Warm Blood Cold Case - Part 3

"Something like that." Casie wrapped her hands around the warm mug, using the heat to ground herself. "Antiquarian research. Old manuscripts, historical religious practices." Each word was technically true, even if it painted an incomplete picture.

"Didn't know you were into that kind of thing." Rick settled back in his chair, but his posture remained alert. Three years of partnership had taught him to read her moods, and right now every instinct was probably telling him she was holding something back.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, O'Connor." She kept her tone light, almost teasing, but saw the flash of hurt that crossed his features before he could hide it.

They'd built their partnership on trust and mutual respect, but it was a trust that could only go so deep. Rick knew she was disciplined, methodical, fiercely dedicated to the job. He knew she could handle herself in a fight and had reflexes that sometimes surprised even seasoned cops. What he didn't know was why.

Her phone buzzed with a text message. *Photos. One hour. Usual place.* No signature, but she recognized Elias's careful phrasing. The 'usual place' would be the old cemetery where they used to meet as children, before pack politics and family expectations had driven wedges between the siblings.

"I need to check something out," she said, standing and reaching for her jacket. "Can you handle the witness interviews solo?"

Rick frowned. "We just caught a case, Casie. Now's not the time for personal errands."

"This is about the case." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "The symbols—I think I know someone who's seen similar markings before. But they won't talk to cops officially."

"Informants?" Rick's expression shifted to understanding. Every detective had sources who preferred to stay in the shadows.

"Something like that." Another half-truth. "Give me two hours. If this pans out, we might actually have a lead instead of just more questions."

Rick nodded slowly, but she could see the concern in his eyes. "Be careful, Blackwood. This case already feels different."

He had no idea how different.

The drive to Riverside Cemetery took twenty minutes through increasingly gray morning light. Casie parked near the main entrance but walked to the older section, where weathered headstones marked graves from the city's founding families. The Blackwood plot dominated a small hill overlooking the river, generations of her ancestors laid to rest under carved wolves that time had worn smooth.

She found Elias waiting beside their great-grandmother's monument, his dark coat expensive enough to mark him as out of place among the cemetery's usual visitors. He'd inherited their father's height and broad shoulders, but where Marcus Blackwood carried himself with the rigid authority of their father, Elias was her third eldest brother only a year older then her but out of all of them he was the only one that had tried to help her after her rejection.

He turned at her approach, and for a moment, Casie saw genuine relief in his expression before it smoothed into something more guarded. Ten years had etched fine lines around his eyes that hadn't been there when she left.

"Sister," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "You look..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Human."

"That's the idea." She stopped a few feet away, maintaining distance that felt both physical and symbolic. "Did you bring what I asked for?"

Elias reached into his coat and withdrew a leather portfolio. "The symbols you described match rituals from before the Great Accord. Blood magic from when our kind still warred openly."

"Which kind?" Casie asked, her voice dropping. "Werewolf? Vampire? Something else?"

"That's what concerns me." Elias opened the portfolio, revealing sketches of symbols nearly identical to those carved into the victims' palms. "These aren't specific to any one faction. They're binding marks, used to channel energy across supernatural boundaries."

"Someone's harvesting power," Casie realized, her stomach tightening. "Using humans as conduits."

"Not just power." Elias's expression darkened. "These markings specifically draw from fear. Terror. The primal horror humans experience when confronted with what they don't understand."

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. "The fear-scent at the scene. It wasn't from the killer—it was being collected."

"Precisely." Elias turned a page, revealing an ancient drawing of robed figures surrounding a bound victim. "Whoever is doing this is building toward something. The old texts speak of rituals requiring exactly seven sacrifices to break the barriers between worlds."

"We've found three victims," Casie said quietly. "How much time do we have?"

"If they're following the lunar cycle? Four days until the next, coinciding with the waning moon."

The weight of responsibility settled over her like a physical burden. Four days to prevent another death. Four days to hunt down a killer using magic that predated modern supernatural law.

"I need to know who would have knowledge of these rituals," she said. "Most of these old practices were supposed to be buried when the Accord was signed."

Elias's expression became carefully neutral. "Father would know more."

"That's not an option." The words came out sharper than she intended.

"Casie." Her brother's voice softened. "I understand why you left. What happened at your ceremony—"

"Don't." She cut him off, the old pain flaring despite years of careful compartmentalisation. "This isn't about me or Marcus or ancient pack history. It's about preventing a supernatural war from spilling into human streets."

"It's all connected," Elias insisted. "The rejection, your departure, now these killings in your territory—none of it is a coincidence."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that after you left, things changed at home. Mother barely speaks to anyone anymore, and well, the others started to notice after you left. The glue that once kept us all together disappeared the night you did. I find Dominick in your room at least three times a week, talking to the room as if he's talking to you as he sits on your old bed. The others have given up their old hobbies that you once helped inspire. I’ve also found them in your old room, looking at your old drawings. And father, he might be still standing, but the light that was once in his eyes is now gone.” Elias said, looking towards the ground.