Katelina woke from darkness. She found herself in a cheap motel room, a light shining in her eyes. She raised her hands and saw gore caked in the lines of her palms and the subtle patterns of her fingerprints. She looked down the length of herself to see that was still dressed in the tattered white dress. It was flecked and smeared with blood, and in the center of her skirt was one small, perfect handprint: the reminder of a bloody child.

Screams echoed through her mind and ...