The gas lamps hanging from the ceiling shone brilliantly with the aid of several lenses, overwhelming the sunlight streaming in through the windows on either side and bathing the entire room in an orange-yellow glow. Yet several patches of blood, absorbed by the expensive carpet covering the floor beneath the chandelier and nearly dry, lay scattered across it.
Calling them bloodstains was not quite accurate. The astonishing amount of blood on the carpet had congealed into puddles of gelatinous matter. Even more fragments of flesh, irregularly shaped and scattered radially in different places, mixed red muscles and organs with yellowish-white skin and fat, giving off an almost visible stench of blood.
The last time Angel had seen so much blood and human tissue had been in Enmat Harbor, in a cellar in the Port District.
Instinctively, she raised her head and scanned the hall, hoping to find the upside-down giant statue of the Aurora Order.
Of course, she found nothing.
How could the Aurora Order possibly be everywhere? After their stronghold in Enmat Harbor had been destroyed and Mr. C, the Rose Bishop, seriously wounded, they should have ceased most of their activities and kept their heads down. That was how a cult ought to behave... right?
But when she remembered that they had dared to build an altar at the port of a major city and sacrifice flesh and blood to an evil god, Angel became uncertain again.
"Could you describe the situation when the scene was discovered?"
Leonard's calm, reassuring voice came from beside her.
Yet judging by the tightness of the poet's lips, he did not seem as composed inside as his words suggested.
"Y-Yes," the policeman, who had retreated to the doorway, forced himself to stay calm as he stepped forward two paces. "The victims should