PROLOGUE

Scotland, 1677

Little Jane MacThomas hopped along the road beside her mother. A bright smile appeared on her face as she looked around the crowded market.

“Here, lass!” her mother called out to her. “Hold my hand!”

Jane reached out and tightly clutched her mother's fingers, admiring Mirren's smooth skin. Shehad taken her to the market for the first time in two summers, having only traveled with her other daughter, Aileen, in recent years, leaving Jane alone with her father at the clan keep. Jane was aware that she was loved less, and despiteher best efforts, she never felt well-behaved enough to please her.

As such, she was surprised when Mirren had summoned her in the morning—feeling so happy and eager to spend some time with her alone that she had almost burst into tears.

Walking through the village, she knew her mama would be watching for any misbehavior—so she kept quiet, not wantingwant to anger her and risk never being brought along again. Jane felt her mother let go of her hand as they trudged through the crowds, turning towards a trader. The girlstood silently, her bright eyes darting around until she noticed movement in a nearby alley.

In that dark alleyway, she spied a cat with bright golden fur shining like a beacon asit gnawed at something on the ground. As if sensingJane's gaze, it raised its head in a slow, graceful movement,lookingup at her.

Jane was dazzled by the cat's grey eyes,a shiver runningdown her spine despite the the warmth of a nearby smith's anvil.

Shefrowned and moved closer to the cat—the stepalmost unintentional, as if an unseen hand had wrapped itself around her and pushed her towards the lonely animal.

She didn't mind the sensation; she'd felt stranger things—things she couldn't tell anyone about.

In that moment, nothing else mattered, only reaching the cat. The kitten mewled softly and trotted into the dark alley, her tail held high.

“Wait for me, kitten!” Jane called, running after the animal and into the dark.

Thankfully, her mother hadn’t seen her sneak away, and Jane was hoping to return before she noticed.

This was no ordinary cat. She was sure of it.

Jane could see the feline pride in its graceful movements, which were as perfect as the little meows it offered her as it sauntereddown the alley. The girl knew she should turn around and go back to her mother, butcouldn't for shehad never felt anything more enthralling in her eight years of life than those transfixing eyes—eyes that seemed to reach into her, grabbingher soul. She kept following the cat until the alley was plunged into darkness.

The market's noise faded away, and all she could see was the cat's body—a glow in the dark leading her into the unknown. Fear clogged her throat but she kept moving.

Jane had the nibbling sensation that this cat could explain the voices that had plagued her since she was able to hear and speak. More than anything, she needed to understand them—comprehend them calling to her in the darkness;their gentle humming pulltowardthe cat.

Suddenly, shefound herself on another narrow, empty street—the frigid air piercing her through her clothes. Butthe cat was nowhere to be seen.

“Gods above! She’s but a wee bairn! Barely knee-high, this one.”

Hearing the whisper whistling through the air sent shivers up her spine once more. She quickly turned around, but there was no one there.

There was another whisper. Clearer this time.

“Ach, beautiful youth. Why should such terrible fate rest upon so young a shoulder?”

“Who are ye?” little Jane called out in a shaky voice, turning around wildly. “Reveal yerself to me!”

She heard the rustle of frost-bound leaves on the ground and turned toward the noise. Jane's heart raced erratically as she noticed a woman standing behind her where no one had been before. The woman stood near the wall, her face obscured bya large, dark shadow.

“Who are ye?” Jane asked again.

The woman stepped forward, the sun illuminatingherface. She was old, with thin, bloodless lips and snakeskin leather skin. Her eyes were dead fish-like, with an emotionlesssilver glint. In the light, she appeared even more terrifying—ghostly in every sense of the word.

Jane frowned and unconsciouslymoved closer to her, as if pushed by the wind. But then she took a swift step back, reconsidering.

“Ye have nae need tae fear me, lass. I am nae danger tae ye.”

The woman’s voice was deep and rasped, her words like nails scratching down her back. Jane took another step back, feeling nervous by the stranger’s presence.


Tags: Fiona Faris Historical