Sid-er-eus ~ Latin
Heavenly; Starry; Star-like
Stars are holes in the universe; the light of heaven coming from the other side.
Book Two in the Solivagant Series.
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"I didn't know we lied to each other."
"You want to talk about lying?"
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Heat is a strange element. I mean when the flame is low you can melt or merely heat an object. But if you kick it up it you could burn the object to nothing more than ash. When Sam had unraveled the hex-bag the douche Angels found within our room he pulled out a bone. A charred child's bone. The kind of heat it would take to burn something to char would be extraordinary. You need a containment of pure flame and heat. An oven; possibly a kiln.
"So Tracy used the kiln to char the bone?" Dean searches inside one of Don's art classroom kilns "What's the big deal?"
"The hex bag showed up in our room not after we spoke with Tracy", Sam voices from the storage cupboard "But when we spoke with the teacher."
Edging around the teacher's desk, I curiously note his desk draws. Crouching down, I tilt my head curiously around the pad-locked draw. Glancing up and around as Dean and Sam chatter amongst themselves I spot a wooden mallet of the sort. Stretching to grasp the tool I shake it firmly in my grip. Twirling it around I shift my crouched stance before caving the wooden mallet hard over the lock. When it comes crashing with a bang I quickly slide the draw open only to cringe at what I find. "I got children bones", I voice to Dean and Sam, pulling out the bowl to show them from where I'm crouched "And I don't think he's saving them for the dogs."
Pausing his search, Sam hesitates to ask "Do we have an address for Don?"
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Admittedly if you google search the term 'serial killers home' Don's house would be the first result to show. The gardens of his home were jungle-like and overgrown. Weeds spouting through the pavement the porch creaks with every step we take across it. Dean picking the locks I smoothly enter inside with Sam. Dean taking up the tail. We're inside the murky interior for only a second before it's obvious where Don has crept away. The basement door the sole source of illumination we move silently towards it as a unit. Sam sparing us back I glance when his fingers dance over the doorknob my grip around my gun tightens.
