The Blood Devil - Part 1-3 The first 3 parts of my story - the Blood Devil. Enjoy Chapter 1 The window slowly creaked open. His delicate fingers played with the latch. He closed the window and the rush of outside ceased. Deep breath. A grin spread across his face behind his twisted mask and he resisted the urge to laugh. This was it, he was finally here. He scanned the room, it was a bathroom, he ghosted over to the door, the edges of his coat dragging against the sink. Without the slightest noise or hesitation he opened the door and tip-toed across the hallway. He found the right door and pressed his ear to it. Just the soft creaking of the old house. Perfect. Slowly he opened the door a fraction. It was dark inside but enough moonlight penetrated the curtains at the far end of the room so that he could see. It was a large room with a large double he'd at it's center, occupied by a single silhouette. He caressed the door open and he drifted like a phantom over to the bed. His black cloak dragging on the cream carpet behind him. He pulled out the knife from the inside pocket of his cloak and ran his finger along the razor edge. He flinched. A line of blood dripped off his finger on to the carpet. Still got a lot to learn, he thought to himself. Then he reached across the bed. Slowly, deliciously he drew the blade across her neck. A soft gargle, then a perfect silence. Then from the same pocket he drew a long, thin, wooden paint brush; he began to paint. Chapter 2 A black Mercedes pulled up the gravel driveway. John watched it crunch it's way up to the door, he saw the man jump out, feverishly trying to open his umbrella and half-jog to the door and walk in as the long blue and white ribbons of tape fluttered in the wind. The raindrops dribbled down the window as he watched the black car disappear into the early morning fog. He heard the muffled voices of two men climbing the stairs. He heard and saw all of this but it didn't register. He stared blankly out the window. Is mind filled with the same question: Who? Who did it? It had spread through is head like a disease. All consuming. He stared at a tree through a drop of water. Unblinking. So focused on the question in his head, he didn't register the man standing beside him until he spoke. "John," his head snapped round, "are you okay." The man stood before him was tall, fair haired and well built. Early twenties, John thought. "John MacMadden I presume, my names Callum, I believe we've met before. I'm detective on this case. You need anything, ask me." With that he left, John left gaping. "Not Callum", he thought, "Oh god not him." ••• Callum left the room. It hurt to see his old boss like this, but it was probably his own fault after what happened. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if he has finally gone off the rails and murdered his own wife. Chapter 3 22nd October 2005 His heart raced. This was his last chance to catch the killer. He held is pistol up and aimed. The man was in his sight. He could hear the screams of people and sirens around him but he blocked them out. John fired. Chapter 4 Present day Callum limped from John's study to the MacMadden bedroom. The body had been taken to forensics for examining but the blood covered the room. His eyes were drawn to the wall which the large double bed faced. He stood and stared at it. He wanted to vomit. "Nice piece of art isn't it," his assistant - Tom Anders, "I think it brings out the light in the room" "Shut up, this isn't funny" "Sorry boss!" Anders had a habit of making inappropriate jokes, but he was right, it was a disturbingly good painting, even if it was in blood. He felt as if he was looking evil in the face. The devil painted in blood. ••• John sat in his study, vivid images of that devil flashing across his mind. It had haunted him for 8 years and just as he began to forget that horrible night... His head was tortured. He sobbed and cried out in silence. Screaming inside his brain. Somebody knew... Somebody knew...