“A grimoire,” I told him. “Kind of like a recipe book for Witches.” I stopped leafing through the book, and my eyes followed my finger down the text while I quietly mumbled to myself. Eventually I came to rest halfway down the page. “Yes, it’s a variation of an Expiation spell.”

“A what?” Ben’s still confused voice reached my ears as I handed him the spellbook and quickly leafed back through the pictures I had already seen. According to the grimoire, a piece of the spell appeared to be missing. I felt sure it was there but that I simply hadn’t noticed it.

“An Expiation spell,” I repeated. “A ritual to rid yourself of guilt and regrets-a way of asking forgiveness from yourself. I’m not finding it…” I stated hurriedly. “Was there a cup or goblet there? It would have had wine in it. Or maybe water.” Only silence met my ears. “Ben?” I queried again, looking up.

He was staring at me across the table, face ashen, the spellbook held loosely in his hands.

“Are you okay?” I asked, growing mildly concerned.

“Yeah, we found a wine glass all right,” he said quietly. “But, it wasn’t filled with wine.”

The look on his face told me that which I needed but didn’t want to know.

“It was filled with blood wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “We think the bastard drank her blood.”

The two of us shared a wordless stare as we were simultaneously bludgeoned by the revolting possibility he had just voiced. I swallowed hard and slowly forced my eyes back down to the permanent visual records of the abomination. Five photographs later, it was my turn for the greyish pallor to overtake my face. The glossy color image before me showed a bed with the nude body of a petite young woman draped across it. Her mouth was frozen in the oval shape of an agonized scream, her dull eyes staring horrifically into space. The wall next to the bed was spattered wildly with blood. Her throat had been cut, and her long, strawberry-blonde hair was matted into the sheets, which flowed to the floor like a crimson waterfall. From the ragged incision at her throat to a point just below her waist, and from shoulder to shoulder, she was nothing but bare exposed muscle. She had been skinned.