Page 110 of Eternal Obsession

And yet, she was here in Salisbury.

I slid her corpse out of the chamber and wrapped her cold limp body in a white linen gown, disturbed by the deep incision marks—the telltale signature of the coroner. I lifted her onto my shoulder and returned with my find to the window, cringing in response to her head pounding against my back.

Ingrid wanted another body, so I would give her one.

On arriving at Stonehenge, I hid among the trees and lay the dead girl down, noting the several police officers guarding the site.

Relying on my unearthly nature to see me through, I waited for the policemen to turn their focus away.

Swiftly, I flew too quickly for the human eye to catch.

At the center of the stones, I placed Gill’s body onto the stony altar. It was strange to imagine she would not leap up and start cursing me as she had done back at the club. I hated Orpheus for doing this to her. Taking advantage of her desperate need, seducing her in with empty promises.

He was evil incarnate.

I waited for the guards to look that way again.

This . . . the cruelest twist of the mind with his final strike.

I remembered the first time I came here alone—this was the place where Orpheus had turned me, the moment everything changed. A birthplace of sorts . . . sacred, in its own twisted way. The origin of what I had become.

My thoughts wandered in the fractured stillness. Sirens blaring signaled their arrival. Following protocol, the first police officers on the scene covered Gill’s corpse with a sterile plastic covering.

Ingrid soon followed. I could see her clearly, despite her distance. With her usual self-assurance, she climbed out of the police car. I winced, aware that the woman I had grown so fond of would soon be standing over the dead girl. Despite the fact that it was her job, it felt wrong. I considered myself Ingrid’s friend, but now she was close to discovering my secret. I was heavyhearted at having failed her.

Her love was never meant for me.

She headed toward the stones, her oversized boots slugging in the deep black mud. Turning on her flashlight, she stopped at the perimeter. Her colleagues had sealed off the area with a yellow strip of tape around the periphery of the stones. She gazed past this in awe at the megalithic monument.

Ingrid flashed her ID to a young police officer who stood guard.

“It’s her,” he said, clearly disturbed.

“Who?” Ingrid said, putting his reaction down to the gnarly crime scene. “You were all meant to be watching this site.”

“Ma’am,” the officer strained to answer. “I literally looked away for a split second and then⁠—”

“Clearly, this took longer than a split second.” She pointed toward the flat stone in the center and the female sprawled on it— “Is not something you miss happening.”

“Hey, Ingrid, wait up!” A short, tubby, out-of-breath man hurried toward her, pulling on a white forensic suit with ‘Coroner’ stamped on the back in bold letters. He had arrived just behind Ingrid. “We have another one?”

“Hey, Dr. Ellison.”

“Usually, I don’t mind you being right,” he said.

Her face pained that she’d predicted this.

Breathless, he caught up. “Is it true you had car trouble, too?”

“Yes I did. I hitched a lift with Blake,” Ingrid answered with a quizzical expression. “You had a car problem, as well? That’s a freaky coincidence?”

They took a moment to mull over this and then turned toward the center.

Together they ducked under the tape, joining the other officers and lingering a few feet away from the central stone.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Ingrid said.

“Good point.” Ellison pulled his surgical gloves onto his hands. “This town doesn’t get a murder for months, then three young women murdered this week. I wonder if she’s been bled out like the others. Looks like the same positioning as the other girl.