A Banshee's Wail (The Banshee Curse #1)

Eleven Years Earlier...

IT WAS DRAFTY behind the TV, Jemma thought. The air whooshed back and forth passed her, flying down the small, alley-like area behind the television. It chilled her skin and blew her bright red hair about her face. Jemma rubbed her arms lightly and glanced around the end of the TV stand. The living room looked the same as it always did.

     Footsteps started and Jemma hurried to duck back behind the TV before she was seen. This added a boost to the draft-air and goosebumps raised on her arms. She crossed her arms across her chest firmly and stared at the wall mere inches in front of her face. The footsteps came into the living room and Jemma held her breath, trying to be as quiet as possible. This was the best place she could think of to hide, there was no way she'd be found.

     The footsteps stopped, probably in the middle of the room. Jemma swallowed and glanced at the cables that jutted out from the back of the TV. Don't look behind the TV, Jemma chanted silently, don't look behind the TV. When the footsteps started up again, they headed away from her. Once they'd faded completely, Jemma let out a breath and slumped against the television stand. She hadn't been found.

     She grinned and stared at the cables since there was nothing else to look at. After a few minutes, her relief was replaced by boredom. She didn't hear searching anymore and no one was calling her name. Where had she disappeared to? Jemma frowned, her hand fiddling with a cable while she thought. What was the point of hiding if no one could find you? Was anyone even looking now?

     Realizing what she was messing with, Jemma dropped the cable and wrapped her arms around her legs. She'd give her a few more minutes, just in case.

     After what felt like an eternity passed, but was in actuality ten minutes, Jemma gave up. Playing hide-and-seek was her favorite past time, but if she couldn't even be found, it was no fun. Next time, she decided, she was going to hide in a worse spot. It didn't matter if the game was meant for you to stay hidden, she didn't want to stay hidden. She wanted to be found, to laugh and play some more, and to be the seeker. She couldn't be the seeker if she was the hider.

     She clambered out from behind the TV, tripping on a few wires that had curled themselves around her ankles. She struggled to release her ankles and then bounced to her feet, wiping dust off of her favorite dress that her mother only allowed her to wear during spring. The air was still chilly.

     Jemma started across the living room, giving the coffee table a wide berth. It wasn't very nice. One time, she'd been playing with her daddy and the rug had grabbed onto her toes. She'd landed head-first on a corner of the coffee table and it had laughed while the rug had screamed apologies. After that, she'd held a grudge against the coffee table and the coffee table didn't mind one bit. It hated her, too.

     The rug tickled the bottom of her feet as she crossed it and the couch murmured a hearty hello. Jemma skipped passed it and winced when the hardwood that the rug was concealing started chattering away. The floor was what her mommy would call a “Chatty Kathy”. When you passed over it, it wouldn't shut up. Maybe it was lonely, Jemma thought. She couldn't find it in herself to care.

     She stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. “Mommy,” she whined, stamping her foot once. “You forgot about me!”

     Denise Niks turned and looked at her five-year-old daughter. “What?” she asked, baffled. “Jemma, I would never forget about you.”

     Jemma's eyes narrowed accusingly on the cooking spoon in her mother's hand and her bottom lip jutted out as she pouted. “Yes,” she insisted, crossing her arms. “You forgot about finding me.”

     The cooking spoon clacked as it hit the counter and Denise crouched in front of her daughter. “Jemma,” she murmured, “I haven't, nor will I ever, forget about you.”