by J. D. Horn
She could not remember the man in the time before, but she remembered disliking him.
Tap. Tap. Tapping.
Every window scouted. No birds. No filthy squirrels.
She padded up the stairs. Stiff. Not easy. But necessary.
A voice tingled in her ears. She shook her head to shake it out. She felt pain. Not hers. Another’s.
Man not man, smells of thunder, old crimes forgiven but cataloged.
Not gone. Not yet. Trapped between. Between meaning not clear.
She waited on the step. Not to rest. To listen.
Tap. Tap. Tap. More need. Less loud. Weaker.
Gain the landing. Find the sound.
Door ajar. Scent of Alice. Silence. Door open. Hugo. No tap.
Door closed. She paused, sniffing along the crack at the bottom. Familiar. Faded. Nothing.
Light at the end. An open door.
More steps.
She hissed at the hateful stairs, but began to climb. The tap was now a scratching, almost too quiet for even her superior hearing to pinpoint. Still, she persisted.
Upward. The final step. A room above. Beautiful, musty-scented treasures.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She followed the sound to a silver window shining inward. Not a good window. The kind that fascinated humans. She bumped her nose against a crack in the glass. Through the crack, Man not man.
No link. No anchor.
He made no sense.
She patted the glass, but unlike before, it did not open to let her pass. A beam of light, not gold, not warm, shot through the crack. She turned to discover its path.
A box on top of boxes. On top of many boxes.
Inside the box.
She understood. She scanned for a path to reach it. In the time before, she could have pounced without effort. Now she would have to climb. A trunk first. She jumped and paused. A second leap. Her goal just above. She went up on her hind legs and placed her front paws against it, readying herself. The box shifted, falling forward, breaking open.
Sugar spun. Tried to catch herself. Slipped.
Thump.
She rose and stretched, left front paw forward, right leg back. Hateful boxes. Hateful stairs. Hateful time.
Another scratch. The beam of light shifted to land on a sheet of paper. Sugar padded over to examine it. Below human marks, the nonsense lines they cut.
Above the nonsense, three figures, though not true. Recognizable not from appearance, but from intent. Alice. Simple. Small as she was. In the time before. Sugar herself. A poor representation of her true beauty. And Man not man. Sugar purred in amusement at his awkward, oafish image.
A rap on the glass. Loud. Annoyed. Impatient.
Sugar clawed at the paper’s edge until it curled up. She bit into the page and lifted it. She raised her head high, so the sheet wouldn’t trip her, and slunk toward the silver window. The crack in the window widened. Cold white light spilled through, blinding her. She squinted and, clamping her jaw down tight on the page, bounded over the edge.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The mad dream of The Witches of New Orleans continues. I’d like to thank Jason Kirk at 47North for giving me the freedom to march boldly into places where many editors would fear to tread. I’d also like to thank Angela Polidoro for, as usual, making me look much better than I am, and my beta readers, Pat Allen Werths and Evelyn Phillips.
A heartfelt thank-you to all those who resist and persist for helping resuscitate my faith in humanity.
Finally, I’d like to thank my loves, Rich Weissman, who continues to be the world’s most understanding spouse, our daughters, Becky and Maddy, both of whom will have graduated law school by the time this comes out, and Kirby Seamus, the rescue Chihuahua who, in a very dark moment, brought a ray of light into my life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Mark Davidson
J.D. Horn is the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Witching Savannah series, as well as the first book in the Witches of New Orleans trilogy, The King of Bones and Ashes. A world traveler and student of French and Russian literature, Horn also has an MBA in international business and formerly held a career as a financial analyst before turning his talent to crafting chilling stories and unforgettable characters. His novels have received global attention and have been translated into more than half a dozen languages. Originally from Tennessee, he currently lives in California with his spouse, Rich. Visit www.JDHornAuthor.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CONTENTS
CHARACTER LIST
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR