Prologue

Sam and Dean were at it again. They had just finished a nasty beheading from a blood-sucking vamp that had left some poor schmuck lifeless.

"Sam, are you going to stand there and stare at the body?" Dean bellowed in his normal psycho-sounding tones. "We just killed it; that's what we do. You know that! Let's get rid of the body before someone walks by and sees this shit and calls the cops."

Sam tilted his head with his usual bitch-face manner and walked away without saying a word to his older but less-than-wiser brother.

"Sam! Sam! Sammy!" Dean demanded a response from his brother. Sam walked over to the car, opened the door and slumped into the passenger seat without saying a word.

Dean picked up the body, dropped the head under the Impala, screamed some unrecognizable banter, and stuffed the body into the trunk.

They had just killed a friend; Charlie was no more. She called them just 24 hours ago to tell them that Rowena had garnered a partnership to take down the lot of them. Yes, Rowena wanted to make them all pay by making them into monsters.

Dean got into the driver's seat and Sam looked at him quietly exclaiming, "We are going to kill that bitch if it is the last thing we do on this planet! I will follow her to hell to kill her there! Stay the hell out of my way if you're not going to help me!"

Dean glanced back at him and nodded with demand! He reached down and started the car. They stopped a few miles down the road to give Charlie her due send-off. The Viking way; the true warrior! They watched in reverence as the body burned with fury.

Sam and Dean finished the Hunter funeral, said their fond farewells to Charlie and drove away from the scene. Just then the cell phone rang, Dean answered.

"Hey Bobby! How's it been going? We're on our way back to the house right now."

"No, you can't. I just received a message that something screwed up is happening in Las Vegas, Nevada, and I need the two of you to go investigate."

Dean changed the phone setting to let Sam here the conversation.

Dean responded, "Hey, I've got Sam with me. Tell us what's going on!"

Bobby replied, "Balls! You idgets have been in enough trouble lately, but I have something else for you to investigate. Evidently, bodies are showing up in Las Vegas with strange happenings surrounding them. This is right up your alley. I suggest you pack heavily because the word is you're up against something really evil this time."

Sam replied, "Bobby, do you know anything else that might help us?"

Bobby retorted, "If I did know, you two would be the first to find out. Just go look for yourselves for once. Call me if you need anything."

Dean said, "Thanks, Bobby. We'll take care of it." and disconnected the call.

Chapter 1

Creeping through the shadows, death makes me feel powerful as I strike. I like to slice and dice just for the thrill. Trolls beware! I am now here! I watch as the public masses stroll through the city sidewalks. The masses are trolls waiting to be released from their hideous existence. The sidewalks are clear; the sky is darker now. The clouds are blocking the moonlight; this is to my advantage. Most all of the trolls have gone home. I see another walking down the street, cold and shivery. I cross the street from my hiding place in the trees. I cannot help myself; the thrill takes over. The troll is fresh meat. I grab the troll by the throat and throw it down. "Please, please, do not hurt me. I have a family!" cried the troll. "I just want to go home to see them again." My blade slices through the troll's skin with precision accuracy.

I love my knife; it's my only friend.

The blood spurts out and sprays everywhere and everything. The troll's hideous existence has ended. The thrill is complete or is it? I must complete the task. I skulk away in the dark and the rain.

No one sees me! I am NOW HERE!

Lying on my back, I looked up at the skylight window. The sky was presenting its destructive forces. A crack of lighting lit up the sky, a clap of thunder rumbled through the walls, and a down-pour started the ceiling to leak. I got up, put a bucket under the leak and lay back down. This was my day off. I didn't want anything screwing with it.

My cigarette was burning slowly as I thought to myself, Las Vegas, what a hole this city has become. I took another drag and blew out the smoke. The phone rang. I didn't care; but did I. As a veteran Lieutenant of 26 years with Las Vegas' finest I had learned respect for the streets. I choked on my next puff of smoke, sat up, and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I plugged out the cigarette in an ash tray that looked like it hadn't been emptied in weeks. The ash dropped onto the floor as I picked up the telephone receiver.

"Yeah, this is Detective Mike Harrow. Who's this?"

"Mike, it's the Captain, I need you downtown now." Captain Hal Lawrence was a great friend of mine. We grew up together on the streets and went to the academy together. We were partners for years. He was promoted to Captain only a few months before. He recommended my promotion to Lieutenant. I had to thank him for that.

"What's going on, Cap" I asked as I attempted to wipe the exhaustion out of my eyes.

"Mike, we've got a body. It's a woman with her throat slit. I need you, please."

"Alright, Hal, I'm my way. Where are you?"

"Mike, make it quick! The storm is destroying the crime scene; I don't want to lose any evidence", he snapped back. I could hear his stern tone. Something really bad had happened. He wasn't normally this hard-assed.

I drove up to the scene at the corner of Fremont and 7th. The Captain, a bearded, 6'4" tall man, was standing there (clipping his cigar) surrounded by the local squad and the rest of my detective team, Sergeant Debbie Halverson and Detective Eugene Parker. Halverson and Parker were partners in more than one way. I didn't care as long as they got the job done. These two were good cops and I respected their hard work. Between the two of them they had over 200 solid, confirmed arrests with a 92% conviction rate. I knew that I could depend on them to get the job done right.

"Mike, where the hell have you been?" screamed the Captain as I approached and lifted the crime scene tape.

"I got here at fast as I could. Where's the scene?" I called back almost tearing the barrier.

"It's over here!" claimed Sergeant Halverson. She and Detective Parker were leaning over the body of a woman. The Medical Examiner, Doctor Raymond Clarke, arrived a few minutes later.

"Ok, let me in to take a look." I pushed through the crowd. I saw a young woman of approximately 32 years old. She was of African American descent with dark black hair. She was wearing a lavish teal green evening gown with white shoes. She looked as if she had just left a dinner party. She had a slash through her throat so deep that a pool of blood had covered her entire gown. The body had been placed in between two trash cans like a regular piece of garbage. I ran around the corner and puked. I didn't care if the vomit mixed with the crime scene. This scene made me sick. This was one of the worst scenes I had encountered in years.

"Ok, Doc. Give us a cursory exam", I asked as I wiped the vomit from my lips with my shirt sleeve. I lit a cigarette to bide the time.

"Well, Lieutenant, for what I can see, the cut is approximately 4 inches long and 2 inches deep. The directionality shows a left-to-right cut. This would be consistent with a right-handed person" he said. "I also see bruising around the wound itself. I'll have to get a better look at it when I start the autopsy."

"Doc, is there any evidence of sexual assault?" asked Detective Parker. He was standing there taking all the notes that he could while awaiting an answer.

"I will have to do a full pelvic exam before I can make that statement" claimed the Doctor. "Captain, let me talk to you, please."

"What's that in the victim's hand?" asked Detective Halverson. She put on her rubber gloves, leant down and grabbed the victim's right hand. The woman was holding a piece of a black rubber with torn edges. She closely examined the victim's fingernails and noticed a small piece of skin. "Give me a plastic bag, now. I've got possible DNA from her assailant."

Our crime scene tech, Marcus Howard, showed up to the scene. He started to move the body when he called out to my team. "Detectives, you've got to see this."

"What did you find?" I asked?

"Well, I have a something that has to be seen and documented!" responded Marcus. The bottom side of one the trash can lids had a sign written in blood. The bloody scribe read, "I am NOW HERE!"

"I found this while moving the trash cans out of the way. It fell off the trash can to the right of the body. I snapped a picture of the bloody image." he exclaimed.

Just then the doctor pulled the Captain and me aside while the other two were steadily working to finish the cursory exam of the body. "Hal, I have a bad feeling. I have seen this before" he claimed.

"What do you mean, Doc?" the Captain asked.

"Captain, this is not the first scene I've been to tonight. I was at another one just like this only a couple of hours ago."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked.

"Mike, this is the exact same signature that was showing on the body I examined across town" he shot back.

"You have got to be kidding me" Captain Hal exclaimed. "We have only been out here for just over an hour. When did you get the other call?"

"Hal, Mike, I came right over here when I got the call about the body. I'm not kidding. Everything is exactly the same right down to the body being in between the two trash cans" he explained.

"Ok, Doc. You have got to get us access to the other crime scene photos" the Captain answered. "We need to move on this right away."

We all went back over to where the body was laying. The Medical Examiner's bus came and picked up the woman's body. I looked over to Sergeant Halverson and Detective Parker and told them to go directly to the Medical Examiner's office and wait for the autopsy.

One of the reporters for the local NBC affiliate drove up in her van.

Great! This is all I need! I thought to myself.

Sherry Campbell shoved her way to the front of the crowd. She was one of the most famous of the cities' reporters and quite possibly, the most annoying. She could make every cop on the block completely nervous just by looking at them. Standing outside the crime scene tape, she asked with a cutesy smile, "Lieutenant Harrow, have you got anything to tell me?"

"It's an open case; you know that I can't talk to you about it, Ms. Campbell." I answered. Just as she was asking me, she hunched up on her heels and looked over my left shoulder at the whole scene.

"Ha! I knew that there was something to this. It's a murder, isn't it?" she asked annoyingly.

"I told you, Ms. Campbell, I cannot talk to you about the case."

She wryly looked at me and stated, "Hmm, this must be the work of the Nowhere Killer."

Now just where the hell did this blonde bimbo come with that stupid assumption? I thought to myself. Just then I realized she saw a portion of the scene she should not have. The crime scene became a public spectacle. We were working hard enough trying to SOLVE the crimes instead of having everyone butt into our business. Part of the realization made me upset because I knew deep down inside that she was going to spread the "news".

Sam and Dean drove into Las Vegas using Interstate 15, traveling west. Just as the first exit sign appeared, Dean took his right hand off the steering wheel, pointed at the sign, and cheered, "Vegas, Baby! I'm gonna hit the tables tonight. Give me a C-Note and leave me the hell alone. Whiskey, women and gambling, my three favorite past-times!"

Sam cleared his throat, drew a deep breath and belted out a retort, "We're not here to have a good time; we have a job to do!"

"Sammy, you never take a vacation. We have been at this shit for weeks and deserve to have some fun."

"Dean, I agree with you, but according to Bobby, we need to be watching our guard. Evidently, the stories are about murders occurring inside the city limits."

"Sam, murder happens everywhere; lighten up for once."

Sam shrugged his shoulders and slumped deeper into the passenger's chair.

They exited I-15 at Tropicana Blvd, drove slightly east until reaching the Las Vegas Blvd Strip. The two of them gawked at all the recent changes that had been completed since their last visit.

They drove up the Strip and stopped at a coffee shop to get drinks. Sam took his laptop with him and accessed the coffee shops' Wi-Fi signal.

"Hey, Dean, according to the local news, one of the murders happened over off of Fremont. We're about 4 miles from the incident."

"Sam, get your shit together. Let's go!"

The two of them drove to the site and wandered into the crowd. They arrived just as the cops were finishing their on-site cursory exam.

They overheard the last part of a conversation:

"Wait a minute, Sherry!" I forced my way through the crowded entourage to confront her. "Damn it! You cannot and will not spread that ludicrous fucking tripe!" I snapped. "This shit is not your business! We solve the crimes here!"

She became belligerent and stormed off. Her cameraman crawled into the van through the side door. I saw a finger rise from her right hand as she hauled herself into the passenger-side, front seat of the vehicle. She slammed its door hard. I think that I got my opinion through to her; there was no telling. She is or was my girlfriend. She was showering when I received the call from the Captain. Needless to say she was pissed at me. Oh well, I thought to myself. I've been laid by worse.

Sam and Dean looked at each and knew at that instant that they were "on-the-clock". They approached the cops and announced themselves with the FBI.