THE EIGHTEENTH DEATH

Maya Cross POV

My hands shake as I stare at the seventeenth impossible corpse.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the sterile autopsy suite, but nothing can illuminate what I'm seeing. Sarah Martinez, twenty-nine, high school biology teacher, mother of two. Found collapsed in her classroom three days ago with no signs of trauma, no indication of disease, no reason to be dead.

Except her blood has crystallized into ruby geometric patterns that shouldn't exist in nature.

I adjust the microscope focus, hoping I'm wrong, praying the sample is contaminated. But there they are—perfect hexagonal structures threading through her circulatory system like deadly jewelry. Each crystal catches the light, refracting it into impossible rainbows that make my eyes water.

"Still here, Maya?"

Dr. Helen Ward's voice makes me jump. I hadn't heard her enter, but she stands in the doorway with that familiar motherly smile that delivered half this town, including me thirty-one years ago. Her silver hair is perfectly styled despite the late hour, white coat pristine.

"Just finishing up." I step back from the microscope, my legs suddenly unsteady. The crystallization pattern in Sarah's blood matches the others exactly—sixteen previous cases, sixteen impossible deaths, sixteen families destroyed by something that medical science says can't happen.

Helen approaches the table where Sarah's body lies covered by a sheet. "Poor dear. I delivered her babies, you know. Little Emma and Sophia." Her fingers trace the air above the covered form. "What's your preliminary assessment?"

The question hangs between us like smoke. I've been Ravenshollow's medical examiner for two years, ever since I fled Boston and the laboratory accident that carved holes in my memory and ended my research career. Helen knows my reputation—before Boston, I was the rising star who solved impossible cases, who found answers where others found only questions.

Now I find only more questions.

"Unknown causative agent resulting in systemic blood crystallization." The words taste like ash. "Same as the others."

Helen's knowing look makes my skin crawl. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, dear. Perhaps it's time to consider that some mysteries don't need solving."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from Mayor Rex Stone: Council meeting tomorrow, 9 AM. Your theories are becoming a problem.

I delete the message without responding. Rex has been pressuring me to step down for months, claiming my "wild theories" about these deaths damage the town's reputation. Tourism is down, he says. Property values are dropping. People are scared.

They should be.

"The mayor's concerned about you," Helen continues, as if reading my thoughts. "We all are. These cases... they're affecting your judgment."

"My judgment is fine." I pull off my latex gloves with more force than necessary. "Seventeen people don't just die from blood crystallization without cause. There's a pattern here, Helen. The timing, the demographics, the—"

"The what?" Her voice sharpens slightly. "Maya, you're seeing connections that aren't there. Grief can do that to a person."

Grief. She's referring to my grandmother, who died during the last Blood Moon eclipse eighteen years ago. Officially from a heart attack, but I remember her final words: Don't trust anyone when the moon bleeds, Maya. Not anyone.

I was thirteen then. I thought she was delirious.

Now I'm not so sure.

"I need to run some additional tests," I say, moving toward the sample refrigerator. My vision blurs slightly, and I grip the counter edge.

"Maya?" Helen's hand touches my shoulder. "You look pale. When did you last eat?"

I can't remember. The past few weeks have blurred together—sleepless nights studying impossible blood samples, days spent dodging Rex's increasingly aggressive demands that I close these cases as "natural causes unknown." The crystallization started appearing in my dreams, geometric patterns spreading through darkened veins like beautiful poison.

The room spins. I blink hard, trying to focus, but the fluorescent lights seem to pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat. Something warm trickles down my arm.

I look down and freeze.

Delicate ruby patterns spread beneath my skin, threading up my forearm like living lace. The crystallization is happening to me. Right here, right now, in front of Helen's increasingly horrified eyes.

"Oh, dear God." Helen rushes forward, but I stumble backward, knocking over a tray of instruments. The metallic crash echoes through the suite as scalpels scatter across the floor.

The patterns climb higher, reaching my elbow, beautiful and terrifying. Each crystal formation pulses with its own internal light, and I understand with clinical detachment that I'm dying. The same impossible death that claimed seventeen others is claiming me.

Three weeks. That's what the blood work will show when I test it tomorrow. Three weeks until the Blood Moon eclipse, when whatever process is transforming my circulatory system will complete itself.

"We need to get you to the hospital," Helen says, reaching for her phone.

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. "No hospitals. No doctors. Not yet."

She stares at me with those knowing eyes. "Maya, you need help."

"I need answers." I press my hand against the crystallization, feeling the strange warmth spreading through my arm. "This isn't random, Helen. Someone is doing this. Someone is killing people in this town, and now they're killing me."

"You're not thinking clearly—"

"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in months." I grab my jacket from the chair, ignoring Helen's protests. "Eighteen years ago, my grandmother died during the Blood Moon. Now, eighteen years later, people are dying again. That's not coincidence."

Helen's face pales. "Maya, please—"

"Tell me what you know." I step closer, watching her expression carefully. "You've been practicing medicine in this town for fifty years. You must have seen this before."

For a moment, her mask slips. Fear flickers across her features, quickly replaced by concern. "I've seen many things, dear. Not all of them have explanations."

The crystallization throbs under my skin, a constant reminder that time is running out. Three weeks to solve seventeen impossible murders. Three weeks to uncover why my hometown is killing its children. Three weeks to find a way to stop the beautiful death spreading through my veins.

I head for the door, but Helen's voice stops me.

"Maya." Her tone is different now—urgent, almost pleading. "Be careful who you trust. Some secrets are kept for good reasons."

The fluorescent lights flicker as I leave the autopsy suite, casting dancing shadows that look remarkably like crystalline patterns. Outside, Ravenshollow sleeps peacefully under the October sky, its Victorian houses and tree-lined streets hiding whatever darkness has taken root here.

I drive home through empty streets, past Mirror Lake where the moon's reflection shimmers like broken glass. The crystallization pulses with each heartbeat, a countdown I can feel in my bones. Three weeks. Three weeks to save myself and uncover the truth about what's killing my town.

At home, I pour a glass of wine with shaking hands and spread Sarah Martinez's case files across my kitchen table. Seventeen victims, seventeen impossible deaths, seventeen families destroyed by something that shouldn't exist. The patterns are there—I know they are. Age ranges, occupations, family connections, timing. Everything is connected.

It has to be.

I open my laptop and begin typing my preliminary report, documenting the crystallization in my arm, the timeline of symptoms, the probable progression. If I'm going to die, I'll leave a record. Someone needs to know what happened here.

The wine helps steady my hands, but it can't quiet the fear gnawing at my chest. I'm thirty-one years old, and I'm dying from something that violates every law of biology I know. The irony isn't lost on me—the medical examiner becoming her own case study.

Hours pass as I work, cross-referencing data, looking for patterns in the seemingly random deaths. The crystallization spreads slowly up my arm, beautiful and deadly. By morning, I'll need to run my own blood work, confirm what I already know.

Three weeks until the Blood Moon eclipse. Three weeks to live. Three weeks to find answers.

The clock on my kitchen wall reads 11:47 PM when I notice the figure watching my house from across the street. A tall silhouette stands motionless beneath the streetlight, face hidden in shadow. My blood runs cold—or maybe that's just the crystallization reaching deeper into my system.

I move to the window, but the figure doesn't flee. Instead, they step forward into the light, revealing nothing but an indistinct shape that could be anyone. Man or woman, young or old—impossible to tell from this distance.

They know I'm watching. They want me to see them.

11:59 PM.

The figure begins walking toward my house with deliberate steps. Each footfall echoes in the silent night, steady as a heartbeat. I consider calling the police, but what would I say? That someone is walking on a public street? That I'm dying from impossible causes and now I'm paranoid?

Midnight.

A soft knock at my front door—three measured taps that seem to resonate through my bones. The crystallization flares with sudden heat, as if responding to the visitor's presence.

I approach the door slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Through the peephole, I see a tall figure with storm-gray eyes and an expression of urgent concern. A stranger, yet something about his face seems familiar, like a half-remembered dream.

"Dr. Cross?" His voice carries through the wood, cultured and smooth. "My name is Kane Rivers. I believe I can help you."

My hand hovers over the deadbolt. Three weeks to live, seventeen impossible deaths, and now a mysterious stranger offering salvation at midnight. In Boston, I would have called security. But Boston Maya didn't have crystallized blood spreading through her veins.

Ravenshollow Maya has three weeks to live and nothing left to lose.

I unlock the door.