Chapter 5 Chapter 5: Hunter's Curse (Sam POV)

The stranger's voice cuts through the howling portal wind as he begins chanting in what sounds like ancient Gaelic, his words weaving power that makes my teeth ache.

"Dún na geataí dorcha, cuir ar ais iad go dtí an domhain thiar..."

The rift shudders, its edges wavering like heat shimmer, then contracts with a sound like breaking glass. The supernatural hurricane dies instantly, leaving us in sudden, deafening silence except for Tyler's panicked breathing from the doorway.

The stranger collapses to his knees.

I'm about to ask if he's okay when he starts screaming.

It's not a sound any human throat should make, raw, agonized, like someone's being flayed alive from the inside. His body convulses as he clutches his chest, and I can see tears streaming down his face in the flashlight beam.

"What's happening to him?" Tyler shouts.

Before I can answer, something moves in my peripheral vision. One of the demons we thought was dead lurches to its feet, yellow eyes fixed on the stranger's vulnerable form. Its claws extend as it prepares to strike his exposed back.

I don't think. I just move.

My boot connects with the demon's skull in a satisfying crunch, sending it sprawling. It tries to rise again, so I channel psychic energy into my fist and punch straight through its ribcage. The creature dissolves into ash with a wet sigh.

The stranger's screaming stops abruptly. He looks up at me with eyes that seem ancient, older than his face should allow.

"You saved me," he says, voice hoarse from his ordeal.

"You're welcome. What the hell just happened to you?"

He struggles to his feet, wincing with every movement. "The curse. Every time I kill one of them, I feel their death as if it were my own." He gestures at the ash piles scattered around us. "Five demons. Five deaths echoing through me."

Tyler emerges from the doorway, his face pale and camera clutched against his chest like a shield. "Okay, I need someone to explain what just happened here before I have a complete mental breakdown."

"Tyler..."

"No, Sam. I mean it." His voice is rising, that familiar edge of panic I've learned to recognize. "First we're investigating a murder, then demons attack us, then this guy shows up with a magic sword, then there's a portal to hell, and now he's screaming like he's being tortured. I can't..." He stops, running his hands through his hair frantically. "I can't process this. This is too much. Way too much."

The stranger studies Tyler with those unsettling eyes. "Your friend is overwhelmed."

"He's not used to the supernatural stuff," I explain. "Tyler, just breathe. In and out."

"Don't tell me to breathe!" Tyler snaps. "You know what normal nineteen-year-olds do on Thursday nights? They play video games. They argue about sports. They attempt awkward conversations with girls at coffee shops. They don't fight demons with strangers who carry medieval weapons!"

"Medieval?" The stranger raises an eyebrow. "This blade was forged in the third century by Celtic smiths who bound their souls into the metal. It's considerably older than medieval."

Tyler stares at him. "That... that doesn't make me feel better."

"Who are you?" I ask the stranger directly.

"Kieran Braut." He sheathes his sword in a scabbard that definitely wasn't there moments ago. "Hunter of demons, bound by oaths older than your bloodline." His eyes narrow as he studies me more carefully. "Speaking of bloodlines, yours is... interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"There's something in your blood. Something that doesn't belong in a human." Kieran circles me slowly, like a predator evaluating prey. "It's faint, but it's there. Demonic essence, woven into your very DNA."

Tyler makes a strangled noise. "Demonic? Sam, please tell me he's joking."

"I don't joke about demons," Kieran says flatly.

"Look, I don't know what you think you're sensing, but I'm human." I cross my arms. "Psychic, maybe, but human."

"Psychic abilities don't create portals to the demon realm." Kieran's voice is cold and professional. "What you did here—that level of power combined with my binding magic shouldn't have been possible unless you have some connection to the otherworld."

Tyler sits down heavily on a piece of debris. "This is my life now. Discussing whether my boss has demonic DNA in an abandoned warehouse full of demon ash." He looks up at us. "Do you know how hard it is to explain this to people? I went on a date last month—well, attempted date—and the girl asked what I do for excitement. I said 'paranormal investigation' thinking it sounded mysterious and cool. She asked for examples."

"Tyler..."

"So I told her about the haunted library case. You know, the one where the ghost was rearranging books to spell out death threats? I thought it was a good story. Professional, but not too scary." Tyler's hands are shaking. "She looked at me like I was completely insane and excused herself to the bathroom. Never came back."

Kieran frowns. "You discuss your work with civilians?"

"It's called trying to have a social life," Tyler says sarcastically. "Some of us want human connections that don't involve supernatural murder investigations."

"Human connections are dangerous." Kieran's voice turns distant. "They create vulnerabilities. Weaknesses that enemies exploit."

"Is that why you work alone?" I ask.

"I work alone because everyone who gets close to me dies." The words are flat, matter-of-fact. "Cursed hunters don't get the luxury of companionship."

Tyler looks between us. "Great. So we've got Sam with potential demon blood, me with crippling social anxiety that makes me overshare supernatural secrets, and you with a curse that makes you feel every death. We're like the world's most dysfunctional team."

"We're not a team," Kieran says quickly.

"Right. Of course not." Tyler's voice drips with sarcasm. "Because that would require human connection, and apparently that's forbidden."

Something in Kieran's expression shifts, a flash of pain that makes me wonder how many people he's lost over the centuries.

"Let's focus on why we're here," I interrupt before this gets more uncomfortable. "The altar. We need to examine it properly before more demons show up."

We approach the stone platform together, our flashlight beams revealing details I missed in the earlier chaos. The symbols carved around its base are deeper than I initially thought, burned into the concrete with something that left scorch marks.

"These aren't just containment circles," Kieran observes, running his finger along one of the symbols. "They're summoning arrays. Specifically designed to thin the barriers between realms."

Tyler photographs everything methodically, though I notice his hands are still trembling slightly. "Sam, look at this."

He's pointing at something wedged between two stones at the altar's base—a small electronic device, about the size of a thumb drive.

I use a piece of debris to pry it loose, careful not to touch it directly in case it triggers another psychic vision. It's some kind of computer chip, sleek and expensive-looking, with a logo I recognize.

"Fernandez Technologies," I read aloud.

"Pedro's company," Tyler breathes. "The same guy who hired us to find his daughter."

Kieran examines the chip without touching it. "Quantum processing unit. Military grade, by the look of it."

"How do you know about quantum processors?" I ask.

"When you've lived for three and a half centuries, you pick up various skills." Kieran's smile is grim. "I've had to adapt to changing times. Magic and technology aren't as separate as most people think."

Tyler carefully photographs the chip from multiple angles. "So Pedro's company is connected to these ritual sites. But what does quantum computing have to do with demon summoning?"

"Quantum mechanics deals with parallel dimensions," Kieran explains. "Multiple realities existing simultaneously. If someone found a way to use quantum processing to map dimensional barriers..."

"They could find weak points," I finish. "Places where the barriers are thin enough to break through."

"Exactly. The murders at Pike Place, Maria's sacrifice here—they're not random. Someone's using both technology and magic to systematically weaken the barriers between worlds."

Pedro didn't just hire me to find his daughter—he hired me because I have some kind of connection to the demon realm. And if his company is providing the technological component for these summoning rituals...

"We need to get out of here," I say. "If Pedro's involved in this, then he knows exactly who I am and what I can do."

We're heading toward the warehouse exit when a figure stumbles through the doorway—a girl, maybe sixteen, with purple-streaked hair and clothes that look like they've been shredded by invisible claws.

"Help me," she gasps, wild eyes darting around the warehouse. "Please, you have to help me. It won't leave me alone!"

"Who won't leave you alone?" I step toward her, but she backs away frantically.

"The ghost. I was just trying to contact my dead brother, but something went wrong and now..." She breaks off with a scream as something invisible seems to grab her shoulder, spinning her around.

Tyler raises his camera instinctively, then lowers it. "Should I be documenting this?"

"The ghost of whom?" Kieran demands, his hand moving to his sword hilt.

"Rhodes. He died three months ago in a car accident." The girl's voice is getting more hysterical. "I just wanted to tell him I was sorry for our last fight, but when I opened the connection, something else came through instead!"

Invisible fingers leave visible marks on her arms as she's dragged backward toward the warehouse entrance. Her feet scramble for purchase on the concrete floor.

"It's trying to pull me back to where it died!" she shrieks. "The intersection on Pine Street where Rhodes crashed. It wants me to join him!"

I exchange glances with Kieran and Tyler. A vengeful ghost attached to a traumatic death site—exactly what we don't need right now.

"What's your name?" I call out.

"Echo! Echo Winters!" She manages to grab onto a concrete pillar, but her grip is slipping. "Please, I know you deal with this kind of thing! I heard about you from some street kids, Sam Drewsbury, right? The psychic investigator?"

Tyler looks at me with something between admiration and exasperation. "Your reputation is spreading."

The invisible force gives Echo another violent yank, and her fingernails scrape against concrete as she's dragged toward the exit. Whatever ghost she accidentally summoned is getting stronger, more determined to take her with it.

"We have to help her," I tell Kieran.

"We don't have to do anything. This isn't our problem." But even as he says it, his hand tightens on his sword hilt.

"She's just a kid."

"A kid who meddled with forces beyond her understanding and released something dangerous." Kieran's voice is cold, but I can see the conflict in his eyes. "Saving her puts us all at risk."

Echo's scream echoes off the warehouse walls as the ghost drags her outside into the night.