text: “She has to be burned,” the man behind the bars called. “She has to be burned, or he won’t accept her!” &#x200B; “Quiet, you.” The officer banged one hand against the cell door. The man took no notice. &#x200B; “Burn it, quick! I won’t say I didn’t enjoy watching her die, but that wasn’t the point. Fire is what you need, and soon. She has to be burned.” &#x200B; The man in blue gritted his teeth and walked in the other direction, towards the desk where the officers who had discovered the criminal were talking in low voices. “Anything new?” he asked them. &#x200B; They shook their heads. “Just what we saw on the scene. It’s lucky we caught him before he set fire to the bodies, or there would’ve been a hell of a mess.” &#x200B; “He was only going to burn one,” the first officer said inconsequentially. “He keeps talking about the sisterhasn’t said a thing about the other ones. Says we need to burn the woman’s body soon, or his god won’t accept her.” &#x200B; “He’s a lunatic,” the second man said. “Stark raving mad. Been talking about the same thing ever since we brought him in.” &#x200B; “Just wait until the reporters get ahold of this,” his companion said. “I wish there was a way to stop them from spreading this story to the ends of the earth, but you know it’ll be in every newspaper headline and letter home tomorrow.” &#x200B; **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** Annie Hamilton unfolded her sister’s letter at the breakfast table the next morning, spreading it over her large skirt so that she could read the interesting parts to her husband. Her eyes skimmed the written pages, caught on something near the top, then widened. “Oh my lord,” she whispered. &#x200B; Jack, already in his overalls and halfway through his oatmeal, looked up. “What’s the matter?” &#x200B; “There’s been murders in Saxton,” Annie said faintly. “Not three miles from Sissy’s house!” &#x200B; Her husband set his spoon down with a soft clang. “Did they catch the murderer?” &#x200B; “Yes,” Annie said, “she’s wrote the whole story here. Listen: &#x200B; *We still can’t believe this has happened here, in our tiny little town! I guess the only saving grace is that they caught the man responsible, and right in the act, too--or right after it, anyway. They were too late to save any of the Williams. It was horrible, Annie, what he done to them. The newspapers say that he cut great pieces out of them, mostly out of their faces, and slit their throats. They all just bled out, right in their home. It was Jake Williams and his wife, Katie, and Katie’s sister Mary. I didn’t know them well, but I’ve seen them in town. To think of being attacked in your own house, attacked under your own roof by a madman with a knife! They run a picture of him in the paper this morning, and I sent it for you to look at. Everybody’s saying he’s insane, the article I sent you talks about it. You’d have to be insane to do what he did, I suppose. We simply can’t believe it. We’re all in shock ....* &#x200B; Annie lay the letter aside and took a newspaper clipping from the envelope. Most of the front was taken up by a large picture. She gave a little cry and thrust the clipping at her husband, who took it silently and studied the face of the madman. Even just looking at him, you could see that he was indeed insane. His gray hair and beard were both long and unkempt, his eyes wide and wild. He was snarling, his open mouth revealing chipped teeth. He looked as though he could have been a hermit on a deserted island. &#x200B; Annie shivered, looking around. “What could have possessed him, to do something like that to those poor people?” she asked. “Can you imagine just sitting in your home, and all of the sudden there’s a man with a knife” She broke off, shuddering, and looked out the kitchen window. “Jack,” she said, “the sky’s a funny color all the sudden.” &#x200B; “Hmm?” Her husband was still engrossed in the picture. He stared into the man’s wide eyes. &#x200B; “Just a change in weather, I suppose,” Annie said nervously. “Maybe a storm coming in. What does that say?” &#x200B; Her husband read aloud from the clipping. &#x200B; \*\*The criminal, who has not yet been identified, was caught standing over the bodies of his three victims, and is believed to have been about to burn at least one of them. Witnesses say he was chanting as he did so, though so far all have declined to reveal exactly what the lunatic was saying. When apprehended, the man put up a struggle, saying that he had to burn the bodies “before it was too late.” He is now in police custody and awaiting trial.\*\* &#x200B; **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** “We had to move Clarkson,” the officer told his superiors, “on account of that murderer scaring him. Clarkson says he won’t stop chanting, the same thing Mrs. Dowel says he was saying when he was trying to burn that woman’s body. Said it scared him to death, and he was going to kick up a fuss unless we moved him. Tell you the truth, I’m not so keen on guarding the man all by myself. He gives me the willies, that one.” &#x200B; The policeman’s boss fixed him with a withering stare. “You’ll guard him,” he said, “and you’ll guard him well. The last thing we need is something going wrong with a man we caught red-handed after he murdered three people. Now, get back down there.” &#x200B; The officer knew he was beaten. He walked slowly back to the cell, where the wild-haired man sat on his cot. The madman was rocking back and forth, moaning. “It’s too late,” he said when he spotted the officer. “You’ve waited too late. I did my part, but it’s out of my hands now.” &#x200B; “You bet it is,” the policeman said savagely. “Too bad it wasn’t out of your hands before it even started. Just why would you do a thing like that, anyhow? Enjoyed it, did you? You’re an abomination, and I can’t wait to see you swing.” &#x200B; The madman raised his eyes to those of the officer and held him with what seemed a hypnotic stare. “Oh yes,” he said softly, “yes, I enjoyed it. I always enjoyed it. Ever since I started. You think this is my first killing? I tell you, I’ve done hundreds. And I enjoyed every one. But that’s not the only reason I killed.” He rose to his feet, still holding the officer captive in his mad gaze. “I did it for all of you,” he said, as the policeman stepped backwards. “I did it because I liked doing it, but I also did it to save your sorry skins. You’d all be burning if it weren’t for me, just the way *she* should have burned last night. But the sun’s up now, and it’s too late. You’ll see. You’ll see what happens when he doesn’t get his sacrifice.” &#x200B; The officer suddenly found his mouth too dry for speech. Outside, the wind had started a low, mournful howl. &#x200B; **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** Clutching her shawl more tightly around herself, Annie lifted her sister’s letter from the table and began to read again. &#x200B; *They say he keeps talking about the sister’s body. It’s awful, what they’ll print in the papers these days. He keeps talking about burning her body, they say. He was all set to do it, too, when they found him. The police only found him because Mrs. Dowel was passing by the house and heard somebody talking. Chanting, she said later, like it was some kind of Catholic service or something. She thought it was funny, somebody in the Williams’ house chanting, so she peeked in the door and saw the man. She said he was standing over their bodies, holding a knife in one hand and a burning candle in the other. He’d put straw all around them, and the blood had all soaked into it. Well, she ran and got the police--lucky there were a couple of officers so close by, or the lunatic might have gotten away with it!* &#x200B; *Mrs. Dowel said she wouldn’t tell the newspapermen what he was chanting, said it seemed wrong somehow, but she told me, and, Annie, it made me shiver all over. She said when she got close enough to hear him, her mouth all dried up and she could hardly move for being so scared. He was saying* &#x200B; Annie lifted her eyes hastily. She did not want to know what the man had been chanting as he stood over the bleeding bodies. Her gaze moved nervously to the window, and she gasped. “Jack!” she cried. “Look at the sky!” &#x200B; Her husband tore his eyes from the picture he had been staring at. He had looked almost hypnotized, but Annie didn’t notice. She was standing now, gazing in disbelief out the kitchen window. &#x200B; Outside, the sky was a fiery red. The sun was already high, but sunrise seemed to have lasted longer than it should have. The wind was howling now, a high-pitched shriek, and black clouds had gathered to the east. As the farmer and his wife stood, gaping, the clouds rushed towards them, covering the crimson sky. Suddenly, the blackness parted, the clouds rushing to either side as though they were being pushed. A patch of clear red appeared. As it did, Annie screamed and clutched at her husband. From the bloody sky, a pair of giant wings beat down, black and ragged. In between them was the creature that only the madman knewor was the man so mad, after all? It was too late now, as he had said. The wings beat slowly as the creature swooped forward, its thin, insectile body topped by an elongated head. The creature’s eyes were almost the length of its face. They were a liquid, fiery red. &#x200B; On the table, Sissy’s letter lay forgotten. *He was saying,* the last lines read, *the same thing over and over, while he got everything ready to burn them...* &#x200B; ***\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\**** The murderer sat forgotten in his cell. The police were outside, staring at the sky. Soon, the screaming started. The man in the cell lifted his head, his long gray hair flowing into his beard as he stared vacantly forward. His eyes were wild still, the terror that had been mistaken for insanity plain on his face. His lips moved, speaking their last words, though no one was there to hear. “Blood,” the man whispered. His face worked, and he spoke again, the same words he had been chanting as he prepared the sacrifice. “Blood for the blood god.