Shido stepped into the apartment first, but when his eyes reported to his brain exactly what he was seeing, he almost took a step back, almost turned around and went back into the hall. Part of him, the part he liked to think was still human, was screaming in terror. Death, death, horror, run away… The other part of him, the part that was a detective, was taking in the details coolly, unemotionally.

Yet another part was urging him to go roll in the mess like a child in cool grass, reveling in it, enjoying it…

Get ahold of yourself, Shido. You’re a detective. Just do this. Look around and get the hell out.

He forced himself to look around, taking in the body on the floor, the blood-spattered walls and the crimson-drenched white furniture. There was blood everywhere, everywhere, as if someone had gotten a fire hose full of the stuff and just sprayed down the walls, the couches, the coffee table… It had soaked into the eggshell carpeting and spread around the body like a small, bright-colored lake.

“My God.” It was a moment before Shido realized he was the one who’d said it.

Yayoi was still hovering in the doorway behind him, looking but trying not to look “I know what you mean,” she said, voice weak.

The smell of blood was so strong in the air it was almost overpowering. The heavy, metallic scent clung to the back of his throat, till he could almost taste it on his tongue… Shido swayed a bit, feeling dizzy. Too much… It’s too much…

Someone touched his arm. Yayoi. He turned to look at her, eyes landing on her pale throat before he dragged them up to look at her face. He swallowed hard. “What?”

She looked about to say something, maybe “Are you okay?”, but the words died in her throat. Her eyes widened a bit, and she paled, and Shido turned away, not wanting to know what she saw in his expression.

“What can you tell me about… this,” he said, voice rough. He motioned to the crime scene That’s what it is, a crime scene, Shido, not a fucking banquet. He tried to find a spot to rest his eyes, someplace free of blood, but there just weren’t any. He stepped a bit further into the room; the carpeting squelched sickeningly underfoot.

Yayoi didn’t follow him in. “The police got a call at around eleven p.m. from one of the neighbors. Seems they heard someone screaming, though at the time they thought it was a fight, a case of domestic violence. According to reports, the victim has had… trouble in the past. With her boyfriend. But when the police got here, they found…” She trailed off. It was obvious what the police had found.

Shido went into Detective Mode. “What about the boyfriend? Could it have been him? Has he been questioned?”

“They located him in a bar on the other side of town. There was no way he could’ve gotten there from here in the time between the murder and the police arriving.”

Shido made an affirmative sound. He walked toward the body, trying to ignore the way the carpet squished, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to walk through it barefoot.

The victim lay sprawled in front of her couch, her arms above her head, as if she were indulging in a lazy stretch. She was supple and well proportioned and nearly nude, covered only by a dark blue satin teddy. Her eyes—blue—were open and staring glassily up at the ceiling. Her long, wheat-blonde hair was almost untouched by blood, except where she lay upon it and it had soaked up the wetness of the carpet. She was young, and pretty, in a way that said “model-actress”.

Blonde… “The victim at the party was a blonde, too,” Shido said. He glanced back at Yayoi.

She nodded. “We might have an MO, here. Two blonde, pretty young women. It could be a pattern.”

What sort of message is this? Is it Cain? What is he trying to tell me with this? Shido stared at the dead girl, taking in all the blood. But something was different. This girl’s wounds were different. Her wrists were gaping slashes; her neck was a ruin of cuts; her thighs had been cut open so deeply that bone gleamed within the mess of blood and meat.

“I don’t have to tell you that the wounds are different this time,” he said.

Yayoi nodded again. “That threw me off at first, too. But the placement is just too obvious. It’s like the slashes were put there to hide the real wound, and maybe to spread the blood around. We’ll know more once the coroner has examined everything. But Shido… There’s something else…”

She was suddenly hesitant again. Shido cocked his head. “What is it?”

“Take a look in the bedroom,” she said, motioning to a closed door. “The killer left… a message.”

Shido swallowed hard. He suddenly didn’t want to see what Cain’s idea of a calling card was, but he forced himself to cross the still-wet floor and to open the bedroom door, to go inside.

At first, nothing looked out of place. The lack of blood splashed over every surface was a relief. Soft pink walls… slightly rumpled satin-sheeted bed… old-fashioned vanity…

But then he saw it. Dripping luridly down the polished surface of the vanity’s lighted mirror was a message. Shido didn’t have to get any closer to know the smeared words were written in blood.

“THIS ABOVE ALL” was all it said.