I rushed back to the door, fighting to stay on my feet. I tripped—or something tripped me—and hit the floor hard, as if the wind itself had deliberately thrown me down. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me, but I’d at least caught myself just short of my face slamming on the ground.

But whatever had tripped me was still there, and I kicked at it, yelping as it grabbed my foot. I stumbled to my feet, looking around in the dark. The Something grabbed me more firmly this time, and I quickly stomped to get it off and rushed to my room. But as soon as I shoved the door open it grabbed me again, this time wrapping around my ankle to hold me still. It felt familiar and terrifying, and when I looked down the moonlight flooding from the window in my room revealed a hand coming from the ground, long fingers curling around me.

“Get off!” I cried, kicking hard to break its grip, but another replaced it, then another on my wrist, leaping out like spiders from the wall and floor. As soon as I got free of them, I felt fingers dig into my hair, gripping at the roots, and pull me backward. My back slammed against the wall, and more hands scraped at me to hold me there. I was a mere foot from my door, to freedom, and couldn’t get to it.

But I fought, anyway, because that’s all I knew. I kicked and hit at the Manifestation until I smashed enough fingers to break their hold. I ran into my room, slammed my door shut, and immediately put on my amulet, hugging it to my chest. I secured the lock and shoved the large chair in the room in front of the door. All at once my limbs felt weak, and I lowered myself to the floor, curling up in front of the fireplace.

I was frozen to the core, and it wasn’t all due to the wind.

Dear God … what had I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER 4

My first Waking had been terrifying. It was before Jember worked for the church that moved us away from this far more dangerous town, and a one-room cube of wood and mud with a tin roof was no place to leave a five-year-old by herself all night. So Jember had taken me with him to see a client. I’d sat through the Waking, staring through trembling fingers as he worked, and for weeks afterward I’d had nightmares of a Manifestation made of long fingernails, crawling up the wall like a scorpion.

Eventually I got used to monsters. Eventually I learned that the world was scarier than anything the Evil Eye could manifest. A merciless upbringing had left me literally scarred, whereas no curse could lay a finger on me.