After a brutal war between Humans and Metas, an uneasy truce is declared in the Seldova solar system. After the treaty signing, the Complex is created on the lone planet, Lorn—a blended community of Humans and Metas, all sent to test the waters of a more peaceful existence between the two races. Living in a domed society can only mean one thing for the Humans and Metas. Chaos.

Reviled banshee Aqulla Dayshon sees death, feels the last moments of a victim’s life and senses the echoes they leave behind. They call for vengeance, and she is helpless to deny their cries, to deny her very nature.

Intra Jaylon Rowe is the law within the Complex. When a series of murders hit the community, he enlists Aqulla’s help. But solving the murders won’t be easy.

Boundaries will be pushed, and rules broken. And as lines are crossed and passion ignites, a banshee’s call will scream.

“We’re here,” he said, pausing outside a nondescript door. “Are you ready?”

Aqulla could feel them already, the faint pull that the death had on her drawing her forward. “Ready.” Pushing the door, she walked into the chilled room and stopped at the first body bag.

“Do you need to see inside?”

“No,” she whispered. Gritting her teeth, she fought to unwind the echoes in her mind and grasp just one.

They all had the same “taste” to them, as if the killer had the same signature, as if just one person had left his mark on them. Yet if that were the case, then why had the scenes looked like murder-suicides? The suicides were hard to read, their pain and anguish overwhelming. The echoes were scrambled, swirling, twisting chaos she had no hope of deciphering. But she had to try. Slowly unzipping the bag, Aqulla didn’t take in the dead body already showing signs of decay. She saw nothing, felt nothing but the echo of the dead.

Lifting a trembling hand, Aqulla touched the victim’s forehead. The air knocked out of her lungs, and she wasn’t consciously aware of Jaylon holding her up. Furrowed lines of discomfort appeared on her forehead, teeth grinding together, but nothing made sense. It was as though the echo was fractured. No matter how hard she tried, Aqulla couldn’t get a clear read on the man’s death.

Breaking the contact, Aqulla turned her head into Jaylon’s chest, slumping against him. “Get me out of here,” she whispered.

***

Jaylon half carried her from the room, her slight body trembling, her breaths shallow and weak. The further he took her away from the bodies, the stronger she became. By the time they reached the public areas of the complex, she had managed to hold herself up enough to not draw attention.

A relieved breath rushed out of her as he opened the door to her quarters, yet still, she couldn’t stand without support. He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have gone. He wanted to shout at her for hurting herself for strangers, but he held his tongue, well aware the irrational emotions inside of him would not help her.

The door clicked shut behind them, closing Jaylon into a room that smelt of her, leaving him alone with a woman who did things to him that would get them both into trouble. He stared at her drawings on the wall, her reminders of the brightness in a world of death. Yet when she looked up at him, he knew it wasn’t enough. They may have left the bodies behind, they may be miles away from the echo’s call, but they haunted her still. There was no spark in her eyes, the color dull, lifeless. She was a shadow of the woman who’d drawn his eye in a line of hundreds. Her rebellious spark gone, the light of the living shrouded by darkness.

Her voice was a bare whisper, a desperate plea. “Make it stop…. Please, make it stop.”