she opened the door.

“Don’t forget this weird thing,” Cheryl said as she held out the black mask.

“Pff, I’m not wearing that ugly thing,” Ashley said as she shooed the mask away. “It’s a silly superstition, like spilling salt.”

“Come on Ashley, humor the village people.” Becky said and crossed her arms across her chest. “Remember what your boy-toy said.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m still not going to wear that ugly a*s thing.” She shrugged and walked out into the hallway. “Good night,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

“Wow, she’s actually going to sleep alone,” Becky said as she stood up from the chair. “If Jonathan wasn’t hot, she’d be begging to sleep in here with us.”

Cheryl shrugged as she traced her fingers along the cloth mask. “Are you going to wear this?”

Becky shrugged as she sat down on the other bed. “Might as well. It’s a harmless village custom. It’d probably be seen as rude not to.”

“You’re probably right,” Cheryl said as the two tied the cloth masks on. They both lay down on the beds and turned off the lamps. “Good night, Becky.”

“Night, Cheryl.”

The next morning, Becky and Cheryl woke up and removed their cloth masks. The two dressed and left their room, only to find Ashley was still in her room with the door locked. The two just ignored it for now and Jonathan appeared, leading them to the dining room. “I do hope that you two aren’t vegetarians,” he said as he placed two plates on the table, each with an omelet. “I made breakfast.”

“We appreciate it, but shouldn’t we wait for Ashley?” Becky said as she looked at the nicely made omelet.

“I did make her one as well, but I put it in the oven to keep it warm.” He looked over to the doorway that led to the hall. “Perhaps we should wake her?”

“I think we should,” Cheryl said. “I’d feel rude if we ate without her.” The three of them walked to the room Ashley was sleeping in and knocked on the door. “Hey Ashley, it’s time for breakfast. Wake up!”

No response.

Becky knocked hard on the door. “Ashley, wake up! I’m starving and Cheryl doesn’t want to eat without you!” Again, there was no response. Becky looked over at Jonathan. “Hey, do you have a set of keys for this door?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Jonathan said as he walked over to the desk near the front door and returned with a large key ring filled with keys. He unlocked the door after finding the right key and slowly swung open the door.

The air inside the room was heavy with a peculiar smell. Cheryl slowly walked over to the bed, seeing Ashley’s figure under the blanket. “Come on Ashley, let’s eat so we can go,” she said as she placed her hand on Ashley’s shoulder, only to discover the blanket was damp. She pulled back her hand to see it was stained red. “Oh my god!” she screamed as she stumbled back from the bed.

Jonathan pulled the blanket off of Ashley to reveal that she had been completely skinned except for her scalp, and her throat slit, her pajamas and the sheets soaked in blood.

The police from the closest city swarmed the inn to investigate Ashley’s room. This small village was technically in their jurisdiction, even though the police was rarely ever called out there. The little village had their own sheriff, but homicide was out of their usual power to investigate.

A man in his mid thirties with graying hair, followed by a woman in her late twenties and reddish brown hair approached Jonathan. “Jonathan Harte?” the man asked, holding up his badge. “I’m Detective Peter Stone, and this is my partner Sharon Faust,” he said in a deep, stern voice. “I am in charge of investigating the murder in your inn.”

“I see,” Jonathan said in a deep sighed. “It’s such an awful thing to happen in my inn… And this village was such a peaceful place as well.”

“I hope you are aware that since the murder took place in your inn, then you are a prime suspect,” Peter said as he returned the badge to the breast pocket on his coat. “Just to rule out the most obvious suspects first.”

“Yes, I understand. I will cooperate as necessary…” Jonathan looked over at the woman named Sharon, who was writing notes as she looked around. “What can I do to be of assistance?”

“We have to question you,” Peter said.

Jonathan looked at him uneasily. “Am I going to be interrogated by you, or by Miss Sharon?” He looked over at the woman, who finally looked over at him.

“No, you get to deal with me, pretty boy,” Peter growled as he crossed his arms. “Besides, Sharon was to go into town and ask about your little ‘inn’ here, as well as question the girls who called us here.”

Jonathan sighed and looked to the side. “If I had to be attacked by questions, I would have preferred it to be by a woman…”

“Shut it, pretty boy,” Peter snapped and grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder. “Let’s go get this over with, all right?”

“Not so rough!” Jonathan said as he walked to where Peter led him, being shoved a bit as they walked. Sharon sighed softly as she kept her eyes on her small note book.

“That man has no sensitivity…” she mumbled as she walked over to the girls to begin her own interrogation.

“Can we please stop now?” Jonathan groaned miserably, rubbing his temples. “I have told you, I would never kill a human being!”

“Until we finish searching your shithole of an inn, you’re the main suspect!” Peter barked. “You have way too much access to be thought of just an innocent inn keeper! Who the hell does that in the middle of nowhere anyway?”

“How dare you!” Jonathan snapped back. “Don’t call my home a ‘shithole’, you cretin! I suppose just trying to be hospitable is a crime now!”

“Fine, we’ll stop… for now,” Peter said as he left the storage room, which was currently being used as the interrogation room. As the detective left, Jonathan let out a frustrated cry, and slumped in his chair.

“Have you found out anything yet?” Sharon asked when Peter stepped out into the back yard, which had a larger vegetable and flower garden, as well as an apple tree and an orange tree. Off at the edge of the yard was a small hen house, with three chickens in it.

“He’s not saying a damn thing,” Peter said as he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I don’t buy this ‘innocent bystander’ thing he has going on. He’s guilty; I feel it in my gut.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and fished out his lighter from the same pocket. “What did you find out?”

“The town people aren’t much help,” Sharon said as she opened her notebook. “None of them step foot near this entire hill because they think it’s evil. They kept saying the inn is where ‘it’ resides.”

“’It’?” Peter repeated and looked at her notebook.

“Yes, it. They say a demon lives in the inn, and it skins any woman who is caught sleeping at night without one of these.” Sharon held up one of the black cloth masks. “Apparently the victim in the inn refused to wear one, so she was killed.”

“So he’s using these country people’s superstitions to murder them, huh?” Peter said as he picked up the mask and turned it over in his hands. “All the villagers wear these damn things?”

“Just the women.”

“Is there any age distinction?”

Sharon nodded her head. “From what I gathered in the village, children and women up to thirty-five are the ones who are risk. I was told they never had a woman over that age be murdered.”

“So he’s just a sick freak who likes his jollies out of killing young women,” Peter said bluntly and looked back at Sharon. “How’s the search going?”

“Right now, the knives we’ve found are being tested for any traces of blood.” Sharon sighed as she slipped her notepad back into her pocket of her jacket. “I don't get it. His house is normal enough. He obviously eats from the garden, and he has food stores in the cellar for the winter. Running water, though sometimes it stops. Out here, that doesn't surprise me.”

Peter snorted. Usually his instincts were dead on. Could he really be wrong about this case? “My gut still tells me he did it. I don't know how or why, but I'll find that out, d****t.”

Sharon sighed again. “Let's call it a day for now? Ripping through the house and interrogating Jonathan has gotten us nowhere.”

“Fine.”

At the end of the day, the tests on all the knives came back. None of them had any traces of blood on them, even the knives found in Jonathan’s room. There was no trace of any cleaners either to suggest that they had been cleaned. The only thing they found on any of the knives was particles from vegetables being cut from the gardens. Even the basement was clear of anything suspicious. Nothing in the entire house even seemed oddly clean. Frustrated beyond belief, Peter stormed out of the inn and stomped off to an angry walk to try to clear his head.

While Peter was gone, Sharon roamed the house that was left in disarray from the thorough search. A handful of the investigators were still roaming about as she wandered around. She passed Jonathan’s bedroom, and found he was trying to replace everything that had been moved during the day. He was sighing heavily as replaced everything that had been taken from the desk in the room. “This is ridiculous…”

“It may seem ridiculous, but it is to prove or disprove your involvement,” Sharon said. Jonathan looked up at her, as if he hadn’t noticed her presence. “Rule out or prove the most obvious first.”

“Yes, I understand the procedure, but I still dislike it,” Jonathan said with a light smile on his face. “I would have much rather preferred to be interrogated by you, Miss Sharon. I must say your partner is quite merciless.”

“We do have a ‘good cop, bad cop’ thing going, I suppose…” She looked around the bedroom. Bed, desk, small table, lamp, dresser… nothing peculiar. “But when it comes to criminals, you have to be tough. That’s why I let Peter do the interrogating.”

“Well some people respond defiantly to being pushed,” Jonathan said as he walked over to her. “I cooperate better with people I feel are cooperating with me. If you’d like I will show you about the house.”

“And let me look through things?” she asked suspiciously and at the same time relieved with the promise of cooperation.

“And let you look through things,” Jonathan said kindly.

Jonathan escorted her through the inn, unlocking any doors she wanted open and letting her sort through whatever she found. Even with Jonathan’s assistance, she found nothing suspicious. Everything was clean and orderly in the way of regular life, not too clean to not be out of the ordinary. Sharon did stop at one painting, which was a portrait of a beautiful young girl with golden blond hair. “Who is this?”

Jonathan looked at the portrait with a sad smile. “Ah... That is my late sister, Amelia. She committed suicide quite some time ago, so I can only keep a painting of her here...”

“I see...” Sharon said softly. “I apologize. Let's continue. Jonathan nodded as they continued to roam around the house.

Eventually Sharon came upon a strange evergreen painted door. “What is this door?” she asked, noting the undisturbed padlock on the door. It had a coat of rust on it from lack of contact and use.

Jonathan stared curiously at the door as though this was his first time ever laying eyes on it. “You know, I honestly do not know. I don’t particularly walk about this side of the house.”

“Open it, please.” Jonathan nodded as he took out his key ring, trying every key in the lock. Finally he found the right key and turned it. At the first few tries, the lock refused to budge, supporting the statement that Jonathan had never opened this door. Finally, the lock groaned in protest as it opened.

The room inside was very small, and painted the same shade of green as the door. In the very center of the room was a blood red, circular rug, and sitting on the rug in a wooden rocking chair was a life size doll dressed in a white, frilly dress. The doll’s face was covered by a horned, black wooden mask with sinister red eyes painted on it. Its hair fell down the doll’s back in a cascade of golden ringlets. Jonathan looked at the doll uneasily. “Well, isn’t that creepy…”

Sharon slowly approached the doll. Its hands were clad in white gloves and folded neatly in its lap. Not even a tiny bit of what would be the doll’s skin was visible. “It is pretty creepy,” Sharon agreed as she got down on her knees and lifted up the rug in case there was a trap door under it. There were no odd creases in the wooden floor. Nor were there any lights, windows, outlets, or vents in this room.

“May I please lock this door again?” Jonathan asked in a nervous voice. “This room makes me apprehensive, and I’m not sure why.”

Sharon took a quick look at each of the walls to find they were completely solid. “All right, you can lock the door again.” When she stepped out, Jonathan put the lock back on the door. Despite her composure, that room struck fear into Sharon’s heart. Something ominous was in that room. The further they got away from it, the more at ease she felt.

“Well, I am going to go to bed,” Jonathan said as they stopped at the front door. He picked up a cloth mask from the desk and held it out to Sharon. “Be sure to wear this, Miss Sharon. It’d be tragic thing if such a lovely woman such as yourself were to be taken by the demon.”

Sharon looked down at the mask cautiously before she gently took it into her hands. “Thank you, Jonathan. I’ll be sure to do so.”

By morning, during another round of ‘merciless’ interrogation, a report of another murder had been given to the police.

Peter, Sharon, and their team of investigators went down to the village. Just as Ashley, this young woman had been skinned and left in her bed with her throat slit. “So he had the balls to strike while we were here,” Peter growled as the body was being inspected.

“If it is Jonathan, then the real question is this: how does he know when they don’t sleep with the mask on?” Sharon asked as she roamed around the room. If he truly was the killer, then there should be a camera hidden somewhere. “These people lock up their houses pretty tightly. I doubt he could break into people’s houses, skin the girls, redress them, and put them back in the bed without being noticed.”

“Maybe he drugs the house somehow,” Peter said as he also looked about the room. On the bed, something shined in the corner of his eye. He looked carefully at the bed, finding a long strand of shining, silver hair. “What the hell is that?” he said, pointing it out to one of the team members.

One of the investigators carefully picked up the strand with a pair of tweezers. “It’s a strand of hair,” he said as he carefully placed it in an evidence tube.

Peter pulled on a pair of gloves and looked at the hair once it was in the tube. “But silver? Unless this is a damn wig, then this kills my instinct.”

“We’ll have it tested as soon as possible,” said the investigator as he left the room.

“When are we getting the autopsy report back from the first victim?” Peter asked as he and Sharon left the room.

“It should be here at any minute,” Sharon replied.

“Good.”

To add more frustration to this case, there was absolutely nothing strange about Ashley’s autopsy. No poison, no drugs. Her cause of death was shock from blood loss. Her throat was slit first, and she may have very easily still been asleep when her throat was cut. Not evidence was found on her body either. “D****t!” Peter shouted as he threw down the report. “How is he doing it?”

“It could easily just not be Jonathan,” Sharon said. “We didn’t find anything like a silver wig in his home, and we searched it top to bottom. We need to spread out our search.”

“There’s one last thing I want to completely rule him out,” Peter said. “I want him to be put under surveillance at night to rule him out until there’s a murder. If there’s a murder while he’s under out watch, then I’ll admit he’s innocent and move on.”

Peter told Jonathan the only way to clear his name. Jonathan sighed unhappily at the proposal. “Oh Peter, is this really the only way to clear my name?”

“That’s Detective Stone to you, pretty boy.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Fine. My dear detective, is this really the only way to clear my name?”

Peter glared at the man, as if he had called him that just to insult him. “It’s the best way to. You can’t kill someone and be in the room at the same time.”

“If I must, then I shall do so…”

Before the night fell, the report on the strand of hair came back. “I haven’t the slightest idea what it is,” the scientist told Sharon over the phone. “I mean, it’s not from a wig, it’s not human hair, and it’s not animal hair. It’s a substance I’ve never even seen before in my life… in any history investigation I’ve been aware of either.”

More bad news for Peter. “All right, thank you,” Sharon said and hung up the phone. Sharon was in charge of the first round of surveillance of the night. She watched Jonathan from several cameras they had set up in his bedroom. Peter was out on patrol as the night went on, hoping to find someone suspicious peeking into people’s windows.

Every four hours, a different investigator took the job of watching Jonathan as he slept. It was about three o’ clock in the morning when Peter finally saw something odd. Wandering up the cobblestones that led up to the inn was a cloaked figure with a silver wig. He could only see the back of it, and in the darkness, it was hard to make out, but it was definitely silver hair. “Sharon, is Jonathan still in the bed?” he asked into his cell phone.

“Yep, he sleeps like he’s dead,” Sharon said from the other side. “He rolls around occasionally, but other than that, he doesn’t move.”

“Damn, he must be innocent then. There’s something walking towards the-” Suddenly, from under the figure’s cloak, came a white fog that billowed down the cobblestones. The figure turned its head back, revealing a horned, skull mask, and red eyes shining in the eye sockets of the mask. It one of its hands, the blade of a large knife shined in the moonlight. Peter slowly lowered the phone from his face. Whatever that thing was before him, his instincts told him that it was not human. It was something he should flee from. It vanished entirely, along with the fog.

“Peter, are you there?” came Sharon’s voice from the phone. “What happened? I don’t see anything on the street. Is it gone?”

Peter slowly put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah, it’s gone. It… just disappeared.” He shook his head and regained his composure. “Tell pretty boy he’s off the hook. I think we found our man. Now we just have to catch him.”

In the morning, there was a report of another murder of the same fashion. Obviously, Jonathan had been proven innocent. He hadn’t left his bedroom at all during the night. According to the investigators, the girl had died about two in the morning, only an hour before Peter had seen the figure going up to the inn and vanish. Whatever that had been, those red eyes remained burning in Peter’s memory.

Peter and Sharon returned from the murder scene to the inn. “Well, we have some good news for you, pretty boy,” Peter said to Jonathan. “You’re off the hook. There was a murder last night.”

“Oh, I see,” Jonathan said and looked down. “I suppose I should feel happy. I do feel sorry for these poor girls who are losing their lives.

“I’ll ask any of the villagers if they saw anything,” Sharon said, recalling Peter telling her about the figure he saw. “Jonathan, you should show Peter that room you showed me.” Before Jonathan could protest, she left.

“What room?” Peter growled at Jonathan.

Jonathan sighed heavily. “I really don’t want to go back to that room…” He looked at Peter’s angry face. “Follow me, my dear detective…”

“Stop calling me that!” Peter barked as he followed Jonathan into the inn. The two men came up to the evergreen door. After fighting with the lock for a bit, Jonathan opened the door to the room with the doll in it. Again, Peter was struck with the instinct to run. It was the same terrifying presence felt when he saw the figure.

“This room gives me the creeps…” Jonathan said as he shivered. “Please, I would like to close this door and never come near this thing again.”

“Fine…” Peter said as he backed out of the room. “Fine…” He left Jonathan to lock the door. A chill ran up Peter’s spine. For the first time in all of his detective years, he felt afraid of carrying on this case.

“We need to set a trap and just end this damn case,” Peter said to Sharon and all the investigators. “This case needs to be closed before there are any more girls getting killed.”

“How are we going to go about doing that?” asked one of the investigators. “Whoever this is, he came awfully close to us, and our radar didn’t pick anything up.”

That was true. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t too far from the van with the surveillance monitors in it, which also had a small radar system from it.

“D****t…” Peter growled. That was true. How were they going to set a safe trap? Did they have to do a different plan?

After a moment of silence, Sharon stood up. “I’ll volunteer to be bait. We'll spring this freak once he comes to get me.”

“Do you get how risky this idea of yours is?” Peter snapped. “You can get killed, Sharon!”

“I know that,” Sharon said calmly. “But sometimes you need to do something risky. You said it yourself, Peter. We need to set up a trap and end this case. Too many girls have already died.” She looked at Peter. “It only comes after women. I'll keep my gun on me and shoot the f****r in the head once I can.”

“You'll be the bait, that's fine.” Peter knew that Sharon would refuse anything else than that. “But I'll do the shooting. I'm a better shot, and I don't want that freak getting that close to you.”

Sharon smiled softly. “Fine then. Tonight, we capture us a freak.”

Sharon slept out in the open since it was riskier to try to do this indoors. Luckily it was a warm night, so she wouldn't get cold. They all knew how obvious this looked, but hoped whatever was killing these girls had such an obsession that he'd take suspiciously easy prey.

They had been sitting out here for hours. Peter was set up in a hidden place, his pistol in hand. A few techs set up radar around, hoping they could catch whatever this guy was this time before he cane. Peter didn't trust it since it failed once, and kept to his eyes. Those glowing red eyes were hard to miss.

Midnight rolled around, and in the hush of the night came a rustle; a gentle breeze that carried an ominous aura in it. Peter looked around more, feeling the same fear he felt before, and kept his gun pointed ahead of himself. Some of the back up officers pointed their guns as well, but wouldn't fire until Peter let off the first shot.

The cloaked figure reappeared, slowly approaching Sharon. Its eyes had the same demonic glow as it pulled the knife from its sleeve. Once he got his gun aimed, Peter fired a single shot, and the bullet hit the thing between the glowing eyes of the mask. It stopped in its tracks, though it didn't topple over like he thought it would, and the red stopped glowing. A small wisp of the white fog floated from the bullet wound, and the skull mask cracked like a spider web. Peter snorted and stood up. “That was way too f*****g easy.” He looked over at Sharon. “Hey Sharon, you can stop playing Sleeping Beauty. We got the b*****d.”

Sharon opened her eyes and looked over at the odd figure. “That was it? We should have set this trap up a long time ago.” She stood up and brushed herself off as she walked over to the figure. She reached up for the mask. “So let's see your face under that thing...”

Suddenly the eyes flashed red and back to life. It wrapped his arm around Sharon, pulling her close it its body. A plume of white fog billowed out from under the cloak at the figure's feet and rapidly flowed towards Peter and the others. The fog made Sharon faint, and she was now limp in the thing's arms. “D****t!” Peter shouted and buried his nose into his elbow. The other men around him started to pass out just like Sharon. Peter tried to aim for the figure's head again, but the fog was getting to him as well. Peter was a strong man, but he quickly lost consciousness as well, collapsing onto the grass.

Peter woke up, feeling groggy. He tried to move his hands to find that they were tied behind his back, and he himself was tied to a support beam. He looked around and couldn't figure out where he was. It was a red room, and something was hanging by a Y shaped pillar, but whatever was there was covered by a black sheet. The only familiar thing in the room was the creepy doll seated in the rocking chair that was in the green painted room in Jonathan's in. Again, his gut told him Jonathan was the one responsible. “D****t, you pretty boy b*****d, I knew it was you!” He pulled on his restraints to find he was tied there tightly.

Peter frozen when he heard heavy footfalls descending the creaky wooden stairs hidden from view. The cloaked figure came into his sight, the skull mask still cracked around the bullet hole, but the eyes were no longer glowing. Peter stared into the black eye sockets, but couldn't see any eyes to look into. The figure moved a black glove clad hand and slowly removed the mask and the wig attached to it. Underneath the silver revealed wavy brown hair tied back in a crimson ribbon. The mask was set on the lap of the doll, and Jonathan smiled at Peter with a bullet hole in his forehead. “Hello my dear detective. I'm glad to see that you're awake now.”

“I knew it!” Peter barked as he pulled at the restraints, trying to free himself. “I knew you were guilty this whole time! I'll right that pretty little neck of yours, you murderous b*****d!”

“My, someone is grumpy when they wake up.” He slipped off his coat to expose a dark red velvet suit. He tossed the cloak onto the floor and looked at the sheet hanging from the pillar. “I'm sure you are an excellent detective in the city. You were right all along.”

Peter looked at the black sheet. “What is that thing? What have you done with Sharon?”

“She's fine, I assure you.” Jonathan grabbed the sheet and pulled it down, revealing Sharon underneath. Her arms were strapped up over her head on the arms of the Y shaped pillar, and her feet were a few inches off the floor. “See?”

“Sharon!” Peter shouted. Relief hit him like a tsunami when his partner groaned lightly and slowly opened her eyes.

Sharon looked around. “Where am I?” Her eyes fell on Jonathan, and a small trickle of blood spilled from the hole in his head. She stared at him in horror. “How are you still alive...?”

“If this is a joke, pretty boy, it's a pretty f*****g bad one!” Peter growled.

Jonathan smiled softly at Sharon. “He is quite a shot. I would have been dead had I been a normal person.”

“Then what the f**k are you?” Peter roared as he struggled again.

“I...” Jonathan looked down at his hands as his smile took a trace of sorrow. To both the detectives' surprise, tears welled in his green eyes. “I don't even know anymore...”

“Jonathan,” Sharon said softly. “Tell me... Why did you kill all those women?”

Jonathan dropped down to his knees as the tears began to stream down his face. “I didn't want to kill them... I never wanted to hurt anyone. But... it's the only way to bring her back...”

“Bring who back?” Sharon asked gently. “A wife? A girlfriend? Maybe we can find her for you.”

“No... No she...” Jonathan trailed off as he looked over at the doll. Its hands had moved and now gently held the mask in its lace covered fingers. “She...”

Sudden his green eyes became void of life, and the sinister presence that peter felt before filled the room, but it wasn't radiating from Jonathan; it was coming from the doll. “Rest, my lost lamb,” a dark, deep, inhuman voice ran throughout the room. The unearthly voice filled the entire room, and its source could not be placed. The doll rose to its feet and set the mask in its chair before it walked over to Jonathan. “This lamb is my servant, my eternal slave. He sold his soul to me to have the girl returned to life.” It gently stroked Jonathan's hair as tears still fell from his eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Peter snapped, glaring at the doll. “Who the f**k are you? His accomplice? His boss? Did you kidnap some girl he knew and made him kill women to get her back?”

The doll looked over at Peter. “It is not so simple. This lamb has been in my service for one hundred and fifty three years. The girls lives are sacrificed as part of our exchange.”

“That's pure bull s**t!”

“No, I speak the truth. One hundred fifty three years ago, Jonathan Harte and his wife Victoria lived within this manor. Jonathan came from a family of nobles. He had been visiting his younger sister Amelia, who was quite upset about her marriage arrangements, and sought comfort from her older brother. Jonathan Harte left to return home, despite her protests, and there was an explosion set by angry villagers. The house was destroyed, his parents dead, and his sister badly burned. Her young beauty was destroyed, and he brought her to this house to nurse to back to health. Young Amelia, foolish little Amelia, knew her beauty would never be restored, she would never marry, and she would eternally be a burden to her older brother and his loving wife. Amelia committed suicide by hanging herself.” The doll looked down to Jonathan, gently taking his face in its hands. “This poor lamb was bringing her lunch when he walked into her room to find her hanging from the ceiling by wound up sheets... and he collapsed to his knees, screaming. He had the servants take young Amelia down and lay her in the bed, where he sat beside her, weeping at his sister's death..” The doll tilted Jonathan's face up so he would look up at the mask it wore. “That is when I came to him... His sister's suicide had summoned me, for she died in rage against those who ruined her, and sorrow burdening her dear brother. I told him that if he took the skin of six hundred sixty-six young women, I would restore her beauty, and I would bring her back to life in exchange for his soul.” The doll reached up and took off the mask, revealing the face of a girl of about fifteen, her face covered in raw skin that was struggling to heal and scars. Despite this, she was a very beautiful girl. “The first woman I had him murder was Victoria, and then all of his female servants. And of course, I had to murder the males as well. They would cause problems later.”

Neither Peter or Sharon could believe their ears. “You... You monster!” Sharon shouted at the doll. “That's just cruel!”

Peter snorted. “Do you really expect us to believe that story? All this magic and bullshit? You're just manipulating some poor sap, using his dead sister as an excuse?”

The doll looked at Peter. “It is not a story. It is fact. And soon, our contract will be fulfilled. I will take Jonathan to be my eternal slave, and Amelia Harte will be alive again.”

“One last question,” Peter growled. “So if you really did have him do all of this, how was he in two places at once? We watched him. He was in his room and that... that thing was walking towards the inn! Our radar didn't pick up on it either!”

The doll shook its head. “A minor task. Since Jonathan is my servant, I will do with his body as I please. I can easily cloak his presence, and project an illusion of him as needed.”

Sharon looked down at Jonathan again. “Jonathan, you know that your sister wouldn't want you to kill people. We can help you... so please...”

“It is no use,” the doll said as it took a long bladed knife from the wall and put it in Jonathan's hand. “He cannot disobey me. I will not allow him to.” The doll looked over at Peter. “I must control his body every time he kills, or else he will not do it.” Jonathan rose to his feet. “I'll take that woman's skin... She knows too much now.”

Jonathan slowly inched towards Sharon, as if he was trying to break free of the doll's control. “Please... I don't want to kill Miss Sharon...”

“She knows too much, Jonathan,” the doll said as put its mask back on. “After she is dead, you must kill the man as well.”

“Get the f**k away from Sharon!” Peter roared as he tried to break free again, feeling the rope biting into his wrists.

Jonathan was before Sharon. He pressed the blade against her breath. She stared at him helplessly. “Jonathan...” she mumbled. “Don't do this. We can help, I promise.”

Jonathan smiled weakly as his tears continued to flow. “I... I apologize, Miss Sharon... I don't have a choice... Please forgive me...” He pressed the blade harder against her skin and quickly jerked his hand to the slide, slitting her throat. The blood from the gash quickly began to pour down her chest.

“SHARON!” Peter cried as he watched, unable to move. She struggled to breath, gasping weakly and her eyes quickly losing their light. She soon bled out, and her chin slumped against her bloody chest, her life drained out of her. “SHARON NO!” Jonathan dropped to his knees again at her feet, staring at his hands and dropping the knife to the floor.

Peter stared at Sharon's body in disbelief. She was really dead. He felt his own tears begin to fall. He had failed to protect her, and now she was dead. “Sharon, no...”

The doll approached Peter and knelt down to his eye level. “Do you wish for her life back?” it asked. Peter looked blankly at her. “We can make a deal... and I can bring her back...”

A string of murdered had been terrorizing the city lately. The two detectives working on the murder case in the village disappeared without a trace, and no one had any idea what happened to them.

The serial killer in the city was baffling every detective that was put on the case. Many women were found skinned and a bullet hole in the forehead, but no one ever heard a gun shot or saw any who could be a suspect. The detectives were at a loss.

In his apartment, Peter sat in a chair, his pistol in his hand and a picture of Sharon and himself on the nightstand beside him. He stared down vacantly at the floor, like the look Jonathan had as he was forced to kill Sharon. Beside the framed picture was a skull mask with a silver wig and a knife bloody knife beside it.