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Paige shouldered her bag and nodded. “Yes. He’ll kill me if I don’t check in and feed him.”
“Oh, well, you’d better go, then. Wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen to you on your first day.”
Paige chuckled as she crossed the room. “No, we’ll save that for day two.”
Dewey offered a weak smile as he settled into the chaise and tugged a large book onto his lap.
“I won’t be long,” Paige called as she hopped down the first few steps.
She bounced down the stairs, hiking the straps farther up on her shoulder. Within twenty minutes, she arrived back at her apartment.
“Dickens!” she called as she flew through the door. She dropped the tote in the hall and hurried to the kitchen. “Dickens!”
She popped the top on the cat food and dumped it into his bowl. “Dicky! Hurry! I don’t have much time!”
Paige tapped the bowl on the counter, peering around the apartment for some sign of the fluffball.
With a huff, she mumbled, “Where is he?”
Paige stalked from the kitchen, dish in hand, into the living room. She scanned the space, checking under the couch and armchair. Nothing.
She shuffled into her bedroom. “Dickens?”
The tabby cat sat on her window ledge, staring down into the street below.
Paige slapped her hand against her thigh with a sigh. “There you are!”
The cat didn’t respond, his gaze never leaving the window.
Paige crossed to him and peeked over his pointed ears. “What are you staring at that’s more interesting than your dish?”
In the sun’s waning light, long shadows painted the alley below.
Paige squinted into the darkness before shaking her head in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re–“
A flash of red caught her attention. Her eyes widened, and she stared into the darkness, searching for the source of the color.
A hiss emerged from Dickens, his ears flattening against his head, followed by a low growl. His tail puffed into a fat, fuzzy mess, and the fur on his back ruffled.
Visions of her nightmare less than twenty-four hours ago flashed through her mind. Something had been in that alley in her dream. Something that had attacked her. Was it lurking there now? Was she in danger?
The scratch on her back suddenly began to sting. She arched her back, wiggling her shoulders to relieve the prickly burn. Pain burst at the sides of her temples.
She squeezed her eyes shut and spun away from the window. In her hand, the dish wobbled, the beefy bits coming close to sloshing onto the floor.
The searing pain in her back intensified. She gritted her teeth as the irritating sensation turned to a fiery ache. With gritted teeth, she clutched the side of the bed, a moan escaping her clenched jaw.
A throbbing pounded again at her temples, and her forehead felt like a rubber band squeezed it. The dish clattered to the ground.
She dropped to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut as the world closed in around her.
CHAPTER 12
The sound of the clattering bowl drew Dickens away from the window. The cat rubbed against Paige’s legs.
She blew out a breath, her chest collapsing. Her eyelids fluttered open. She swallowed hard as her headache eased and the discomfort in her back subsided.
She sucked in a shaky breath, adjusting her glasses. “What was that?”
