✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

12

Heartbeat. Blood racing. Mind lost. Spinning.

Fast breaths. Panting. Excitement. Adrenaline. Exhalant rush.

Blood—so much blood.

Red.

Black in the moonlight.

Viscid. Thick. Flowing.

Will gasped a breath, calming his exploding heart and trembling limbs.

Beautiful.

He kneeled by the body, knuckles white from gripping onto the knife. Slowly, with quivering breaths, he retraced each wound he'd inflicted. Glanced the blade over every curve, and stab wound, and slash—appreciating his work. His art.

Will looked up at the night sky, fatigue chasing after his adrenaline rush. The knife hung limply in his hand, eyelids beginning to droop.

"I'll meet you," Will shakily whispered, heart racing. Beneath the moonlight, the blood on his body glittered like jewels. "Soon enough, Death. Please."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly-mauled flesh, and—

His eyes snapped open, and he glanced around at his surroundings. With another deep breath, he stumbled to his feet, catching onto that scent he so longed for—the scent he grew to memorize throughout all these years.

Power, foreboding... Death.

"Hello?" he called into the air, tired heart racing once more. "Who's there?"

Silence met his thrumming ears, and he spun in circles, searching the empty forest. He sniffed the air, merely staggering at how strong Death's scent was. The rawness of it—the multitudinous calamity of it all, and—

Was that a hint of cologne?

Will turned back to the mauled body—a random man—and gazed at the gleaming blood and pale skin beneath the glimmering stars. Despite the ghastly wounds on his body, he made sure to leave a strip of flesh open for Death to—hopefully—leave another message.

He kept his knife in hand, glanced once more at his surroundings, and left the body to be found. Although Death's scent lingered behind him as he walked away, he forced himself to ignore it.

Soon, he told himself.

...

He didn't expect how soon.

The next day, Jack stopped Will in the middle of the BAU, absolutely shaken.

"There's been another body," he said, eyes sharp.

"Is there a message?"

Crawford shook his head. "Greater than that, Will," he said. "He's back. The Chesapeake Ripper's back."

Will's eyes widened, and confusion stirred in his gut. "Well, are we going there, or what?"

Jack hastily nodded, collecting himself. Quickly and easily, they made their way towards Washington, and as they neared, Will grew suspicious.

Why would the Chesapeake Ripper kill in the same exact place as he did last night?

They arrived at the scene and were instantly pummeled with an electrifying atmosphere—rushing Forensics, harried technicians. Even Jack's pace matched the hurriedness of the scene as they approached the body. They had to act now—analyze every bit of evidence from the scene in order to catch their illusive Ripper after all these years.

"Signature markings," said Katz as they neared her and the body. "He took a few trophies, even cut off the leg. Pretty gruesome this time, if you ask me."

Will's blood went cold as he stared at the crime scene. His own, and yet not his own. There lay the body of the random man he'd stabbed to death only last night, pierced with sharp, gleaming antlers. Right leg cleanly cut off, and in contrast, a sloppy incision below his rib cage.

"Profile," Will managed out, voice gruff. "Give me his profile."

"Emond Fischer. Thirty-one, resident of Washington. Single." Katz shook her head down at the mauled, distraught body. "Barely any friends, so there aren't any people who can state where he was last seen."

Will grazed his eyes over the body, deeply inhaling the mingling scents about him. A hint of cologne stung his nose, and—he paused. There lingered a faint trail of power and foreboding—of Death. His eyes focused on the expanse of Edmond's chest, still clean and bare. No message.

He kneeled down, ignoring the other's questioning gazes, and gazed under the base of the antlers. His eyes trailed up over Fischer's back, and his heart stilled.

"There's another message," he said, breathless. He stood up, looking between Katz and Crawford. "A letter 'H.'"

"That doesn't make sense," said Jack with furrowed brows. "Death doesn't put his victims on display." Will inwardly scoffed at the words his victims. "At least, not every time." Jack shook his head. "This is most definitely the Ripper."

A thoughtful, heated silence fell between them, and then a jolting idea clicked in Graham's head.

"Bram Bates," he said, eyes snapping up. He shook his head, trying to force out the words which didn't come out fast enough due to his racing thoughts. "He—When we closed the case, we had an unanswered question."

He began to pace around the body, examining every detail—past the ones he himself had inflicted. "You asked me, Jack—Why would Death want to work with Bram Bates?" His thoughts raced faster. "Well—Bates was pronounced dead days after he was imprisoned. Heart attack, they said. Sure. What if we're having the same thing?"

Katz shook her head. "Still not following."

"The Ripper's getting desperate," said Will. "If Death's marking is on his display—shouldn't that mean they're working together?"

Realization began to form in Jack's eyes, and he hesitantly nodded along.

"I have a feeling," continued Will, "that, should you make a deal with Death, the price you have to pay is to die." He swallowed, eyes widening. "We'd be looking for natural deaths in the next 48 hours—around here."

Jack's eyes widened equally, and he put a hand to his head. "But that's so much land to cover," he said. "And the Ripper moves from place to place. Hell, he could be in another state by now."

"Then we look, no matter what," said Will. "You want to catch this guy, don't you?"

Crawford sighed, chest strained. "Yes."

"We'll start now, then."

And they rushed out of the scene, leaving the letter 'H' behind them.

thanks for reading! i apologize once again for the sporadic updates. with summer break, too, i can feel myself getting lazy lmao

hope you enjoyed today's chapter, and have a great day!

-ambrose