Ward has been rewritten. If you're an old follower, please re-read.

"Cruel and cold is the judgement of man, cruel as winter, and cold as the snow; but by-and-by will the deed and the plan be judged by the motive that lieth below."

Lewis J Bates

PROLOGUE

The icy Alaskan air was undisturbed by the noise that went on well below the snowy ground.

Deep down under the hard-packed, frozen earth, a titan licked the blood from his lips while his prey squirmed and cried out in desperation; the screams went unnoticed by her tormenter and the citizens that resided, unaware, far above them.

His glazed, mud-brown eyes didn't seem to register the sights that flashed before him. The young woman against the metal table, flayed open by his own hand, changed nothing in his disinterested and distant expression. Her struggles were beginning to slow, but as he dug his terribly long nails into her open wounds to carve the flesh from her dying body, he didn't pause.

He was sound; he didn't flinch when she fought back, blink when her blood sprayed across his face, or grimace as he chewed and chewed her tender flesh. He dug a hand into her ripped abdominal cavity, thick fingers wriggling through the thick wetness within. He fisted his digits around the slippery flesh of an organ he didn't care to identify. As he pulled it from her body, she gave a choked and garbled moan. Blood ran from her half-open mouth in scarlet streams, her voice rasping as the fluid bubbled at the back of her arched throat. Her blue eyes went wide with shock, then dulled with the thin sheen of death that glazed over her pale irises until her pupils were nothing more than silver, sightless points of soullessness within a once-pretty face.

Even as her body stiffened with death and rigor mortis began to overtake, he did not stop. There was no sense of urgency to his movements as he feasted upon the female's remains. He devoured the soft tissues that he could and when he didn't care to take in anymore, he stood to stare down at the body occupying the rusted silver table that stood neatly in the middle of his underground basement.

He gathered his equipment and made his way back to the young girl sprawled against the smooth tabletop and his lips curled back in more of a hiss than a grin; dulled yellow teeth caught the sallow rays of overhead light. The harsh made his already unkind appearance sinister.

Carefully, he set to work on what was left of the woman. He neatly stacked a few mason jars of greenish fluid with the lids removed around his workspace on the countertops beside the table. In one of them went her pretty blue eyes, crusted with death as they were. At their side, the next jar of liquid accepted the slippery entrance of an untouched human heart.

He sealed the jaws and touched his fingers to the one containing the heart with wide eyes. He could never touch the hearts; they were far too beautiful in his eyes. The rest of their bodies were useless, until he could find purpose for them later. The eyes were his to treasure, to remember with, but hearts were a sacred thing, he knew.

Uncapping a black marker, he wrote the name he'd given her- Nancy- painstakingly neatly on lopsided strips of tape that had been applied to the curve of the full jars. They were stacked on the shelves alongside a few dozen other just like them.

He returned to the table to prepare for disposing of her beautiful remains, and he licked the blood from his lips as he moved, glassy eyes trained on her lifeless face and torn mouth. Her lips were still so full and pretty- the sight of them made him warm. He grunted, dragging a hand along her emptied torso. He would miss her; she had been so good to him during her stay. She'd never hurt him, not even had she hit him like many others had before her. She had cried a lot, and he'd like that about her. His little Nancy. She had been so sweet. He'd loved her dark hair and clear blue eyes, the way she was full-figured and femininely curved in the best ways. She was so lovely. He doubted he could find another as perfect as she.

Something heavy twisted in his wide chest at the thought, and he knew he would miss her desperately- at least for the time being, until something new and whole came along to take his mind from her and the mutilated, empty shell her lively spirit had left behind.

He brushed a hand over her cheek, stroking a thumb over her long lashes and his eyes were drawn to the gaping sockets where her eyes had been. Her drooping, long-lashed eyelids hung over dark sockets, the surrounding skin torn and peeling back from the holes to reveal a white flash of bone beneath. He stared into her deadened face and felt a pang of longing that made him wish to take her again.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, probing his tongue into the bloodied chasm of her mouth, suckling on the stump of her severed tongue- one of the first pieces of her that he had consumed- and savoring the coppery tang that swirled over his sense. He pulled back and frowned at the empty feeling that accompanied the sudden realization of her death.

The pain would stay for a while, but tomorrow, there would be another.

"Okay, crime fighters," Garcia said sharply, dark eyes flickering between the gathered agents from behind blue-framed glasses. "I have a new case for you, and it's just not pleasant."

"How 'not pleasant' are we talking?" Morgan asked, his usual amusement at Penelope's antics dulled by the hour of the night and the residual vestiges of sleep he was still shaking off.

"You obviously have yet to look at the pictures," the analyst quipped. "Swipe away."

Each seated profiler flipped through the photos on their tablets. The unease that settled over them washed in like a black cloud. The images were unsettling, nothing like they hadn't seen hundreds of times before, but somehow they were foreboding in a more sinister way.

JJ's pale brows arched toward her hairline. "Is this the only body?"

"The only one that we have... so far," Garcia replied quickly, "but there have been over forty reported disappearances near Fairbanks, Alaska, in the past year and a half. People have literally been disappearing, like, twilight zone status, and until now there have been no bodies."

"Well we have one now," Kate added dryly, "and it's not even a complete one."

Rossi raised a brow. "Not exactly a lot to work with."

"The lower half was all they recovered?" Reid asked in a low voice, studying the grisly images with interest.

"Yep, just a skeleton from the waist down," Penelope replied uncomfortably, shifting her eyes from the photos on the screen toward the group. "The upper body hasn't been found yet, but the bones caused the PD out there to reach out to us now that they're convinced they have a killer in their midst."

"And they probably do," Hotch murmured grimly, drawing his hands back from the tablet on the round table. His dark eyes were pensive and calculating as they usually were, even if his frown seemed a little deeper than usual. "As far as we know, they've had one for a year and a half. We'll have to head out, so get packed- wheels up in an hour."

"And just so you know-" Garcia called as everyone got to their feet, "Alaska is in the thick of their winter season. It'll be dark most of time you guys are out there. Remember last time- the internet and reception might not be very good, especially since, you know, it's winter- the snow storms have been pretty bad."

Hotch's eyes met hers and she held his gaze unsteadily. After a thoughtful pause he said, "you're coming too, then. We could use the help out there. Get your go-bag."

"Yes sir," Garcia nodded enthusiastically, though her expression was anything but. She felt memories fluttering to the forefront of her mind from her last adventure out with the team- to the very same state. A shiver zipped down her spine and she bit her lip, hoping that this case would proceed very differently than the last Alaskan excursion had.

Everyone filed out of the room, leaving Garcia to her worries for a moment- and Morgan made a point to follow Reid closely. "Hey," he asked when they'd reached the bullpen. "What can you tell me about the night up there?"

A pensive look came over Reid's face as he drew up the information. He met Morgan's eyes with a frown. "Unlike what most people think, it's not months of pure darkness. The days are just really short- you can get three-to-four hours of usable sunlight, so Garcia wasn't wrong. It's more likely than not going to be cold, wet, and snowy."

"Looks like we have a lot to look forward to," Morgan replied sarcastically. "I guess packing light isn't an option this time around... time to break out the winter wear."

Once Nancy's body had been taken care of and no traces remained in the room with the table, he left his underground dwelling and began trekking through the snow on the surface again. Trudging through the slush in heavy winter clothes, he wasn't remarkable looking. He had no idea of the time, but it was still near-black outside. Sparsely planted street-lights offered thin beams of illumination, but he was only at the outskirts of town and the bulbs were few and far between.

Normally, he would have waited until morning to begin scoping out again, but as it was, morning would not come for at least another month- and his patience was wearing very thin.

He hissed, salivating sloppily at the thought of another companion so soon. He thought, perhaps, he'd enjoy male company this time. He wasn't overly picky; he tended to alternate. An animalistic grunt escaped his lips as he paused and glossy, almost inhuman eyes caught sight of another person approaching from the opposite direction.

It was a young man, he noticed. He was absolutely delighted at his luck.

He waited until the man was close enough and the stranger pulled his scarf away from his mouth. "Excuse me," he called over the wind, "can you please point me in the direction of Tabitha's? You know, the inn? The wind came in and it's getting hard to see out here. It was supposed to be a short walk from the restaurant, but you can get a little turned around out here, you know?"

Smiling pleasantly, he slid a hand through his new friend's arm and turned to lead the young man. He was seeking an inn- a place to stay. It would most certainly be provided for him, although not likely in the manner he was hoping for.

Just like the dozens of times before, the screams that rang out later that night- or day- would go completely and utterly unheard from their source, far below the frozen earth.