The trip back through the Void was just as dizzying as before and, combined with his headache, made the confusion in Sam's brain from all the new information so much worse. When they exited the Void, Sam scraped his knees and hands on the asphalt outside his apartment building as he stumbled and fell.

Cate released his hand with a wrinkling of her nose, wiping her hand off on her jeans. "Your palms sweat, you know that?" she said, glancing around. "All right, see you tomorrow."

Then she turned and disappeared back through the Void.

Sam pushed himself up onto his feet, brushing the small pieces of gravel out of his hands and off his jeans. Bits of blood beaded on his palms and he grimaced. Gingerly, he moved into his apartment building, climbing the stairs to his floor only to realize he didn't have his key.

"Dammit," he muttered, rapping at the door with his knuckles and praying one of his roommates was home.

Within moments, Raj opened the door, his eyes wide with concern when he saw the disheveled Sam standing there. "Sam!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

"I fell," Sam said lamely as he brushed past Raj and entered the apartment. Marcus, his neurobiology book lying open on the coffee table in front of him, looked up as he walked into the living room.

"Damn, you look like you got run over by a truck, then it backed up to make sure it had got you good," he observed. "Bad day?"

"Understatement," Sam grunted, wandering into the kitchen and carefully washing off his hands. The water stung the scrapes and he winced, gritting his teeth. Glancing at the time, he saw it was six o'clock; he had missed every single one of his classes. Oh, that's just great.

Raj returned to the table, which was spread with all his history stuff. Sam opened the fridge door and took out a soda. Cate and the Grim Reaper's words concerning serial killers raced through his mind, disentangling from everything else that had occurred that day.

"This defect enhances their perception, allowing them a more thorough knowledge of us and of the world this side of the door."

"They can beat death."

Other words joined them, Selena's voice reminding him of what she had said about death after finding Jake dead.

"I see death."

"I don't kill people. I watch them die, but I don't kill them."

Perception. Death. Selena watching people die.

Could she have that altered perception Cate and the Grim Reaper had been talking about? Is that why she was able to "see death," as she put it?

What does that even mean?

Sam's phone buzzed and he checked it. His sister Brianna's name showed on top of the message. We should catch up this weekend. A coffee cup emoji ended her message. Shaking his head, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and returned his thoughts to Selena. He needed to talk to her about all this. He needed to know what she was talking about.

[----]

"Hey! Selena!"

Selena turned, eyebrow arched, as Sam ran up to her. "What?" she snapped.

"I wanted to talk to you about the other day," he said, panting. "About...about something you said."

Selena sighed in exasperation. "What is there to talk about? Your roommate died, you and I found him. The end."

Sam shook his head. "No, that's not the end. Most certainly not the end. What did you mean, Selena? When you said that you see death?"

He expected her to roll her eyes, but she didn't. Instead, Selena fixed him with an intense stare. "Okay. Fine. I'll tell you. Ever since I was a kid, ever since I can remember, I've seen people die. Not in person, though; in my head. It plays like a movie that never ends. It just goes on and on and on and on...."

Sam frowned. "Are you quoting Journey?"

Puzzled, Selena just looked at him. "What?"

"Journey," Sam repeated. "You know, their song "Don't Stop Believin'"? What you just said, it's a quote from that song."

"Whatever, dork," Selena sighed. "It just keeps playing, like a movie reel. Death after death after death...killings, suicides, natural deaths, horrific to peaceful and everything in between. My first memory was of a death, and I know death will be my last memory."

Sam furrowed his brow, torn between horror and pity for her. "You see people dying in your mind? How does that even work?"

Selena held up her finger and aimed it at her temple, twirling it in the motion for insane. "I don't know why. I just know that that's how my mind works. It just keeps playing in my head." She increased the speed of her whirling finger and Sam realized she wasn't indicating her insanity, but referring to the constant images of death played in her head. "Ever listened to a cassette tape? There's a whirring, beneath the music, that keeps up throughout the entire tape, with occasional crackles and pops that interrupt the song. That's how death plays in my head. Constantly underwriting every thought, every action, with occasional flashes that disrupt my thoughts completely. Except, when you listen to a cassette, there's a click at the end, when the music's over. I've never heard a click to the death tape, and I never will."

"So you see people dying all the time?" Sam asked.

Selena nodded. "Yep. It's gotten better, though. I can block it out, to some extent. Like putting a screen before a projector. The movie's still running but you can no longer see it due to the shadow. But some deaths break through, and I see them anyway. That's how I knew Jake was dead. He was one of those flashes."

"And this has been happening your entire life?" Sam inquired. He couldn't believe someone could go through life seeing all that Selena had seen. No wonder she didn't seem fazed by anything. Jake's dead body hadn't been the first she had seen.

"Yeah," Selena affirmed. "It scared my parents. They didn't know what I was seeing; all they saw was their sociopathic daughter who told the girl who was supposed to be her best friend that her younger brother's death in a car accident had been quick and painless because of the rapidity with which his neck had been snapped. I thought it was comforting. She thought it was horrifying. My parents put me in therapy after that. My dad was quite concerned; as a professor of developmental psychology, he could tell his little girl didn't fit Piaget's stages at all."

Sam gaped as she continued. "But the only thing that accomplished was me learning to block out some of it. Before, it had been constant, the only thing I saw at night, the only thing I could focus on during the day. After, I could ignore most of it, except for the flashes."

Sam tried to comprehend that, tried to imagine seeing every single death that occurred during his lifetime. He felt his headache coming on again. "How do the flashes work?"

"They just break through the barricade I've built," she said. "Like through a crack. They happen the most at night, and occasionally during the day. As a result, I've just found it easier to put my energy into death. This way, people don't question it."

"Are you more likely to see deaths that are personal to you?" Sam asked.

Selena shook her head. "No, it's random. I saw my grandfather die in his sleep at the age of eight, but I didn't see when my mother died this summer."

"I'm so sorry," Sam said sympathetically, the pity for Selena winning over his horror at her strange ability. "I didn't know."

"That's cause I didn't tell you," Selena pointed out. "We're not friends or anything, dork. Don't get the wrong idea."

"That's still awful," Sam protested. "I'm sorry, Selena."

Selena just shrugged. "It's not your fault." She turned and continued walking toward Caffeinated, Sam hurrying to catch up with her.

"Wait," he called and she glanced at him, looking annoyed. "I just got a couple more questions, Selena. Hear me out, okay?"

Huffing, Selena stopped and crossed her arms. "Make it quick, dork."

"Jake," Sam said. He needed to see how much she knew about his death. If she knew anything, anything at all that could help him identify the serial killer, it would greatly help him to not wind up dead himself. "You said you saw a flash of his death, which is how you knew where he was. Your hunch, you called it. Did you see anything else, anything at all?" With bated breath, he waited for her answer.

Selena frowned, rolling her eyes back as if thinking. "I don't remember, Sam. I've already seen so many deaths since then. They all tend to blend together. The only reason Jake's stood out is because I heard a snatch of music when he was killed."

"Can you try?" Sam pleaded. "Selena, anything at all. It would help catch Jake's killer."

"Why?" Selena asked. "Isn't that the police's job? What, you going after the killer yourself?"

You have no idea, Sam thought wryly. "I just want to know, Selena. He was my friend."

"Okay, I'll try to remember," Selena said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "But I doubt I'll remember anything."

They kept walking and entered the coffee shop. Dumping their backpacks in the small employee room, they tied their aprons on over their blue uniform shirts sporting a coffee cup graphic. Sam followed Selena behind the counter to prepare for taking orders, the smell of coffee roast filling the air as she started the brew.

His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out of his pocket, putting it on mute. Sam glanced at the text and rolled his eyes. It was Brianna again, wanting to set a time to meet up for coffee. He had neglected to text her back the night before, so he shot off a quick message.

Can't. Too busy.

Doing what?

Homework.

Studies show it's good to get a break from work. Hence, why you should meet me for coffee tomorrow afternoon. This way we both get a break.

I've got too much homework to take a break.

You can do it Sunday. Sam, you're meeting me tomorrow. No matter what.

Yeah? Make me.

Don't tempt me. I know where you live.

Sam frowned and shoved his phone back into his pocket. One of his coworkers flipped the sign from closed to open and Sam readied his workspace.

Selena stood behind the register, looking bored as always. Pulling a pad of paper from her pocket, she laid it on the counter and idly began to draw with a pen, lips twisting in concentration as she did so.

As customers began to file in, Selena quit drawing and Sam tried to keep his attention on making the drinks. Marcus stopped by like normal, with Raj in tow. They chatted casually with Sam as he made their drinks, but both kept giving Selena odd looks.

"I can't believe she was there," Marcus said in a low voice. "You sure she didn't kill Jake? She looks more than capable."

Sam glanced over at her. "She said she didn't."

"Same claim a lot of guilty people make," Raj pointed out quietly. "Doesn't mean they're innocent. Doesn't make her innocent, either."

Sam shrugged, discomfort pricking at him. She did seem to fit the description that Cate and the Grim Reaper had given concerning serial killers, especially with her ability to see people die in her head. Could Selena be the Slit-Gag Killer?

No way, Sam told himself. How could she be? She's my age, and the killings go back years. Even if she otherwise fits, she can't be the serial killer.

"Well, see ya," Marcus said, he and Raj turning toward the door. Sam picked up the cup for the next order and began to pivot away when he noticed that his roommates were standing stock still, staring at something out the window.

"What?" he asked, glancing up. Then he, too, froze.

Two men were approaching the coffee shop, dressed in black suits. Scattered behind them were other, similarly attired adults, all looking very out of place in an area frequented by college students. Something was wrong.

The two men pushed through the doors of Caffeinated, glancing around the shop. Their eyes alighted upon Selena, who was watching them warily, brow furrowed slightly.

"Selena Anderson?" the slightly taller man asked, stepping forward.

"Yes?" Selena answered cautiously, placing a hand on her hip.

"You need to come with us," the shorter man stated.

"Why?" Selena asked, glancing from one to the other.

"We need to bring you in for questioning," the first man answered.

"Who are you?" Selena inquired in a low voice.

"Agents Wilson and Perez, FBI," Wilson, the tall one, answered, showing his badge. Perez also flipped his badge, both the agents' expressions solemn. "We have questions concerning Jake Miller's death."

Selena glanced from Wilson to Perez, her face mirroring an expression of slight concern. "I told you all I know."

No, you didn't, Sam contradicted silently.

For that case, neither did he. Both had left out seeing the Grim Reaper standing over Jake's body, and Selena had neglected to inform the police about her ability to see death.

"Miss Anderson, I hope you don't intend to give us any trouble," Perez said with a slightly threatening note in his voice.

"No," Selena said. "I don't. But I want a lawyer."

"It'd be wiser if you talked to us," Wilson said in a low voice.

Selena shook her head. "No, it wouldn't. I want a lawyer. I know my rights. You bring me in for questioning, I get a lawyer. Or you can just leave and let me finish my shift."

"Hands on your head," Wilson ordered, as Perez moved around toward the end of the counter, gesturing Sam out of the way. "Selena Anderson, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with an attorney –"

"Told you," Selena said stubbornly as Perez cuffed her hands behind her back, forcing her out from behind the counter. Every customer in the coffee shop stared as he led her toward the door, Wilson falling into step with him.

"– and have them there during questioning. If you can't afford an attorney one will be appointed for you."

Selena said nothing else as she was muscled out of the door, the FBI agents stationed throughout the area converging on the group as they escorted her away. After a long moment of silence, Marcus and Raj glanced back at Sam.

"Holy crap," Marcus breathed.

Sam took a deep breath. Do they think Selena did it? Is she the real killer? Or is she the one the DBI was going to frame, the one the Grim Reaper thinks didn't do it?

"Do you think she really did it?" Raj asked, his eyes wide. "Do you think she killed Jake?"

"I don't know," Sam said, blinking as he tried to comprehend what just happened. Selena had just been arrested. Arrested. By the FBI.

Man, have I got a lot to ask Cate about later.

He glanced at the register and saw Selena's pad of paper, the one she had been drawing on earlier. Setting the cup down, Sam walked over to the register as Marcus and Raj speculated in low tones, along with every other person in the shop, and picked up the pad.

On the top page was a drawing of a dagger.