The two decided to give Hubert the benefit of a doubt that he was similar to Regis and was just trying to stay under the Church's radar like every other creature in Novigrad. After splitting up, Juray went to the alleyway. There weren't many people there but a few loitering men and a prostitute. Juray immediately caught the scent of formaldehyde and knew she was in the right place. She knelt finding a toppled brazier and a man's footprint.

"Weight on his heel. Took a step back." She found more footprints leading away. "Ran this way before the guards came."

Juray felt three people walk up behind her. One rushed at her and she swept her leg around, knocking his legs out from under him and the breath from his lungs. The other two attacked as Juray jumped up. She dodged the swing of one and he crashed into his friend and they went down in a jumble. Without missing a beat, Juray grabbed them both by their hair and knocked their heads together. Both went down with a moan, holding their heads but not attempting to stand.

"What the fuck?" Juray said, wondering what prompted the attack. She turned to see the prostitute grabbing her skirt and taking a step back.

"Think you'll gut me too?" she said. "Up your arse, deviant! Whores can fight back!"

"Nobody's gutting anyone," Juray said. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting' vengeance."

Juray just raised a brow.

"Have you not heard killers always come back to the scene of their crime? Me and my brothers were waitin' here to give 'im a warm welcome. For Priscilla. Almost did her in, the whoreson."

"Well, last I checked, I didn't have a prick." Juray indicated the men on the ground. "Those baboons your brothers?"

She nodded.

"Priscilla's a friend of mine, too. I'm here looking for clues as to who would do this to her and find anyone who might know something."

"Can't help you much there, but I can tell you what I know."

"It'll be helpful. How do you know Priscilla?"

"I was lookin' to get out of whorin', pick up a decent trade. But none would take me. Not as a washerwoman, nor a servant, nor a cook. Felt like a leper, I did. But Priscilla, she was different. Agreed to put me in her play. Lots of the other actors, they were afraid on account of her jestin' 'bout the Eternal Fire. Whistling Wendy on stage, can you imagine it?" Wendy sighed. "Dream's gone now. Back to working the streets."

"Sorry to hear that."

"You could do worst as work goes. Or so I tell myself."

"Guess you could be a Witcher."

"Witcherin's an honest trade, at least."

"You're aware that Priscilla wasn't the only victim?"

"Oh, dearie, 'course I was. This didn't start yesterday. Others've died like this before. Beggars, street girls, orphans. But who'd have a dram of concern for them? Human rubbish. It's what the guards call us."

"Recall any names?"

"They didn't have proper names, just what folk would call 'em. No friends, no family. Their bodies were burned long ago."

Juray pressed some crowns into her hand. "Take care of yourself. I need to look around some more. Appreciate it if your brothers didn't disturb me again."

"Of course. Thank you. I feel better knowing someone cares enough."

Juray went back to the footprints, finding human blood and followed the footprints to a tall wall, where they abruptly stopped. "Well, that's odd." Juray looked up. "Even I couldn't jump this wall." She frowned. "But a vampire could. Or does this guy have an accomplice?" She turned and headed back the way she came.

Wendy saw her and had a hopeful look on her face. "Did you find anythin'?"

"Think I know what happened. When Priscilla was attacked, she fought back. It surprised her assailant and he stepped back, knocked over the brazier. Someone must have heard it, saw something, started hollering. Guards showed up and the murderer couldn't finish the job. Couldn't cover his track, so he just gathered himself and leapt over the wall and escaped. Trail ends there."

"You divined all this from a pile o' rubbish and a few prints in the mud?"

"Do that daily in my profession. And I've been doing it for a long time. Practice makes perfect."

"True enough. Just like I can tell right off if a punter'll pay or try to wriggle out of it."

"That particular skill I could use myself," Juray said with a chuckle. "I have a murderer to catch. Be careful, Wendy."

"You too, Mistress Witcher."

Juray met Geralt at the morgue.

"What did you find out?" he asked.

"This has been going on for a while. Mostly beggars, whores, and orphans. People that nobody would miss. He must have grown bold to attack Priscilla. She only survived because she fought back and made enough noise that the guard was called. Escaped over a wall. You?"

"Fabian was a whoremonger and the sculptures he and his brother would make were of the old gods, all shapely women. The corpse collector was the one that took the ring off him, not the killer. Also found this on him." Geralt handed her vellum.

"Wait...," Juray said the moment she touched it. "That's not vellum. That's human skin." She looked at what was written on it. "Priscilla's name is on this." She looked up at Geralt. "He names his next victim."

"And if the corpse collector had given that to someone, Priscilla wouldn't have been attacked. Got a message that there was another victim. Let's go see if he left his next victim behind on this one."

"Geralt, don't let him know that we know what he is. He may panic and not be as cooperative."

Geralt nodded and they went inside the morgue and met with Hubert, who was standing over a body.

"Oh good, you two are here," he said. "Geralt, yes? I'm afraid I can't recall yours."

"Juray."

"I held off the autopsy until you arrived."

"Nice of you. Since you weren't pleased with our previous visit."

"Because you came unannounced and in unfortunate company. And I had Reverend Nathaniel to contend with. Our spiritual caretaker has left the city on some important matter. And I know the two of you are not students. I know what you are and what drives you. I'm more than happy to aid your investigation."

"You and von Gratz don't seem to like one another," Geralt observed.

"I had him sent to prison," Hubert sighed. "Joachim led the student revolts of 1242. A senseless and brutal revolt. People were dying, Witchers. Those who rejected liberty, equality, and fraternity would be found in the gutter come morning, their throats slit from ear to ear with surgical precision. Joachim had been my favorite student."

Geralt glanced at Juray, realizing she was correct.

"But... alas, I had to do something. So I reported him. Then I left the university and found work in the morgue, where none care about my past. Whereas Joachim... oh, fate's ironies. Years later he was appointed head of the very ward I founded."

"How old's von Gratz? Fifty? Sixty?"

An annoyed look came across Juray's face at Geralt doing the exact thing she'd asked him not to do.

"Fifty-three I believe. Why do you ask?"

"You look a little young to be his teacher."

"And you look your age, Geralt?" Juray asked.

Hubert chuckled. "Not surprising. Seems working with corpses extends one's life."

"I'm sure it does. Who's the victim?"

"Joris Aquinus. A lecturer of theology at Oxenfurt Academy. Found this morning at his home... on a catafalque made of his books."

"Any titles in particular?" Geralt asked.

"It seems all the tomes dealt with the Eternal Fire. Treatises critical of the faith's doctrines."

"A mortal sin in Novigrad."

"I'm starting to see a pattern here," Juray said. "Fabian carved sculptures of the old gods and was a whoremonger, Priscilla had to have been attacked because of her play, this guy probably lectured against the Eternal Fire. All sins in the eyes of the killer. We should start the autopsy, see if the wounds and cause of death are the same as Fabian."

Hubert began. "Wounds confirm the killer's modus operandi. Victim was bound and forced to drink formaldehyde." He moved to the head. "Killer removed the eyes, placed burning coals in the sockets, then opened the ribcage and...," he paused. "What's this? A parchment?" He pulled it out. "Made of human skin?"

"A message from the murderer," Geralt said. "The name of his next victim."

Hubert opened the parchment, a look of surprise on his face, before showing it to the Witchers.

"Patricia Vegabud," Geralt read.

"Shit!" Juray said. "He's branching out from sinners without family to nobility. Geralt, we have to go. Now!" She spun around and headed out of the morgue.

Juray did an emergency dismount as she and Geralt reached the Vegabud Estate. Neither had been here since the ball to whisk Albert Vegabud to relative safety. She quickly made her way to the guard.

"Whaddya want?" he asked lazily.

"Need to speak to Patricia Vegabud."

"Do you think I'll let some bum off the street—"

"She is in danger, you fucking moron! Let us through or I'll be sure her blood will be on your hands."

"If you just thought this up and I let you in, it's my arse out the door."

"Do I look like I just made this shit up? I think Lady Vegabud's life is more important than your ass!"

"Fine, but no trickery." The guard took them to Ingrid instead of Patricia.

"Oh, Geralt, Juray. What a pleasant surprise."

"Not pleasant at all, I'm afraid. Your mother's life is in danger."

"In danger? How? I saw her this morning, she seemed sad, true, but in perfect health."

"Please trust me in this, Lady Vegabud. We've been hunting a serial killer and your mother was marked as the next victim."

Ingrid motioned for them to follow her as she picked up her skirt and quickly made her way into the house, passing by a bonfire, servants tossing books into the flames.

"What's with the bonfire?" Geralt asked as they passed.

"Mother seems to be having a serious crisis of faith. We'd been into Novigrad and Mother saw the pyres in Hierarch Square. Uttered not a word on our way home. She had all the holy books, insignias, reliquaries gathered, taken outside, and burnt. Then she locked herself into her room." As they headed upstairs, Ingrid mentioned how quiet it seemed to be.

Juray stopped Ingrid, a look on her face like she was sensing something.

"What are you sensing?" Geralt asked.

"The killer's here. My apologies, Lady Vegabud." Juray shoved open the doors, to find Patricia's nude and bound corpse and a figure run out another door. "Geralt!"

She darted after the figure as she heard Ingrid scream. The guards were now on alert, but Juray was able to sprint past them and over the wall she saw the figure leap over. She called for Shadowmount and mounted as the mare cantered towards her, trained not to stop if she saw her mistress at a run. Juray raced after the figure. It was heading towards Novigrad, leaping over a caravan of merchants and forcing Juray to come to a stop, reining in Shadowmount so hard she reared.

"Fuck!" She lost the figure because of the caravan. "I know who you are, you son of a bitch, and I will find you."

"Lower your crossbow before you hurt yourself!" Ingrid shouted. "This man is innocent!"

A guard had brought Geralt back into the manor, pointing a crossbow at him. Geralt looked like he wanted to gut the man.

"Forgive me," the guard said. "I saw him runnin', thought it was the killer fleein'"

"I was chasing him, you idiot!" Geralt turned towards him, his yellow eyes full of anger. "You had best hope that Juray is able to catch him."

"Out of my sight! At once!"

The guard retreated and Ingrid fell into sobs.

"Mother... Why did he do this to her? Why...?"

"Because she blasphemed the Eternal Fire. Only thing that ties her to the other victims."

Ingrid's sobs renewed.

"Ingrid, I know this is a hard time for you, but usually the killer leaves a note on the body, a note indicating his next victim. May I?"

Ingrid nodded. "But you'll do it on your own. I don't want to remember her like that."

Juray arrived at the moment and she looked at her hopefully. Juray shook her head.

"I lost him in the city."

"You find him, Witchers. You find him and you kill him. Give Mother justice. Let her be his last victim."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ingrid left the room and Juray turned to see Geralt examining the body.

"Is there a note?"

"He was almost caught because she fought back." Geralt stood, holding the human skin parchment. "Sweet Nettie – Crippled Kate's"

"Getting specific now."

"Let go and make sure Sweet Nettie isn't his next victim."

Back in Novigrad, they went to Crippled Kate's, a brothel near the docks. They went in and Geralt demanded to know where Sweet Nettie was.

"She's upstairs with an important client! They are not to be disturbed."

"Geralt, he's not here. I'm hoping that means we beat him to her."

"I hope so too."

They took the stairs two at a time before finding Nettie's room. Inside they could hear panicked muffled screams.

"No one will hear you, bitch," a man said. "Not a soul."

"Whole town will hear you in a minute," Geralt said, drawing his sword.

"Geralt, wait. He's not the killer. He threw us off his trail."

"Yet again you disturb me," Nathaniel said, a hot poker in his hand. Nettie was tied to a chair, screaming through her gag, several burns already on her naked body. "I so dislike being disturbed. I was to play with Sweet Nettie and render her not so sweet." Nettie sobbed through her gag, trying to say something through the gag. To Juray, it sounded as if she were pleading for help. "But I shall see to you first." He raised the poker.

Juray jumped between him and the now armed Geralt, quickly disarming him and slamming him down into a nearby chair. Nathaniel blinked in surprise, the white-hot end of the poker mere centimeters from his left eye.

"I don't suggest moving," she said. "Unless you want to take out your own eye. Which would be quite hilarious to me, just so you know."

"What the fuck is this about?"

"My friend and I have been on the trail of a murderer. Fabian Meyer. Patricia Vegabud. Attempted on Priscilla. But it seems that he wanted us to kill you. But he doesn't know that I know he's a literal monster. Not a human monster like you, although I will have no qualms about killing you."

"What?"

"Who knew you'd be here? Since we were told you've left the city on important business."

"I obviously don't announce these outings far and wide. There's one man who...," he trailed off. "But that's impossible. He treats even corpses with kid gloves."

"Hubert Rejk. Our dear coroner."

Nathaniel nodded.

"Where is he?"

"Warehouse twelve on the docks. He goes there this time of day to get supplies. Formaldehyde."

Juray lowered the poker and Nathaniel relaxed. She then raised a hand and cast Axii on him. "You'll drop your entire purse on that table for Nettie, leave here, and never return."

"Of course." Nathaniel dropped his purse on the table and left the room.

Geralt untied Nettie and she clutched him, sobbing.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! I thought he was going to kill me!"

"You need to take a few days of rest if you can," he said.

Nettie nodded. "You should take the coin he left. As a thank you."

"You deserve it more than we do for what he did to you." Juray turned to Geralt. "Let's go. We have some justice to dispense."

"He's still here," Juray informed Geralt when they found warehouse twelve. They cautiously walked in to see Hubert seemed to be waiting for them.

"Run out of formaldehyde?" Geralt asked.

"I underestimated you," Hubert said. "You almost caught me in flagrante delicto, now you've seen through my bluff with Nathaniel."

"Might be because I knew you were a higher vampire from the start," Juray informed him.

He turned towards them, a shocked look on his face.

"I knew it was you at the Vegabud estate, so when you sent us to Crippled Kate's, I knew Nathaniel wasn't the killer. I suspected you had been the one to attack Priscilla when your tracks stopped at a wall one could only scale with a superhuman jump, something even Witchers can't do."

"How... How did you know? No magic can sense a higher vampire."

"Call it a curse. I'm the only one who can."

"Yet you did not strike me down?"

"Because I know how to stay my hand until a monster proves he is indeed one. Like you have. But answer us this, Hubert. Why? Why would a vampire kill in the name of the Eternal Fire?"

"Novigrad is a fallen city, its population amnesiacs to the very concept of decency and morality. So I decided to remind them. In a manner they'd be certain to notice."

"Tortured logic," Geralt commented.

"Yet logic, nonetheless. Fight fire with fire, as they say. Give a thought to my victims. As Juray so helpfully pointed out to you in the morgue. A lecherous woodcarver who'd spend his last copper on whores. An old countess who defiled symbols of the faith. A trobairitz for whom nothing is sacred, nothing above ridicule. They did not deserve to live. But their deaths could be a lesson to others. Awaken them, scare them onto the correct path, the path to the Fire, to cleansing, to salvation." He looked between the two Witchers. "But for the two of you, it is too late. You are a man and a woman of little faith. I can sense that much."

"But I'm pretty good with a sword," Geralt said drawing his silver sword.

Juray took several steps back, popping a Black Blood back while drawing her own silver sword.

"Pretty good might not cut it." Hubert went straight to his winged form, looking nothing like a human. His body was hairless, his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, looking very much like a monster from a fairy tale

"Geralt!" Juray tossed a vial of Black Blood at him. She always carried the potion with her since her last encounter with a higher vampire. He downed the contents.

Hubert went for Juray and she dodged, casting Igni at him. He screeched and swiped at Juray. She jumped back and Geralt sliced into his back. Hubert spun around, focusing his attack on the older Witcher. Juray rushed at Hubert's back. He spun around, bringing a claw towards Juray's face. Juray's quick reflexes allowed her to dodge the blow, his claws instead raking her back and throwing her off balance.

"Juray!"

"Focus on him!"

Hubert raised his claw to attack her and Juray's practiced fingers cast a stream of fire at him. Hubert screeched as he burned.

"His head! Take his head!"

A moment later, Hubert's head landed behind her. She scrambled to it and grabbed it. Sprinting out the door before Geralt could say a word, Juray threw the head as hard as she could, hitting it with Aard as it sailed over the water of the docks. She sagged over the railing she was at, breathless.

Geralt joined her a moment later. "He's pretty crispy right now. What the hell was that you just did with the head?"

"Only a higher vampire can kill another higher vampire. He'll regenerate, but it might take him a bit to so. Especially if we turn the body to ash while his head is floating in the sea."

"Are you alright?"

"I've had worst injuries from a higher vampire."

"Let's finish toasting Hubert and then go visit Jaskier and Priscilla."