Vampires in Versailles

Chapter Three

                                                                                            Paris

                                                                                    August, 1683

When the first word of the murders had gotten out, Commissaire Nicolas had been perplexed as to what kind of madman had done such heinous crimes. But as he stared at the body of the murder shoemaker, it wasn't the puncher wounds at the side of neck that disturbed him, it was the gaping hole in his chest that terrified the man; the shoemaker's heart had been removed. He stopped an officer, pulling him aside. "Not a word of this gets out, understand?" The officer nodded. "This gets out, all of Paris will be nothing but chaos." He uttered. Letting the officer go, the Commissaire pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing his forehead with it. "Cover him up." He ordered, sparing one last glance at the unfortunate man, eyes forever petrified with horror, his chest lacerated open, drenched with blood. "May God save us all." He muttered. Commissaire Nichols was not a man who could so easily agitated, he had seen various bloody and monstrous crimes, and he took great pride in solving these transgressions, but this struck a new fear in the man. He had already begun putting together a motive and a few suspects even, but this altered the entire case completely. And the Commissaire did not like it, not one single bit. "We are dealing with a psychopath, a man with no moralities. There's no telling who his next victim is, we must tread carefully. We are all in jeopardy, no one is safe. I want men on the streets at all times, day and night." He told the rest of the force, stepping aside as two men carried the mauled corpse of the shoemaker-covered by a sheet-away into the street on a stretcher, small trickles of blood wept upon the cobbles, leaving behind a crimson trail.