“Mother of the Ice!” hissed Lydia, as we rode through the entrance. Our mounts, halting abruptly just inside, began exhibiting a collective desire...to flee the horrific scene. I had not noted the carnage I left behind the night before; the three corpses were in almost identical positions: on their backs with their chests torn open, contents strewn about. I made a mental note to tear the bodies apart next time, as I had the last one I caught two nights past, which should prevent any such. To the left of the window which overlooked the back garden was a box of ceramic tiles, destined, I assumed for the bathroom. The window was pulled down, presumably to let out the dust etc. It wasn't long before I heard the slam of the street door closing and Alan's boots thumping up the stairs. He walked in to the room, and smiling said,"I've missed our little sessions Ann." Without another word, he was undoing his jeans and dropping them and his boxershorts to his ankles. He stood there. More

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