Page 1 of The Gift
Chapter 1
Erica shut her front door and sagged against. She closed her eyes for what seemed like the first time in a week. When the emotions, sensations, and visions invaded her sleep, even her waking hours, they never stopped until she understood what they wanted from her.
For the past few nights, she'd drifted off easily only to be yanked awake by flashes she couldn't hold onto. Shadows sliding over concrete. A silver arc cutting through darkness. A cold stab of fear that didn’t belong to her. No faces. No voices. Nothing she could use.
Every fragment slipped away the moment she reached for it, leaving her wrung out and raw.
She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Since she was twelve, it had been this way.
With a tired sigh, she pushed off from the door and walked into the kitchen. Parched from the relentless July heat, she opened the fridge and perused her options. She considered the bottle of pinot noir, tempted. Alcohol never dulled the visions, only blurred them, making them harder to decipher, and usually rewarded her with a headache.
“Tea it is.”
She grabbed the pitcher and poured a tall glass, pressing it to her flushed cheeks before taking a sip.
Desperate for WD-40, the screen door shrieked as she stepped out onto her covered porch. The humidity hadn’t decreased with the evening, so she flipped on the ceiling fan.
The heavy air held the scent of freshly cut grass. Crickets chirped, and cicadas buzzed. They were loud enough to fill the quiet, but not to smother the groan of the hooks overhead as she sank onto the wooden swing.
She kicked off her sandals and pushed with her bare feet. The rocking usually soothed her. Not tonight. A prickle ran along the back of her neck.
She wasn’t alone.
Adjusting to the subtle glow of the porch light, she squinted out into the yard. The shadows under the oak tree shifted, and a pair of yellow eyes blinked at her.
For a split second, her mind conjured every horror-movie possibility. Then a form took shape as a gray cat moved into the circle cast by the single-bulb porch light.
“Oh,” she breathed, resting a hand on her chest. “It’s you again.”
The cat had appeared three nights in a row. Never in the same spot but always watching.
“You’re starting to feel like surveillance,” she muttered.
Her comment elicited only a solitary tail twitch.
Erica peered closer. “You’re thin, kitty. Is anyone feeding you?”
This time, the cat answered with a plaintive meow, as if it understood.
She set her tea down and ducked inside, returning with a generous scoop of tuna on a paper plate. She placed it on the porch and retreated to the swing.
With her at a safe distance, the cat devoured its supper. When finished, it didn’t bolt, leaping up beside her to settle in for a bath instead.
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Well, aren’t you bold?”
Reaching out slowly so as not to frighten it, she gave it a gentle ear scratch. A deep purr vibrated in response.
That was when she noticed the pink collar studded with rhinestones. They were a little wonky, as if set by hand. It dangled a bit from her neck. Far too loose.
“Let’s fix this before you lose it,” she murmured.
As she opened the buckle, the metal tag brushed her skin.
Emotion hit like a jolt of current surging through her chest. Her breath caught on someone else’s panic, and pain. The bite of plastic ties dug into raw wrists. It felt hot, intense, not a memory but now.
Images flared next, sudden and intrusive. A filthy bathroom. Cracked tile. A mirror above a rust-stained sink, the glass hazy from grime.
In the reflection, a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Dark hair stiff with dried blood. A split lip. One eye bruised and swollen. Her T-shirt was torn, exposing a crescent-moon tattoo inked below her collarbone, three small stars orbiting like a constellation.
