Snake Mountain was located in a basement, as you would expect, for an obscure tattoo and whatever studio. Elizabeth and Katherine descended the stairs. The walls were full of graffiti, posters, dubious offers, and cell phone numbers of drug dealers, hustlers, and other creatures of the demimonde.

"It looks similar in the feature film Seven," Katherine whispered. "That's where the two investigators interview a man who made a knife dildo. I had already talked about that."

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "and that once is quite enough."

Alex Romeo, called Sphinx, had half his head tattooed with strange patterns, his earlobes tunneled, and at least twenty rings in his nose. Arms and torso were also tattooed, pierced, branded, and cut, and titanium inserts bulged under the skin in some places. His lips were also pierced. He wore a black T-shirt with a skull and some band logo over it that was so full of jags and cobwebs that you couldn't decipher the name, as little as the vocal lyrics of the band's lead singer.

The basement room was full of posters of tattoos, piercings, and other things that fell under the overall heading of Body Modification. In the next room, there was something like the operating room. A Sphinx employee was tattooing a customer there, and the machine was humming.

"Nice pictures here, huh?" asked Sphinx. "These are the big ones on the scene."

Elizabeth looked the man in the eye, raised her phone, and a picture of Al Zaid's arms. "Can they do something like this? Have you ever seen anything like this?"

Sphinx looked at the image closely. The runic cuts the killer had taught Stephen Foreman, Al Zaid, and Cody Wilkins, called Rat. At that, he wrinkled his nose. "No, never seen it before," he said, shaking his head. "And it's not nicely cut, either. That wasn't a professional and looks more like something you get during a China vacation."

Elizabeth's eyebrows drew together. "So, no one has ever commissioned anything like this from you?"

Sphinx snorted. "We don't do that kind of bad work." He shook his head. "That would be bad for business. I get a lot of people coming to me who want something done to their skin." He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke. On a table, he had arranged a collection of hand-rolled cigarettes. His voice was rough and low, as if he were anxious not to make too much fuss. "The skin is, after all, the largest organ in a human being. And the bigger something is, the more it inspires. Just like the sea. Or the sky." He gestured toward the basement ceiling. "And so, for millennia, skin has inspired us, humans, to paint it, pierce it, tattoo it, cut it, scar it, disfigure it, stretch it, shave it, perfume it, oil it, or sew or pierce anything on it. And honestly, and without offending you: Skin is boring without signs. That way, even the naked person is somehow clothed." He let his eyes wander over the many pictures in his study. "But I guess it started with people painting their skin."

Katherine looked at the man for a long moment and drew her brows together. "Why is that? As an expert, what do you think."

"I think it has two origins," Sphinx said. "First, people coat their bodies with damp earth for cooling and insect protection. And then, for psychological reasons, to intimidate the enemy. The war paint." He took out a toothpick and poked around between his teeth while he smoked. Gemstone veneers were stuck on the teeth. "Even in the Bible, there's something about Satan's children having a mark." Sphinx pointed to his forearms. A 666 was tattooed on both. "You know that passage from the Book of Revelation?" He grinned. "Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding consider the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is six hundred sixty-six."

"The great beast," said Katherine.

Sphinx nodded. "That's right, man. You know your stuff. Don't you want a tattoo or a piercing sometime?"

Katherine smiled a little and shook her head. "I don't think so. If you know what I mean, I've got my tattoos in my head."

"People come to you wanting cuts in their skin, though?" asked Elizabeth, getting back to the point.

Sphinx nodded again. "Sure. That's called cutting. But we do it real nice here, not gross like the guy in your picture." He took a drag on the rest of his cigarette, gripping the butt with pointed fingers, careful to inhale as much as possible without burning his fingers on the short glowing stub. "But all kinds of other people come, too. Some stretch their tongues to make it longer. There are even some monks in Asia who have their dicks stretched. They don't come here, though." He paused. He just mistook the conversation for a promotional event. Laughing, he added, "Monks, of all people, where it really shouldn't matter how long their dicks are." He noticed Elizabeth's look. "Hey, now don't look at me like that. I'm just saying what I've heard. It's also bullshit to do that. As I said, they're probably not even allowed to have sex, according to the vows. Besides ... you know, size isn't everything." He fell silent and hastily threw the cigarette butt into the ashtray. He had burned his fingers, after all. "Others split their tongues," it then continued to bubble out of him while he was already lighting the next cigarette. "Like a snake. Still, others want bullet implants in the penis."

Elizabeth screwed up her face.

"Hey," Sphinx said, "the customer is king. We have a lot of people who want anything stretched. The dick, the neck, the ears. Whatever."

"Back in the day, the Nazis encouraged parents to massage their kids' heads," Katherine said with an ironic undertone, "so they'd have an Aryan head shape."

Sphinx nodded. "There you have it!"

Elizabeth sighed. The fellow had missed the irony. "And these are all regular people who come to you?"

"BodMods? Why, yes."

She looked at the man in confusion. "BodMods?"

"Is short for body modification. And who's normal anyway? If Body Modification were a disease, it'd be the oldest disease known to man. No, we humans need it! As I said, the skin is like the sky and a canvas that wants to be painted. And we are the artists."

"And this all falls under the heading of body modification?" asked Elizabeth as her sister looked around in fascination. "Even the cuts in our pictures?"

"Right." Sphinx took a drag on his cigarette. "That's the collective term for all activities that more or less permanently alter the body. Lifts, hair removal, and breast implants are also part of it. But certainly tattoos, piercings, cuttings, supensions, pullings, and playpiercings. And the heck knows what else."

"And when people get something cut into their skin?" the detective asked, "what symbols are most in demand?"

"Mostly tribal symbols. Tribal-type stuff. Fits the bill. But then there's the question of how big these cuts should be. You must pull the skin flaps apart if you want big hubs. That's where the wound has to be disinfected all the time; otherwise, it gets infected. This one," he looked at the picture as if it were an inferior work of art, "is just cut into the skin, that's all."

"So real cutting would be more artistic?"

"Well, sure. There are real decorative scars there. It's called scarification. With cutting, you have to cut at least three millimeters deep. In skin removal, you circle the area with a scalpel and then peel the skin off. And then some have their skin removed right away in a specific area." He showed a picture. "Abrasive scarification, they call it. It looks like this." He pulled out another picture. "Then there are those with eyelets pierced into their skin and then put a corset on. Only the laces from the corset, though. They go through the eyelets into the skin." He grinned proudly. "So the skin itself becomes the corset."

"Great," Elizabeth said. "Stuff happens. Have you ever been involved with cutting? Or with piercings and other ... uh --"

"Body modifications? BodMods?" Sphinx helped her, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes. Have you ever had anything to do with that, especially with cannibalism?" Maybe the whole thing was somehow related to the fact that the Draftsman took the hearts of his victims and ate them.

"Passive and active cannibalism," Katherine added.

Sphinx considered for a moment. "No. The guys who do BodMod either want to beautify themselves or the opposite. But the hardcore guys from the cannibalism scene, the passives, want to disappear, as far as I know. This ... I'll say flaunting, that doesn't fit with the need to want to disappear."

Elizabeth looked at her sister. The doctor nodded.

"And what about active cannibalism? Do they want to mark victims somehow?"

"All I know is that there's very rarely anything like that in branding."

"Branding? You mean branding?"

"Exactly. That's where the term comes from. Horses used to be branded by breed or owner, and the branding scarred, so no more fur grew back, and the branding remained visible in perpetuity."

"Do you guys do that here, too?"

"Sure do. Over there." He motioned his chin toward the next room. "This involves heating a sterile iron and pressing it onto the skin. The important thing is that if the flame is scorching and you use gas as fuel, then the flame is free of soot. Or you can do cold branding, which we can do here. The iron goes into liquid nitrogen."

Elizabeth shuddered. "Is that bad?" She couldn't help but ask the question.

"Bad? No. It's swift and bearable. In terms of pain, it's comparable to a tattoo, so it's not that bad. A nipple piercing is much worse. Plus, the burning process, hot or cold, releases endorphins." He tapped his head. "It's only where there's muscle and connective tissue underneath that you shouldn't do it. So no tendons, vessels, or joints. Ass and upper arms are perfectly fine."

"And that's what active cannibals do?"

"I've heard of that. Cows and cattle are branded and then eaten. Then it goes the same way with cannibal victims. But that's very rare. It's done more in the sadomaso scene when a slave is handed over to his mistress or master. It also fits better than a tattoo since one becomes mostly only on time slave. A tattoo lasts forever, but a branding fades more and more after a few years."

"You haven't had active cannibalism associated with cutting?"

"Me?" Sphinx held a hand to his chest, "Not me anyway! Not that you'd tell your boss I'd do something like that! Then I'll end up in jail for the rest of my life. But yes, I've heard of cannibalism and branding. But cannibalism and cutting? Rarely."

"Is that more the goth scene, where that sort of thing exists?" asked Katherine with a furrowed brow.

Sphinx nodded with pursed lips. "Goth. Vampires. Those kinds of guys. After all, some people like to be cooked. There's even instructions on the Internet on how to cook a human in aluminum foil, and you cut them open and cook the organs. I once heard of someone who wanted just that. And he wanted you to touch his heart just before he croaked."

His heart, the detective thought. Sure, that would be a connection, but somehow it was all a far cry from the brutal killer they were looking for. These were willingly victimized people, while the Draftsman was exerting dominance whether the victim liked it or not. On the contrary, if the victim resisted, all the better.

Elizabeth thought of Cody Wilkins, the victim in the basement in South End, and wondered if Sphinx had heard about it by any circuitous routes. She didn't inquire about it, however. After all, Cody Wilkins had been involuntarily cut up, not because he thought it was sexy but because someone wanted to make money off it. And by then, he had been dead. "Are there any other people you turn down?" she asked, "customers, I mean."

"Hey, man, sure. All these guys who want to do castration play - cut castration, blunt force castration, cock torture party, all that sick shit."

Elizabeth tried not to let those terms enter her consciousness in the first place and looked at her watch. It was time for them to finish. But Sphinx still had something else to tell.

"Some people even have their urethra stretched or their penis split. Now, I think that's pretty gross. I don't offer it here with me either, not that you misunderstand me! Some I wouldn't do anyway, neither with others nor with myself. Would be way too scared of my dick falling off one day."

Elizabeth gave him a long look and cleared her throat. "I see. Then why do it at all?"

"Only a woman could ask that." Sphinx grinned broadly. "The urethra is very sensitive in men, and exposing it means more sexual stimulation. That's why people ask for it regularly. Subincisions or bisection, urethra splitting, and so on. Or even stretching the urethra."

Katherine's eyebrows drew together. "Is something then put into the urethra and --"

Sphinx nodded, unaffected. "Exactly. And then the urethra is stretched and stretched and stretched." He took another drag of his cigarette.

Katherine looked at the man for a long time and drew her eyebrows together again. "The penis? From the inside?"

Elizabeth couldn't avoid making a face at the idea.

Sphinx grinned again and looked at the ashes of his cigarette. "Yes. You heard me right."

"How is that supposed to work?" the psychiatrist asked, aghast.

"Want me to explain?" he asked, squinting his eyes and stubbing his cigarette.

"No, thank you," the detective said, but her sister nodded eagerly.

Sphinx thought for a moment, cautiously considering whether he should tell this story. "There was once a guy who went to a studio and said, 'I want to get fucked in my cock. Do what's in your power!"

Even Katherine bristled. Elizabeth anyway. "Excuse me?" said the psychiatrist, "he wants to be fucked in his? Not, with his --?"

"No, you heard right! He didn't want to fuck in something with his cock, as normal people do. He wanted to be fucked in his cock."

"But how is that supposed to happen?" Katherine didn't let up.

"I saw a guy once," Sphinx said, squinting his eyes and stubbing out his cigarette, "who had his urethra stretched to the point where his dick looked like a thermos. The guy could get fucked in his dick by another guy." He raised his arms. "Sorry, but that got to be too much even for me."

Elizabeth looked at her sister almost pleadingly, then made her way out. She'd had enough. "I think we're done here. We can go now, can't we?" She almost said please.

Katherine nodded slowly. "Yes, of course."