Under the shadow of night, red and blue lights splattered the sky, casting their eerie glow on the neighboring homes of a once-quaint two-story house, now cordoned off by yellow police tape. Neighbors huddled around the yellow barrier, their whispers filled with curiosity and fear over the grisly fate that had befallen the poor, unfortunate souls who resided in the home.

A black SUV rolled onto the street, its subtly flashing dashboard the only indication it was another police vehicle. Officers parted the crowd as a tall, well-built man in a dark suit and tie stepped out of the car.

“Detective Faulkner,” an officer greeted him with a nod as they walked toward the house.

“Gilbert,” Faulkner returned the nod. “How’s the mini officer?”

“Loud. Never knew a tiny baby could make so much noise.”

“Well, with a dad that’s such a big mouth, what did you expect?” Faulkner said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Gilbert managed a small laugh before his features quickly turned somber. “I was the first on the scene…. It’s pretty bad in there.”

“Wilder?”

“Got here a while ago.”

Detective Faulkner offered a comforting pat on Gilbert’s shoulder before entering the house. He navigated through a sea of forensic photographers until he reached a door sealed with yellow tape. He ducked under the tape and entered a bedroom, where an officer handed him gloves. He quickly covered his nose with them to shield him from the nauseating stench of charred and decaying flesh that permeated the room.

“Detective Faulkner, kind of you to grace us with your presence,” a woman said, crouched over one of two skeletal remains.

“We can’t all sleep in our cars or listen to the scanner to pass the time,” Faulkner replied, grinning as he donned his gloves, his stomach adjusting to the horrific odor. “And we’ve been partners for five months. Is it that hard to call me Eugene, Denise?”

Denise rose from the victim, her icy blue eyes narrowing as her lips formed a scowl.

“Right, Detective Wilder. What we got?” Eugene asked, ignoring the snickers from the officers as they continued their work.

“Two vics. Male and female, both in their forties,” Denise said, watching Eugene’s eyes dart around the room. She’d only been his partner for a short time, but she recognized his calculating gaze. He was trying to piece together the series of events that led to the gruesome scene before them. “Coroner suspects cause of death is some cocktail of acidic chemicals—like the other two cases. And look at this.”

Eugene moved to join his partner, crouching to inspect a silver chain that hung around the victim’s neck. Pulling a pen from his jacket pocket, he used it to lift the necklace, revealing a pendant: a star encircled by a ring. He eyed the second body, noticing a similar silver cord melded to the bone.

“Same pentacle as the others,” Eugene noted, his face sullen.

“Pentacle?” Denise echoed as if the word was foreign. She raised an inquisitive brow as she handed Eugene a bag to put the necklace in.

“A Wiccan talisman of protection,” Eugene explained, moving to collect the other pendant.

“Humph,” Denise scoffed, standing. “Doesn’t look like it did them much good.”

“We might be dealing with someone targeting occult members.”

“A serial killer,” Denise said, shaking her head as Eugene handed the bags to an officer. “Just lurking around.”

The words set heavy in Eugene’s gut. He’d hoped the similarities in the other previous cases were mere coincidences, but with this new case, he knew Denise was right. Some twisted psycho was on the loose in the city.

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“Any witnesses?” Eugene asked.

“The daughter. She called it in.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Living room,” Denise replied, peeling off her gloves. “She’s pretty shaken.”

“Let’s go,” Eugene said, giving the macabre scene a final glance before letting his partner lead the way to the girl.

***

Acacia sat on the couch, numb, as police officers bustled through her house, their shoes clicking against the hardwood floor, their notepads and cameras documenting every horrid detail. Beside her sat a long-haired boy, his strong arm wrapped around her as though he could shield her from the surrounding chaos and pain. Mickey had arrived after… the incident. Acacia didn’t remember how long she’d lain on the floor with her parents before he came and lifted her from the ground.

“Acacia?” Eugene’s warm tone broke through her trancelike state.

She looked up, meeting his pity-filled brown eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, but her voice failed her, and she nodded instead.

“I’m Detective Faulkner, and this is my partner, Detective Wilder,” Eugene said, gesturing to Denise while trying to keep his voice soothing despite Acacia’s hollow stare. Clearing his throat, he continued, “We know this is difficult, but we need to ask you a few questions.”

“Dude, she just watched her parents die. Can’t this shit wait?”

“And you are?” Wilder asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey, who appeared to be a few years the girl’s senior.

“Her boyfriend,” he said, puffing out his chest and drawing Acacia closer.

“Okay, boyfriend, we get you’re trying to protect Acacia, but the sooner we know the facts, the sooner we find the people responsible,” Denise replied.

“It’s okay, Mickey,” Acacia found her voice, moving out of Mickey’s protective embrace. Noticing her concern, she attempted to smile but was unsuccessful. “I’m okay.” Turning to Eugene, she asked, “What do you need to know?”

“Did you get a good look at the intruders?”

“Yeah….” Acacia’s silvery gaze drifted to the wall behind Eugene, her voice trailing off.

Denise nudged Eugene, leaning closer to him.

“Maybe we should wait for social services,” she suggested, her gaze fixed on Acacia.

Eugene almost agreed, but then Acacia’s gaze met his firmly.

“It was a monster,” Acacia answered unnervingly, her stare unwavering.

Eugene exchanged a look with his partner, both sharing the same disconcerting expression.

“Where were you when this happened?” Eugene continued, hoping for a clearer response.

“I was there when….” Acacia closed her eyes, trying to recall the details correctly. “It opened its mouth, and my mom…. Then my dad tried to protect me, so—he died too.”

“How did you escape?” Denise asked.

“I—I…” Acacia's gaze fell to her quivering hand, which she clenched tightly. Her lower lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes before she diverted them to the floor, shaking her head as she broke down crying. “I don’t know.”

“That’s enough!” Mickey barked, wrapping his arm around Acacia again.

Acacia initially resisted Mickey’s hold but then allowed herself to melt into him, letting her tears flow freely into him.

“Thank you, Acacia. We’ll contact you if we need more information,” Eugene said before heading towards the foyer, Denise following closely behind.

Once out of earshot, Eugene turned to Denise and asked, "What do you think?"

Denise inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh night air, before responding, "I think she's traumatized."

“Three murders in three weeks. The other two eyewitnesses said the same thing.”

“Yeah, the boogeyman came to their house,” Denise replied. Turning to Eugene, she continued, “They’re kids who saw some messed-up things that their minds are struggling to make sense of. And from what I saw, monsters are responsible. It’s our job to find them, put them behind bars, and give these kids and other potential victims some peace.”

“You’re right,” Eugene said, squeezing his eyelids together with his hand.

“It’s late. The scene’s nearly cleaned up. We’ve questioned the witness. Get some rest: we’ll start fresh in the morning,” Denise told Eugene, who continued to stare at the house. “There’s nothing more we can do here tonight, Faulkner.”

Denise was right. The bodies were gone, and the once-gathered crowd had dwindled to a few stragglers. She guided Eugene to his car and waited for him to get inside.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll catch a break come morning,” Denise said with a short, barely audible, half chuckle.

“Right,” Eugene replied with a grin, switching off his police lights and starting the car. “Maybe a confession and a pickup location will be on our desks.”

“If only. See ya tomorrow,” Denise said, waving as she walked to her car.

Eugene waved as she drove off. He couldn’t help but glance back at the house once more before driving away. As he did, he saw a woman escorted by an officer, who he assumed was the social worker, enter the house briefly before emerging with Acacia and Mickey. The officer nodded to them, and the woman ushered Acacia to her car and departed while Mickey remained on the sidewalk, waving after them.

“Need a ride?” Eugene asked, calling out his window to Mickey.

“Fuck off!” Mickey spat back, starting to walk away.

“Kids,” Eugene huffed, rolling up his window and driving down the street, leaving behind the police tape and lone patrol officer as the only grim reminders of the horrors that occurred that night.