As a psychic investigator occasionally assisting the police force, I'd encountered strange things, but my last case was by far the most terrifying. It started with a fairly routine call by Detective Ken Mulroy, asking for some help on a case. I'd helped Ken before when he'd come across something bizarre, perplexing, or lacking in evidence, so I didn't think anything of it at the time.

The crime scene was located on an isolated beach just outside of town. A fisherman had come down to catch his breakfast and found something other than fish. A call to the police went out immediately, and a call to me an hour later after the forensics team had finished processing all possible evidence in the area.

I pulled to a stop outside the yellow crime scene tape, checking to be sure my red parka was zipped up all the way. Taking off one of my gloves, I pocketed the keys and removed my ID from my wallet for inspection.

"Mike!" shouted a voice. The officer standing in front of my car looked with me in the direction of the voice to see Detective Mulroy hurrying toward us. Although he was a friendly sort, after you got to know him, his face was as hard as stone. I've seen mountains made of granite look softer and friendlier. The stubble on his face and chin was a mousy brown and streaked with gray. It also spoke about his mood because he only let it grow out when he was absorbed in a difficult case and everything else became unimportant.

He waved me forward. "It's alright. We've been expecting him. Let him through."

The officer lifted the yellow tape line, and I nodded my thanks as I ducked under the raised partition.

"So what's the trouble that got me out here at six in the morning?" I asked with a slight shiver; the damp air was frigid.

"This is actually the third body in the last month that turned up like this," Ken answered while leading me toward a white sheet draped over a lumpy shape on the beach. "I want to warn you. This one is disturbing."

"I've seen a lot," I dismissed.

"Not like this, you haven't," Ken countered instantly. He nodded to the other officers, and they all cleared the area, forming a ring around the two of us and the sheet draped form.

"Let's see what we've got here," I said, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Drawing back the sheet, I nearly stumbled taking a hurried step backwards. It took me a moment and a couple of deep breaths before I found my voice enough to tell Ken, "You're right. This is new."

I'd seen dead bodies before, but nothing like this one. Usually, a corpse will be ashen in color due to lack of blood flow.  Deprivation of oxygen can cause a body to be tinted blue. However this body was pure white, as if all color had been ripped right out of it.

The corpse was a woman clad in a short black dress with bits of sand and seaweed clinging to the material. Her dark hair was spread out on the sand in a radial pattern out from her head. Both hands were suspended in front of her, fingers curled into claws, as if fighting against death itself. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, but her eyes caught my attention almost at once. The eyes were as black as oil.

When I managed to regain my composure, I walked around the body in a low crouch, hovering a hand a few inches above the woman. I was careful not to touch her as physical contact intensified psychic perceptions, and I didn't want to expose myself to it unnecessarily. When I had made a complete circuit around the remains, I looked toward Ken.

"What do you know about her?" I asked.

"Nothing," he admitted. "It's why I brought you in. Her fingerprints aren't in any database. No dental records match hers, and her DNA isn't on file."

"How long has she been frozen like this?" I prompted.

"That's another bizarre thing about it," Ken told me. "Rigor has already come and gone, but her hands and face remain locked in that position. I suspect, if it's like the first two victims, the bones will be found to have fused together. Her skeleton has become solid bone with no gaps in between. What are you reading off her?"

"Nothing," I replied. "It's strange. I usually get a sense of something, but not with her. I'd probably get more of a psychic impression off that driftwood over there. I don't want to do this, but I'm going to have to touch her."

"Do you really have to?" Ken asked with a revolted expression on his face.

"I wish I didn't," I answered. Kneeling down beside her, I took several deep breaths before placing my bare hand on her forehead. Normally, the reading comes in a rush of memories and experiences, flowing together in a jumble similar to seeing someone's life in fast forward. I can capture glimpses and with time, sift out more important things and formulate a timeline. This experience was anything but normal.

I plunged into a void of darkness. It swallowed me up as if I'd fallen through the world and into the deepest cave imaginable. Cold surrounded me, seeping into my bones. Floating in emptiness, I felt something, a presence. It came in the form of the prickly sensation of being watched. Knowing I wasn't alone, I looked for the source. I couldn't see anything, only more darkness, but I knew someone, something was there. I could feel it drawing closer, and more importantly, I could feel myself being pulled deeper in to the void to meet it.

I fought to get out, clawing and scratching at anything. I floundered like a drowning man being circled by a hungry shark.

Pain exploded in my shoulder, and I landed flat on my back, looking up at the sky from the sandy surface of the beach.

"Are you alright?" Ken asked, standing over me. "You were starting to scream, so I knocked you away. What is it?"

I tried to sit up, but my right hand wouldn't move. Rolling my head to the right, I saw my hand where I'd touched the dead woman had gone pale white, all color drained away. My skin tone was gradually returning, but I knew I'd been seconds away from death.

"I didn't see what killed her, but I felt it," I explained as Ken helped me up.

"What was it?" he asked.

"I don't know," I told him regretfully. "Some...thing. Whatever it was, I could tell it was hungry. I think it feeds on psychic energy. It's probably why I couldn't get a read on her; everything had been consumed. Whatever it is, I'm certain of this, it's not going to stop, and it's stronger than I am."

"Where are you going?" Ken demanded as I started heading back to my car.

"We're going to need help on this," I answered over my shoulder. "I have some friends I can call. I just hope some of them have heard about this and know how to deal with it."

"And if they don't?" Ken prompted.

I paused and looked back at him for a moment before silently shaking my head. If we didn't find some way of locating and killing that thing in the void, it would continue murdering people until no one was left at all.