The Book Waitress Series Volume One (16 page)

“You okay?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Sure.” She didn’t sound okay. She sounded like a defeated woman. “You? How’s your tongue?”

“It’s fine. So, wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

He opened his eyes and gave her a hard stare over his shoulder.
So, it’s gonna be like this, is it?
“Okay. Well, come here and see what we’re up against.”

“You mean what
more
we’re up against, don’t you?” She scoffed. “I’m already up against the ultimate evil, or have you already forgotten?”

He pushed his chair back and stalked over to her to stand uncomfortably close. He could give as good as he got. “No, I haven’t forgotten. He’s the reason why my balls are blue, my tongue is swollen, and why I’ll never stop looking for a way to free you from this madness.”

Shame and confusion washed over her face as his words seemed to make a crack in her morose mood. “Shit. I don’t know quite what to say, except I’m an ass. Seems I’m projecting my anger and frustration upon the wrong individual, and I apologize for that. Frankly, I don’t know why you stay. You should leave while the leaving is good. Being with me is such a losing proposition.”

“Being without you isn’t an option, so you’ll just have to get used to me nipping at your heels.”

Floodgates opened as she searched his eyes, for…. What? Assuredness, absolution? He wasn’t sure, but he met hers with as much openness and honesty as he had within. He meant what he said.

Through tears and snuffles, she asked the question that hovered like a cloud over them. “So, you’re willing to go to Hell and back with me? Regardless of the consequences? Because that’s what you’re signing up for if you stay. Well, and a chance your balls will be permanently blue.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, I’m willing to face endless evenings of icing down the boys. Now, come sit down with me, so we can plan our offense.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Thankfully, she’d gotten her emotions under control again. “So, what do you have in mind?”

He pulled a chair out for her and, as she sat, he began to lay out thoughts that had been percolating for a bit in his mind. “First of all, we need help. If this journal is true, this is bigger than we can handle on our own. I know a couple of people who, if I asked, would be up to the challenge.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that, though.” She shifted in her seat and he could tell she wasn’t thrilled with his offer. “I mean, it’s bad enough you’ve put your life on the line for me—and the world. Besides, you know I don’t like people.”

“You’d like these people.” He wouldn’t be deterred. “We’ve worked together on some pretty hairy investigations. When something intrigues us, and it’s not mainstream enough for the newspapers and magazines, we’ve gone ‘rogue’ and investigated it on our own. I trust these people with my life. And I know they’d be
very
interested in what’s happening here. My plate is clear to focus on this as long as it takes. Let me contact them and see who can join us, please.”

She said nothing. He watched with hope and trepidation as she nibbled on her bottom lip and bobbed her knee up and down. He couldn’t read her at all. Would she say yes or no?

“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with you. We’re in over our heads, trying to tackle this alone. As long as you tell them everything, so they know what they’re getting into, go. Call them. See if they’re crazy enough to come.”

Chapter Seven

 

Myra Scroggins hated the night. It was bad enough, voices inside her head afflicted her during the day. By evening, those went away, only to be replaced by horrific nightmares as she fell asleep each night. Not sure why tonight felt different than the countless others since her darling Jacob’s death, she decided to pour herself a stiff drink of cheap whiskey in the hopes it would numb her to what lay ahead.

Glass in shaky hand, she took a long draw, nearly draining the tall glass, and staggered over to the picture of her son sitting on the coffee table. “Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. Your mother’s an ass, an unfit parent, and a loser. I thought I could outsmart him.
But, no!
He’s not called the Master of Evil and Darkness for nothing.” She clutched the picture frame in her wrinkled hands and kissed it. “My sweet child. I’m so sorry. You should be here instead of me. I’d give anything to have you alive again.”

“Anything, Mommy?”

Myra gasped, squinting and turning in her seat to locate where the hollow voice had come from. “Where are you, you rascally spirit, you?”

She found her answer standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Jacob wore his red and white striped footie pajamas, just as he looked on the day he’d been stolen from her. Three feet of mischievous boy bounced his red yard ball and pierced her soul with cavernous eyes.

“Oh, my boy! My boy!” Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she grabbed the couch’s armrest with one hand and bit down on the gnarled knuckle of the other. “You’ve come back! He’s returned you to me? After all these years, he’s forgiven my betrayal?”

“Yes, I’m back, Mommy. For a little bit.”

“So, you’re just a hallucination. A trick. Ahh.” She choked back a sob. “I’m never going to hold you in my arms again, or tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve done to you. I’ll never get to tell you how much I love you and that all I did, I did for you.” She closed her eyes, sniffled, and laughed bitterly. “Even my own mind has turned against me.”

Something tapped at her toes. Looking down, she found the red ball resting by her feet. “Wanna play a game with me, Mommy?”

With trembling hands, she grabbed the ball, amazed that it felt so real. Succumbing to the alcohol, and her selfish desire for the conversation with her son to be real, she answered. “Yes, my angel. What would you like to play?”

“I wanna play catch outside. Come on,” he demanded, and disappeared out the back door.

“Jacob, wait! I’m coming. Your mommy ain’t as young as she used to be.” Scooting to the edge of the couch, she wavered as she stood, but wouldn’t miss this opportunity to spend time with her son, even if he was only a figment of her imagination.

She shuffled down the dark hallway, unlocked the back door, and headed for the outdoors. The wooden fence that used to defend the property had long since rotted away, leaving the property to be consumed by the wilderness beyond.

“Jacob? Where are you?” Crunching through the deadened weeds and twigs, she staggered past her property, searching for her boy. In the distance, a faint voice called to her, and a flash of red appeared beyond a fallen tree.

“Over here, Mommy. Hurry….”

“I’m coming!” she huffed. “Just stop your running, child. I can barely keep up.”

Thorny thickets scratched at her fragile skin, while sagging branches from overgrown trees assaulted her face and tangled in her hair. She paid them no mind. One thought ruled her actions.
I must go play with my son.

“Come
on
, Mommy. I found a great spot to play….”

“Just another minute, Jacob… and I’ll be there.” Breathless and gasping for air, she paused a moment, and wondered if she’d drop dead right then and there.
Not before I play a game of ball with my son!
She trudged on until she came upon a small clearing, but she didn’t see him anywhere. “Jacob?”

“Right here, Mommy. Catch!”

She turned back toward the tree line. Before she could say or do anything else, a whir of red smacked her in the face. Stumbling backward, her eyes smarted as intense pain shot through her nose, and she gagged for a few moments, gasping for the slightest bit of air to fill her lungs. Something tickled her upper lip. When she swiped at it, her fingers came away bloody, leaving her stunned.

“Aw, you missed, Mommy. I’ll go get the ball and we can try again.” In an instant, he disappeared. Dazed and a bit confused, she stumbled toward where she thought he’d gone, stopping in her tracks when she heard giggling come from behind. She spun around and the ball punched her in the gut, sending her reeling to the ground.

“Ah! Jacob, you’re hurting me! Stop playing so rough.” Tears mixed with blood coated her lips, and as she tried to make sense of what was happening, she suddenly came to an undeniable conclusion. She wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. “You’re here for me, aren’t you?”

Her precious, little boy loomed above her, silent. An evil grin crept across his face and he nodded slowly with malicious glee.

***

The day turned out to be extremely productive. Camille had taken a shower quick enough that no beasties crossed through the portal while she soaped up, rinsed off, and toweled dry. The weatherman promised gorgeous weather, so she decided to make the best of things and took
The Dark Path
out back to read some more. She’d already gone to her bank’s branch on the island, and they’d issued her a cashier’s check. The realtor came over late in the morning with a mountain of papers for her to sign for the purchase of library. He seemed hopeful that she’d be able to move in rather quickly since she had the cash in hand.

The more she thought about it, the more she knew she’d made the right decision. Living in a place, filled with books, although precipitated by a nightmarish situation, could eventually become a booklover’s dream. The idea of regaining the control she’d lost over her life sat well. Yes, she had bought ground zero. But she felt compelled to be close. Maybe proximity would help her understand how evil worked and expose a weakness that she could exploit.

Nose back in the journal, her jaw dropped intermittently as she uncovered more and more about the dark creatures who’d already crossed over.
What the heck am I supposed to about it, though? This book hasn’t revealed anything more than we already know. You know what to do, Camille. You know.
A ruckus from inside the house drew her back from her contemplations. She closed the journal, and with it safely tucked in the crook of her arm, headed back inside to check things out.

Derek stood by the door, laughing and giving hardy pats to the back of a shorter, stockier guy with a severe crew cut. A tall young woman, roughly the same age, pushed through the two of them and messed with their hair.
His friends. Interesting.

“You know, dude, you didn’t have to go through this elaborate rouse to bring us here.” The amazon woman loped over to the oversized chair, and dwarfed it as she sat down. “We were just talking about how it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. You beat us to the punch with your phone call.”

He ushered his other friend into the living room to sit on the couch. Camille backed up into the kitchen and leaned against the counter.
They think this is some kind of a joke, a game? If only!
She closed her eyes and shook her head, wondering how on earth this kind of reality could be explained to these people.

Warm hands grasped her cold, clammy ones. “Hey.”

“Hmm?” She looked up to find his concerned face before her.

“Are you okay? My friends are here. I’d like to introduce you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How much you wanna bet to see how long it takes before they’re running out the door?” She snickered.

“Oh, now come on. Just you wait. They’ll surprise you.” He smiled and pulled her to him, lightly planting a kiss upon her lips. She allowed him to drag her into the living room where she quickly pasted a smile on her face.

“Arnie, Mallory, this is Camille. Camille, Arnie and Mallory.”

“Hi,” she offered weakly, and sat on her coffee table.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Arnie sized her up in her scuba gear. “So how long have you been involved in CosPlay?”

“Yeah, and who are you role-playing?” Mallory chimed in. “I don’t recognize the costume.”

I hate people, I hate people
….

“She’s actually….” Derek began, but she grabbed at his arm to stop him.

“No, let me.” She turned to face the two perfectly quirky strangers, sitting a bit too comfortably in her living room, and continued. “I’ve been doing this for a few weeks now. Yeah, you see, I’m role-playing a woman who was kidnapped by a satanic cult, and marked all over her body, so a portal to Hell could be opened and the devil could claim her. But now she has to fight the creatures that have crossed over into our world and find a way to close the portal.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty intense storyline.” Mallory’s eyes couldn’t grow any larger. “What’s the character’s name?”

“Camille. Camille Dutton.”

“W…well, that’s funny. That’s your name.”

“Hilarious, ain’t it?” Her fake smile morphed into a sneer as she got up and stormed out of the room to the kitchen. Turning on the faucet briefly, she splashed her face with cool water.

Figures darkened the entrance. “We’re so sorry.” Mallory said. “Please, forgive us.”

“When this one over here called, we thought he was playing us, baiting us with a new video game.” Arnie chimed in, making matters worse.

“So, now not only am I a freak, but my life is also prime meat for a video game. How lovely.” She snorted and patted her face dry with a towel.

“That’s not what we meant! Dude, help us out here, man.” Arnie looked as uncomfortable as a balloon floating by a porcupine.

Derek stepped forward, providing an effective barrier between the intruders and her. “You know how I seem to have a foot permanently fixed in my mouth?” She cracked the slightest smile and nodded silently. “Well, these two are just like me, I’m afraid. Please, forgive them, and let’s go back into the living room and start over.”

There was no one else. No one who knew what had happened. He was the only one so far, and he firmly believed in what’d been going on with her. If he could convince his friends, it could be a very good thing.

“Okay, I forgive you. And maybe, when all this is over, it
would
make a good video game.” She laughed tentatively and they did, too. The awkward moment passed, and she prayed they’d stay after hearing the sordid details.

She let him take the lead on explaining everything to them, and even allowed him to use her like a model, showing them the scars on her eyelids and legs. The others were too difficult to show without exposing her breasts, and she wasn’t
that
comfortable with his friends yet. They sat, patiently listening and looking, taking notes on their electronic tablets, and exchanging painful glances. She felt like meat in a case being scrutinized by a customer for a prospective dinner.

“Wow, you are one brave woman. Let me tell you!” Arnie shook his head and raked a hand through his stubby hair. “We’ll find a way to handle all of this. Let’s make sure we are documenting everything, too. Whether this becomes an expose in a newspaper, or a journal in the annals of science, it’s the only right thing to do. Someone recorded this for others to see. We should do so now.”

“We think so, too.” Derek pointed to the journal. “That book has been incredible. But it’s taking a while to get through, because the handwriting is nearly illegible.”

“I can help with that!” Arnie nearly bounced out of his seat. “I have a knack for Graphology. You know, the study of handwriting. Hand it over and I’ll start right away.”

“You’re actually staying?” Camille couldn’t believe her ears.

“Yes, why would you even ask?” He scoffed.

Nonplussed, she stood up and addressed the group. “He already knows, but you gotta know, as well. This is a very dangerous situation you’ve stumbled into. It may very well end in my death. I can’t guarantee your lives will be spared through all of this, either.”

“How very melodramatic of you to say, dear, but we’re big kids and can take care of ourselves.” Mallory dusted off an invisible piece of lint from her pants. “You don’t want to know all the scrapes we’ve been in together. If you’re interested, though, I’ll share them when we’re done with this one.”

“Mallory’s right.” Arnie added. “We’ve pretty much seen it all.”

She raised a brow and bore holes through Mallory’s eyes. “Really? Have you met Satan,
dear
? Not a friendly guy. Just sayin’.”

“All right, we can have a pissing contest later. Let’s get down to work, shall we?”

“Whoa! Look at you being all manly and peacekeeper-ish. Ha ha. You’re right, though. The sooner we tackle this, the sooner we’re finished with it.” Mallory stood up, immediately occupying most of the usable space in the tiny cottage, and lumbered into the dining room, looking over the materials sprawled all over the table and some of the floor. “Okay, first we need some organization here, people! Mind if I take care of this? It’ll drive me nuts if I don’t.”

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