Arizona
3 September, 1999 / 6am: Talib, Bastien and I took the jet this morning. An hour ago to be precise. We're headed to Flagstaff at this unworthy hour to consult with the Flagstaff PD on a serial murder case. Reese and Sidney are finisheing up our last case with the Dallas House. They'll be joining us when they're done. Ravyn hasn't returned from Botswana yet, but I'm sure Bastien is keeping tabs on her.
We've been called in by a friend of Talib's. Apparently, the Flagstaff PD has a string of immolated corpses they're pretty sure belong to a serial killer, but they can't figure out how he's doing it. All the corpses are completely immolated, consumed. Dental records have been the only means of identifying the victims. According to Talib's friend, Daniel, ten bodies have turned up so far. The problem is, open flame is not enough to wholly immolate a human body. We just don't burn that well. Some form of accelerant would be neccessary for the trauma suffered by the bodies. Gasoline, alcohol, something that would leave a trace. A mistake can be made on one or two cases, but ten? All in the same condition, all with no trace of an accelerator. Victim profiles are normal: all white females, 20-35, blonde. Perhaps we'll be able to find more similarities, some tie that will give us a clue as to why he picks those particular women. Serial killers are notoriously hard to catch, and this one has been quite successful. I'm not sure how they've managed to keep this mess out of the media so far, but I can imagine the pandamonium when the story breaks.
5 September, 1999 / 7pm: This case is really getting to me. We've been at this for two days now and nothing is making any sense. Does it sound rediculous to say I hate serial killers? Well, I do. They're too neat and hard to catch, especially when there are other forces at work. Bastien thinks the supernatural is involved, he has a 'feeling', but I haven't sensed anything yet. Maybe he's right, maybe I am too close to this whole thing now. Lynn was one of my closest friends in high school. We'd drifted apart afterward, but still, something like this tends to bring back a lot of old memories. Some good, some not. I'm having trouble consentrating. I wish I could decipher that note, then I could feel like I was accomplishing something at least. Maybe I'm not losing it, maybe it is the sleep depravation. Maybe I just want to go back and do some things over. Whatever it is, we've got to find some answers soon, before more bodies turn up.
6 September, 1999 / 11pm: I met someone today. I always laughed at the whole Romeo and Juliet love at first site thing. It always seemed so rediculous. Today I changed my mind. I was on my way to do an interview with Donna B****, a friend of one of the victims, when I met Michael. He was leaving the cafe as I came in. I've never felt such an immediate connection with anyone before, never met anyone with eyes that intense. He waited for me to finish the interview, then we walked and talked for hours. I was so distracted, I hope I didn't blow that interview. No one has ever effected me like this. I should go back over the tape and see if I missed anything; I may need to do a follow up with Ms. B****. Bastien will lite into me hard if he finds out about this, and I'm not in the mood for another of his consentration lectures. I wonder if we'll ever catch this guy. Michael seems to think this corner of the continent is a paradise. I wonder what he'd say if he knew what went on behind the scenes. What would he say about what I do, what and who I am? If I could tell him, I think he'd understand somehow. Sometimes you can just sense a kindred spirit. It's still too soon to breach the whole psychic thing.
7 September, 1999 / 6pm: Lust is a nercotic. It must be. I haven't felt this high - well, ever. I can't stop thinking about him, those eyes, thaht body. I'm going to meet him again tomorrow. I can't wait to feel those incredible eyes again.
9 September, 1999 / 9pm: They found another body this morning. That makes twelve. One more. What complete chaos will reign when the media sinks in their jaws. Societal cannibalism, yummy, inspired by the genius. What form will the god of chaos take? Will he appear out of the falling sun, burning down to earth like a god onto this bold, unrepentant world. The glorious saviour rescues his populace, his worshippers from the eternal darkness, baptizing the unworthy flagrants in the phoenix flame. I am his bride. He whispers such sweet horror into my dreaming ears. I feel his body consuming mine every time my eyes close. Soon he will take my spirit and join it with his. Together we will breach the confines of this world and and reclaim that glowing ether, the sacred heavens so wrongfuly torn from us. Our assent will be as conquerors, no more to tread the fiery wasteland. The sacrificial harvest is almost complete. I in him will reign the etherial filament and the heavens will fall and consume the earth and all will be purged. The time of his coming is near. The hour of the end is upon us. I feel him. He comes.
5 October, 1999 / 7pm: I look back over the words I wrote, chilled. There is nothing of me in these pages, he was completely comsuming. Physically, I've nearly recovered from that ordeal, but it terrifies me that I lost myself so fully, so quickly. Enough to offer him my life, my very soul. Will I ever forget the feelings he evoked in me as he stripped the heart from my body and nearly devoured my soul? I can't help wondering what he would have found if the ritual had been completed. The demon was real enough, but the heaven? The "God"? Would the light have turned to darkness, would he have raped the life from this globe? A pagan I have always been. I've never believed in eden or paradise in the hereafter, but I wonder. Michael is dead, but what was he exactly? Satan, like they think? I still feel the loss where he was ripped from me. I still yearn for the touch of his flesh and the searing of his eyes. Is there a justification for falling in love with evil? I don't know what they'll do when they find out that part of him still lives. I'm scared of the possibilities. What did he leave me? I know what I should do. The evil that was Michael must be purged from the world, from my soul. I also know that I will not. He still pervades me. Maybe such pure evil can never truly be destroyed. We just have to keep fighting the darkness and not let it consume us. There is a price to pay on either side. I hope the cost isn't more than we can afford.
Case Reference Number: 1024
Case Status: Closed
The Gypsie House Site - Updated by Dr. Bryn O'Neil
