Skyrim Blood On The Ice Investigate Crime Scene Novels & Stories

Kael rasped, his hand shooting out to catch my arm. I leaned against a jagged shard of ice, my chest heaving. The silver light in my veins was pulsing a rhythmic, angry red. "I can't... I can't keep it down, Kael. The Blood Moon is too close." I looked back. Behind us, the pristine snow wasn't just marked by our boots. It was scorched. Everywhere my feet touched, the ice had melted into blackened slush, steam rising in thin, ghostly plumes. I was a literal flare in the dark, a beacon for anything with eyes.

I stood upright despite my trembling legs, gasping for breath. The sorcerer moved closer. With a swift motion, he created a long ice blade glowing with an icy blue light in his hand. The blade shot forward and carved a deep diagonal slash across my chest. The pain was unbearable. I staggered backwards, pressing a hand against the wound. My blood poured freely, dripping onto the stone floor. But then something strange happened. The blood that touched the ice blade suddenly ignited. Not ordinary fire—this fire was black, yet hotter than any normal flame.

“What?” “The wood of the bird box that Kimberly won in the raffle at his fund raiser the other night, has a very distinctive grain pattern.” I took a picture out of my pocket that I had printed off earlier and handed it to the Detective Inspector. “That grain appeared on the side of the first concrete block. He’s had that wood for some time and Bernard Catterall has only been missing for a few days and I’ll bet you any money you like, that somewhere either in the house or in the garden that you will find evidence of concrete dust and the blood belonging to one of the victims.” “I’ve got the SOCO team crawling over his place right now,” DI Silver told me. “So let us hope they do find some

I took another deep breath and I smelt something else, another scent that made my frown deepen; a scent that I had smelled before, but couldn’t place. Pine trees, sweat, and nature? I turned, my eyes dropping to the floor and noticing the dirty footprints and a few crimson drops I had missed when I first entered the room. I crouched next to it and swiped a finger across it. Raising my finger to my nose, I sniffed. Icy shivers raced down my spine. Vanya’s blood. Vanya had gotten hurt. Maybe Obsidian had taken her to the main house to get checked out. But what about the other scent? It definitely wasn’t a pride member.

The site of the attack was deserted. Even the last of the curious onlookers had tired of staring, and there was nothing there but half-dried blood and billowing police tape. The wind had picked up, rustling the nearby fir trees and blowing orange and burgundy leaves to the ground. Skye stilled beside me, dropping my hand as he crept around the bloodied imprint. “I’ve smelt this before.” I raised one eyebrow. “Not a vampire?” He shook his head. “No, it’s the same smell that lingered after Pera was attacked. Not a vampire… I’m not sure what it is.”

After drinking water, Crista returned to her room. She then changed her clothes and lay on the bed. The lights in her room were off, so she could clearly see the vast whiteness of snow outside the window. Her lips curved into a bitter smile as she took out a silver knife. It gleamed in the dark. Without hesitation, she heavily slid the sharp blade on her wrist, making blood gush out in an instant.

The other option was that whoever fired the rifle wasn't experienced, hence the minor wound to their target but still didn't explain why the rifle was left. Lucas moved slowly, eyes dancing over the snow. Something else happened to make the shooter drop their weapon, but what? It was still unclear until he spotted where the blanket of ice had been disturbed. The way it was stamped down and cut up told of the struggle that had happened. Tiny red droplets marred the perfect whiteness like rubies on a blanket. The blood had frozen from the temperature. Gradually they grew bigger until they came to an end at a patch of smeared blood. Lucas crouched down onto his haunches, gloved finger tracing a

I need to help him. I drove my car to the place where we've caught the suspect and where Sir Austin was witnessed 'killing' the suspect. I walk around the lake when I saw stones were tainted with the blood but already dried and cannot immediately be seen. I wear gloves in case I may contaminate the evidence then put it inside the zip lock bag for forensics. The stone was only meters away from the actual scene and looks like this is the only stone here that has blood on it. I also get some water samples from the lake, if my hunch is right, the actual scene is not the place where the suspect was attacked and in the case of blood it was flushed by the water in the lake. After some checking, I d

This can't be good. Detective Somers waved us in his direction with a disgusted look on his face, his blue eyes revealing despair and his blond hair in disarray. As Xandra and I approached the rocky edge of the lake surrounded by yellow tape, she gasped and tightly gripped my suit jacket for support. Pulling her in close to me, I blinked. My eyes were not prepared for a sight like this. I swallowed hard several times to prevent the accumulation of vomit from flying out of my mouth. The crime scene was the most grotesque, revolting sight I’d ever seen. Situations like this made being a detective difficult.

They were near the garden’s entrance when Daemonikai suddenly froze, his senses latching onto something. A scent so faint it was almost a ghost in the air. But he would know that scent anywhere. “No one moves,” he ordered. The soldiers stilled as he tracked the scent further into the garden. There, on the concrete, a tiny drop of blood gleamed faintly in the shadows. Daemonikai crouched, breathing the scent in deeply, letting it fill his lungs. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. It was Sinai’s blood. If it had been anyone else’s, he might have missed it. From a distance, all blood smelled the same, it requires a level of closeness and familiarity to notice subtle differences.