Dean POV

Hours upon hours we searched.

We finished questioning every person who had attended this 'party' and searched their homes with or without their permission late at night, where we stayed under the radar. Unseen and unheard before leaving the home just as it was. We've spoken to about thirty suspects. Some young adults, some still teenagers who burst into tears when they figured out they were a possible suspect and after all that was said and done, we were left with four files. Their faces remained unmarked and spread out along the mattress as Sam stared long and hard at them, pursed lips pressed to his knuckles. He refused to add them to the trash bin, remaining adamant that there was something off about them. He wouldn't give me any other reason than that. Just that he got a bad feeling when he spoke to them, safe for Denelle. These four people didn't even have a criminal record, but others did. It was mostly petty crimes but it was a mark on their record regardless. These few were squeaky clean but he was desperate to find whatever they were hiding, if anything at all. I would even leave the motel for hours and come back to him growing more and more frustrated. From time to time I was able to convince him to sit and eat, shower and then head to bed but I would find him up at 3am flipping through the papers quietly. Finally, I gave up. Mostly on trying to protect his sanity but also on this case. We had nothing to go on and we certainly didn't find any leads at Denelle's house. At first sight of the blood we thought another ritual had been performed but failed to find any signs it had been done.

With a huff, I smashed my finger down onto the soft button and began the search for the next show to lose myself in, only to end on some Spanish soap opera. I watched with mild interest, my brows furrowed together in confusion as they began to shout at one another in rapid fire and before I knew it, I was engulfed and announcing new details in the story to Sam who would mumble in reply, not all that interested. The final time he began to reply, he had paused after one word, causing my head to fall lazily to the side to look at him.

His face was twisted as he held two papers up, eyes darting between the two and suddenly, his expression fell. Jumping from the bed, he spoke excitedly and so fast to the point where I was just staring at him, dumbfounded and not catching anything he had said.

"You're gonna have to repeat that."

"Take all of their profiles, even the ones we threw out. All of them. Put them together and what are you going to find?" "Nothing," I stated bluntly. "Exactly! Dean, if you look closely, nothing for these people has changed. Not after Tyler's death. Except for these few."

With squinted eyes, I looked up at Gigantor, crossing my arms over my chest. "What are you getting at?"

"Denelle F. Williams, up until the night of Tyler's murder, living the single life."

I raised a brow at him, clearly not impressed. "So?"

"Laurence G. Bray didn't have a penny to his name. Now he could fill a pool with money and swim in it. Alexis M. Keegan desperately wanted fame and got it. She's the face of this town! I wondered why she looked so familiar.. And the last one? Lucas G. McGowan was diagnosed with terminal illness and when we saw him a few days ago he looked perfectly fine! We toyed around with the idea that she had been used as a sacrifice-" "She was!" "but we didn't think that these people would have actually done it right. But they did. They got what they wanted, Dean. Only these four people got something out of that night and everyone else was completely in the dark."

With a sharp intake of breath, I focused my eyes on the television, though never really seeing it as I mulled over this new information, mindlessly chewing into the side of my cheek. "Okay," I spoke barely above a whisper before looking back to my brother. "So now what?" "We talk to Laurence again. First thing tomorrow."

Eva POV


"Christ," I breathed out as I entered the building, a dumb expression plastered on my face. The thumping music and flashing lights had numbed all senses and I was left to gawk in place. Suddenly feeling confused as to why I was here, but grateful and damn excited. My eyes followed the lights closely, eventually landing on the mass of dancing, sweating bodies. Some getting a little more intimate than others. On the story above, what I assumed to be the VIP section and the DJ who had his set up on a balcony over the main floor. He bounced to the music as his fingers worked their magic, watching his puppets down below move with a wicked grin. Across the floor, a thin stage where women danced under a black light in their bikinis. The exposed flesh covered in glitter and body paint, as well as their lips that sung along to every song. On either side of the building, booths and a bar for any tired dancer or alcoholic to get their fuel, which was exactly where I was heading to.

I abandoned my usual politeness, pushing past idiots or yelling for them to move, which they did so without question. I knew how to handle these people. They were all too drunk or high to pay much attention to niceness. It was useless in a place like this unless you happened to stumble upon a rare sober being.

I took one of few available stools, swiveling around to face the green haired bar tender, who smiled at me sweetly before leaning in closer. Her double-d's practically acting as pillows as they rested on the bar.

"Newcomer?"She asked.

I nodded silently, trying to remain my focus on her face and not her twins. "Sunshine!" She stated happily, offering a hand for me to shake and as we connected, my mind went blank.

What the fuck was my name?

I felt my face grow hot, feeling panicked at the sudden loss of my fake identity.

"J-Julian."

For fucks sake.

"Nice to meet you J-Julian!" She teased. "What can I get for you?" "Ah.. Dirty Shirley?" "Comin' right up!"

As she prepared the glass, I let my eyes wander in a desperate search for a familiar face and so far, he was a no-show and if he failed to show himself tonight, that just meant I would be forced to come back again and again until I finally found and snagged him. We had heard that he was a frequent guest at this particular club but maybe, just maybe tonight wasn't the night, though I hoped it would be.

"Here you go, darling," The woman stated as she placed the frosty glass in front of her. I thanked her before taking a sip and as I allowed my throat to recover from the sting of vodka, I managed to choke out "Is Sunshine really your name?" She laughed and wiped down the place just next to me as a messy customer left for the floor. "My parents were on drugs back then. When I was a kid, I hated it but now that I'm an adult, I've grown quite fond of it. Tell me, how many Sunshine's do you know?" I didn't answer, I simply smiled and continued to sip on my drink.

In a quick motion I had swung myself around, leaning up against the bar as my gaze wandered over the crowd of people. Finding a few incredibly attractive ones that I wouldn't think twice about taking home if I wasn't on a job. They would catch my eye from time to time and my face would flush with embarrassment. Some of them laughed it off. Some of them gave me a little wink, causing me to have an internal meltdown, only able to deliver an awkward wave as a reply before moving on.

A particular man who was on the complete other side of the building had caught my attention. I was unsure of how long I stared for until I realized that tonight was definitely the night. The man across the room was my target.

Slamming my drink, I turned back to Sunshine and demanded two shots of Whiskey. She seemed confused by my hasty demand, but didn't hesitate in filling the small glasses. Preparing myself for the sting, I took a few deep breaths through my nose before simply throwing the brown liquid to the back of my throat, swallowing it. I groaned as it slithered its way down into my stomach and repeated the action once more before allowing my face to fall into my palms. I was having a whole different kind of meltdown now and my new friend noticed.

"What's up, babe?"

"M-my ex is here," I mumbled, letting my hands fall. "Oh no. Want me to beat him up?"

Stifling a laugh, I told her to just leave him be, seeing as there was no ex boyfriend in the first place.

"Well don't just sit here! Go make that asshole jealous," she demanded with a hand on her hip. Little did she know, I was already planning on doing just that.

With a wide and confident smile, I turned back to the dance floor, watching the crowd go mental over a new song. I had never heard it before. It sounded like a mess of techno and I wasn't too fond of it. But I liked it enough to dance.

Fuck.

I hadn't been involved in this type of life in a very long time and for a moment, I worried that I had lost my touch. My edge. I wasn't even sure if I still knew how to dance but then I remembered that that was what alcohol was for.

Throwing myself off of the stool, I marched towards the center of the crowd but still remaining in his sight as I began to sway. It started with the hips. They bounced from side to side as my hands began to wander up my sides, eventually one coming to rest at my neck while the other simply vanished in the light high above. I wasn't entirely sure what it was doing or what I was doing but it felt good. It felt right and so I went along with it. As the beat picked up, so did everyone else and soon the boring swaying turned into trashing and jumping. We fell into one another, laughing and forgiving the other without ever hearing an apology. I was starting to think the shots of whiskey were a huge mistake. Sure, they were a boost but little by little I was losing sight of the mission. But every so often, I would accidentally catch him watching me and it was only then that I remembered. I did my best to seem inviting. Making sure that I gave him certain looks now and then as I continued to move to the beat and when he wouldn't budge, I beckoned him onto the floor with my finger before turning to back to the music and before I knew it, hands were on my hips. With a deep breath, I glanced over my shoulder, a sly grin playing on my features as I realized it was indeed my victim and not some other poor lad I would have to deny.

I felt the tickle of his scruff dance along my shoulder. "You called?" he asked with an obvious grin. Turning on my heel, my arms snaked their way around his neck and for a moment, my wide eyes admired his face. Seeing him like this was a lot different from seeing him in gritty, black and white pictures or from afar in the dim light. His dark, luscious locks had been messily pushed back, his flawless skin adorning a single freckle at the corner of his eye. His nose was long and narrow, guiding my eyes downward to his cupid bow. He was casually dressed in a simple black v-neck that exposed some chest hair and light grey jeans, slightly worn. Though he looked fairly laid back, I could imagine him in a well-tailored suit with his hair slicked back, looking dapper and absolutely fuckable. I couldn't even believe the wicked things my brain was telling me to do and for a moment I considered it before mentally smacking myself.

Be cold. Be ruthless.

Do the damn job you came here to do.

"Dance with me," I whispered into his ear when I found myself close enough.

He didn't need to be told twice. His calloused fingers gliding over the soft fabric of my dress, coming to a rest at my lower back, holding me to him and before I knew it, we were synchronized in our moves. We fit together wonderfully and that scared the shit out of me. I would make embarrassing stumbles here and there when I got too nervous over his closeness, but he either didn't notice or didn't care because his hands never left my body. They roamed, they tugged and they caressed. We danced to every slow song and every fast one. Quickly growing tired as our bodies practically melted into one singular puddle. When I claimed my legs just couldn't support my body anymore, he would guide me to the bar, ordering us a drink or two and paying for it all himself. We chatted for a mere minute about where I was from, which I told him my whole fake story in a well-practiced voice that was very much not my own and once he bared his pearly whites, I found myself dazzled again and quickly slammed my colorful drink. With fresh liquid courage coursing through my veins, I got a second wind and grabbed my dance partner, dragging him out to the floor again.

Like a magnet, his forceful grip found my hips as he began to grind into me and under the flashing lights, you would find me struggling to remain calm as my face went bright red. But I gave in to the alcohol and music, allowing my body to do whatever it pleased to keep him interested and soon enough, my fingers had reached back, tangled in his sweaty hair, pulling him down so that his lips were pressed to the nape of my neck. He would place light kisses here and there, causing my heart to race and my mind to go wild. I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, fighting back the urges to either burst into tears at the thought of my sisters killer touching me like this, or the desire to throw him into my bed and make him forget his own name. It was a strange mixture, that's for sure.

Panic rose in me as I felt warmth wrap around my throat, forcing my eyes to open wide, finding his digits curved around the delicate flesh. It wasn't forceful or painful in any way, it was almost as if he was trying to savor the touch of my skin. But that didn't make knowing that he could snap my neck at any moment easier at all.

With delicate touches gracing his knuckles, I took slow and deep breaths, managing to recollect my composure just before turning to face him, allowing his hand to remain on me, though now it rested at the back of my neck, his thumb soothing the soon to be sore muscles. Leaning in close, lips just barely out of reach of his own, a heavy breath carried out the words, "Let's get out of here."

His expression faltered for a moment, slowly taking the in the offer and once he realized what I meant, our fingers interlaced and he gently led me out of the crowd and to the front door but not before I could wave goodbye to my friend, who was laughing and supplying encouragement with a thumbs up.

As the chilled air of the night stung our cheeks, he had turned into a complete gentleman. Running to the Bentley, he opened the door and then assisted me into the passenger seat, closing the door after me and as he was making his way around I pulled out my phone, sending a simple message, "Tagged and bagged."

The drive to his home was long and fairly interesting. I had immediately blurted out that I didn't normally do things like this, causing him to chuckle and confess that he didn't either. Claiming that tonight he simply wanted to live a little and after that, we slipped into a silence that wasn't comfortable or awkward, just smack dab in the middle and before it could get to the point of awkward, he reached for the Volume and turned up the CD in his car. As the cheerful beat surrounded us, his hands began to tap against the steering wheel, while I remained confused. Of all of the songs I could have heard, it had to be the one I least expected. I watched him with slightly amused eyes as he sang along, "Vulcanize the whoopee stick in the ham wallet. Cattle prod the oyster ditch with the lap rocket. Batter dip the cranny ax in the gut locker. Retrofit the pudding hatch," he looked to me, waggling his brows, "Ooh la la. With the boink swatter." As the beat picked up, his hands moved faster, head almost in a headbang and he continued to sing, pausing here and there to laugh when he caught sight of my shocked expression. Though in a matter of seconds, he was wearing the same expression as I joined along. "Foxtrot! Uniform! Charlie! Kilo!" The line was repeated once more all on my own before he jumped back in.

"Marinate the nether rod in the squish mitten. Power drill the yippee bog with the dude piston. Pressure wash the quiver bone in the bitch wrinkle." Slapping my knee, I curled up against the door when I grew weak with laughter. Neither of us had any idea what this stupid song was about but we loved it regardless.

The song had died out just as we slowed to a stop, thank God because I was starting to enjoy his company and I didn't need that.

"Home sweet home," he sighed out. Looking at his tall, stone house with loving eyes as he parked in the long driveway. He looked to me, smiling as he undid his seat-belt, "Welcome to Bray Manor." Quickly removing himself from the car, he raced to my side even though I was already half way out, though he took my hand, once again guiding me up the winding pathway lit up with tiny lights placed along the edges. As he fiddled with the lock of the door, he mumbled, "Now, just know we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." before stepping in, immediately hitting a few light switches. The sight before me was something you'd find in some scary ghost movie, this being the haunted house. The stairs, flooring, cabinets and tables were all of a dark, rich, shiny wood and the seats were of what seemed to be black leather. The walls were a dark cream color, though not much of it showed with all of the false trees and statues placed in the corners or bizarre paintings and mirrors. The glow of the yellow-tinted lights just added to the spooky atmosphere.

He tossed his keys onto an unnecessarily long glass table with ease, putting his hands on his hips as he faced me, smirking as I studied his home with a mouth hung open. "Like what you see?" "It's-it's beautiful." "Thank you! I've had my eyes set on this house all my life."
Curious, I stepped down a few steps and into a room just off to my right. The back wall was lined with books, candles and skulls of various animals. Hung above the glimmering coffee table, surrounded by couches, was a complete skeletal of some sea creature and above that, a chandelier with the same dim glow.

"So, you're into macabre?" "Ah, a little. Most of these were left behind and I just thought I'd stick with the theme. It doesn't weird you out, does it?" "Not at all," I lied through my teeth. No, it didn't scare me and I definitely didn't love it but I just couldn't help but wonder, if he had his way, would he had kept a piece of her in here somewhere. Hell, maybe he did. The thought made me sick but I pushed forward, ignoring those feelings.

"Let's see what else you're into," I mumbled, making my way over to the books. One shelf was completely dedicated to comics, making me smile. The rest of the collection was a mixture of old, new, fiction, auto-biographies, dictionaries as well as How To and joke books and then there was this one selection that sent a shiver down my spine. They were dark reds, blues, purples and of course the default black. Their spines laced with thin gold or silver designs of menacing pictures. Some so well hidden I had to squint to find them. Most were without titles, forcing me to slip one from its place, fingers tracing a large triangle etched into it. To check my assumptions, I flipped to the middle of the book, my heart beat quickening at what I saw before slamming the book shut.

"Dark magic?"

He seemed surprised, stepping forward with his hands deep in his pockets. "So you know it?" "A little." "Does it frighten you?" "No I'm uh-intrigued by it, actually. Do you practice it?" His pearly whites shined with his wide grin before turning away, making his way back out into the hallway. "I wouldn't have those books if I didn't and besides, how do you think I got all of this money?" "You used dark magic to become rich?" "Damn right I did! You can get anything you want if you do it right. All you need to do is spill a little blood."

With that, my heart seemed to either stop or my entire body had gone numb though my now fake smile remained in place. He gave me a little wink before excusing himself to the kitchen, while I placed the book back where it belonged, leaning against the soft armrest of the couch as I mulled over his words. I couldn't keep my mind from reeling back to the day I had met Agent Ford and Hamil, where they revealed possible information on Tyler's case. But that shit wasn't real, right? Those guys were whack jobs. Letting their imagination get the best of them and to be honest, they should lose their job for feeding me their fantasies as a reason for my sister to be slaughtered.

Jumping at the sound of my phone vibrating against my hip, I pulled it from its confinement just enough to see a new message, reading; "Door." Forcing myself up, I slipped my shoes off and made my way over to said door with haste, pausing with my hand on the door handle, listening closely for the sound of his return. Realizing he was still off in the kitchen, I opened the door, ushering in our new guest who stood proud and dressed head to toe in black once more. Leah gestured to my outfit, giving me a thumbs up and a wink of approval as I pulled her into the den, taking immediate shelter behind the couch that I placed myself on, trying to look as casual as possible. In a matter of seconds, Laurence had joined me with two glasses filled with some sort of alcohol. "Need more alcohol to find me attractive?" I joked as I took a small sip, grinning as I imagined Leah just behind me, gagging at what she was hearing. "Not at all! You're beautiful. This is just to loosen us up a little. Though you were slamming those drinks earlier. Maybe you shouldn't-" As he reached for my glass, I jerked my hand away. "I think I'll do what I want. Now, tell me more about this dark magic stuff. I tried the blood thing years ago,"

Lie.

"but it didn't work." He pursed his lips together, eyes looking up to the ceiling in deep thought. "You used virgin blood, right?"

I was beginning to feel dizzy.

"N-no." "Well then that's probably why it didn't work!" "Who did you use? Yourself? A friend?" "God no! We-" "We?" "Yeah, a group of friends of mine got together to perform a ritual. We had to use some poor girl. She never saw it coming, bless her soul." "She died?" "Oh, absolutely. Her wounds were too great."

Fingers clung to the glass in a dangerous grip, nails digging into the rough back of the couch until I was sure I had peeled some of the covering away. "That's a shame," I spoke lowly before swallowing the liquid in one gulp, the cup crashing down onto the table. "Well, Laurence, it's been a blast. But unfortunately, our time is up." Confusion washed over his face, forcing down his drink. "Up?"

In the blink of an eye, his head had been pulled back by a fistful of hair, the glass falling and shattering on the floor. The gun in Leah's hold had been pressed roughly into his back and before he could beg for his life, she had pulled the trigger and blood began to soak through his shirt. He looked to me, searching for any help or a possible reason as to why but all I did was stare back without a single glimmer of care until a final breath passed through his unkissed lips, then I let out the breath I had been holding, tugging off the itchy wig I had been forced to wear.

"Man, it's too bad. He was foxy," Leah complained, moving around the large seat to stand in front of him, her hands immediately digging into his pockets, smiling wide as she pulled out his wallet. She ripped it open, examining the contents and laughing in disbelief, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. She leaned in close to the corpse, the paper waving in between two fingers as she held it up for his unseeing eyes. "In God we trust, motherfucker."