Chapter 2

The cat stared at me from across the vast, opulent bedroom they' d given me. Its blue eyes were filled with an intelligence that was entirely human and entirely hostile.

A voice, not out loud, but sharp and clear in my head, slithered into my thoughts. It was the kind of mental projection a trapped, angry soul might manage.

So, you' re the hillbilly replacement.

I didn' t react. I just continued unpacking the cheap duffel bag I' d brought with me.

Look at this place, hick. This is all mine. This body, this room, this family. You' re just a temporary vessel. A blood bag.

I pulled out a worn flannel shirt and folded it carefully, placing it in a drawer that smelled of cedar.

Forty-nine days. That' s all you get. Mom found a Voodoo priest. The locket will drain your vitality, make you weak. Then, on the 49th day, we swap. I get my body back, and your worthless soul gets snuffed out. Or maybe they' ll put you in a rat. That would be fitting.

The voice was arrogant, dripping with the confidence of a spoiled child who had never been told no.

I paused. Forty-nine days. A ritual number. Predictable. I didn' t feel fear. Instead, I felt a strange sense of calm. He had just handed me the rulebook, the timeline, and the weapon.

I turned and looked at the cat. Caleb. I walked over and crouched down, meeting his furious gaze.

"You know," I said, my voice low and conversational, "back home, we have a way of dealing with vermin."

The cat hissed, a raw, guttural sound. It lunged, claws out, aiming for my face.

SMACK.

My hand moved faster. I didn't hit him hard enough to injure, just a solid, stinging slap across his wrinkled face that sent him tumbling sideways onto the plush carpet. It was loud in the quiet room.

He looked up at me, stunned. The pure shock in his eyes was delicious.

Just then, Gabrielle opened the door. "Ryan? I heard a noise. Is everything okay?"

She saw the cat cowering and her face tightened. "What did you do?"

I stood up, my expression one of mild frustration. "This cat of yours is stubborn. It tried to scratch the furniture. I was just teaching it some manners."

I looked down at Caleb, who was still frozen on the floor.

"Animals need to learn who's in charge," I said, my voice even. "It' s for their own good."

Gabrielle stared at me, her mouth slightly open. She couldn't argue with the logic, but the coldness in my tone clearly unnerved her. She scooped up the cat, cradling him like a baby.

"He's never done that before," she whispered, stroking his head.

Caleb, recovering, shot me a look of pure hatred over her shoulder. He tried to hiss, but it came out as a weak squeak.

You will pay for that, you filthy piece of trash! the voice screamed in my head.

I just smiled faintly. The game had begun, and I had already scored the first point.