Blood Codex

Chapter 6

Crowley swallowed, wondering what he was about to see. Rose’s smooth, lightly tanned shoulders gave way to a firmly muscled upper back. But as the robe reached halfway down her body, Crowley’s attention was completely absorbed by the distinctive birthmark. A blood red line, maybe an inch wide with slightly undulating edges, ran down her spinal column and disappeared into the folds of the robe a hand’s breadth or two above the swell of her hips. Almost at the top of the vertical mark a wavering horizontal line came off of each side, making a double downward-facing L pointing left and right, slightly rounded at the top.

“Wow,” Crowley muttered, a little lost for words. He swallowed. “It looks a bit like…”

“An ugly eagle?” Rose slipped her robe back up and over her shoulders, to Crowley’s subtle disappointment. “Pretty disgusting, huh?”

Crowley shook his head as she sat back down and faced him. “Not at all. It’s quite beautiful, really, sort of like a stylized tattoo.”

Rose sipped her tea again, looked away. “I call it my Blood Eagle after the Viking form of torture.”

“Viking torture?”

She laughed quietly. “Aren’t you the history teacher?”

“True.” Crowley tried to sort through all the Viking lore and legend he knew from the syllabus, but no particular forms of torture were forthcoming. “You’ll have to educate me on this one though.”

She nodded. “You haven’t watched the TV show?”

“Vikings? No, but people tell me I should.”

“It’s pretty good. They showed the blood eagle torture once. It’s about as grim as it gets. The victim is tied with their arms out to either side, usually on their knees. Someone slices them open along the spine, makes two cuts sideways and opens the flesh out to either side exposing the back of the ribcage.”

“Holy crap,” Crowley muttered.

“That’s not even half of it.” She grinned at him. “Then they use an ax to hack the ribs away from the spine, lift out the lungs and lay them on the victim’s shoulders like eagle wings. Hence the name. If the victim survives the pain and shock, they suffocate once the lungs are moved.”

Crowley grimaced. “Let me guess. You love slasher films.”

“No, actually. Hate them. But I love history.” She made a cheeky face.

Crowley chuckled and lifted his mug in gesture of defeat. “Fair call.” He logged away the information for future reference. He would study up on the practice and see where he might fit it into his lesson plans. Nothing like a bit of gore to get the teenagers’ attention.

His mind wandered back to the issue at hand. “But how does the birthmark matter? And how would anyone know you have it?”

Rose shook her head, lips pursed. “No idea. It’s not something I make public. Beyond my family and those who have seen me naked, no one really knows. I’ve always worn one-piece bathing suits rather than bikinis, because I’m a little self-conscious about it in public.”

“I guess I can understand that, but you really don’t need to be. It’s kinda fascinating.”

“I don’t really want to be fascinating to people.”

“Yeah, right. Sorry. I can understand that too.”

She smiled. “That’s okay.” Her eyes widened. “I just remembered something else. I went to a birthmark removal clinic last year for a consultation, but they told me nothing could be done. I wonder if there’s a connection there. When I heard about the possibility, I thought it might be worth checking out, though I didn’t really have much hope.”

“Why did you..?” Crowley stopped, didn't finish his sentence when he realized there wasn’t a way to phrase it that didn’t sound insulting.

Rose laughed. “You mean why didn't I care until I was almost thirty?”

Crowley shrugged. He’d actually been about to ask why she decided to get it removed at all, and decided it was none of his business. But she did make an interesting point. “I don’t mean to pry,” he said.

“It's embarrassing to admit,” Rose said. “But I did it for a girlfriend.”

A quick wave of disappointment washed over Crowley, with swirling crests of confusion. “Oh,” was all he could manage. “Right.”

“It was my first relationship with a woman. Her name was Alison. I kind of lost myself in it.”

Crowley was embarrassed to realize that his disappointment had already transformed to relief. She described a situation that didn’t preclude him and he was quite pleased about that. He shook himself mentally, throwing the thoughts away. It made no difference right now that she was attracted to men and he was a man sitting right here with her. The poor woman had just been attacked and the reasons for it were becoming potentially more sinister by the moment. “I guess I can understand that as well,” he said, for wont of something to say.

“You’re an understanding guy. Anyway, you don't want to hear my life story.” Rose stood. “Give me a minute.”

She disappeared into the bedroom and Crowley finished his tea while he waited. Her mug was empty, so he took them both to the kitchen, rinsed them, and turned them upside down on the draining board. Military training and neatness was encoded into his habits whether he liked it or not.

As he returned to his seat, Rose reappeared in a yoga pants and a baggy sweat top, carrying a laptop. Crowley sat quietly while she booted it up and tapped away for a few moments.

“The clinic was called The Holm Institute,” she said, forehead creasing in a frown as she read.

Crowley leaned forward, concerned by her expression. “What is it?”

“Found an article here. It says the clinic recently had a data breach.”

Crowley paused to think about that. “So if these guys are looking for you because of your birthmark, and they decided to hack into the records of a clinic that deals with birthmarks, they could have found your details there.”

“But why are they so interested in my birthmark?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for now, that’s not the relevant issue. It seems they are, and we need to know who they are first and foremost. If they’re likely to…” Crowley stopped, tipped his head to one side. Rose opened her mouth to speak and he held up one index finger to delay her.

Hairs tickled on the back of Crowley’s neck. Not only neatness was coded into his being, but awareness too. Years of training and months on the front lines of wars had hardened his senses into a state of sharp focus, something he couldn’t turn off. He raised one finger, catching Rose’s eye. She froze, her mouth opening slightly in fear.

A slight shadow moved in the line of light under the front door, the soft squeak of a shoe on the tiles outside, as of someone being deliberately sneaky in the hallway beyond. But not sneaky enough.

Crowley lowered his voice to a whisper. “Someone’s out there.”