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PROLOGUE
Jamie Lin stepped out into the crisp night, the door to her martial arts studio clicking shut behind her. A thin layer of snow, untouched by the city's bustle, coated the sidewalks of downtown Portland. The streetlights cast long shadows that stretched across the pavement, intermittently interrupted by the passing headlights of late-night drivers. Despite the hour, Jamie moved with an assured stride, her breath forming small clouds in the winter air.
She was a silhouette of discipline, her posture erect and her movements purposeful. At 31, Jamie had dedicated a significant portion of her life to mastering the art of combat—walking alone at night might have unsettled others, but not her. She knew these streets well and knew she could handle herself. Why waste money on cab fare?
Jamie reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her headphones, placing them snugly in her ears. The moment the music started, it formed a bubble around her, isolating her from the city’s silence. The melodies carried her thoughts away from the cooling night and toward the events of the day.
The training session had gone exceedingly well. She replayed each move in her mind, assessing her performance, critiquing her form. The precision of her kicks, the fluidity of her strikes, the controlled breathing—every element had been sharper today, more refined. It was as if the countless hours spent perfecting her craft were finally coalescing into a higher level of skill, one she had been striving towards since she first stepped onto the mat.
With each step homeward, Jamie dissected the session further, mentally cataloging areas for improvement. The focus was almost meditative, the rhythm of her footsteps syncing with the beat of the track playing through her headphones. Her confidence swelled with the recollection of her instructor's approving nod, a simple gesture that meant more to her than any spoken praise.
As she navigated the familiar route, Jamie remained ambivalent to the night around her. Jamie's footsteps slowed as she approached her neighborhood, the soft crunch of snow under her sneakers a gentle punctuation to the evening's stillness. She halted mid-stride, a faint rustling sound catching her attention over the crooning music in her ear.
It was subtle, almost lost beneath the ambient hum of the city, but it was there—an irregularity that set her nerves on edge.
Jamie tugged one headphone free, letting it dangle against her chest. She scanned the dimly lit street, searching for any sign of movement. The street lamps cast long shadows that stretched across the frost-kissed pavement, yet they revealed no lurking figures, no hint of life. A frown creased her brow as she considered the source of the noise. Maybe it was just a stray cat or a loose piece of debris caught in the wind. She stood a moment longer, listening, but the sound did not repeat itself.
Shrugging off the unease, Jamie replaced the headphone and resumed her walk. She made a mental note to stay alert until she reached the safety of her home.
Finally, she arrived at her condo, a three-story townhouse just outside of Portland’s downtown region. After unlocking the door, Jamie stepped inside the familiar confines of her walkway. The warmth of the indoors was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, and she let out a breath.
As she moved to hang up her jacket, her forward motion was abruptly arrested by something unseen. Startled, she stumbled back a step, her hands flying up to her face.
Her fingers met resistance—sticky, tensile strands that clung to her skin with unexpected strength. Panic surged through her veins as she realized what she had encountered: a spider web, and not just any web, but one that spanned the breadth of the hallway. Massive in its construction, it was unlike anything she had seen before, certainly nothing like the delicate threads spun by the common house spiders she occasionally found in the corners of her apartment.
"Damn it!" Jamie muttered, disgust mingling with alarm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she frantically brushed at her hair and face, trying to rid herself of the clinging silk. It was everywhere, enveloping her like a shroud. How had this happened?
Jamie's gaze darted from corner to shadow-draped corner of the hallway, her pulse quickening as she took in the extent of the invasion. Webs of varying sizes and densities hung like eerie tapestries, their gossamer threads shimmering faintly in the dim light that filtered through the slats of the closed blinds. Several large spiders, their legs skittering with a purposeful grace, were busy reinforcing their silken lairs, oblivious to the human intruder who stood frozen in horror.
"Where did they come from?" she whispered under her breath, her mind reeling at the bizarre turn her evening had taken. The logical part of her knew she should call an exterminator first thing in the morning, but the raw disgust churning in her gut urged her to act now—to rid her sanctuary of this nightmarish infestation.
Fighting the urge to flail wildly, Jamie slowly peeled away the remnants of webbing that clung to her jacket. She needed to wash the sticky residue from her hands; the very thought of it made her skin crawl. With cautious steps, she moved toward the kitchen, avoiding the larger webs that stretched across the hallway like tripwires.
As Jamie rounded the corner into the kitchen, her movements became more frantic, less measured. A stray thread of silk brushed against her cheek, and she swatted it away in panic. In her haste, her elbow knocked against the side of her head, dislodging the earbud that had been blaring music into her right ear. The sudden absence of sound was jarring, and in the silence that followed, she heard it—a soft shuffle, a quiet disturbance in the stillness of her apartment.
Her martial arts training kicked in, honing her senses. Jamie turned sharply, her eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the noise. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds except for the almost imperceptible rustle of movement behind her.
Before she could pivot on the balls of her feet, before she could assume any defensive stance, strong arms encircled her from behind. She felt the cold press of metal against the tender skin of her neck, and a wave of fear unlike any she'd ever known crashed over her. Instinct screamed within her to fight, to break free, but the blade at her throat promised a swift, crimson rebuttal to any such attempt.
"Shh," a voice hissed in her ear, so close she could feel the warmth of the assailant's breath.
Jamie's mouth opened to scream, to call for help, but a sharp pain exploded at the base of her skull, cutting off her cry before it could leave her lips. The world spun, colors bleeding into darkness, and Jamie felt her knees buckle beneath her as she plunged into the void.
CHAPTER ONE
Agent Fiona Red of the FBI paced the sterile confines of the doctor's office, her fingers entwined tightly. The room was suffused with the quiet hum of medical machinery from the adjacent corridors. She halted before the doctor, her eyes pleading.
"Doctor, I heard her," Fiona insisted, her voice a hushed urgency that betrayed her usual resolve. "Joslyn said my name."
Dr. Keller peered at her over the rim of his spectacles, his expression unmoved. His hands clasped together on the desk, an island of calm in the sea of Fiona's desperation.
"Ms. Red," he began, his tone even, "there's been no report of Joslyn speaking. If she did..." He trailed off, skeptical.
"Please, you have to believe me." Fiona's plea hung in the air, a thread of hope she refused to let break. She leaned forward, searching for any sign of credence in his eyes.
Dr. Keller sighed and leaned back in his chair, a gesture that seemed to take up more space than it should in the small office. It had been months now since Fiona had tracked down her older sister, Joslyn, who had been missing for ten years—kidnapped by the monster Daniel Grove, who had murdered many others, and kept in an abandoned house. When Fiona, with the help of the FBI and her partner, Jake, had finally found Joslyn, she’d been a shell of her former self. Ten years in captivity had left Joslyn without speech, without much of anything.
But she was still Joslyn. And just a few nights ago, Fiona had heard Joslyn’s voice. She’d said her name. But she hadn’t spoken since, and Fiona was still having a hard time convincing people that it had even happened. This wasn’t the first time Fiona had talked to this very doctor about this, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.
