I sighed. And just how long are you planning to remain annoyed at me over something so trivial, Azriel?
I do not know. For as long as it takes for you to regain common sense, perhaps.
You could be in for a long wait.
I am a reaper. Patience is part of our nature.
I snorted mentally. Oh yeah, you've so totally proven that.
As you've said to me often enough, sarcasm does not become you.
"I do get the feeling," Rhoan said, "that there's a whole conversation happening that I know nothing about."
I glanced at him. "I was just asking Azriel if he could tell whether we were dealing with a spirit or a demon."
"And the answer?" His tone suggested he wasn't believing that for a second, either.
"It's not a demon, but he can't confirm or deny the possibility of a spirit because they're of this world rather than the other and therefore not his field of expertise."
"Huh." He crossed his arms. "Anything else you can tell us?"
I frowned, my gaze drifting up the body. The silken web that encased the victim had been leashed to the bed end rather than the floor this time, but otherwise it looked almost identical. I opened my mouth to ask if they'd found a Dark Soul business card in one of his pockets, then remembered I wasn't supposed to know about that. Subterfuge, I thought, sucked.
"Is that wound on his stomach the only one?" I asked instead.
"Yes. And whatever was injected through those slashes liquefied every inch of his innards," Rhoan said. "There's nothing left but a hardened outer shell of skin."
So it was definitely the same MO. "What about the victim? Is he human?"