The Book Waitress Series Volume One (20 page)

Chapter Eleven

The antique shop proved to be worth every penny Camille spent. Charming, wrought iron and wicker furnishings for the living room and bedroom, were easily found, and would give the library a cozy, lived in feel. A vintage sixties dining room set, complete with the dishes and silverware rounded out the purchases. The store even had a truck to haul her goodies back to the library.

In the time it would take for the store to deliver everything, Derek suggested they head over to the hardware store to pick up a cooktop, microwave oven, and fridge until she was ready to renovate and create a real kitchen. Once the salespeople got past her eyelid oddity, they were really quite helpful. Luckily, her painful spasms occurred while she was in the car going from one place to the next.

“Have you noticed all the police cars on the streets?”

“Yeah, probably due to those three bizarre incidents. Don’t know what they can do about it, but it gives people a sense of security. Only you and I know better. Well, you, Mallory, Arnie, and I.”

By the time they got back to her home, the truck from Unique Antiques pulled into the parking lot right behind them. While Derek unloaded his car of kitchen stuff, she directed the men where to place the furniture. Not a half hour later, they were gone. Derek strolled about the floor inspecting everything.

“Wow, this place looks like….”

“A library with living room, dining room, and bedroom furniture in it. I know. Ridiculous.” She sat down on her new, old couch and laughed lightly, running her fingers through her hair to massage her throbbing scalp. A headache had surfaced while directing furniture traffic and would not let up.

“You all right?” He came up behind her and took over the massage.

“Just a nasty headache. Maybe I’ll take something for it.”

“I’ll get it for you. Sit here and relax. I’ll make your bed, too, and you can take a nap before dinner.”

“That sounds lovely. While I’m doing that, maybe you can make the most of being in a library and start scouring those volumes of The Devil’s Handbook. Who knows, with what we know now, what was once inconsequential information could prove worthy in some way.”

“So true.”

Camille moaned in ecstasy as she sank into her feather top bed like a cement block. It had been an emotionally charged, roller coaster of a day, and she wished she could put her revved mind on pause for a little while, giving her a chance to regroup. She recalled reading in one of the science journals about the nature of sleep. There were five stages of it. People could develop serious psychological problems if they weren’t able to enter the REM stage over prolonged periods of time.

Since being taken, she hadn’t had any opportunities for dreamland, always succumbing instead to NREM stages, where deep sleep occurred. The jarring pains would always awaken her, and exhaustion after the episodes sunk her right back into the NREM stages. She was paying the price for it now.

Always very even-keeled, now her moods swung back and forth like a pendulum. Not liking people is one thing, but being downright irritated by them and letting them know it in a passive-aggressive way was not typically in her nature. Trying to ease into her nap, she breathed in deeply through her nose and out through pursed lips. After a few turns, she found herself feeling lighter and more relaxed.

In her mind, she reached out to grasp anything that could be construed as a dream. And something took hold. She saw a child, wearing a Sunday dress, patterned with morning glories, swinging slowly on her swing, dragging her feet against the dirt, looking forlorn. Suddenly, she saw everything through those girl’s eyes. She swung slowly, feeling trepidation about going somewhere with the family.

“Now, don’t get your shoes all dirty before going to church, young lady. Darn it. Too late. Go on inside and get a damp towel to wipe them clean again. And, make it quick!”

“I don’t wanna go to church, Mama.”

“Why, in Heavens, not?”

“It’s scary.”

“Now, Camille. You stop that nonsense talk. Church is a blessed place and you need to say your prayers. You need to thank the Lord for all the blessings he’s given you and our family. You’re older now. You’ve got to get over this crazy notion that church is a place to fear. It is a place to feel loved by the Lord.”

“Satan’s there, too, Mama,” she shouted out. A sudden, sharp sting spread across her cheek, and she cried out.

Her mother rubbed her hands together. “How dare you say such a thing? That’s ridiculous, and near blasphemy! I think you’ll need to say your prayers twice today. If you have nothing nice to say about the church, don’t say anything at all. Is that clear? If not, I’ll slap you till you understand.”

“Yes, Mama. I’m sorry. I understand.”

“Go clean off those shoes, and show your love for the Lord.”

Feeling dreadful, she meandered over to the side door to the house.

“I said, make it quick! We’re gonna be late!”

Camille squirmed in her bed and settled back down. Back in her dream, the scene changed to the church yard, by the baptismal pool. She twirled around and found no one in sight.

“I know you’re here. You may be able to trick others into thinking you’re not, but I know. Just so you know, you still can’t have me.” She stuck her tongue out toward the dark blue water, and ran back inside the church sanctuary to stand next to her father.

Something tickled her ear, and a sinister voice teased her senses. “Oh, yes, I can have you, little one. Anytime I want, but you’ll come to me willingly. Mark my words, you’ll come to me.”

Her eyes flew open as a surge of searing heat, like hot pokers, trailed through her belly, and she looked frantically about. Disoriented for a few moments, panic threatened to take hold, but she saw a couple of familiar knick-knacks and book shelves, and remembered where she was. Crumpled over, she needed fresh ice packs
fast.

Moving from the bed proved difficult, as the agony spread throughout her limbs, but she removed the covers and crawled on the floor to the box of supplies. She unzipped and peeled the suit off completely, then ripped away the old packs as quickly as possible. Huffing and puffing through the pain, she managed to get a couple in place, but stopped cold as a stinging erupted on her eyelids. Had she stirred up a beehive or wasp nest? She fanned her face, but found no insects buzzing about. Something was pricking her eyelids like a sewing needle, and it took what little breath she had away.

“All this can be over. Your pain, your agony, your frustration and desperation. Gone. The needless violence that has stricken your town. No more. Come to me. Assume your rightful place next to me, and all this will be over. Come. It is time.”

A seductive, rich, baritone voice coated her mind with tenderness and mercy. “A taste of what you could have, my dear.”

Suddenly, all pain stopped and her mind flooded with pleasure. “Oh!” Such intense relief washed over her body that she stood, and crossing to her oval mirror, she considered herself. Nearly breathless again from liberation, she deliberated her options.

“You are wise to ponder, to weigh the pros and cons, but understand that this little respite shall be followed by a suffering unimaginable by most. Choose wisely. I’m awaiting your decision.”

No sooner had the insidious speech stopped, than the ceasefire ended. Scars lit up like brilliant orange electric stove burners. She couldn’t open her eyes wider than slits for the stakes driving through her fragile flesh. Somehow, she managed to remain standing and staggered, naked, to the front door and out.

***

Camille had been right. Derek found all sorts of information, now proving to be important, in the volumes he’d already looked through previously. Thinking he should check in on her, he closed a few books and brought them back upstairs with him. Oddly enough, he felt strange taking them out of the designated area, as though he’d get in trouble by the librarian.

Maybe his book waitress would handle him. He smirked, fantasizing about all the possible ways she could reprimand him. She hadn’t said she loved him yet, but he was okay with that. He couldn’t help
but drop the L bomb. She needed to know the level of commitment he’d taken on. Loving her was the most important thing he’d ever done in his life. It eclipsed everything else.

Reaching the main level, he dropped off his bundle on the circulation counter and headed to his lady’s new bedroom. It was the only room on this level with a door. Originally meant as a study room, it really functioned well as a private area. Plus, it was close to the bathroom.

“Bathroom! She’s gonna need a renovation there, too. The shower needs a total makeover.” He wrote a reminder on his hand to talk to her about it.

Anxious to see her, he opened the door and quietly tiptoed in, hoping not to disturb. The bureau sat against the far wall, under the window that looked out the side of the building. Her bed ran parallel to the bureau with her headboard against the left wall. He didn’t see her at first, but her covers were always in a jumbled heap after she’d been in bed for a bit. He stepped in a little further and saw an empty bed.
Okay, maybe she went to the bathroom.
He spun around and spied the mirror in the far right corner, nearly hidden by shadow. In front lay her suit. As though a defibrillator had shocked his heart, he had to swallow, for fear the pounding thing would leap out of his throat.

“What the hell is going on? Damn it, where are you?”

He raced out of her room straight to the women’s restroom. “Sweetheart, are you in here?” Not a groan, moan or anything. He slammed every stall door open. Nothing. He ran over to the men’s room and did the same thing. Same results. Running back to the center of the library, he pivoted around, looking for some sign of her until he spied the slightly opened front door.

He grabbed at his hair, beside himself with dread over where she could have gone, and in what condition she could be in. “Shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” Sprinting out the door and down the steps, he bolted around the side of the building to the back.

To a nightmare.

He nearly screamed out, but covered his mouth with his hands to keep from startling the naked beauty standing on the lip of the well. Camille stood with her back to him, arms at her sides, head bent down toward the well. Her long, blonde curls swirled about her curvy, alabaster body, as the gusty wind ushered the last vestiges of rain clouds away.

He inched his way forward, hoping not to spook her. Somehow, he had to get her the hell down from there! As he closed the distance between them, he heard her speaking. Closer still and he heard, not the voice of the woman he knew, but a smaller, younger voice came through. Knowing he couldn’t possibly be to whom she spoke, he could only surmise it to be the Dark One, Satan.

“Why did you mark me? I want to know why you picked me.”

He heard no response to her question, but she seemed to and nodded. She turned slightly and walked around the well like a gymnast on a balance beam until she returned to her original position. Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held.

“You saved me from drowning? I don’t remember that. I think my daddy saved me. I think
he
pulled me from the water.”

She paused again and whimpered.

“
You
really saved me. So, this is my fault, because I belong to you now and I didn’t let you take me? I’ve been a bad girl. I’ve made you wait a long time. If I go with you, it will stop? No more people will be hurt? The portal will close forever?”

He couldn’t stand it any longer. What he’d heard drove him over the edge. “Camille, sweetheart, come down from the well, okay?”

He got no indication she’d heard him, and stood a good twenty feet away. It might as well have been a mile in his eyes.

“Camille,” he said a little more forcefully, trying his best to keep the panic from his voice. “Whatever he’s saying, don’t believe him. Don’t let him get to your heart and mind. He’s telling you lies. Come down from the well, back to me. I love you. Come to me.”

She didn’t move or acknowledge him. “It’s all my fault. I have to make it right. It’s the only way.”

“Don’t listen to him, damn it! Don’t let him in!” He couldn’t take it anymore. To hell with playing it safe. He figured, if he made a mad dash, he could grab her to safety.

Suddenly, she turned slightly toward him, glancing over her shoulder with the palest of faces. He smiled broadly, hoping that seeing him would bring her back to her senses. He waved his hands, beckoning her. A glistening tear trailed down her cheek, and as her sorrowful eyes pierced his soul, her ruby red lips mouthed the words,
I’m sorry
.

Abject terror grew like an aggressive tumor inside his heart. “No, no, no, no, no. Camille….”

She twisted back to face the well, and lifted a foot over the black hole.

C
hapter One

Dying was different this time around. More purposeful and focused. Camille’s decision to do something great and good for the sake of the entire world overshadowed the frantic cries and look of horror on Derek’s face as she mouthed the words,
I’m sorry
. She lifted her foot over the well’s seductive darkness and leaned in, relinquishing her entire body to Satan’s persistent beckoning.

A moment of weightlessness gave way to the inevitable pull of gravity. Arms involuntarily flew straight up, and her hair streamed above her like an angry flag. Crisp, rushing air raised goosebumps on her skin, and she gasped as she wondered just how far down she would go before hitting… Hell.

An intense burning and glowing of her scars, married with a high-pitched screeching, assaulted her senses. Gruesome creatures whizzed past, lashing her fragile body as they made their escape. She howled, recoiled, and tumbled awkwardly out of control.
Dear God, what have I done?
Flames seared every inch of skin as it continually regenerated. Her eyelid tattoos blazed, and with the last shred of consciousness, she recognized death was near.

A sudden jolt to her body and a voice, so insistent and rugged, roused her from semi-lucidity. “Not today, Marked One. He ain’t getting his claws into you today. Hang in there. I’ve got you now.”

An instantaneous icy sensation washed over every exposed area of skin, and she sighed with exhaustion before fading out completely.

***

Derek threw sanity out the window and raced over to the well. He leaned over to see where Camille had fallen, since he heard no splash of water. Maybe she’d had second thoughts, grabbed the side of the well, and was somehow hanging on. There was no sign of her. “Damn it! Camille!”

A thick, braided rope lay beside the well. He looked around, and a tree wasn’t too far. So he grabbed one end and tied it to the trunk, then threw the other end down the well. As he lowered himself down, hand under hand, he prayed he wasn’t too late. Painstakingly he looked around the ever darkening space, but still couldn’t find her anywhere. His feet splashed the surface of the water, and still he continued downward. The rope ran out about a foot above it, and he let go.

Diving over and over, deeper and deeper, he waved his hands through the murky liquid, feeling around for her body. She was nowhere to be found. Reluctant, freezing, and exhausted, he grabbed hold of the length of rope. But he’d seen her jump in! He knew he did.
She isn’t up above. She isn’t down here. Where the hell did she…? Could she really have gone to…Hell?
If so, how could he get there and bring her back? He slapped at the water, frustrated and angry with himself for not stopping her before she leapt. What would be his next steps for a rescue?

With every grab he made on the rope to pull himself up, he thought of the myriad of repercussions that could occur now that she’d sacrificed herself to Satan. He didn’t believe for one moment that what she’d done would keep Satan away from this world. His power and influence shielded her from the truth, he was sure. Oh, no. Satan wouldn’t leave them alone just because she agreed to go to him. As he reached an arm over the ledge to hoist himself up and over, he wondered exactly what to expect. Hell on Earth, he supposed.

***

Spasms wracked Camille’s body as grotesque images chased her back to partial consciousness. “Easy there, easy. You’re safe. I’m seeing to it.”

“I’m so sorry…Derek…?” Too many questions fought to be voiced and none won.

“Shh, rest now, talk later.” A cold hand stroked her shoulder and arm, instantly calming the tremors.

She curled her body in the direction of the rich baritone voice, and vaguely registered that it wasn’t Derek’s she’d heard. Nor was it his body’s cooled skin that drew her in. But she couldn’t muster an ounce of concern. The hellish pain had ceased, and fatigue crept into her muscles and ragged nerve-endings. She could finally take in some deep breaths as she felt the stranger touch her battered skin, lightly tracing the satanic designs so meticulously carved into her by a psychotic plastic surgeon. Her frazzled mind refused to let her rest.

With increasing clarity, it occurred to her that she’d been naked when she jumped into the well. Was she still? Sliding a tentative hand down, she discovered it to be the case and immediately kept it covering her lower region, then draped her other arm over her breasts. Modesty and pure, unadulterated mortification flooded her mind and soul. She dared not open her eyes yet to see who had gotten a good long glance at her.
And, although her body trembled ferociously again, she refused to mentally acknowledge the terror teasing her heart at the fact that this voice, this body holding her, had come from…Hell.

“Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. I haven’t taken advantage of your condition or anything. Now that these drawings have calmed down, I’ll find something to cover you.” He shifted her slightly, moving her off his lap.

“No!” Her eyes flew wide open and connected with two glowing amber orbs peeking through a fringe of dark, spiky hair. Mesmerized by his exotic look, she shifted her simmering fear from him to the unknown. “Don’t leave me alone, please. Please.”

“We’re safe here.”

“Safe?” she scoffed. “That’s a relative term.”

“Look around you. I’ve found us an unoccupied home to hide in for now. I know we can’t stay for long, but at least we can get you something to wear. There must be some kind of clothing in the bureaus or closets that will work. Let me rest you on the bed so I can take a look. I’m just going across the room. Okay?”

She must’ve seemed like a lunatic to him, all naked and etched up like a piece of driftwood. She’d never felt more exposed, or vulnerable, in her life. This stranger from Hell was nice enough to wait patiently for her to answer, but she wasn’t getting any more covered. “Okay.”

“Good.”

When she released her death grip, he smiled, placed her gently atop the bed and proceeded to open closet doors. She grabbed the bedspread and flung it over her lower body, then hugged a pillow to her chest. Questions found their voice. “Who are you? Where are we? How did we get here?”

He scouted through dresser drawers and tossed something pink at her. “Here, try these on for size.” Then he brought over a shirt and a couple pairs of pants. “We hit the jackpot, didn’t we?” He smiled and she gave him a tentative one in return.

“Thanks. So are you going to answer me or are you going to keep me in the dark? Should I be grateful to you for saving my life, or have you saved me from one hell just to put me through another?” She twirled a finger. “Turn around, would you?”

When his back faced her, she dressed. Normally, she wouldn’t dare to wear another person’s underwear, but extreme times called for extreme measures. She shimmied into the jeans and squeezed into the t-shirt. A little snug all the way around, but she wouldn’t complain. “Okay, you can turn back around. Now, I need answers. I’m supposed to be dead.” She sat back down and raked her fingers through her mess of curls, wishing she had her hairpins to tame them back.

He sat before her on the bed. No longer glimmering, his eyes still conveyed an intensity that kept her unsettled and on edge. “Do you remember anything about what happened to you today?”

She hated when people answered a question with a question and huffed her displeasure at the side-step. But she decided to humor him and answer. “I remember looking at my reflection in the bedroom mirror and Satan speaking to me, urging me to go to the well in the back of the library. If I sacrificed myself, the portal would close and the madness would stop. If I didn’t, I’d endure unimaginable suffering.” She frowned and shook her head. “I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t help it. His power is so strong, so compelling.” Acknowledging the Dark Lord’s hold on her caused a shiver to crawl up her spine. Shaking it off, she continued. “So, I jumped in and the rest is a nightmarish blur. I have a suspicion of where you came from, but I don’t know why or how. For God’s sake, tell me something already! You owe me that considering I haven’t tried to run away or kill you. Who the hell are you, and what am I doing with you?”

“My name. Right, well, Satan calls me Synn these days, but it used to be Jax when I was human.”

“When you
used
to be human?” Well, that wasn’t promising. Her suspicion had been confirmed. She pushed her heart back down her throat and hoped his explanation improved.

“You don’t stay human for long when you go to Hell.” He smirked. “The short of it is you were trying to get in while I was trying to get out. I know who you are, Marked One. You may think sacrificing yourself will solve all the problems of this world, but it won’t. Knowing what it’s like where I’ve been, I couldn’t let you do it. I just couldn’t. You see, he’ll keep sending demons over and come through himself when he’s good and ready. Then, he’ll keep you long enough to watch this place fall to pieces and torture
you for the rest of eternity. So, I made an executive decision. I grabbed you as you fell past and whisked you away with me. What happens now is anyone’s guess.”

Alice in Wonderland has nothing on me.
“I’ve already felt so many cross over. They’re spreading evil and wreaking havoc everywhere. So, why should I believe you? Why should I trust that you’re any different? How do I know you’re not just another beast trying to screw with my mind this time?”

He stood and paced like a lion around the room. She watched with curiosity as his muscles tensed and released along the lengths of his thick arms peeking through a threadbare T-shirt. With each stride, his torn and tattered pants ripped a little more, exposing well-hewn calves and thighs. And with every step, his expression turned darker, more troubled.

“It’s been thirteen fucking years of me doing unspeakable things in the name of Satan. I can forgive myself many things. I’m no angel. But being in service to Satan, I regret the day he took me in and let me live. I can’t stomach it anymore. I’m beyond the limit of tolerance. If I have to spend one more day doing his bidding….”

She rose from the bed, feeling more assured about her safety from his explanation, and blocked his way before he could wear out any more carpet. “Whoa, whoa. I believe you. Seems we have something in common. We both have a bone to pick with him.” She smiled shyly and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder, which seemed miles high once she stood close to him. He took a deep breath in and released it.

“I’ve made terrible enemies with him today. I think we may have made his Shit List, Marked One.”

She cringed at the moniker and turned away. “Please, don’t call me that asinine name. It’s Camille. My name is Camille.” She walked over to the window. Looking out to the right and left, she tried to determine where they might be, but didn’t recognize anything. “I’m not marked by
choice
. I didn’t sign up for any of this. The only thing I’ve done is refuse to be taken by the damned Lord of Darkness a few times. And now, I need to know where we are so I can get back home. People think I’ve, well, gone to Hell.”

Before he could tell her, a jolt of searing pain assaulted her arms, legs, and stomach. Fiery orange beams of light shone through her t-shirt and jeans, casting satanic designs on the walls. Her nails tore at the curtains as she crumbled to the floor. “Ah! Shit! No!” Without the ice pack-laden suit she’d been wearing to counteract the intense burning of her scars, there was nothing she could do but suffer the attack until it stopped or she passed out, whichever came first.

Synn crouched on the floor beside her writhing body. He’d taken off his shirt, revealing not only a well-sculpted chest and abdomen, but also smooth, mottled skin in different hues of blue. She wailed as her scars flashed like beacons.

“Hold on for me, Camille. I only ever killed with my curse. I’ve never tried to do something good with it until now. I hope this works.”

She had no idea what he was talking about until he gathered her up and tightly wrapped his arms around her, pressing nearly every inch of his hard body against hers. Icy tendrils wound their way around every inch of her body like thread on a spool, covering her in a cocoon of chilly splendor. Gasping in relief, the reprieve gave her the chance to acknowledge what the pain hadn’t let her. Feeling his manly parts against her, she decided this demon was quite the alpha package. Like Derek, and yet so different. He exuded a power so potent that it seeped into every cell of her body like a virus.
This virus could very well be my cure.
She eased back slightly, marveling at the extraordinary turn of events.