Blood of Gato

"Mr. Farrow, are you sleeping in my class?!" Professor Klein shouted, approaching the sleeping student and lightly tapping him on the head with the tip of his worn wooden pointer. The entire classroom fell silent for a moment, then erupted in giggles; someone even tried to imitate snoring.

William jolted at the professor's shrill, piercing voice and, opening his eyes, saw dozens of gazes fixed on him—some with mockery, others with sympathy. He quickly wiped the corner of his mouth with his sweater sleeve, trying to erase the traces of sleep, and muttered, lowering his voice, "I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again!" The words came out a bit uncertain, hoarse, as if he still hadn't fully woken up.

Klein squinted at William for a few seconds, clearly weighing whether to throw him out right then and there. Then he snorted, shook his head in disappointment, and said, "I hope so, Mr. Farrow. Otherwise, you'll be out of here faster than you can say, 'What for?'" He slammed the pointer on the desk, drawing the attention of the other students, and without waiting for a response, turned back to the board to continue his lecture.

William sighed heavily, propping his chin on his fist. Despite the humiliation he had just experienced, a sleepy but satisfied smile spread across his face. All of the professor's irritation faded away; today he was in an incredibly good mood, and no one could ruin it. Not grumpy Klein, nor Max with his stupid jokes, nor Sam with her constant teasing. And certainly not Sophie.

He glanced toward the far corner of the classroom. There, by the window, Sophie and Tyrone were sitting close together; she was whispering something in his ear, and he was grinning, holding her hand. Sophie shamelessly traced her finger along his cheek, and then, noticing William's gaze, she deliberately snuggled against her new boyfriend's shoulder. William's heart ached painfully, but he clenched his teeth, forced himself to look away, and focused on his notebook.

"I'm having an incredibly good day, and I shouldn't let it be ruined by some…"—he didn't finish, exhaling sharply and taking a few deep breaths. Writing the lecture suddenly became easier.

At that moment, he felt a light shove on his shoulder. Kemar leaned closer and, grimacing, whispered, "Dude, just look! That girl has no shame or conscience, kissing right in class! You guys broke up just a couple of days ago, and she's already with someone new!" Kemar spoke loud enough that several classmates turned to look. He sounded like he was about to lecture his own niece.

"Look at how she's dressed, like she's ready for a night shift! Damn seductress," Kemar continued, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "And that jacket… is that the one you gave her for Halloween?"

He laughed deeply but quickly fell silent when he noticed William tense up.

"Kem, I see it all; I don't need reminding! If you don't have anything else to talk about, shut up before I strangle you!" William hissed through his teeth, gripping his pen tightly, ready to stab someone.

"Alright, alright, relax," Kemar raised his hands in surrender and quickly changed the subject, lowering his voice. "By the way, why is Klein teaching history? I thought he only taught physics... Is this a lecture about the Romans or the Goths? I'm already confused."

"Klein is filling in for Ethan. Apparently, he broke his leg."

"Our Professor Superman broke his leg?" Kemar's eyes widened. "I'd sooner believe he accidentally ate a jellyfish than that he hurt himself!"

He snorted, clearly skeptical of the silly injury of "the best teacher of the year."

"Well, rumors say he fell down the stairs helping an old lady."

"What a twist!" Kemar rolled his eyes but suddenly switched to a whisper: "Look what I got!" he whispered excitedly, leaning closer to William, his eyes sparkling mischievously. From the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out two tickets as black as night—thick paper embossed with a white horse shimmering in the lamplight. For a second, he tossed them in his hand like a magician and grinned triumphantly.

"Is that… really them?" William reached for one ticket, as if afraid they would vanish if he blinked.

"No way," he breathed, studying the bold letters: "Dark Riders. LIVE. I thought they sold out last week!"

Kemar straightened his shoulders and nodded with satisfaction, clearly reveling in the moment of triumph. "I told you I'd sort everything out!" He winked and, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, added, "My cousin just got a job as a janitor at the club where the concert is. He said he saved something special for me… In short, both tickets—three hundred bucks."

He held the tickets close to his chest as if they were not pieces of cardboard but keys to his own yacht.

"Damn, Kem, you lucky bastard!" William couldn't hide his excitement, but at that moment, something inside him trembled. He wanted to agree right away, but reality weighed down on him like a heavy burden.

"So, are you coming with me this Saturday?" Kemar leaned forward, grinning as if he had no doubts about William's positive response.

William hesitated, lowering his gaze as he began to mechanically twist his pen in his hands. "I'd love to, really…" He rubbed his neck, feeling the awkwardness rise. "But it looks like I can't."

"You've got to be kidding me?" Kemar frowned.

"It's just… I start a new job tomorrow, and I promised to help out at home over the weekend. Plus, I have a lot to do," his voice was quiet, almost apologetic, but his gaze kept drifting back to the tickets.

"You do realize I bought them specially for us?" Kemar's voice carried a note of hurt and slight anger. "Who am I supposed to go with now? Should I just hang them on the wall?"

"Sorry, man. Really. Maybe you could take Stacey? Or, if it's really bad, Sara?" William tried to joke, forcing a smile, but inside he berated himself for letting everyone down again.

Kemar sighed and turned away, looking out the window where red leaves lazily floated by. "You're really letting me down… I was counting on you… Fine, forget it," he mumbled.

William was angry with himself—once again, his anxiety and fear were putting a wall between him and a normal life. "Damn it…" he cursed mentally. "Why is everything like this? Can't I just be a regular guy for once?"

Suddenly, he noticed Sara, sitting across the aisle, glancing their way, and an idea took shape in William's mind.

"Hey, Sara!" he called quietly, making sure Professor Klein was busy at the board.

The girl didn't even turn, continuing to jot something down in her notebook. "What do you want, Will?" she responded in a tired voice.

"Here's the thing…" William began, casting a sly glance at Kemar. "Kemar wanted to invite you to the Dark Riders concert."

"Will, what are you doing?!" Kemar hissed, trying to grab his friend's sleeve, but William was already rolling with the idea.

"Well, what do you say? Are you going to the concert with our shy friend? There'll be a crowd, heat, flying hair, and a full-on party!" William spread his arms theatrically, as if promoting the party of the century.

Sara finally turned to them, raising an eyebrow. A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes, but she quickly composed herself. "So, poor Kemar can't even ask and is asking a friend to do it for him?" She chewed her gum, taking her time to respond, and lazily stared at Kemar, who looked like a schoolboy on his first date.

"Well, you see, he's just afraid he might go blind from your beauty, that's all!" William chimed in, trying not to laugh.

"Uh-huh, and you'll be doing my notes and homework all week if I agree?" Sara asked with a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"As you wish, queen," William surrendered, raising his hands in defeat.

"Heard that, Kemar?" Sara nodded in his direction. "This Saturday, I'm your date. Just don't be late!"

Kemar finally came to life, flashing an awkward but happy smile. "No problem, milady," he mumbled, watching her as she returned to her notebook.

William exhaled in relief and patted his friend on the shoulder. "See? It's all solvable!"

At that moment, Professor Klein, without turning from the board, dryly remarked, "And if you gentlemen are done arranging dates, perhaps you could start taking notes before your memory goes the way of the tickets?"

******

Detective Karl and his partner Tomi barely managed to shove a couple of buns into their mouths when they received the call—a brutal murder at house number 3031. They raced to the crime scene with flashing lights and the wailing of sirens, finding Sam and Anna already waiting on the doorstep. Karl removed his crumpled felt hat and scratched his head thoughtfully as he surveyed the surroundings.

"Hey, guys, what are you doing here? We were called," he boomed, stepping closer.

Tomi, still blinking from the camera flashes at the entrance, hurriedly pulled out his notebook. His fingers trembled, but he tried to maintain an air of composure.

"You won't believe it—I was going to ask you the same thing," Sam replied hoarsely, stretching after a long night and yawning so wide that Karl caught a glimpse of the filling in his upper tooth.

Anna, carefully tucking a stray hair behind her ear and pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket, covered her nose, which had already turned red from the sharp smell.

"Relax," she said evenly. "We were called because the style of the killer matches that of someone we're investigating in another case."

Karl scanned the entryway—on the wall hung a collection of baseball caps, and by the door stood expensive sneakers. He struggled to pull on his gloves, one of which immediately tore at the thumb. He gritted his teeth to keep from cursing.

"But we were informed that the victim had their heart ripped out. 'Heart-eater'—that's our case, isn't it?" Tomi reminded him, glancing over his shoulder at the area cordoned off with yellow tape, where forensic experts were busy.

"A hole in the chest isn't the only wound," Anna added calmly, tapping her own heart. Her eyes were cold, but there was a barely perceptible tremor in her voice.

Karl stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. "What's going on?"

In response, Anna waved her hand toward the living room, where experts were already at work. They walked past a lavishly furnished room: a half-drunk glass of tequila sat on a polished table, a huge television flickered in the corner, and a stereo quietly played jazz, as if the unknown murderer had forgotten to turn it off.

"Now that's living…" Karl muttered, admiring the shiny speakers. "Just imagine watching a game on that monster!"

Sam, unable to resist, envisioned himself lounging on a leather couch with a bottle of beer. "We'd have to work our whole lives for such luxury," he smirked, pulling on his gloves. "And even then, I doubt we'd scrape together enough."

Karl, struggling with another glove, snorted. "What was this guy even doing? Businessman?"

"Brought tequila from Mexico," Anna replied tersely, her gaze fixed on the body.

Karl crouched down, his shoes sliding quietly on the polished floor. "Mexico? I didn't think anything could surprise me anymore. Just don't tell me this is the work of a cartel."

Sam, rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen, raised an eyebrow. "Cartels don't operate in Pennsylvania," he shot back. "And it's not their style; they'd go for heads, not hearts."

At that moment, Tomi stepped closer, and his face instantly paled. The body on the floor was mutilated. A bloody hole gaped in the chest, with torn, jagged wounds surrounding it, and the face… the face was a mass of pulp, as if the killer had wanted to erase the victim's identity.

"Damn, what the…?!" Tomi exclaimed, turning away to keep from vomiting.

Karl, holding back the urge to retch, nodded. "I've seen worse… but I won't lie, it's disgusting."

Anna crouched beside him, looking at the corpse with a cold, professional gaze. "All the signs match the case involving the Piers," she said, pulling out a photo of the very couple they were investigating.

Tomi swallowed hard and took a step back. "Are you talking about the ones that 'the beast tore apart'?"

Sam, emerging from the kitchen, couldn't resist a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, but that beast is a person… or something very much like one."

Suddenly, a short girl with purple hair tied in a high ponytail interrupted their conversation. She wore large glasses in a dark frame, and her neat lab coat and rubber gloves made it clear she was the forensic expert.

"Sam," she began sharply, stepping over a puddle of blood at the threshold, "I've told you a hundred times, this was clearly not the work of a human!"

Irritation laced her voice, as if she were about to throw her lab glasses at them.

Leaning against the back of the sofa, Sam chuckled. "Are you suggesting we look for a puma or a tiger?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Anna.

"Maybe," the forensic expert shot back without blinking. "But more likely, you should consider a psycho with a pet cat from the feline family." She leaned over the body and began pointing at the wounds, her fingers deftly gliding over the bloodied skin. "See these jagged wounds around the face? There are too many of them, and they appeared simultaneously. It's as if someone wore a glove wrapped in blades, or…" She looked intently at each of them. "…or the killer has a rather large pet cat."

Tomi quickly flipped through his notebook, frantically writing down every word, determined not to miss a detail.

A tense silence fell over the room. The detectives exchanged glances, each mentally running through a list of local oddballs.

Karl, scratching his stubble, suddenly recalled, "I saw on the news that a guy in India taught a monkey to steal. They both got sent to jail, can you believe it?" He tried to lighten the mood, but Anna shot him a sideways glance and sighed heavily, slapping her knees.

"Thanks, Liya," she said curtly as she stood up. "I'll check all the exotic animal owners in the city and ask the zoo if anyone has escaped."

Sam, still examining the wounds, suddenly perked up. "By the way, where's his heart? Usually, 'Heart-eater' leaves the hearts in place."

Liya smiled mysteriously and slowly removed her gloves. "Follow me," she said, her heels clicking softly against the laminate floor of the hallway.

The detectives followed her down a long, dimly lit corridor, where expensive paintings adorned the walls, and the air was thick with a mix of blood and cheap air freshener. Liya opened the door to a small room where, on the floor, right on the carpet, lay a heart. A silver knife with a curved handle was embedded in it. Above the heart, blood-splattered on the wall, was a chilling message:

"Recently, I devoured two sinners; their flesh was sweet,

And now I have tasted the adulterer!"

Karl and Tomi whistled simultaneously—this was the first time a maniac had left a written message.

"So he decided to play with us," Karl muttered, staring at the bloody letters. His voice trembled, and he felt a tightening in his chest.

"We found bite marks only on the heart," Liya explained, stepping closer and pointing at the torn edge of the organ. "There are none on the other parts of the body, as there were in the Piers case. Here, the killer hardly bit at all for some reason. One more thing: the heart was cut out with a knife, but judging by the nature of the wounds and the absence of heavy bleeding, it was done post-mortem."

Karl leaned heavily against the doorframe and rubbed his chin. His expression grew thoughtful, almost weary. "If I remember correctly, our guy usually delivers a precise blow to the heart and then rips it out while the victim is still alive, right?" Anna asked, addressing her colleagues.

Karl and Tomi nodded, unable to find the words.

Tomi grimaced, counting off on his fingers. "So we already have three inconsistencies: the method of extracting the heart, the bite marks, and this message on the wall."

Sam pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and, before lighting one, thoughtfully said, "Maybe we're dealing with a copycat?"

"Or our maniac decided to experiment. Maybe he's looking for new sensations," Karl suggested, still staring at the heart.

"Let's hope that's the case," Anna said grimly, her voice lowering. "We certainly don't need two maniacs…"

Liya removed her glasses, wiped them with a cloth, and nodded as she glanced at her notes. "He had a passport on him. Name: Mateo Smith. According to his registration, he lives here. Neighbors say he often threw loud parties and that he lived with a girlfriend. That's all I know for now."

Anna pondered, unconsciously rubbing her forehead and frowning. She tapped her heel against the parquet floor several times, as if the rhythm might help her dredge up a memory from the depths of her mind. "Mateo Smith…" she murmured, staring into the void between the windows. "Damn, where have I heard that name before? Mateo… Mateo…" She glanced at her colleagues, hoping someone would pick up her train of thought.

At that moment, Tomi nervously clicked the cap of his pen, then suddenly looked up. "Wait, wasn't that the guy who was accused of a couple of rapes a few years back?" He stared at Anna, his eyes wide.

Karl slapped his forehead and exclaimed, "That's right, Tomi! Good job! That bastard was acquitted due to lack of evidence. The press made such a fuss… So it turns out our victim is a rapist. Fits the profile of 'Heart-eater' victims."

Sam, skillfully extracting a cigarette and striking a lighter, smirked. "Ha, now I don't even know if I should feel sorry for him… Although, it's still disgusting on a human level."

Liya thoughtfully rubbed her chin. "So either our maniac is changing his style… or a new one has emerged." A sinister pause hung in the air, and everyone felt a chill run down their spines.

Karl, holding his notebook, sighed and quietly added, "We need to check if those girls had brothers, fathers, or boyfriends… Someone might have decided to take revenge." He glanced fleetingly at Anna, who nodded in agreement; it was a valid thought.

Sam clapped Karl on the shoulder and commanded briskly, "Alright, I'll question the neighbors with Anna. Tomi, Karl, dig into the victim and his connections. Maybe you'll find something significant."

They were already approaching the door when suddenly a strange scratching sound came from under the bed in the bedroom. Everyone froze instantly, as if electricity had surged through the room. Anna pressed her finger to her lips, demanding silence, and cautiously covered Liya's mouth with her hand, anticipating that she might say something at the wrong moment.

Tomi, moving quietly across the carpet, whispered, "There's someone under the bed." He was already drawing his gun, silently disengaging the safety.

Karl gestured quickly: "Sweep, cover, ready." Sam circled around to the other side of the bed, gripping the massive frame, while Tomi stayed by the exit, weapon at the ready. Anna and Karl took positions slightly away to avoid interference but remained fully prepared.

"On the count of three," Sam whispered. "One… two… three!"

Sam lifted the bed with a swift motion, and at that moment, Anna and Karl shouted, "Freeze! Don't move! Police!"

A girl slid out from under the bed, nearly stumbling over her own hands. She was covered in blood—her long hair was matted, her face splattered, and her lips trembled. Her eyes were wide with genuine terror. Wearing a torn dress and one shoe, she raised her shaking hands and shouted something in Spanish: "¡Por favor, no me maten! ¡Por favor!" Her voice cracked with sobs, her hands quivering.

Anna immediately rushed to the radio. "Medics! Urgently! We have a survivor here!"

Liya darted toward the girl, skillfully but cautiously examining her for injuries. As soon as Liya touched her shoulder, the girl grabbed the forensic expert's hair, her eyes filled with raw panic. "¡El diablo! ¡El diablo con garras!" she screamed, nearly shrieking. "The devil, there was a devil with claws!" Liya quickly translated while trying to free herself, but the girl's grip was tight, like that of a drowning person.

Karl rushed over to help, carefully prying the girl's fingers apart. "It's okay, you're safe. It's all right, do you hear me?" he said soothingly, but she continued to sob, staring towards the room with the bloodied heart.

Sam, still holding his gun at the ready, muttered irritably, "Does anyone understand what she's saying?"

"She's talking about the devil, 'the cat devil,'" Liya translated hoarsely, finally freeing her hair.

Tomi quickly pulled out his phone. "I'll call for a translator," he said, dialing the station.

Meanwhile, the girl caught sight of the heart on the floor through the slightly open door, let out a loud scream, and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

Karl wrapped his arms around her shoulders as if to protect her from the world. "It's okay, it's okay, don't look…" His voice was much softer than usual.

Anna retrieved a blanket from a chair and wrapped it around the girl, helping her sit on the bed. Liya carefully checked her pulse and breathing. "The pulse is racing, but there are no life-threatening injuries. She's in severe shock," she said quietly.

Medics were already rushing into the room. Outside, the wail of a siren filled the air, and the house smelled of ammonia and fear.