The roses were as red as the blood that soaked through her white dress.

Thirteen in total, stab wounds that is. If I had found her any later it would've been hard to determine the exact number unless a full autopsy was performed. The blood still leaked from each wound, slowly turning her white gown into a bright red catastrophe.

This one was fresh alright. Which meant I was close. Maybe today was the day I finally found my sister's killer.

I looked around the crypt, but besides the few candles that slowly burned, all I could see was darkness. But that is what this man, this thing, was known for. Strange symbols covered the walls, just barely noticeable in the dim light. They were the same symbols that had been written on the walls the night we found my younger sister.

It was some sort of ritual, that much I knew. It was always young women. Always dressed in white. And always a bloody mess.

I walked up to the young girl, a pretty little thing with dark skin and green eyes. Eyes that were certainly once bright and filled with wonder, but now held a dull, blank stare. Her skin was still warm to the touch. Ten minutes sooner and maybe I could have saved her from this awful fate.

She was the fifth one I've found this year, but the closest I've ever come to catching the son of a bitch. I pick up my phone and dial.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"There's a dead girl in the large crypt at St. Morris Cemetery." I say.

"I'm sorry, what did you say ma'am?"

"You heard me."

"Stay where you are--"

I hang up the phone. I probably have seven minutes before the cops show up, and I don't want to get caught in that mess.

I hike my backpack over my shoulder and grab my phone to snap some pictures of the symbols on the wall. Maybe this time I'll be able to make some sense out of them.

"I don't believe we've met."

I whip around to find a tall man in beanie leans against the opening of the crypt with his arms crossed, a curious expression on his face. I stumble backwards, nearly falling on my ass in the process.

"Who are you?" Is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

"I believe I asked you first." He waltzes in the crypt and takes an expressionless look at the girl lying on the ground. He kneels beside her and lifts up her palm. His face erupts into a grimace. "Damn witches."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I blurt.

"Witches. Lilith's Coven, if I were to take a guess." He points to the symbol carved into the palm of the girl's hand, "This is their symbol."

"Witches." I repeat. This guy must be nuts. Clearly, this was the work of some nut job, not mythical magical beings.

"Yep. And we just missed them too. Shame." He stands up and brushes the dust off his jeans.