Dried Blood

I got thumped by Meinwen.

She didn't take kindly, she said, to the teasing about the curry house putting dog in their vindaloo. I just nodded and laughed along with her, not really sure why either of us thought it was funny. At least they didn't use cats. They had, once, until I arranged to have the Goddess Bast drop them a visit and they never used cat meat again. Oddly, there doesn't appear to be a dog god. Wolves, jackles and coyotes, yes, but no dog. Perhaps the Ancients didn't think the people would take Tricksiebelle, the Poodle-Headed-Warrior-God seriously. I can't think why not.

Anyway, it's not everyone who can thump a demon on the arm and get away with it. Most would get burned to a crisp on served to their loved ones on a bed of crispy seaweed* She's grown some balls since she arrived in Laverstone for whatever backwater village she came from.

The first door on the landing led to the master bedroom. Winston used his light to show us there were no traps and a layer of dust over everything indicated that the room hadn't been used in a long time.

"What's that?" asked Meinwen, pointing to a large stain on the wall and floorboards. I didn't need CSI to tell me.

"Blood," I said. "Someone died there. An adult, by the height of the spray and the arc of the arterial spurt. It would have been quick, at least."

"The woman in the cellar?"

"Maybe. Who can tell."

"Whoever it was, they were kept here against their will," said Winston. "Look at the bed. The end rails are worn to a different colour. Someone was tied by the wrists for a long time."

Meinwen shuddered and pulled open the curtains to let some light into the room. Her feet crunched as if she were walking on gravel but when she looked down she saw thousands of fly carcasses.

"Let's get this done and go," she said. "The whole place is creepy."

"Still want to buy it?"



Image: Principles of Bloodstain Analysis: Theory and Practice (Practical Aspects of Criminal and Forensic Investigations)