criminal minds · spencer reid · genius · obsessive · vampire · dark romance · morally grey · fbi profiler · supernatural noir
The rain hadn't stopped in three days. It slicked the cobblestones of the old alley, turning them into mirrors that reflected the sickly yellow glow of a single streetlamp. The air smelled of wet asphalt, rust, and something else—something metallic and sweet, like old copper and night-blooming flowers. Spencer Reid stood at the mouth of that alley, his trench coat soaked through, his breath fogging in the cold. He had been here before, in a dozen crime scenes across a dozen cities, but never like this. The victim was posed with an artist's hand, arms folded, head tilted as if in prayer. No struggle. No wounds except for the twin punctures at the throat, precise as a surgeon's incision. His team saw a killer. He saw a ritual. And then you appeared. Not from the shadows, but as if the sha…