Hi guys! First Criminal Minds story that I have ever written so please be gentle. This is just the first chapter so it will start speeding up once I am done with introductions. I don't own Criminal Minds!

The Secrets of the Manor

The heat was turned on downstairs, and kept those in the dining area warm from stormy weather outside. It was a rather large house, a mansion in lack of a better term, and it was easier to keep the room being used at any given time heated rather than warm up the entire house. A man with shiny black hair sat at the end of a large table, and was just finishing up his dinner. A younger woman stood next to him with her hands folded in front of her while another servant waited for orders by the kitchen door.

The handsome man took a bite of meat, and sighed as the meat slid down his throat. He set the fork back down, and looked at the woman standing next to him.

"Do have a seat my dear. I just hate having supper all by myself."

He motioned to one of the chairs next to him, and after glancing at the silent servant by the door, she sat down. She did not make eye contact, and kept her hands in her lap.

"So tell me, Maria, what was one of your childhood dreams? I am sure that you have had many, but what is the dream that stood out the strongest?"

He put another piece of meat in his mouth, and slowly chewed it as he waited for her to answer. Meat was truly his favorite food. He would never understand how some people could just give up meat all together. His parents were never fond of meat, and most of the foods he ate while he was growing up reminded him of leaves.

"Um, I wanted to be a painter." Even as she answered, her focus was on her lap. He did not mind, but his gaze never left her face.

"Is there a specific reason why you wanted to be an artist? When I was little, I wanted to be a famous director." He had given up on that dream long ago when his parents scoffed at that idea. His father wanted him to be a doctor which would give him a steady income, and a career that would never go out of style.

"I've just always liked to draw. I guess it's my thing. Drawing brings me to my happy place, and I love the satisfaction that it brings. I can look back at my painting, and be proud that I made that. Mama has about 50 of my paintings in her living room. She's my biggest fan." He watched her lips form a little smile thinking about her mother, but she quickly regained the stiff posture that she had before. He closed his dark eyes, and took a small sip of wine from his glass before looking back at her.

"And what is your biggest fear? Were you afraid of the dark or of spiders? Are you more afraid of flames than the ocean? Which of your parents would only speak to you when they had hurtful things to say? How did this make you feel?" He had set the fork down, and focused all of his attention on the increasingly uncomfortable woman.

"I, um-". A large buzzing sound interrupted her, and a look of thankfulness washed across her features.

He patted his napkin to each sides of his mouth, and slowly rose from the table. "I am so sorry my dear, but duty calls. We will have to continue this conversation sometime soon. And Markus," he said gesturing to the quiet man at the door. "I will have my tea in one hour. Have a good evening Maria."

He did not turn back around when he heard Maria start to gather up his plates. He pulled out a pair of keys as he climbed the white marble stairs, and started to whistle one of the tunes that he had heard on the radio earlier. He despised the large staircase, and he had to keep reminding himself that exercise was good for him. He had an elevator installed earlier that year in the game room, but that was quite a walk from the dining hall so stairs was the logical choice.

His heart was pounding when he finally reached the top of the staircase, but he did not stop to catch his breath. He opened the first door on his left which led to another staircase which looped its way to the third level of the mansion. Out of habit, he counted each step as he climbed. Sometimes, it was nice to hear a voice next to the creaky staircase. He was glad when he got to the top, and he put one of the brass keys into the lock. He let himself in, and locked the door behind him.

This led him to a private wing of the house. The walls were a deep shade of brown, and the warmth that could be felt in the rest of the house was gone. His parent's staff told him that these were once the rooms of convicted felons as they awaited trial in the early 18th century. While he never looked into it, he had no doubt. There was no life within these walls, and there were no windows to invite the sunshine in.

He started whistling again as he opened the first door he saw. Another key was placed in the lock, and the door creaked as it was pushed aside. There was a wooden bed in the center of the room, and a small video camera was installed into one of the walls. In the right corner of the room, a young man hung from chains in the ceiling. He was naked, and had a long gash going from his chest down to his groin. His wide eyes were focused on the blood that was still dripping to his feet.

He put on a pair of rubber gloves before he approached the man hanging from the wall. He slid his finger across the wound, and up the young man's neck. It was truly a shame that this man was now dead when the fun had just begun. He dabbed his finger in the wet blood, and licked the blood off his finger. It was sweet to the taste, and he was happy that he had found such a useful object to play with. He debated against cutting the boy loose of his chains, but chose to let him stay where he was. He would have to call Markus up later to dispose of the trash before it started to stink, but he would deal with that when the time came.

He locked the door behind him as he ventured into the next room from the hallway. The set up was similar to the first room, but this room had more toys to play with that he kept in a book shelf next to the door. He had been gathering his toys for years now, and he had still not been able to play with all of them. His playthings never lasted that long, and he cursed the human body for being so weak.

Another young man was kept in this room, but this one was laying spread eagle on the hard table. He nonchalantly walked over to the bed, and smiled when he saw that the boy was still breathing lightly. He didn't move as the handsome man ran his gloved finger across his legs or when he pinched the boy's inner thighs. This plaything would not last more than another day. He kissed the younger man on the cheek before leaving and locking the door behind him.

The last room in the dark hallway led to the biggest of the three rooms. He had a strong lighting system installed along with a superb radio that played calming music which put him at ease. A leather arm chair sat next to the wooden bed in the room, and a stone fireplace had a fire going at all times to give the room a sense of warmth. A pretty young woman was crying in a fetal position underneath the table. Her ankles and wrists had been tied up, but she was virtually unharmed. When she saw him, she tried to scream through the gags in her mouth and started to scoot to the far side of the room.

"Oh Samantha, please be quiet. I cannot hear the music." He closed his eyes, and smiled as the music filled his ears. "Isn't this just lovely? I could listen to this all day long. Did you know that classical music could raise your IQ?" The soothing music brought him back to older times when he had little else to worry about other than what he wanted for dinner that night. He paid no attention to the girl until she started to scream again through the rags in her mouth. Why did she have to ruin the moment?

"Is this truly necessary my dear? We are just getting to know one another, but you cannot let me get a word in edgewise. Our relationship is off to a rocky start, but I am willing to give you another chance." He walked along the wall, and pulled a pair of pliers from the shelf. This was one of his favorites simply because it was made with real silver instead of the imitation. Being a Leo, he always did enjoy the finer things in life. He would never even touch something that was less than perfection in his eyes, and all of the guests that he invited into his home had to meet certain qualifications. Their looks would have to be more than appealing to the eye, and be able to offer some kind of conversation to the man of the house. He was bored so easily these days, and it was always more difficult for him to make friends.

He calmly walked over to the young girl, and bent down close to her. Her green eyes were wet with tears, and he could see her body shaking with fear. "Let us start over again. My name is Harold." Harold brushed some of her blonde hair out of her face, and removed the gag from her mouth. She opened her mouth to scream when he grabbed a hold of her jaw, and forced her mouth all the way open. He shoved the pliers into her mouth, and clamped them onto her tongue. With one simple movement, he ripped the tongue out of her mouth. Horrified screams started to fill the room as he examined the tongue on his pliers. He took no notice of the blood streaming out of her mouth or as her hands went to her face to protect herself from further damage.

The tongue really was an interesting muscle. It was one of the strongest parts of the human body, but it was so small in size. This piece of meat caused so much hatred and violence in the world depending on which words that were spoken with it. He slipped on another pair of gloves, and ran his fingers across the limp muscle taking in its texture and shape. Maybe this would be something that little Timothy would like. Timothy was his Shih-Tzu that he had bought from a breeder a few years ago. He took the dog with him when he attended various events and fundraisers. Not only was the dog a celebrity which gave both of them more attention that they could have dreamed of, the dog was a constant companion. Timothy would never judge him or make fun of him. Timothy accepted Harold for who he was, and that was more than he could say about most of the people in the world.

People were so quick to judge others, and while Harold accepted that this was part of their nature, he hated them for it. He never liked people who thought that they were better than everyone else, and being as wealthy as he was, he knew a lot of people like that. They thought that they were higher than other people either because of their money or because of their genius, but Harold knew that people were all exactly alike where it mattered. Human beings were all just bags of bones with blood and meat inside of them to keep them alive. All of them had sexual urges in one way or another, and all of them had it inside of them to hurt another. People truly disgusted him, and he hated to think about his own mortality and his own urges that he got when he looked upon someone he found attractive. When he was younger, he was able to control the urges that he got when his hormones kicked in. He wasn't sure what the exact moment was when he lost this control, or when he started bringing in guests to live out his sexual fantasies that he would never be able to do in the real world. It didn't really matter. The people he chose to live with him in these walls were learning that they were just as human as anyone else, and he was able to satisfy the needs that his body demanded.

Disposing of the bodies was never a problem. He always left them where the family would be able to find them, and so the family could do with the corpse what they wanted. He never caused more destruction to the body after it was dead. He saw no need. He never forgot a single one of his guests though. He could recite their biography in five minutes or less. Along with his extensive research on his extended family, he also had the videos that he made of them during their stay. He kept the tapes of his friends in alphabetical order in the master bedroom. He would be able to look back and remember whenever he felt the need. The tapes were rarely looked at because he always had his room full with new guests to entertain. Female visitors were few and far in between. He always found that he had more fun with his male friends, but he never questioned why. Once again, it didn't matter. All that really mattered was that he felt better by the time his guests left, and that he was always in the shape for more company.

He was forced out of his train of thought when he felt something biting the back of his foot. He looked down and saw Samantha, blood dripping out of her mouth, biting his heel. He picked her up by the hair on her head, and threw her back across the room. He saw her hit her head on the side of the table, and she fell to the ground. She stopped moving, and he walked over to her. She truly was a pretty girl, but she wasn't his type. She only child of a well known lawyer in the next town over, and he was sure that she would be missed. It wouldn't be long before the news stations started doing reports on her, and her father would be begging for her safe return. Parents only loved their children when there was a chance that they would never see that child again. It was almost laughable to watch the parents shed their crocodile tears as the reporters bombarded them with questions.

Harold put the tongue into a small container, and after cleaning off the pliers with the rag from Samantha's mouth, he put the pliers back in their place. A clean home was a happy home. It wouldn't be long before the police started flooding the town where Samantha lived, and he looked forward to that. He was tired of watching the same people day after day. Bringing law enforcement from other towns would bring some excited to his daily schedule, and he couldn't wait to make some new friends. He would have to remind Markus to make him an appointment in the town so he would be the first to see the arrival of the outside police. Markus was never fond of strangers in the house, but he would have to get used to it. Timothy loved meeting all of the girls that Harold found for him. The girls always seemed calmer when Timothy was around, but that never worked for the boys.

"Good night, dear Samantha. We shall play more in the morning." She didn't budge, but that didn't faze Harold. She would be alright to talk when the sun rose. He put the small container in his breast pocket, and locked the door behind him as he left. After walking through the maze of doors and staircases, he was back in the main quarters of the house. He knew that he would sleep well tonight with Timothy at his side. The television was already on when he got to his room, and a hot cup of tea was by his bed. He smiled to himself, and thanked God that he was given such a caring staff. Timothy was already fast asleep, and Harold made sure to be as quiet as could as he slipped his pajamas on. After getting in bed, and having a sip of his tea, he was able to concentrate on the news broadcast.

"Samantha Huntington, 19, was kidnapped sometime yesterday between 3pm and 5pm. While it has not been confirmed, police fear that it is the work of a local serial killer. The serial killer is the suspect for at least fifteen murders in the past month. The FBI has already been called in to help with the case. Samantha is about 5'6 with blonde hair and green eyes. She was last seen walking towards a friend's house wearing blue jeans and a pink tank top. If anyone has seen her, they are urged to call the police immediately." Harold turned the television off, and stretched his legs out in the bed. He wasn't expecting the FBI so soon. This could become a lot more exciting than he had thought.