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CHAPTER1
The hallucinations hadn’t stopped.
Cool fingers caressed Dannika’s neck, sending a trail of ice skittering down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut as the invisible touch filled her with trepidation, culling the surrounding voices of the shelter patrons.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
But it felt real. A lifetime of words whispered from the shadows that no one else could hear. One of her secrets. Her curse.
Blood is like candy savored under a spring moon.The chilling voice was not her own.
With a shaky hand, she scooped macaroni onto Kyle’s tray. His bored look reminded her that the chilling words were for her ears alone. While her past had landed her in the shelter she now worked, this was the first time the dark presence had touched her.
Dannika surveyed the room from beneath her black baseball cap. It was late in the afternoon, so the shelter cafeteria was only half full. The buffet line had four more patrons waiting, but most of the residents sat on the folding chairs amongst the rows of tables, chatting or playing board games.
The overwhelming scent of rotting meat filled her nostrils, but garlic bread and steamed vegetables replaced the fetid odor.
She cleared her throat, meeting Kyle’s questioning gaze. “Do you want anything else? We have lime Jell-O today for dessert.”
Kyle scratched his stained shirt. “Nah, sick of Jell-O. I’ll take an extra scoop of those veggies.”
“You know it’s one per person, but since you asked nicely.” She scooped a second helping of mixed veggies onto Kyle’s tray.
Kyle grinned before taking his tray to a nearby seat and devoured his lunch.
Dannika served the residents left in line, though her hand continued to tremble and the hairs on the back of her neck bristled.
Margo approached, wiping her hands on a cloth. “You okay, Dannika? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Dannika rubbed her neck, trying to counteract the feeling of being watched. Touched. “I’m fine... I thought someone had strayed behind the serving area.”
Margo glanced at the kitchen before surveying the cafeteria. “I only allow employees back here.” She pointed at the portable steel counter that flipped up, allowing them access behind the food bar. “Are you sure it’s locked down?”
“Yeah.” Dannika stirred a tray of pasta before covering it with plastic wrap. “It was nothing. Just my imagination running wild, I guess.”
Margo touched her arm. “Honey, you have had a tough go. Hell, everyone in this room has a backstory. None of them are good. You don’t end up at Graydon County Shelter because your life has been sunshine and roses.”
Society tended to stereotype folks that came to the shelter. Many arrived timid, quiet, and embarrassed. Like they had somehow failed at life, despite most of the residents’ stories being things that were beyond their control. Some were former vets or people who had lost their entire families. Many had fallen in with the wrong crowd and had succumbed to addiction. All had a safe haven, thanks to Margo.
Despite the challenging nature of Dannika’s job, she loved it. She had been on the other side of that counter and now enjoyed assisting people the way Margo had helped her.
“Are you sure you weren’t an angel in another life?” Dannika said with a smile.
Margo laughed. “Me? Hardly. You, on the other hand, were born for this job. You’re a natural at bringing lost souls back into the light.”
Dannika pulled her long, dark hair out from under her cap. She refastened her ponytail before replacing her hat. “I’m sure...”
Margo and Dannika turned as shouting erupted in the corner of the room. Kenny, a shelter regular, shook his fist at a man sitting at the table. He wore a long black leather jacket with a brown cowboy hat.
“What’s going on over there?” Dannika said to Margo.
Margo threw her rag on the counter. “No idea, but there’s no fighting at my shelter. Let’s break this up.”
Dannika flipped up the silver food counter and strode with Margo to Kenny who continued to yell at the stranger. Margo scowled with her ‘don’t mess with me’look. The patrons at the other tables put their heads down, and all conversation ceased. Disregarding the rules would get you removed from the shelter.
Margo stopped at the table where the men argued. “There better be a good reason for this, Kenny. Half the county can hear you.”
Kenny’s dirty face was dusted with red before he pointed at the man in black leather. “He stole my Jell-O.” While Kenny had been a long-time resident of the shelter, having lost his family in a house fire fifteen years ago, he was rarely adversarial and always obeyed the rules.
