The Demon Hunter

The body had not yet been covered and was horrible to see. Young Lisette Sale, her clothes mostly torn from her, lay in a twisted heap. There was no blood or evidence of external injury on her pale form, but the distorted angle of her frame gave the impression that she had been snapped in the middle. Her frozen face held shock and terror.

I turned away, unable to contain myself.

When I had recovered, I took off my cloak and spread it over the dead girl. The night was chill and the only light was from the Garde's lanterns. I joined the Capitaine and the Demon Hunter, clutching my body to keep it from trembling.

"Th-this is not like the other killings," I said. "What do you think happened?"

"A young lad, who lives nearby, reported being chased by a large, hooded man," recounted St. Gabriel. "He escaped and soon after the girl's screams were heard by several of the local residents. The most likely theory is that she was witness to the demon's activities - maybe even saw its face - and was killed to prevent her from talking."

"This demon's scent you say you can smell - can you track the creature by it?" asked the Capitaine.

The Demon Hunter gave the other man a derisive look. "I'm not a bloodhound," he said, scornfully. "The stench is not a physical odour but a supernatural one. It's what Dupont here would call the creature's 'unholy emanations' and is dependent upon the demon's activity at any given time. When it is bent upon a demonic task, its emanations are at their strongest. If the demon is dormant and unaware of itself, it's scent would be undetectable to all but the closest scrutiny.

"In this particular instance, I have managed to follow the creature's trail for some distance to the southeast. But it grows rapidly faint and I lost it down near the courthouse. Whether or not this is a deliberate tactic to elude pursuit by one such as myself remains to be seen."

"I don't understand," I put in. "According to the pattern of the previous murders, the demon should not have killed until tomorrow night. LeGrand strongly emphasises their habitual nature. What caused the change in the pattern?"

St. Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You've read LeGrand?" he asked. I nodded. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't place too much stock in him," he finally pronounced. "If he had known all there was to know about demons, he wouldn't have died the way he did."

"What I find puzzling," said the Capitaine, "is what was Lisette Sale doing in this part of town? She worked in the western quarter and lived at Madame Chevalier's hostel. What reason could she have had for coming here so late at night?"

"A mystery, indeed," agreed the Demon Hunter.

By the time Lisette's body had been delivered to the mortician and the murder site had been completely scoured for clues, it was well past sunrise and the town had come to life. News of the murder had quickly spread, of course, and the people of Mirecourt went about their daily business in a subdued manner. I returned home for breakfast and a wash.

Afterwards I had to go and inform Madame Chevalier of the fate of her young boarder. The old woman was quite distraught, for it transpired that Lisette was actually her niece. It was difficult, in my capacity as a priest, to find words of comfort for her or to explain why a benevolent and all-powerful God should allow such things to happen.