TITLE: Sensing Evil

AUTHOR: Lady Ra

E-MAIL ADDRESS: LadyRa11@yahoo.com

RATING: NC-17 for sex, and violence, threats of non-con, and general creepiness.

PAIRING: Gibbs/DiNozzo

SUMMARY: While being stalked by something not entirely human, someone casts a spell on Tony that changes his life forever

EPISODE SPOILERS: None

NOTE: Mystical supernatural, good versus evil kind of story, so if that's not your thing, just move along. Don't read it, hate it, and flame me. I'll sic Guido on you. Also, LEO: Local enforcement officer

WARNING: Creepy serial killer violence. Just remember it's only a story. No one was actually hurt or killed during the writing of this story. There was someone from the SPCP (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to People) sitting on my couch the whole time, watching episodes of NCIS and eating doggy biscuits.

DISCLAIMER: NCIS is owned and operated by people far richer than I. Honor and praise to the creators. I love playing with these guys.

DISTRIBUTION: My home site: www.visionsofprettyboys.com, and the NCIS archive, and probably NCIS slash, and who knows where else

FEEDBACK: Absolutely. In fact I insist on it. No, I'm begging you for it. Damn, where are those drugs?

THANKS: Thanks to my vunderbar alphas and betas. My stories are always so much better for their hard work. For this story that includes: Joolz, Lasha, Hawthorne and Nix!

Sensing Evil

"God," Tony said, turning away, covering his nose and mouth with his hands, and trying very hard not to gag. He stumbled back out the front door and right into Kate.

"You're going the wrong way, DiNozzo," Gibbs commented.

"You don't look so good," Kate added, with a worried look at Gibbs.

"It's a bad one," Tony bit out amid convulsive swallowing so he wouldn't throw up. He was absolutely not going to hurl in front of Gibbs. As the rest of them hesitated at the doorway, Tony was at least gratified to see that they weren't assuming his warning was nothing but hyperbole.

They all slowly entered the house. Kate and McGee looked stern and apprehensive. Gibbs just looked like Gibbs. Maybe he'd seen something like this before, Tony thought. Tony knew he sure as hell hadn't. That motel room with the pieces of sliced flesh all over the place had nothing on this.

Taking a deep breath, girding his loins so to speak, Tony got ready to go back in the room. He wished he had a latex body suit to put over his clothes. Honestly, he thought they'd need a priest to exorcise the room.

He barely got out of the way when McGee barreled out of the room to puke over the small railing into a bush. Tony didn't blame him at all. He was impressed Kate was still in there. "You okay, McGee?" Tony asked. He'd give him shit about puking later; now was not the time.

McGee looked like he wanted to cry. "How can people do stuff like that?" he asked in horror in between gagging.

"I have no idea, Probie," Tony said. People could be monsters, and there weren't always explanations. "Okay, I'm going back in." He snapped on some gloves, took off his suit jacket and laid it over the railing on the other side from where McGee was puking. The rest of his outfit would end up in the incinerator, but he'd at least save the jacket.

On his way in, he bumped into Kate who was on her way out, looking green and miserable. Rather than stay to hear her lose her lunch, Tony went back into the room to stand by Gibbs.

Even Gibbs looked a little unsettled. It was a lot to take in. Their victim had been a man. His penis and scrotum had been cut off and artfully displayed at the kitchen table on a china plate. In a salad bowl were all ten of the man's fingers, covered with salad dressing. His ten toes were arranged around his reproductive organs. His eyes floated in a glass of chardonnay. A good one, if memory served Tony correctly after spying the bottle.

That wasn't even the worst of it. The murderer had been eating his trophies. One of the fingers had already been chewed down to the bone like a pork rib. There were a couple of slices cut from the penis, one half eaten, and the knife and fork he'd used were balanced oh-so-politely on the edge of the plate.

"This was one sick fuck," Tony observed, swallowing. The whole thing was beyond creepy. And not just because of what had been done. It was as if the murderer--although Tony thought that was much too tame a word--had left his taint behind. He knew no one was here; the LEOs had already confirmed that fact, having arrived on the scene first. But even though Tony knew the murderer was gone, it felt as if the intent was still there; as if he were hovering nearby, enjoying their reaction.

Gibbs caught Tony's eyes, and Tony thought that maybe Gibbs could feel it, too. Gibbs looked behind him at the front door, pursed his lips at the sound of Kate throwing up, and held out his hand. "Give me the camera. You sketch."

Tony nodded. Maybe his time as a cop had toughened him up enough to be able to stay; certainly he'd seen some bad shit go down. He retrieved the bag from inside the door where he'd initially put it, pulled out the camera and handed it off to Gibbs. He then retrieved his sketch pad and measuring tape. "How much of this was he alive for, do you think?" Tony asked. Tony knew he was alive for some of it. The expression of horror and pain on the man’s face hadn’t been eased by his death.

"Most of it," Gibbs said tightly. "'Til he bled out."

There was no blood on the couch. Their victim was sitting up, made to look like he was waiting for company, pillows behind him to keep him upright. Hands--fingerless hands--resting on his thighs.

Tony listened to Gibbs snap photos as he walked into the bedroom. It was obvious this was where the actual bloodletting had taken place. It looked like someone had thrown buckets of blood on the walls and carpet, and the linens on the bed were soaked. Tony took in the pattern of the blood, trying to determine what actions had resulted in what stains. Some he could explain, some he couldn't.

Lifting his sketch pad, he quickly drew the whirls of blood on the blank page. When he was finished, he returned to the living room and sketched their victim. After this, he'd have to go sketch the macabre dinner, something he wasn't looking forward to. He wanted to grab his own cock and balls to make sure they were still right where they were supposed to be.

Eyeing the victim again, and seeing the gaping hole where the man's penis used to be was enough to finally make Tony check. He touched himself quickly, even though what he really wanted to do was hold himself, cradle his warm flesh, feel it respond, make sure it was all in working order.

"Everything still there, DiNozzo?" he heard from Gibbs. There was no censure in his tone.

"Just making sure, boss," Tony said, with one last squeeze. He turned to Gibbs, ready to defend himself from any gibes, but all he saw in Gibbs' eyes was understanding.

"I don't blame you," Gibbs said. "I just did the same thing."

There was a commotion at the door and then Ducky was there, Palmer in tow. "It's a bad one, Ducky," Gibbs warned. "Really bad."

"So I hear. And see. And smell. It sounds like everyone's been losing… Good Lord," Ducky exclaimed, seeing their victim for the first time.

"I need a time of death," Gibbs said.

"And cause?" Ducky asked.

"No, when you see the bedroom and the blood spin art in there," Tony said, "I think you'll agree that the guy bled out."

"Let's leave the cause of death to me, shall we, Anthony?" Ducky advised kindly.

Gladly, Tony thought. Ducky's profession, and his constant dabbling in horrific body parts, must lend itself to a sterner stomach. The ME seemed more intrigued by the scenario in front of him than troubled. Of course, he hadn't seen the two course meal on the kitchen table yet.

McGee made his way back in, and Gibbs gave him the camera. "Do the bedroom," he ordered. As Kate stumbled in behind him, Gibbs took the tape measurer from Tony and handed it to her.

She nodded, flashed Tony a I-don't-get-paid-enough-money-for-this look--that Tony could completely relate to--and headed for the bedroom.

After his sketching was complete, Tony went outside to talk to the neighbors. Considering how long the guy had been alive before bleeding out, someone must have heard something. Tony found himself wondering why the guy’s tongue hadn’t been on the menu, then cursed himself for his overactive imagination. His stomach roiled. "Sick, sick fuck," he murmured.

The two neighbors on either side weren't home. The neighbor across the street was an old woman who had to squint her eyes to see Tony two feet away and responded with, "What? What?" to everything he said. The next houses down in either direction also had people at home. At one door he was met by a young housewife with two small toddlers, one of whom didn't stop screaming the entire time Tony was there. He couldn't imagine she could hear herself think let alone hear a crime being committed.

At the other house he was met by another young woman. This one did her best to proposition Tony into bed. Tony wasn't tempted at all. She was a little too young-- high school young. She hadn't heard a thing either, not surprisingly, given the iPOD earplugs stuck in her ears.

Tony could hear Kate talking to the neighbor the next house down across the street from where Tony was. Kate was getting her ear talked off. One of those people who loved it when their doorbell rang because it meant they could talk to a live human being.

As he headed for the next house on his side of the street, he could feel Miss Jailbait watching his ass. He wanted to go back in there and tell her he was old enough to be her father. Which made Tony want to cry because a) how scary was it that he was old enough to be anyone's dad, and b) he really did want to go in there and tell her he was old enough to be her father.

He struck out at every house. On the bright side, he got propositioned again by someone old enough for him to date, though the wedding ring on her left hand was a turn off. Tony may have been a sex fiend, at least in Kate's estimation, but he did have some rules, and too young and too married were two of them. Granted, it was a short list of rules, but Tony stuck by them. There were too many beautiful, willing women in the world to take a chance with the ones that could end up with him in jail or beaten to a bloody pulp. And that didn't even include the beautiful, willing men. Or the beautiful, unwilling men, he thought with a frustrated frown as he headed back to Gibbs and the victim's house.

That was when he saw her. An old black woman sitting on a bench across the street from the victim's house. He would have sworn on a stack of bibles that there hadn't been a bench there before, and Tony knew he wouldn't have missed her. She wore a royal blue sari, or something long that wrapped around her body, with red and yellow ribbon trimming. It fell to mid-shin, and her feet were bare. There were dozens of gold, silver, and beaded bracelets on her wrists, and her hair was tied back in a severe bun. To top off the whole ensemble, she wore a pair of glasses with leopard print frames. She grinned at him revealing two gold-capped front teeth.

He blinked at her, then looked around to see if there was a bus stop nearby that had just disgorged her. Nothing. Apparently, he had walked right by her, her and her bench. He smiled back at her, pulling out his badge. "Hi, ma'am, my name is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

She stared up at him, still smiling.

Maybe she didn't speak English. Maybe she was deaf. "Ma'am," he tried again.

She stood up. The top of her head came to his shoulders. "You have a pure soul," she announced. "A pure soul."

Okay. "Thanks," he said. He was pretty sure it was a little spotted, but there was no reason to blow her little fantasy. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about--" He'd been about to point at the house when she shivered.

"A great evil has been here," she said, sounding like a fortune teller.

No shit, Tony thought, even as her pronouncement sent an odd finger of dread down his spine. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he encouraged. "Did you see something?"

"A great evil," she said firmly, staring up at Tony. "Only someone with a pure soul can fight against it."

"Did you see something?" he asked again, ignoring her oracle-like sayings. "It's really important."

She grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "This is not the first time it's killed, and it won't be the last. You must stop it."

"Uh. Right. That's what I'm trying to do. So, did you see what happened? Did you see anyone enter or leave the house?"

She looked up at him again; her eyes had gone completely white.

Tony took an instinctive step back. "Whoa."

Then they were back to the original dark brown. "I can help," she whispered. "I can give you a gift."

"Ah, you know what?" Tony said, taking another step back. "I think I'm gonna pass on that, if that's all right." He fished out a card and handed it to her. "If you remember anything, give me a call."

She snatched the card and stared at it intently.

Tony already regretted giving her the card. He wondered how many crackpot calls he'd be fielding from her and thought about snatching it back.

But before he could put his thoughts into action, the card was gone. She somehow secreted it on her person without him seeing where it ended up. "When it strikes again," she said, "come see me. I know you are the one."

Tony just managed to not roll his eyes. "How very Matrix of you," he quipped.

"DiNozzo," came a yell from across the street.

For once, he was glad to hear Gibbs' bellow. "My master calls," he said with a grin.

Like a striking snake, her hand darted out and wrapped around his arm again. "Do not wait too long. Its power is growing."

"I won't," he humored her, backing away until her hand slipped off. Then he turned and trotted across the street.

"She know anything?" Gibbs asked him.

"Oh, good, you can see her?"

Gibbs shot him a look. "Am I not supposed to?"

Tony waved him off. "Never mind."

"So, did she know anything?" Gibbs asked again, any semblance of patience gone.

"I'm not a psychiatrist," Tony offered, "but that woman? Total fruitloop."

Gibbs shot her a look, shot Tony a look, and then yelled for Kate and McGee.

The stretcher bearing the victim went by Tony, closely attended by Ducky and Palmer. Tony sincerely hoped they'd remembered to take all the pieces. They loaded the body aboard the truck, and then Ducky and Palmer drove off.

When the truck turned the corner and was lost from sight, Tony found his eyes moving back to the old woman.

She was gone.

And so was the bench.

Tony rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, there still wasn't a bench. "Oh, boy," he muttered. He almost called Gibbs out of the house, but decided it wasn't worth it. All it would get him was another one of those looks, and Tony was already approaching his quota for the day. The head slapping wouldn't be far behind.

He walked back in the house and was very glad to see that dinner, including plates and silverware had all been bagged, tagged, and taken elsewhere. With that gruesome display and the victim gone, it was like any other murder scene. The four of them started searching the rest of the house, looking for information about their victim, and why his life had ended so viciously.

*****

It had been a frustrating two days, and Gibbs was about ready to put his fist through a wall. While they now knew everything about their victim, a Naval Lieutenant home on leave, they had no idea who had killed him or why. No one in the neighborhood had heard a thing. Even more frustrating was that it looked like the anonymous tip the LEOs had received had come from the victim's house. None of them thought it was a cry for help, the murderer setting himself up to be caught. Rather, it sounded as if their perpetrator simply wanted to make sure someone appreciated his or her efforts.

Gibbs knew he was sharing his misery a little too much. Even Abby was mad at him, and each day Gibbs had come into work expecting to find Tony's resignation on his desk. He was nearing the two year mark, and that was about as long as he'd lasted in his last three jobs.

Gibbs found it easier to take his frustration out on Tony. Maybe it was because the guy was so resilient. All of Gibbs' bad temper just seemed to roll off him like water off a duck's back. Or maybe it was because Gibbs didn't want anyone to see him show the least bit of favoritism, even though technically, unfortunately, there wasn't any motive for favoritism. Nonetheless, Gibbs knew he gave Tony more shit than was warranted sometimes.

In the back of Gibbs' mind, if he'd been able to give Tony a blowjob at the end of a hard day, it would make up for his attitude, but that piece of the equation was definitely missing--something else Gibbs was cranky about. Especially because Tony was wearing that damn grey turtleneck, the one that brought out his eyes and highlighted his physique, and made Gibbs want to shove him in a storage closet and lick him all over. It didn't help that Gibbs was imagining hickeys all over Tony's neck making a turtleneck necessary.

Annoyed at the way his mind was wandering, Gibbs turned to Kate. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "No. This MO doesn't match anything in the serial killer database. There aren't any other cases reported in this area, naval or otherwise that match this one."

Another dead end. Gibbs thought about that dinner of so artfully arranged body parts, and it made him even angrier that this fucker was going to get away with it. His phone rang. "Gibbs," he snapped into it.

He listened to the caller, spun his chair to look at a map. "We'll be there in twenty." He normally would have hung up by now, but he found himself asking, "Is it as bad as last time?"

"Yes," was the curt response.

Gibbs hung up cursing. He glanced at his crew to see them all looking at him, various expressions of distress on their faces.

"Is it our guy?" Tony asked with a grimace.

Gibbs nodded. "Another anonymous tip. Get Ducky and the truck." He holstered his weapon and shrugged into his jacket. "Hope no one spent a lot of money on lunch."

*****

It was a woman this time, which to Tony's mind made it all that much worse. Sure, there weren't any cut off penises on display--which was a relief--but seeing nipples on a plate almost had Tony running for the bushes.

He'd eaten two of her fingers. With dipping sauce. Her tongue had been cut into bite sized pieces.

That got McGee running. Kate kept it together but she was gagging, which wasn't helping. Tony caught her touching her breasts at least once, and totally didn't blame her for that.

The creep had set the second victim up as if she was doing yoga, on a mat and everything. Tony was sure some yoga expert could identify the position she was in. It no doubt had a name, too, something apropos like Night Falling, or Finding the Ultimate Stillness, or This is Your Bus Stop, Get Off the Fucking Bus.

Tony hated this guy.

They took photos, sketched, measured, bagged and tagged, and then Tony hit the streets. Again, impossibly, no one had heard anything. No one remembered seeing a car arriving or leaving. No one heard doors slamming, or walls being pounded, or anything out of the ordinary.

He was heading back toward the house when he saw her. The old black woman. For a crazy moment he wondered if she was the killer. While it was true that most serial killers were white males, every now and then there were exceptions. Walking toward her, he noticed she was on another bench. Actually it looked like the same bench. A bench that Tony swore hadn't been there before.

"You're here," he said. "Why are you here?"

She just smiled at him.

"I need to ask you some questions," Tony pressed on. He didn't actually think she'd done anything, but he felt like he should take her in. "I'll need you to come with me."

She shook her head. "You won't find the answers that way."

He held out his hand palm forward, telling her to stay as if she were a dog. "Wait a second." He hollered, "Gibbs." Then he turned back to her. "What do you mean?"

"You can't fight evil with your guns."

"Actually, you can," Tony said kindly.

"Not this kind of evil," she said.

"What?" Gibbs bellowed in return.

"Come here," Tony yelled back.

"This kind of evil," she said as if not interrupted, "can only be fought by the pure of soul."

Tony furrowed his brow. "Well, you already told me I had a pure soul, so maybe if you gave me some information, I'd be able to find this sicko."

"You must accept my gift. It is the only thing that can help you win against it."

"What gift?"

Gibbs crossed the street at a trot. Tony walked half-way across to meet him, wanting to talk for a second without her overhearing. "This is the same woman who was at the last killing. I think we should take her in. She doesn't make a lot of sense, but she might know something."

"What woman?" Gibbs asked.

Tony turned around. She was gone. And so was her freaking bench. "Fuck," Tony growled. "She was right here."

"That old black woman?" Gibbs inquired.

"Yeah."

"So, where'd she go?"

Tony looked up and down the street. "I have no freaking idea." He let out a deep frustrated sigh.

"Isn't she the one you said was fruitloops?"

Tony nodded. "But she was here. That puts her at the scene of both murders. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Next time just cuff her and put her in the car, DiNozzo," Gibbs advised, heading back across the street.

"Just cuff her," Tony said under his breath. "Her and that bench."

*****

Two unsolved cases and Gibbs was fit to be tied. No relationship between the victims, other than both being naval officers. No fingerprints, no clues, no DNA of any kind. And no witnesses. It was as if the crimes had been committed by a ghost.

All of his team looked wasted. Not surprising, given the type of cases. Gibbs had almost made a run outside to anoint the bushes, and he'd thought he'd seen it all. Whoever was doing these killings didn't have a soul.

His phone rang. "Gibbs."

"You might want to come down here, Jethro," Ducky said.

Gibbs was fairly certain he didn't want to do anything of the sort. "Be right there." He stood. "DiNozzo, you're with me." Tony was the only one who hadn't puked, so maybe he'd be okay hearing whatever Ducky had to say.

"You got it, boss," Tony said, clicking a few buttons on his computer, then standing. "Where we going?"

"To see Ducky."

Tony grimaced, no doubt realizing what the topic of conversation was going to be. "Great." McGee and Kate both gave him commiserating looks. Sighing, Tony stepped out of his cubicle.

Gibbs shot a look at Kate and McGee. "Find this guy," he ordered.

McGee nodded, determined, and went back to his computer screen. Kate sighed and picked up the phone. Tony followed Gibbs down to the morgue.

*****

"Our perpetrator is very strong, Jethro," Ducky said seriously. "This second body confirms it. All the removed body parts were, well, I don't suppose there's a genteel way to say this…"

"Just say it," Gibbs snapped.

"Yes, well, they were ripped off by hand."

Tony and Gibbs exchanged a look of dismay. To Ducky, Gibbs said, "Why did it take two bodies to figure this out?"

"Good question," Ducky said approvingly, moving them over to the dead body lying on the slab. He lifted up a fingerless hand, and touched the area where an index finger used to be attached. "My first impression was that the fingers were sawed off, as there is some shearing. The edges weren't fine enough to indicate a sharp knife or other such implement."

"And?" Gibbs prompted when Ducky seemed to have stopped.

"Right. It just reminds me of a case I studied while in medical school. They found ten bodies, and all of them were missing their fingers and toes. However, in that case--"

"Ducky," Gibbs bit out, grinding his teeth. "This case." He gestured at the body lying in front of them. The fingerless, toeless, eyeless, nippleless body in front of them. Gibbs couldn't stop looking at the exposed underlying fat and muscle where the nipples should have been. What had been done to this body, and the other one, was a desecration.

Ducky cleared his throat. "Of course."

"Could we," Tony started, then swallowed, "could we, you know, cover her up a little?" He touched his chest. "You know, here. It just--" He swallowed again. "It's just…I mean, I know we've seen hundreds of murder victims down here, and they've all been bad to look at, but having her lie here like this, it just feels wrong."

Gibbs studied Tony, surprised at the request. "Why? Why this case?" Gibbs waited for the answer, feeling like it might be important.

Tony shook his head as if not sure he had the words. "That black lady, the one I told you about?" he asked Gibbs.

"Yeah?"

"She said," Tony said haltingly, "that the person who did this was evil, and I believe her. And somehow, even though I know you have nothing but respect for the bodies that come in here, Ducky, it just feels that having her lying here, naked, exposed, it's like we're putting his work on exhibit. And it's what he'd want. He'd get off on it." He shook his head again. "Stupid. Never mind."

Gibbs and Ducky both stared at Tony. Gibbs felt a flicker of dread for no reason he could gather, like someone was dancing on his grave. Like that evil Tony spoke of was maybe in this room, enjoying their frustration.

He studied Tony some more, even as he saw Ducky, in his peripheral vision, get a cloth to cover her up. Gibbs had seen this before in the best profilers. This ability to actually get into the head of the murderer, to blurt out these things, these scenarios as if they were truth. Gibbs believed what Tony was saying.

It had always creeped Gibbs out when he saw profilers speak this way, and this time was no exception. Even more than creeping him out, it made Gibbs feel afraid for Tony. Suddenly, in a prescient moment of his own, Gibbs knew that Tony would end up paying a price for this knowledge. A steep price.

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said a little sheepishly.

Gibbs snapped out of his ghoulish reverie, and when he turned back to the body, she was covered from collar bone to knees. Gibbs felt immeasurably better. "Go on," he said to Ducky.

As if he hadn't been interrupted, Ducky said, "When the second body had the same shearing injuries, I looked at one of the fingers under the microscope, and realized that the finger hadn't just been shorn off using a saw or serrated knife, it had been torn off."

"It's too neat an injury for it to have been torn off," Gibbs argued. He'd seen limbs torn off by accident, and they were a mess of bone fragments and shredded muscles.

"By someone like you or me, you'd be correct," Ducky said, finger up.

Gibbs frowned. "What are you saying?"

"What I said at the beginning," Ducky said. "This murderer was extraordinarily strong. Other than the nipples, which were cut off, no doubt to make sure the edges were exact, all the other extractions, on both bodies, were done by hand."

"How is that possible? Who could be that strong?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Ducky answered with a frown, "but there is no evidence that any tools were used at all."

"Were there fingerprints?" Gibbs demanded. "Any DNA?"

"None," Ducky said shortly, "and no latex residue either."

Gibbs went back to his original question. "How strong? What are we looking for?"

Ducky looked distinctly uncomfortable, an expression Gibbs rarely saw on his old friend's face. "If I had to guess, I'd say that someone with superhuman strength killed these people. Someone strong enough to rip off someone's fingers just as we might part a grape from its stem," Ducky said graphically.

"Someone superhuman, without fingerprints or, apparently, DNA," Gibbs said disparagingly.

"I didn't say you were going to like what I'd found," Ducky said, somewhat defensively. "But the evidence is there, and Abby has confirmed everything I've told you."

Gibbs had no doubt of that. Ducky wouldn't have come out with this crazy theory without Abby's input. In fact, it sounded like one of Abby's extreme stories.

"So even that guy's…" Tony asked, face contorted into a painful grimace.

"Yes," Ducky said sympathetically. "Even that."

"Man," Tony said, covering his groin with his hands. "That's just, ugh, wrong."

Gibbs couldn't agree more. "Do we know anything else?" Other than a supposition too outrageous to even think about which didn't help at all. Gibbs could imagine someone strong enough to eventually work off someone's finger, snapping the bone, making an initial tear, twisting and twisting until the tissue grew fragile enough to pull off, but that would take time, and leave much more obvious signs behind than what had happened to these bodies. "No traces of drugs?"

"None," Ducky said morosely.

"That doesn't make sense," Tony said, frustrated. "They weren't drugged, their bodies didn't show any sign of struggle, so what, they just sat there, quietly, and watched as this guy ripped parts off of them? They weren't dead long enough by the time we found them for someone to do it all afterward."

"Could they have been given something fast acting?" Gibbs asked. "Something you might not find?"

"Unlikely, considering the times of death. But anything's possible," Ducky admitted honestly. "I'll work with Abby further."

"Let me know what you find," Gibbs directed.

Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo," he answered. After a moment, Tony said, "Who is this?"

The look on his face alerted Gibbs, and he quickly called Abby. "Trace the caller on Tony's phone," he snapped.

"Why are you calling me?" Tony hit a button on the side of his phone, activating the speaker phone function.

The speaker was a man, but his voice sounded disguised; no normal human had a voice like that. "Why not?" the man asked. "You've been present at my last two exhibits; I'd hate for you to miss one."

The use of the word exhibit, the word Tony had used when speaking of the killer, made Gibbs' stomach knot up. Maybe it was a coincidence, but maybe it wasn't. He'd have to have Abby check for bugs, both on Tony, and in the morgue.

"What are you trying to tell us?" Tony asked.

Gibbs turned away to keep the man on the phone from overhearing as he softly asked Abby, "Anything?"

"No, but I'm getting there. It's close by," Abby told him.

"That humans are weak," the man said, a sneer in his voice. "That no one is safe."

"You don't think you're human?" Tony inquired, watching Gibbs.

"Got it," Abby said exultantly in Gibbs' ear. "He's right down the street, pay phone on Arlington and 5^th."

Gibbs waved at Tony, and they both took off at a run, Tony's phone in hand.

"I know I'm not human, Anthony," the killer said. "I'm something so much better."

They were in the bullpen now, grabbing guns, shushing McGee when he made as if to speak. At Gibbs' silent direction, McGee sprinted to go get the car. Meanwhile, Gibbs called the LEOs, knowing they could get to the phone booth faster than his team would.

"So is that why you're calling?" Tony asked. "To brag?"

There was a sharp laugh. "No, I wanted to let you know that there'll be another exhibit for you later tonight. And I wanted you to know that I was thinking of you."

"So you haven't killed them, yet?" Tony demanded. "Let's come up with a new plan. Let's meet, you and me, and we can talk." They were outside now, piling into the car, Gibbs driving, Tony in the front seat, Kate and McGee in the back.

"There's time for that later," the man said, almost purring.

His tone raised the hackles on Gibbs' neck. Their killer sounded a little too proprietary about Tony.

"But not yet," the voice added. "Yet," he said again, this time the promise of a future meeting clear in his voice. "I'll call when I've chosen my next victims. Perhaps one of these stalwart police officers you've sent after me." He hung up.

"Shit," Tony said, ending the call, looking at his watch.

"Why'd he call you?" McGee asked.

"I have no freaking idea," Tony said angrily. "Nothing makes my day more than being on a first name basis with a serial killer, especially one who's completely insane. Or more insane than usual," he corrected himself with a humorless smile.

Gibbs could hear the sirens and then saw flashing lights. He slammed on his brakes as he approached the intersection the call had come in from.

"There," Kate said, pointing over his shoulder.

They were all out of the car, running for the phone booth, badges flashing.

On a whim, Gibbs pulled one of the officers to the side. "Do me a favor. See if any of these cops have a naval background."

"Why?"

"Just do it," Gibbs said. He had no idea why this sicko was targeting naval victims, but there was no reason to think he'd stop now. As the policeman went off to canvas his fellow officers, Gibbs watched as Kate dusted the phone for fingerprints. He looked around for Tony, found him in a discussion with an officer. Gibbs headed in that direction.

Tony was frowning at a police officer. "So you didn't see anyone?"

"The phone booth was empty."

"That's impossible," Tony said heatedly. "He was on the phone with me until…" He looked at his watch, "until 10:29, and you just told me you got here at 10:25."

The officer shrugged. "I'm telling you, the booth was empty, and the door was open. There was no one inside."

"So I was having a conversation with a ghost?" Tony demanded.

"Maybe you guys traced the call wrong," the officer suggested.

"Abby doesn't make mistakes like that," Gibbs said, looking around. "Was there anyone in the area?"

The officer pointed at one of the cars where two young men, joggers by the look of them, and a middle aged woman with a shopping bag were standing. "Only them."

"Come on," Gibbs said to Tony. The two of them walked over to the possible witnesses.

When they got there, all three of them denied seeing anything. "I don't think that phone even works," one of the men said. "It's been out of order for weeks."

"McGee," Tony yelled. "Check to see if the phone works." McGee nodded and went back to the phone. Gibbs could see him fishing in his pocket for a quarter.

"So you didn't see anyone in the area?" Gibbs prodded.

All three shook their heads and then pointed at each other. "Just us," the woman said. "There was no one else around."

McGee trotted over. "The phone's out of order. I can't even get an operator. I called the service number and they said this phone's been out of order for almost five weeks."

"Why haven't they fixed it?" Gibbs asked, annoyed that something so simple hadn't been repaired.

McGee shrugged. "Not a high priority, they said."

Tony sighed. "Could Abby have made a mistake?" he asked Gibbs.

Gibbs shook his head, finding that highly unlikely. "Check the booth for any equipment that could have made it seem as if the call was coming from here."

"On it, boss," McGee said, trotting back to the phone booth.

"I don't get it," Tony said.

"Me, either," Gibbs said, aggravated.

The officer Gibbs had been talking to joined them. "I spoke to all the cops here, and Barry," he pointed toward an officer currently speaking to someone on his vehicle's hand-held radio, "was in the Marines during the Gulf War. That help?"

"Yes," Gibbs said shortly. Going to the cop in question who had finished reporting in, Gibbs asked him, "Were you an officer in the Marines?"

"Yes," came the cautious answer.

"Do you have family at home?"

Another cautious, "Yes," accompanied by a frown.

"Call them, tell them to pack a bag, including stuff for you, and get out of there."

"What?" The man looked at Gibbs, then at Tony who joined them. "What are you talking about?"

Tony answered his question. "There's a killer on the loose, targeting naval officers. When he called me earlier to taunt us, and obviously to lead us on a wild goose chase, he said he would be killing tonight, and that it might be one of you cops. The fact that you were in the Marines, and an officer, makes you and your family a prime target."

That was more than Gibbs would have told the man, but it certainly galvanized the policeman into action. He had his phone out and was calling home immediately.

"Where are you putting them?" Tony asked.

Good question. "NCIS for right now. For all I know he could be watching us." That reminded him. "And I want your clothes and the morgue checked for bugs."

"You caught that exhibit thing, too, huh?"

Gibbs nodded. "He's playing with us, and I don't like it."

"Yeah," Tony said with a scowl at the phone booth. "And now, not only is he not human, apparently he's invisible, too."

*****

Tony's clothes were clean of bugs. Abby even checked his teeth. There didn't seem to be any surveillance equipment in the morgue, either. Once he was home, Tony felt in his mouth for all his teeth. Abby had gotten a little enthusiastic.

The cop and his family were staying at NCIS with a guard for the night and, hopefully, there wouldn't be any killing tonight. At least Tony hoped not.

He'd taken his shower, changed into couch lounging clothes, and had started fixing himself some dinner when his cell phone rang. The readout was blank. After the earlier call, he answered cautiously, "DiNozzo."

"I have an address for you," came the voice that Tony most didn't want to hear from. It was still distorted but Tony couldn’t place the kind of equipment being used. It was possible, Tony thought, a chill running down his spine, that it was the man's real voice: low and growly and sort of amplified.

"What is it?" Tony asked shortly.

"Nineteen fifty-four Williams Avenue. Nice house. White picket fence. Dog. Or there was a dog." The man laughed.

"Why are you calling me?" Tony asked, writing the address down, wishing Gibbs were around so he could get things rolling immediately.

"I need to call someone," the man said reasonably.

Suddenly Tony was furious that he was having what was, for all intents and purposes, a fairly amiable conversation with a murdering monster. "Why the fuck are you doing this? Who are you?" On a whim, Tony rephrased that question. "What are you?"

A low laugh came over the phone. "Ah, at least you are finally starting to ask the right questions."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tony thought of fingers and toes, and eyeballs in chardonnay.

"Now Anthony," the voice said chidingly, "you were doing so well. I must admit that you intrigue me. My nemesis is paying attention to you, and that makes me curious."

Tony had no idea what he was talking about. "What nemesis?" he urged. Maybe the guy would drop some kind of clue.

"I look forward to the day we meet face to face," he said pleasantly. "I've been wondering how you taste."

Swallowing bile, Tony found himself with nothing to say, feeling shaky.

"Give your lover a message for me," the man said.

"Who are you talking about?" Tony asked. He wasn't seeing anyone regularly enough to be classified as a lover.

"My apologies. I forget how linear you humans can be. Special Agent Gibbs. You may not be lovers now, but you will be. Or maybe not. Tell him if he wastes too much time, it will be too late."

Beyond tired of this conversation, Tony said, "Just give me the message, then this conversation is over."

"So impatient," came the chiding voice again.

"Give me the fucking message," Tony demanded.

"Tell him I don't appreciate being denied my intended victim. Tell him I allowed him to get away with it tonight, but if he does it again, not only will I go for my intended victim, but I'll also kill anyone who gives them sanctuary."

"You can't honestly believe that we'll allow you to kill who you want, do you?" Tony asked scathingly.

"The longer we talk," the man said, his voice even lower, "the more I want you. You're just sitting there ripening like a good wine." He made a smacking noise, as if tasting something delicious.

Tony hung up, barely managing not to throw up. It took a minute of deep breathing to get under control enough to believe he could carry on a coherent conversation. He dialed Gibbs' telephone number.

*****

Gibbs let the phone ring long enough to get one last stroke in. He felt the surface of the wood with his fingers, appreciating the fine smoothness, and then went for the phone. "Gibbs."

"It's Tony,” the voice over the phone said tightly. “We got another one."

"Where?"

"Nineteen fifty-four Williams Avenue," Tony said. "He had a few other things to say, but I'll tell you about that later."

"He threaten you?"

A sharp laugh escaped Tony. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Pack a bag. You're staying with me tonight."

"Boss," Tony protested.

"I don't want to hear it. Pack a bag. In fact, I'll come pick you up. Be ready in twenty."

"Okay," Tony said, capitulating. "Want me to call Kate and McGee?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "And you might as well call Ducky, too."

"On it," Tony said. "I'll see you soon."

Gibbs hung up, stared at his phone for a moment, then shut it off. He’d expected more of a fight. Whatever the guy had said had spooked Tony, and Tony didn't spook easily. Not and show it, anyway.

*****

Gibbs pulled into Tony's parking lot twenty-two minutes later. There'd been an unexpected traffic jam on the way, and he'd lost several minutes detouring around it. As if he'd been waiting, Tony left his apartment, locking the door behind him. He threw his bag in Gibbs' back seat and got in the passenger side. "Hey," Tony said.

"Hey," Gibbs said, starting the GPS program that he'd already input the address into. He got back out on the road and started heading north as instructed. "What did he say?"

Gibbs heard Tony swallow. "That, um, that I intrigue him. That he's looking forward to meeting me. That he's wondering how I taste. And something about how I'm slowly ripening like a fine wine." Tony blew out a breath and stared out the side window.

An unexpected surge of protectiveness rose in Gibbs. "We'll catch him," Gibbs said fiercely. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

Acknowledging Gibbs’ statement with a small smile, Tony added, "He said something weird.”

Gibbs wondered what could be weirder than being told that you were going to be the main course for dinner one night. But, playing along, he asked, “What did he say?”

“When I asked him what he was, instead of who he was, he congratulated me on starting to ask the right questions." Tony chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments. "He also mentioned a nemesis. That one of the reasons he was curious about me was because his nemesis was taking an interest in me."

"Who's been taking an interest in you?" His tone made the question sound suspiciously like that of a jealous lover. Gibbs sincerely hoped Tony didn't take it that way.

"No one," Tony said. "I'm assuming it has to be someone this guy perceives as powerful, and that means you, or maybe the Director, who rarely takes an interest in me. Fornell, ditto. I didn't really talk to any of the cops today at any length. I don't know who he's talking about."

The GPS voice told them to take a right, so Gibbs did. Then he was directed to take another right. In a few minutes they were there and, apparently, the first on the scene. They sat in the car, staring at the house. Gibbs really didn't want to go in. He knew there was a nightmare waiting for them. Tony didn't seem to be in any hurry, either.

Gibbs could see a lump by the front door. "What's that?" he asked, pointing. Tony's eyes were much better than his.

"The dog," Tony said in a miserable voice. "He said they now had an ex-dog."

"I hate this guy," Gibbs said.

They sat there for another few moments. "He had a message for you," Tony said, his voice guarded.

Gibbs tensed. "What?"

"He said that, well, essentially, and I'm paraphrasing, that he was pissed you tried to hide that cop, and that if you did it again, he'd kill his intended victim, and whoever protected them as well." He turned to look at Gibbs. "That could put you right in the line of fire if you take me in."