I could only help these people so much.
We listened to Jobe's lecture about the various high-profile criminals who had gone through the prison system on Darke Island. We discussed their criminal history, and how they’d been caught by criminal profilers. They had all died inside the adult penitentiary— most of them decapitated by other inmates. Like most of our Criminal Justice material, it was meant to scare us. Jobe never mentioned the ones who had been reformed, only those who had met horrible deaths.
Toward the end of the hour, our professor announced the details of our final paper. “Criminal profiling is a department of the United Supernatural Union that seeks to identify personality traits and personal history of specific criminals who don’t leave enough evidence behind to prosecute. You will be required to write a criminal report on an active criminal within the supernatural community. In your report, you will detail the history of the crimes and present a profile outlining the suspect’s personality and behavioral characteristics. In cases of exceptional research, these profiles have been sent directly to the Union, and they’ve been used to catch criminals in the real-world. You could prove to be a hero. I suggest you start thinking about the subject of your profile now. You’ll be turning in your project proposal tomorrow.”
That didn’t leave us much time. Something about the project rubbed me the wrong way.You could be a hero. They didn’t want us becoming heroes, so what was this about?
Cheap labor, I realized. The Union wanted us to help them catch criminals, even though we were criminals ourselves. They probably hoped we’d out our friends. Hell, they’d draw up criminal profiles forusbased on our own analysis.
I didn’t think I had much to worry about, considering I didn’t personally know anyone in the supernatural community outside of the Institute. Now I just had to pick someone… but who?
I found my way to the Villain’s Den after class. Cartoons played on the TV, and the sound of the air hockey table whirred. I hoped she was here…
“Charlie, over here!” Kallie called.
Bingo! I went over to her and sat down.
“You look bummed,” she mentioned. I heard her scribbling something down, and I wasn’t sure if it had to do with her map. She didn’t offer any information.
“I was thinking you could help me,” I said. “I have to write a criminal profile for my major, but I don’t know anything about the criminals in supernatural society. You used to hunt criminals before you were arrested. Would any of them work for my paper?”
“Charlie Wahkin, you’ve come to the right place.” Kallie sounded excited. She set her art supplies aside. “If you want to get an A on this paper, write about the Dollmaker.”
“Why’s that such a sure thing?” I asked.
“Because I know everything there is to know about that sick fuck,” she said. “I could write this paper with my eyes closed.”
“Do you know how to write a criminal profile, or even where to begin coming up with one?” I asked.
Kallie hesitated. “Not really. But I know his history— every victim, time of death, all of it. I’ve even kept up to date since I’ve been at the Institute.”
“He’s still killing?” My mouth became dry. To think I was behind bars for stealing a boat, and this guy was still out there… it made me want to upchuck my own intestines. “How many?”
“Ten girls since I’ve been here,” Kallie said. “So that makes… twenty-two victims.”
“Twenty-two…?” I nearly choked. “And they haven’t found this guy yet? How’s that possible?”
This man deserved the death penalty, and worse.
“He’sverygood at what he does,” Kallie said. “I was dead set on catching him and putting him behind bars before I was sentenced here. He was the one criminal that managed to get away from me. Gods, how I’d love to take out that sack of shit.”
“Between you and me, maybe we can piece this together,” I said hopefully. Kallie knew his history, and I knew how to get into the mind of a criminal. I’d been around criminals all my life and had been studying them in class for months. After all, I was one myself, though I was nothing like this monster. “Maybe we can get this guy off the streets.”
“Here’s what I know,” Kallie said. “He kills at night. Every time. All of his victims have been young women, fae sorceresses, between the ages of thirteen and twenty-two. He cuts their wings off and takes them as mementos. After he kills them, he dresses his victims up as dolls and poses them.”
I almost second guessed my desire to write about this guy. He was a real sicko. But someone had to get him off the streets, and if my profile was of any use to the Union, maybe hewouldbe found and executed.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“I broke into the Malovian records office when I was hunting him back home. I saw the crime scene photos,” Kallie said. “And one more thing…”
She leaned in to whisper, so no one else would hear. “I followed him one night.”
“Kallie, you could’ve been killed,” I hissed.
“Look, he’s good at what he does, but I’m better,” she insisted. “Or, I would’ve been, if I hadn’t been arrested before I could identify him. Anyway… I got to the body too late, but Ididfind evidence. I know how he kills his victims, which the police haven’t released.”
The suspense was killing me. I leaned in closer and asked, “How?”
