A Thrill of Hope

Disclaimers: see Prologue

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"Students and faculty are still reeling from the discovery of a local girl's remains today," the redheaded newscaster said on the television. "I am standing before the scene where the remains of Ariel Young were discovered early this morning by a group of teen-agers out for a jog. Police report Miss Young had been abducted on her way to her dorm room Monday afternoon. Now, four days later, they found what was left of the young college sophomore. Family and friends have been notified. Not much information is being released at this time, but the obvious information is that this was, indeed, a murder. All female students are advised to stay in groups of three or more and to be on extra guard. Tune it at 10 for the rest of this tragic tale. This is Celeste Jordans, Channel One."

Erik turned off the television and ran a hand through his dark hair. He sighed as his gaze roamed over the table top. Various folders lay scattered, their pages worn and wrinkled, signs of how often they had been perused. Photographs lay on top of each of them and his eyes traveled from face to face. Lydia Eastport. Jessica Timehedge. Hilary Brown. Tabatha Calloway...

He leaned back as he tossed the next picture with the others.

Ariel Young.

She made five. Five victims, all attending the university, all in their first two years, all raped and butchered...what linked them together? What about them attracted this killer's attention? Was it their youth? Personality? Or was it their perfect, flawless faces?

He raised his hands, his fingers caressing the black leather that stretched over his own. A perfect, flawless face was the one thing he'd never had. For as long as he could remember, he had been cursed to wear this mask; to cover the horror that was his own reflection...

The ringing of his cell phone ripped through his thoughts, and he sighed as he reached across the table to pick it up. Bringing the small black device to his ear, he forced his thoughts away. "Yes?"

"Did you see the news," the female voice on the other end asked.

Erik ran a hand over his face. "I did, Antoinette."

Antoinette's voice was monotone has she continued. "What do you make of it? Same as the others?"

He once again looked at the pictures on the table top. "I wouldn't doubt it."

The woman sighed. "You must put a stop to this, Erik. Meg will soon be returning from out of the country, bringing with her a new student. I will not allow my daughter and her friend to be put directly in harm's way."

"We can't know for sure that they will be."

From the frustrated sigh that followed, he knew that she was losing her patience. "Erik, there has been murders each month," Antoinette went on. "There is no way of telling which girl may be next. None of you have a way of connecting the victims other than their attendance to this school. How can you tell me they won't be? Until this maniac is caught, every girl in this school is in danger." Erik was silent as she raged and for moments after she was finished. Finally, she sighed once more. "I'm sorry, Erik. I know you are trying. But Meg has been far from the danger in England up until now. Then she decides to attend the university here once more and is bringing Christine along." She paused. "I want neither of them hurt, Erik."

Erik closed his eyes. What was it like to have a mother who cared about you so much? To know that she would die before harming you or allowing another to do so? He felt the pain of his childhood clench his chest as he sighed. "Nothing will happen to them, Antoinette. I promise you."

The woman sighed. "I know...I've known you long enough to know that you won't quit so easily." She paused a moment. "Well...I must be going...Do get some rest, Erik. You've looked so exhausted lately."

Erik felt the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "Goodbye, Antoinette." He slowly severed the connection, allowing the phone to slip into his lap. He'd never understand Antoinette Giry. How a ballet mistress could bear his company, let alone worry about his well-being was beyond him. Could it be that he had a companion...a friend?

One of the many things I'd always been denied.

He looked once more at the young women smiling up at him. The one thing these girls will never had again. Frustrated, he slammed his palm down onto the table. Dammit...who is this...monster? He smiled wistfully at the term. Him calling someone a monster...It was something to behold. Who is claiming the lives of these women? And why? As he stood and grabbed his long overcoat and pocketing his cellphone, he vowed to solve the riddle.