Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié Page A

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    The cat was going absolutely crazy, writhing beneath the blankets and squalling for all she was worth. Her sharp little kitten claws dug into Holly’s thigh; she was dimly aware of it, but she was so cold—and now so scared—that it didn’t hurt her at all.
    She tried to speak, tried to move. She couldn’t even blink her eyes. Couldn’t swallow or breathe. She wasn’t even sure her heart was still beating.
    There was another footstep, very odd, like something that was almost
there
but not quite; it was like hearing a sound when one was deeply asleep but aware that one was dreaming.
Like in the hospital, when I saw Daddy so . . . so . . . dead. . . . Oh, no, don’t let it be my father. . .
.
    . . . No
, let
it be my father. Oh, Daddy, I miss you so much. Please . .
.
    The door swung open, and Holly opened her mouth to scream.
    Uncle Richard smiled broadly and said, “Hi, honey. I’ve got your luggage.”
    The room was warm. The cat snuggled out of the covers and began to lick Holly’s face, as if nothing had happened.
    â€œTh-thank you,” she managed.
    â€œI’ll just leave it in the hall for now. You’re resting.”
    â€œNo,” she blurted. She didn’t want to be left alone. But he had already shut the door.
    She sat in the bed, afraid to move. She felt incredibly foolish but she kept staring at the empty spot where she had heard the footsteps. Her head began to pound with tension.
    The steady ticking of a clock vied for her attention, but she couldn’t stop staring at the spot, bracing herself in case something else happened.
    I imagined it. I was asleep
.
    She didn’t know how long she sat there, but eventually the room grew dimmer and a little chilly. She didn’t want to sit there in the dark. Darting her gaze briefly away, she noticed a lamp on the wicker nightstand, beside the rose.
    The rose, which was now out of the vase and lying draped across the stand. Droplets of water glistened on the white wicker.
    Holly gasped and pulled her hand away, cradling it against her chest. Her heart pounded wildly.
    The cat knocked the rose out of the vase
, she told herself.
It had to be the cat. Or maybe Amanda, when she got up and left the room. By accident
.
    Then a phone rang somewhere in the room, making her shout and jump out of the bed. The phone shrilled again. Holly saw it on the other nightstand, on the far side of the bed, and scrabbled across the mattress to grab it up. She knew she should let someone else get it—she was just a guest in this house—but she couldn’t stand the ringing.
    â€œHello?” she breathed.
    â€œHolly. It’s Michael. Deveraux. Welcome to Seattle.”
    â€œAh. Tha—thank you,” she stammered.
    â€œAre you enjoying your new home?”
    It’s not my new home
. “It . . . it rains a lot.” She was very uncomfortable talking to him.
    â€œThey put you in the guest room.” She raised her eyebrows. “I suppose,” he continued. “Since that’s what it’s for. I designed that space. Do you like it?”
    â€œYes. The floor . . . creaks.”
    â€œMmm.” He sounded displeased. “I told the carpenters to put extra nails in. So. Is your aunt available?”
    Holly hesitated. “I’m not sure. She took Nicole to—”
    â€œNever mind,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll try later.”
    â€œMichael! I’m here! I’m sorry I took so long! Nicki needed a ride to drama,” a feminine voice said clearly in the background. Holly recognized it at once. It was her aunt.
    He was wondering where she was. That’s why he called. They had a . . . a date
.
    Ashamed for Marie-Claire, Holly closed her eyes. “Okay,” she croaked.
    â€œI’ll come by and check that floor soon.”
    â€œThanks,” she managed.
    He disconnected. Holly did likewise and put the handset back in the