Prolouge
Slowly he walked out among the dimly lit streets to the spot where the body laid in a pool of blood. He had been called to the scene of a mutilated young man. The young man couldn’t be more than sixteen, he had been tortured and his genitals had been removed by some means of a corrosive. He stood next to the body and took a deep breath, the smell of musk filled the air. A faint breeze blew over the streets, stirring dust up and around the body. He bent down, hoping something would be hidden there, a clue left by the killer. Then something caught his eye there hidden on the inside pocket laced in the tweed was a note marked in blood. “He who crosses my inspiration shall find a fate short of sweet. Enjoy the four nights of hallows eve.”
