It had been five years since Judas, as the press had named him, last killed. The girl’s body was posed, railroad spikes driven through her upturned palms and feet. He’d partially skinned her, as he had the other forty-eight girls in his two year career roaming the country.
Rumor had it that the department had lost one of their agents to Judas. It was one of the first rumors Jason had heard, after signing on a year before.

“We still don’t know who he is, but we do know he’s back,” Agent Steven Wills was saying as he returned. His expression was shuttered; Jason realized his superior was angry as hell and trying not to show it.

“We didn’t catch him last time,” Kirby Brown replied. The shorter man was a legend, having joined before the department had been created. He’d been sixteen then, seven years younger than Jason had been when he signed up.

He was one of the reasons they’d created the department. One of the first Psis to prove their worth to the government.

“We were so fucking close, I could smell the bastard,” Steven growled. “Look at her, Kirby. Tell me what you see.”

To Jason’s amazement, the legend took one look and blanched, visibly recoiling. “Oh god. Oh, shit.”

“She looks like her, doesn’t she? Looks like Lizzie,” Steven said. Something Jason couldn’t decipher passed between the two men when Kirby tore his horrified gaze from the dead girl.

“No. You don’t even think it, Steven. No.”

Ignoring him, the older man glanced at Jason. “Take a look. See if he left a message for us.”

Nodding, the younger man stepped to one side and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, he opened the door in his mind that contained his talent. It slid out, further and further, until it was hovering directly over the crucified figure.

He’d left a message all right. Jason was shaken by the intensity of the psychic impression left behind by the killer. The name that slowly spelled itself in his mind meant nothing to him; but to Judas, it meant everything. There was an obsessive longing woven into it. The killer lusted, with a dark, raging need, for a woman named…”Ember.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Kirby exclaimed.

Steven’s bleak satisfaction was obvious. “He’s started a new game, Kirby. He’s hunting her.”

“She went null because of what happened.” Both men glanced at Jason, who was trying to pretend he didn’t exist, but neither ordered him to step away. Kirby spoke again. “We have him and Charlie, so between the three of us…”

“We can chase shadows and our own tails while he targets every Lizzie lookalike between here and New York,” Steven snapped. “Ember’s the reason we were able to get that close.”

“She ended up in a mental institution for a year because of it,” Kirby shot back. “She’s null. She can’t help.”

“Do you really, truly think she’s null?” Steven moved a step closer, lowering his voice. “Or did she just lock it up because of it?”

“If she has, it’s her choice. Leave her alone, Steven. She’s suffered enough.” Turning, the smaller man stalked away, heading for their car.

“Sir?” Jason spoke up cautiously. His curiosity wouldn’t allow him to stay silent.

“What?”

“Who was Lizzie?”

Steven sighed, running a hand over his pale brown buzz cut. “Victim #47, Elizabeth Barnes. Agent Ember Barnes’ younger sister.”

The rumor had been partially right; the department had lost an agent because of Judas. “Why does Judas want her?”

“Because he’s a sadistic bastard. We’re done here.” Steven gestured for the younger man to follow him while starting for the car. “Come on.”

There’s only one way to discover the answer to my questions. My hand descends to close around the knob. I turn it and walk through the doorway.

The room is dim. Seated on the bed, he lifts fever bright eyes of cerulean blue to mine. A shiver wracks his frame as I walk towards him; the careless tousle of gold framing his face trembles. “You came.”

“I promised to,” I reply softly while sinking to my knees before him, trying to ease his fear. The disease hidden deep within taints his scent. How one so healthy and strong could be brought low by the mere prick of a needle is something I have trouble understanding.

The disease doesn’t matter to those of my kind, and that is why I am here.

“You’ll stay with me? You won’t leave me?” His questions fill me with pleasure.

“I will stay and never leave you,” I promise, giving my hands to him when he reaches for them. He stares at our joined hands for a long, silent moment. Peaceful acceptance lies on his face when he looks up.

Now he is ready to walk through the doorway that leads to eternal night.