Bones of the Demon King
The Texas heat was unbearable, especially on days like this. Days when you had to deal with blood. Lots of blood.
Detective Jerry Gonzales arrived at the crime scene in Ludwig, a small town that was usually quiet. He saw the medical examiner, Mary Johnson, flagging him down.
"Gonzales!" Mary called out, already on her way out.
"Hey Mary, what are we dealing with?" Jerry asked, though he already knew. The answer was grim: a young woman, stabbed in the chest, multiple contusions, killed five days ago, dragged from under the porch into the master bedroom. It was the third victim in two months for the man they called the Demon King. But this time, something was different.
As Jerry stepped inside, he saw her, a young girl in a long yellow taffeta dress, lying on the bed, encircled in a shroud of her own blood. He forced his eyes towards her head and saw it: her face had been skinned, replaced by a bloody skull crowned with delicate white flowers. And above her, written in her own blood, were the chilling words: "The search for my queen continues."
