Ian 2

Chapter 1

Kate was restless. More than restless, she was verging on desperate. At first, it hadn't been that bad to be confined to bed except for an occasional very short walk to the bathroom. She'd spent a lot of time on the phone with Ryan and Esposito receiving updates from the precinct. Rick had set up a gaming system at her bedside so that she could continue to play the role of a warrior princess in virtual battles. Both Castle and Ian had brought her culinary delights. She'd also been pleased to pose for Ian as part of a project for his pre-college program at the School of Visual Arts, especially since he'd sworn to draw her only from the shoulders up. She'd even become addicted to soap operas besides Temptation Lane. She was determined to do everything she could to make sure Amelia to remained in utero for as close to forty weeks as possible. But now a serial killer was out there, and as far as she knew, the police weren't even close to catching him. She longed to join the hunt.

She was doing the best she could. Castle had purchased a whiteboard on wheels that could be scooted up next to the bed. Ryan sent her crime scene photos, and Lanie kept her updated on whatever she found in her autopsies. She regularly brainstormed with Rick as new bits of evidence trickled in, but the killer was careful, pathologically so. There had been no fingerprints and no DNA. There weren't even any fibers.

The absence of evidence was in itself a clue. He or she would have to have been wearing gloves. Their hair would be shaved or tightly confined and their clothes free of anything that could be shed. Rick had grimly joked about an alien in a spacesuit, and the idea hadn't sounded entirely impossible. He came in and clipped a sketch to the board. "Ryan just sent this to me so I could print it out for you. It looks like there may finally be a witness. The cops aren't releasing this to the public yet because the source may be unreliable. It comes from a homeless guy who goes by Westside Wally. He's been evaluated a couple of times by shrinks who volunteer for shelters where he's slept. He's harmless, but not always firmly rooted in planet earth. So, it is possible that the fellow in the sketch originated more in his imagination than from his memory.

Kate's lips trilled as she blew a frustrated breath through them. "Great!"

"It's still the first hint we have of how our killer looks. That hood pulled tight around his head is consistent with what we know so far. Ryan told me that Wally said that the suspect's hands were shiny black. That could mean he was wearing gloves. And the killer whistled when he cut the victim's throat. Wally thought it was a gospel song, "Power in the Blood."

Kate's brows rose. "That's bizarre, assuming that it actually happened."

"Well, something happened," Castle pointed out. "The victims' throats were slit. Someone did it."

Kate regarded the sketch. "That's an interesting scar."

"It's a throwback," Castle noted. "A scar on the cheek like that used to be regarded as proof of living through a saber battle. Duelers used to rub salt in the wound to make the scar more prominent."

"So, if this is our killer, he participated in a duel with sabers?" Kate wondered.

"Or wanted to look like he did," Castle suggested. "He certainly has a thing for sharp objects. Didn't Lanie say that each victim was killed with a different blade? Maybe he collects them."

"Oh, wait a minute!" Kate interjected. "That ties in with something else Lanie that told me. The metal traces found in some of the wounds were from crude alloys, not nearly as pure as modern metals. That would make sense if our killer collects antique weapons. Maybe Wally really did see the guy in the sketch. It would give us an entirely new trail to follow. How many collectors like that can there be in New York?"

"More than you'd think, I would imagine," Castle replied. "From the fan letters I've received, there are a lot of people with obsessions about lethal pointy things."

"I won't even speculate on the psychology of that," Kate responded, "but if there are that many, there must be collecting clubs or something."

Castle nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets. "A lot more than clubs; magazines, forums, boards, and blogs. This guy could be a subscriber or even put out any one of them."

"That will be a lot to sift through," Kate acknowledged, "but it's not as if I have anything better to do while keeping Amelia from trying to greet the outside world too early."

"I'll help as much as I can," Castle volunteered, "But I have a deadline looming, and I have to keep the literary fires blazing." He consulted his watch. "Ian had an animation class at SVA after school today, but he should be home any minute. He's been studying weapons, to inject more accuracy into his battle scenes. I hate to get him too involved in this, but there's no one left in New York anymore who doesn't know about the murders, and he may have encountered some resources that have yet to penetrate our sphere of knowledge. As soon as he finishes inhaling half the contents of the refrigerator, we can ask him."

Ian ran a hand through his stubbornly unruly hair. "Sites where people like to talk about swords and knives and stuff, yeah, I've been to a lot of 'em. When I play the comments with my voice generator, some of them can sound really creepy."

Kate looked up at him. From pictures she'd seen of his mother, Kyra, she had been tiny, so Kate wouldn't have expected Ian to end up as tall as Rick. But the teenager's growth spurt had kicked in not long after she and Rick were married. However, the genes had combined, Ian looked like he might shoot up past his father any day, possibly any minute. "Is there a site that's creepier than the others?" she queried.

Ian closed his eyes for a moment as he mentally played back the postings he'd heard. "There is one, mostly because one guy leaves comments there a lot. He's always talking about how a blade serves no function if it doesn't draw blood, and how spirits enter the weapons through blood. Some of the weapons collectors call him 'The Bloodluster.'"

"What does he call himself?" Castle asked.

"The Spirit Seeker," Ian replied. "It's way too cool a name for such a creepy guy."

"With you there," Castle agreed. "Thanks, son. Oh, and there was a delivery for you today. It's in my office. You should grab it before you go upstairs."

"Alright! That's my new printer. It uses brighter inks that really make the characters pop. They're waterproof too, so I can make posters and stuff that can go outside."

"How much of your allowance did that take?" Castle asked.

"That's the best part, Dad. None of it, except for shipping. I traded some of my new drawings that I listed on Vetsy, for it."

Castle unconsciously squared his shoulders as his chest expanded. "My son, the entrepreneur. Good deal. I look forward to seeing what your new equipment turns out."

"You know, he really is amazing, Castle," Kate marveled after Ian had left her bedside."

"I know," Castle agreed, "and the most unbelievable thing is that he's my kid. So, what do you want to do about tracking down Spirit Seeker?"

"Everything I can, Castle."