A Deep and Dark December by Beth Yarnall
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Dedication
I dedicate this book—the hardest book I’ve ever written—to the authors of The Keeper Shelf who have supported me in numerous, varied, and profoundly necessary ways. You are my New York.
And to my husband, Mr. Y, for buying into and supporting every single one of my crazy Lucy and Ethel schemes…including the one where I thought I could write a book.
There weren’t a great many things that bothered Erin December. For the most part, she considered herself a pretty even-keeled person. So why was her face hot and the back of her throat aching with the words she couldn’t let loose? As she sat in the Kavender Investments staff meeting, listening to Ramie Kavender heap praise on Austin for the success of the Petrie project, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That son of a bitch Austin accepted the compliments as if they were his due, never once daring to glance her direction or acknowledge that she had any part in the project, let alone admitting she had done the bulk of the work.
She reminded herself that she was grateful for the job. The tiny town of San Rey, in central California, had been hit hard by the downturn in the economy. Kavender Investments was one of the few companies thriving amongst speculation of another recession. Without this job, she might be forced to leave the town she grew up in and move to a bigger town like Santa Barbara or Los Angeles. She liked her job and most of the people she worked with. She was confident in her work in a way she’d never been in any other position she’d ever held.
But that didn’t mean she liked being stepped on by Austin on his way to a higher title.
As soon as the meeting was over, she escaped to the relative quiet of her cubicle. She pulled up the report she’d been working on before the meeting began and started to recheck the data one last time before she turned it in. A shadow fell over her.
“I have a favor to ask,” her boss Ramie said.
She turned in her chair.
“Chelsea went home sick. She had a Cash for Keys appointment this afternoon at four. Can you take it? Should be quick. You can go straight home from there.”
That was in half an hour and she still had the report to finish. “Sure.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.” He dropped the folder on the top of her already teetering stack and strode away.
She suppressed a sigh and reached for the file. The tab had the name Lasiter on it. She knew a Greg Lasiter from high school. Opening the file, she confirmed that it was the Greg Lasiter she’d be meeting with. Great. Just great. He was an * back then and while he didn’t waste time picking on her anymore, he wasn’t exactly nice.
The words in the file blurred, then blacked over. Her body seemed to shoot back as though she were on a rollercoaster, pain searing between her eyes. The sensation made her stomach dip. She knew what this was. She hadn’t experienced this loss of control since she’d first come into her ability when she was eight. Shoved suddenly from one reality into another against her will, she found herself standing on the front porch of the Lasiter house. She worked to steady her breathing. Leaves danced across the lawn, the wind whipping them up, then sending them scattering.
What was happening?
She hadn’t called up this vision. She hadn’t chosen to be here in this time or this place. Trying to get her bearings, she glanced back at the neighborhood she’d walked through once upon a time on her way to and from elementary school. The street was empty.
She never used her ability. Ever. Only her Aunt Cerie and her father, Donald, knew what she could do. She kept it that way on purpose, holding her secret inside since the night her mother had left and never came back.
In the vision she was herself, knocking on the door of the Lasiter house, calling out for Greg. No answer. She pushed the doorbell and rapped on the door again. Silence. She shuddered from a chill she couldn’t feel. Something was off.
Not real, she reminded herself. Her body still sat at her desk, but her mind had traveled through time. Was this the past or future? Why was she here? How did she get here? What did this loss of control over her ability mean?
Turning the knob, she expected it to be locked, but it turned easily. She walked into an empty living room, stripped of furniture or anything that made it a home.
“Greg?” she heard herself call out. “It’s Erin December from Kavender Investments. Hello? Anyone here?”
A light around a door at the end of the living room drew her attention. Her steps weighted, she found she couldn’t stop. Any of it. Not her body from moving forward nor her mind from staying in the vision. She was stuck. Left with no choice. She closed her eyes, using the tools she’d been taught to search for a way out. But there was no ending it. The shock of that radiated through her. This had never happened before either. She’d always been able to pull out of a vision.
She put a hand out and opened the door. It swung away, revealing a small kitchen. Greg lay on the floor face up, a pool of blood around him.
He was dead.
She gasped and stumbled back.
As abruptly as she was sucked into the vision, she was spit right back out. She dragged in air, gripping the edge of her desk. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.