Chapter 1 Chapter 1: Death Echoes (Sam POV)

The concrete is still warm with blood.

I crouch in the alley behind Pike Place Market, pressing my fingertips against the stain where victim number four died three hours ago. The familiar chill of death echo preparation runs up my spine, and I close my eyes, opening myself to the psychic residue that clings to violent endings.

"Um, Sam? This is really gross," Tyler whines behind me. "Can't you just, I don't know, look at the crime scene photos like normal investigators?"

I ignore my assistant and let the death echo hit me.

Ice water floods my veins. Claws tear through flesh like paper. Inhuman snarls fill the air as something massive pins a struggling woman against the brick wall. Her final scream cuts through the night, terrified, desperate, hopeless. But underneath the victim's terror, I taste something else. The killer's satisfaction. A hunger that feels ancient and intelligent.

The vision ends and I gasp, yanking my hands back from the concrete.

"Jesus, Sam, you're white as a sheet." Tyler's voice carries that familiar mix of fascination and revulsion. "What did you see?"

"Help me up." I extend my hand, legs shaky from the psychic drain. Tyler pulls me to my feet, his college-boy strength surprising for someone who looks like he survives entirely on energy drinks and ramen.

"So?" He bounces on his toes, notebook ready. "Serial killer? Psychopath with a knife fetish? Ooh, maybe it's one of those guys who thinks he's a vampire!"

"It wasn't human." I dust off my jeans and examine the alley with fresh eyes. The death echo always reveals details the crime scene techs miss. "Look at the claw marks on the wall."

Tyler squints at the brick. "Those could be from a knife. Or like, really long fingernails."

"Eighteen inches long?" I trace the gouges with my finger. They start at shoulder height and rake down to the pavement. "And look at the spacing. No human hand made these marks."

"Okay, so maybe it's a really big dog. Or a bear. Do we have bears in Seattle?"

I want to shake him. "Tyler, the victim was found with her throat torn out, not bitten. And bears don't arrange bodies in ritual positions."

"Ritual positions?" His pen freezes over the notebook. "You didn't mention ritual positions."

Because I haven't told him what I really saw. The death echo showed me more than claws and screams. I saw the killer's face, or what passed for one. Yellow eyes that burned with hellfire. Skin like charred leather. And when it finished killing, it arranged the woman's body with careful precision, whispering words in a language that made my blood sing with recognition.

But Tyler doesn't need to know that. He already thinks I'm half-crazy, and he's not entirely wrong. Normal people don't see the last moments of violent deaths by touching bloodstains. Normal people don't hunt things that go bump in the night through Seattle's darkest corners.

Then again, normal people don't have twin brothers murdered by demons.

"Sam?" Tyler waves his hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thousand-yard stare thing again. Are we dealing with some kind of cult?"

"Something like that." I pull out my phone and snap photos of the claw marks, making sure to capture the angle and depth. "I need you to cross-reference the locations of all four murders. Look for patterns, occult symbols, underground tunnels, anything that connects them besides the MO."

"Already on it." Tyler's chest puffs with pride. "I've been mapping the crime scenes while you were doing your... whatever you call this psychic detective thing. All four locations form a perfect square around the Pike Place Market area."

I stop mid-step. "A square?"

"Yeah, look." He pulls out his tablet, showing me a map of downtown Seattle with red pins marking each murder site. "Four corners of a square, with Pike Place right in the center. That's not a coincidence, right?"

The pattern makes my stomach clench. Four sacrifices to anchor a summoning circle, with the market—one of Seattle's most spiritually active locations—as the focal point. This isn't random killing. It's preparation.

"Tyler, I need you to research any missing persons reports from the past week. Focus on people with unusual backgrounds; psychics, mediums, anyone involved in the supernatural community."

"The supernatural community?" Tyler's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "Sam, you're starting to sound like one of those conspiracy theorists who thinks the government is run by lizard people."

"Just do the research." I start walking toward my car, parked on Western Avenue. "And see if you can find any connection between the victims and tech companies. Specifically quantum computing or dimensional research."

"Dimensional research?" Tyler scrambles to keep up with my longer stride. "What the hell is dimensional research? Are we talking about parallel universes now?"

I unlock my Honda Civic and slide behind the wheel. "We're talking about people who think the barriers between worlds are thinner than they used to be."

Tyler climbs into the passenger seat, shaking his head. "I swear, Sam, sometimes I think you actually believe this stuff. Like you really think demons and ghosts and whatever else goes bump in the night are real."

If only he knew. I've been hunting the supernatural for three years, ever since something with glowing red eyes tore Danny apart right in front of me. Every case brings me closer to finding his killer, and every death echo shows me more of the hidden world that exists parallel to normal life.

But Tyler is just a college kid who needed a job that paid better than minimum wage. He doesn't need to know that monsters are real, or that his boss is one paycheck away from losing her mind to the darkness she hunts.

"I believe in following the evidence," I say instead. "And the evidence says our killer isn't human."

Tyler pulls out his phone and starts typing. "Okay, missing persons with supernatural connections. Do I include people who've been to psychic readings, or are we talking full-blown crystal-wielding witches?"

"Cast a wide net. Anyone who's ever dabbled in the occult, visited a medium, or claimed to have psychic abilities." I start the engine and pull into Seattle's late-night traffic. "And Tyler? This stays between us. If word gets out that I'm looking into supernatural angles, I'll lose what's left of my credibility with the police department."

"Your secret's safe with me." Tyler grins and taps his temple. "Besides, who would believe me? 'My boss thinks demons are real and she solves crimes by touching dead people's blood.' They'd have me committed."

I wish I could laugh at the absurdity, but the death echo is still fresh in my mind. The killer's satisfaction wasn't random violence or mental illness. It was the pleasure of a job well done, a ritual completed successfully.

Four sacrifices in a perfect square around Pike Place Market. Whatever summoned those claws is just getting started.

"Tyler, one more thing." I glance at him as we drive through the empty streets. "If anything weird happens during this investigation; and I mean anything, you run. You don't try to help, you don't stick around to see what happens. You just run."

"Define weird." Tyler's fingers pause over his phone screen. "Are we talking about finding more claw marks, or like, actual supernatural encounters?"

I could tell him the truth, that I've been fighting things that shouldn't exist for three years, that my psychic abilities make me a magnet for supernatural trouble, that working with me puts him in more danger than any college kid should face.

Instead, I turn onto Pine Street and head toward my apartment. "Just promise me, Tyler. If things get dangerous, you run."

"I promise." But his voice carries that stubborn note I've learned to recognize. Tyler might act like a scared kid, but he's got more backbone than he lets on. Which means I'll have to be extra careful to keep him away from whatever I'm about to uncover.

Because the death echo showed me something else, something I haven't told Tyler or anyone else. When the killer finished arranging the victim's body, it looked directly at the spot where I was crouching tonight. Like it knew I'd be there. Like it was leaving a message specifically for me.

The hunt is just beginning.