Episode 1

...**Eighteen Years Ago**...

He could pinpoint the day, the hour, even the second when he'd chosen his first kill. In that sacred moment, fear, rules, and consequences ceased to the matter and long nurtured fantasies elbowed aside judgment. The switch had been flipped. And a line would be crossed.

He raised his gaze to the blindfold young boy tethered to the wooden chair. The little boy was slumped forward, unconscious from the drugs he'd administered. His name is Gabriel. A curtain of lush dark hair covered his pale oval face, luscious blonde hair, and grazed a full waist and gently rounded hips. Not more than seventeen or eighteen the boy worked at the carnival. He was the psychic. The seer. The seducer.  For the average person he was a delightful diversion or a harmless amusement. But the man was a rare breed, empowered with gifts that allowed him to see beyond his youth and beauty to the timeless evil.

The decision to kill the young boy had come seven days ago when he'd visited the carnival tent. On that night, he'd patiently waited in the line that trailed outside Gabriel tent. He'd been nervous, edgy, and still clueless that his life was about to change.

When he'd finally entered the little boy domain, candle flickered in shadow corners, soft music drained from unseen speakers, and the heavy scent of incense clung to the air. Gabriel'd been sitting behind a gilded desk and had worn a bright red flowing gypsy costume. A dark wig framed a lovely face half hidden by a black domino mask. He'd felt the rush of excitement as he'd stared and sat across the table from him.

'Mr.  Devine,' he'd said.

Nodding, and he turned his hand over and exposed his palm. 'Yes.'

'You look so young.'

'Do not be fooled by my youth.' Confidence dripped from each word as he traced his jagged lifeline.

He wasn't deceived. 'I saw the line. You are quite popular.'

Green eyes bored into him. 'What is your question?'

The little boy abruptness strokes his anger but he was careful to keep it in cheeked. 'Did she love me?'

Nodding, Mr. Devine traced another line on his palm. 'I can answer that question for twenty dollars.'

His skin tingle as his pilled his hand free, dug a rumpled twenty-dollar bill from his jeans pocket, and laid it on the velvet-draped table. Gabriel set the time at his side before he again cradled his hand. The little boy skin was soft and warm. Sweet, subtle perfume drifted around his body and mingled with the heavy stench candles. He closed his eyes and asked the spirits for guidance.

As his stared at the delicate frown that creased the soft little boy forehead, he imagined what it would  be like to stripe the clothes from his body and beat him until he wept. How would his voice sound like when he begged? He imagined he'd beg, cry, and plead. And he wrapped his fingers around the narrow neck, how long would it take for the life and warmth to drain from his body? He wondered all these things as he traced the lifeline on his palm and spoke of prosperity and good fortune.

And then suddenly he straightened as if he'd been kicked by the devil. Tension rippled through his fingers and her breathing grew shallow. He released the man hand as if it had burned his flesh. He stared at him, fear glimmering in the green depths.

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