Chronicles of Darkness: Shadows and Dust by Andrea F. Thomas, Taylor Fierce

"Kyrian?"
             "Christine,"
he sighed. "What a beautiful name... it fits such a beautiful woman
perfectly."
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
 
INVESTIGATIONS
     
     
     
     
             "Attention! The
police chief has arrived at the crime scene!"
             All policemen present
stood to attention, greeting their highest superior with a loud and clear,
"Bonjour, Monsieur Dutroit!"
             Unnerved, he answered,
"Oui, oui. Proceed, gentlemen."
             The policemen looked on
in surprise, while one of them led the chief and Helena to the place of the
horrible deed. In front of the room's door, the man cleared his throat and
said, "The room hasn't been entered since we discovered the dead women. To
us the situation seemed quite... um... delicate. Everything is still untouched,
Monsieur le Directeur."
             Impatiently, Monsieur
Dutroit responded, "C'est bon. Open the door now. Don't keep us waiting
any longer."
             The policeman fetched a
long, iron key from his pocket and unlocked the door of the room, which was
still dark, because of the closed curtains. A horrible stench, reminding human
senses of a slaughter house, escaped from it. Immediately the three of them
covered their faces with their arms, to keep from becoming overwhelmed by the
smell of death.
             "For the love of
God, open the windows, right now!" Monsieur Dutroit panted. "The
stench is unbearable!"
             The policeman hurried to
carry out the order of his superior. Forceful, he pulled the curtains aside and
unlocked the windows. The warm, red light of the sinking sun couldn't even
attempt to veil the horrible scenario, which spread out in front of their
shocked eyes. Helena felt sick to her stomach, even though she had witnessed
many revolting things in her life.
             Monsieur Dutroit
articulated what the huntress merely thought. "Mon dieu! What kind of
monster is able to do something like that?" Three pairs of eyes gazed upon
the poor soul at their feet. This first look was enough to have them turn away,
to flee from the cruel image. The police chief went to the window that had been
opened. His whole body was shaking, and he couldn't bear to turn around again.
"I've never seen anything like this in all my years as a policeman,"
he choked out of his dry throat. "Just what is becoming of our beautiful
Paris? What is happening to make cruel things like this possible?"
             The other policeman fled
the room. Sounds of retching and spitting could be heard. While Helena pulled
out a handkerchief to protect her somewhat from the smell, Monsieur Dutroit
untied his neck kerchief and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. "These
young fellows today," he snorted. "They can't take anything. Well, I
guess it is understandable."
             Both turned to the body.
"This has to be Colette Lescoit, the governess. At least, I think it's
her, ensuing from the rest of her clothes. Not much more to say, I think...
she's been completely gutted..." Stunned, he leaned forward to look at her
head. "There is not much left of her face. It looks like she got run over
by a cart."
             Helena was more
interested in the governess' throat and any marks left behind, although she
couldn't detect any traces of bites on the twisted neck. The huntress tried to
fit the puzzle pieces together, but everything seemed confusing and
disconnected. She noticed that the governess still had her heart, even if it
lay outside of her body, on the blood-soaked carpet.
             The police chief
interrupted her thoughts. "Are you looking for anything in specific,
Madame?"
             Helena shook her head.
"No, no", she answered, embarrassed. "If you allow me, I would
like to have a look at the baroness."
             Monsieur Dutroit nodded.
"According to the report, she is in her room, lying in bed. Also, her body
has not been as horrendously