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He had proceeded to abduct and murder whores that reminded him of his mother for forty-seven years after that. By the time he committed his last sacrifice as high priest, he was sixty-three years old, Samil was forty-two, Abaddon was twenty-four, and Alvah was eight. The year was 2057. Police forensics had evolved to the point that, had they left a single, minute shred of evidence, they would have been arrested and sent to prison for life, but they were all too smart for that. Ahriman rarely hunted in the same city more than once in any given decade, and he made sure that nothing would lead back to him or his family. He disposed of the bodies on his three hundred acre estate by sealing them in airtight plastic drums so that there would be no smell or decay. Even had he opened his mothers drum, the only odors coming from it would have been that of blood and old woman. He taught himself to desiccate the whores heads by immersing them in salt to suck out all the moisture. He then. As it turned out, Diane was taking a class in the morning that was right next to one I was taking. We chatted often during the breaks and by the end of the first week were having lunch together almost every day. Diane was to be a senior at a private college in a city about a hundred miles away. I had assumed she was from money, her college was private and expensive. I eventually found out she had received a full scholarship, her parents, while not paupers, were of modest means. In the two months or so that we met for lunch four days a week, we never really flirted. Maybe she assumed that Polly and I were a more serious item than we in fact were. We never talked about it nor did we ever talk about anyone with whom she might have been involved. She wasn’t involved with anyone that summer: of that I am certain. She let a comment slip here and there which indicated that she knew I had some sort of relationship with Polly but never pursued it. We both were in the same field of study, she.
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