Chapter 33

Everyone in Briar’s End knew not to feed the tom cat.

He appeared every autumn—massive, scarred, with one torn ear and yellow eyes that reflected light even in complete darkness. No one knew where he came from. He simply wandered the streets at dusk, brushing against fences and sitting beneath bedroom windows.

The older residents whispered the same warning:

“If the tom cat brings you a gift, don’t accept it.”

Lena laughed when she heard the stories.

So when she opened her front door one chilly evening and found the cat sitting on her porch, she crouched beside him.

“You aren’t so scary,” she said.

The tom cat stared at her.

At his paws lay a tiny object wrapped carefully in leaves.

Curious, Lena unwrapped it.

It was a human tooth.

A shiver crawled down her spine.

The cat gave a low, rumbling purr and walked away into the darkness.

That night, Lena heard scratching beneath her bed.

Scratch… scratch… scratch…

She switched on her lamp.

Nothing.

The scratching stopped.

She laughed nervously and tried to sleep.

Scratch… scratch… scratch…

This time it came from inside the walls.

Then from the ceiling.

Then directly beneath her pillow.

Heart pounding, Lena lifted it.

Another tooth rested there.

Clean.

White.

Still wet.

A soft meow echoed through the room.

The tom cat sat in the corner where there had been only darkness moments before.

Its yellow eyes never blinked.

At its feet was a third gift.

A small bundle wrapped in leaves.

Hands trembling, Lena opened it.

Inside was a folded strip of skin.

On it, written in shaky handwriting, were three words:

THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME.

Lena screamed and ran for the door.

But the hallway outside her bedroom wasn’t her hallway anymore.

It stretched endlessly into darkness.

Rows of yellow eyes opened within it.

Cats.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Each one carrying something in its mouth.

A tooth.

A finger.

An eye.

The tom cat padded past her and stopped at the front of the silent crowd.

Then it looked back over its shoulder.

Its mouth opened far too wide.

In a voice that sounded like her own, it purred:

“You accepted my gifts.”

“Now it’s your turn to bring me theirs.”

The next autumn, the people of Briar’s End noticed a new figure wandering the streets after sunset.

A young woman with hollow eyes and dirt beneath her fingernails.

At her heels walked a massive tom cat with one torn ear.

Whenever someone answered a knock at their door, they would find her smiling politely, holding out a small bundle wrapped in leaves.

And from somewhere in the darkness, a cat would begin to purr.