Prequal to Night's Cold Kiss

Sixteen years ago — Rural France

ANTOINETTE sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes to look around the dark bedroom. She tilted her head and listened carefully for the noise that woke her. The gentle spring rain pitter-pattered against the bedroom window. Her little brother, Nici, breathed soft and steady beside her in a deep sleep. His arms were thrown above his head and he’d kicked the covers of his left leg. She smiled and pulled the quilt up then listened again.

Down the hall her grandmother’s snores rattled through the house. She was used to the sort of snorting gargle the old woman made, so it was doubtful that’s what woke her.

Then it came again—a distinct knocking noise from downstairs.

Someone’s here.