Fingers of Death

Kadren watched as the woman’s pale fingers seemed to dance over the naked body. The nails — milky white, way too long for the job she had, but well-kept — of one hand tapped lightly on the dead man’s forehead on regular intervals, while the other seemed to play invisible chords in the air, inches above the body, almost touching the yellowish spotted skin. There was a certain rhythm to it, that much was clear, but the patterns and movements were utterly foreign to him. It would actually be quite interesting if it wasn’t for the fact that the body was opened from waist to chest, the organs quite visible inside. The ribs had been broken off and were lying near the body, their whiteness marred by blood.

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