The Book Waitress Series Volume One (4 page)

“Accepted. You see, I’m a foster kid who grew up in a loving household of hippies. They told me to be open to everything, but also to question everything.” He downed a handful of chips in a matter of seconds.

“No wonder you’re a reporter. You’ve had that instinct ingrained in you.”

“And you,” he said. “Why do you do what you do?”

“Well, I failed at serving up food, so I tried serving up books instead. It suits me much better since I love to read. I love meeting the characters. It’s only real people I can’t stand.” She twisted off the cap of a Jones soda and took a swig. The way her lips pursed around the neck spoke volumes to his groin and he fidgeted in his seat. There was something about this woman that gripped him. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he decided to make it a priority on his list of things to do.

“You make it sound like what you do is a no-brainer. I’m sure there’s a lot more to it than handing a person a book and putting them back on the shelves.”

“Of course, there’s cataloging and purchasing. I need to be a jack of all trades. I need to know a little about a lot. But mostly, on a daily basis, I’m serving up books to patrons and collecting them back when they’re done with them. I’m a book waitress, Derek. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Knowing a little about a lot can be a very useful tool. In fact, I bet it comes in very handy.”

“I do have a strange ability to remember everything I see on a page. It’s been rather useful on occasion, if I’m to be honest. Holy crap! Look at the time.” She leapt from her chair and ran out of the kitchen. He heard what could only be described as an elephant stampede, and guessed she’d raced upstairs.

“I’ve gotta get ready for work!” she shouted from afar.

“Why don’t I drive you there?” he called after her. “It would shorten your commute by a couple minutes and give us a chance to talk more.” He wandered into the living room, meandered around, inspecting all the knickknacks that lay about. He looked at himself in an old mirror and puckered his face. He’d forgotten to slick back his unruly hair this morning. Raking fingers through his mess of waves, he did his best to make himself look a little less disheveled.

A few moments later, the elephants descended upon the living room. Camille shuffled over to him. “Sounds like a plan, Stan. Thanks.”

“All set?”

“Not yet. I can’t find my hairpin. It flew out as I ran upstairs. I may just have to wear it in a ponytail today. Hopefully Nancy won’t be angry. Something tells me I won’t like her when she’s angry.”

“How very Hulk-ish of you to say so.”

“Yeah, well, comic books are reading, too. Ah, there it is!” She scooted over to the bottom step and picked up the rogue pin.

He put his hands up in surrender. “You’ll get no argument from me. Funny, I didn’t take you for a comic fan.”

“We’re surprising each other it seems today.” She laughed lightly.

She twisted her long golden ringlets into a severe rope and secured it closely to her head.
Maybe she’ll let me unpin it someday soon. Shame all that hair has to be hidden away.

“Shame….” he murmured.

“What’s a shame?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing.”
Deflect! Deflect!
“Are you ready to go?”

“Let me grab an apple and the chips. You might as well go start the car.”

“Got it.” As he lumbered out the front door, he allowed pure mortification to wash over him. He had it bad for her, and his fantasy of what he’d like to do with her had almost been revealed. How stupid could a man be? Sliding into his seat, it finally dawned on him what attracted him so to her. Besides having the sexiest hair he’d ever seen, she had a quirky personality that he admired. Her humor warped as much as his. One day soon, he’d get up the nerve to ask her on a date.

Chapter Five

Camille arrived at her post to find stacks and stacks of books waiting to be cataloged and shelved. Nancy, in her authoritative, evil witchy way, ordered her to have them all done during her shift or she’d have to stay late. Not quite sure how she would manage to complete that task along with everything else demanded by the Queen B in her allotted timeframe, she took a deep breath, walked the stacks once, checked on the people at the tables and computers, and settled in at her desk for the onerous work.

“Oh, Betina, care to help me today?” She chuckled and shook her head. Nancy clearly had a chip on her shoulder against her, and if she could succeed in her tasks today, maybe she could knock it off.

***

“Excuse me, Camille?” Derek stood before her looking like a schoolboy approaching his favorite teacher. Unfamiliar warmth wound its way throughout her body. Happiness. That’s what she’d call it. Maybe a bit of a crush forming on her part, even. She looked up and smiled.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been at this for three hours now. I need your help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She wheeled her chair back and walked over to the counter. “What’s the question?”

He leaned in as best he could over the counter and whispered, “I’m trying to pinpoint the whereabouts of the Mission’s meetings. It’s real slim pickings in these newspapers. I’m afraid you may have been right earlier about folks here censoring what we have access to. I did find one line in an old paper that said something about finding incriminating evidence in the basement of Oliver House. What the heck is Oliver House?”

“Oh, that’s easy. This is Oliver House, or used to be, anyway. That was before the government bought it at auction and turned it into a municipal building. A few years after that, the township outgrew the space and bought another, leaving this very one here to be turned into the library the people needed and had demanded be opened for years.”

“How do you do that?” He gave her an incredulous look.

“Do what?” Feeling self-conscious, she picked up a pencil and twirled it in her hand.

“You were able to tell me all that without even opening a book. You’re amazing.” Her face flushed and a full-on blush took over.

“I told you, I have a photographic memory of sorts. I remember most everything I see, and I’d read about the history of this place in a coffee table book not too long ago. Now, you better stop talking nice to me or the other patrons will want the same treatment. I only divulge my knowledge to certain people.” She offered him the hint of a smile along with a wink, and suddenly frowned. “Wait a minute. Do you realize what this means?”

“Yeah, it means the basement has seen more than its fair share of evil-doings. I need access to it. Can you work on it for me?”

“I’ll be here probably until midnight with these stacks of books. Just hide in the men’s bathroom at closing. Then I’ll come knocking on the door when the coast is clear.”

“All right. Thanks a million.” He returned to his newspaper room.

Susan carted in another load of books. “A present for you.”

“What’s this?”

“Nancy wants these to replace the ones already on the shelves. They’re updated journals. She wants it done today.”

“Okay, Susan.” She slapped her thighs and stood up. “What gives? Nancy’s expectations of me are far from realistic and border on slave labor. What is her problem? What could I possibly have done to annoy her to the point where she wants to abuse me like this?”

“I don’t know, Camille. But if you can’t handle the workload, then maybe you ought to head back to the mainland library where there are more people to let you slack off.” She flashed a smirk, turned sharply, and stalked away.

What the hell’s going on around here? Has everyone taken nasty pills or something? It’s almost as if they want me out of here. But why?

***

The incision wouldn’t be deep, this time, but it would be long. He dragged Satan’s Saber across his skin, from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. The bloody rivulets dripped into a jewel-encrusted chalice, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the searing pain that kicked his endorphins into high gear. A smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth. His hearing, acutely sensitive now, alerted him of another’s presence. One last drop and he covered the opened wound with gauze wrapping. “Is she here, then?”

“Yes, Overlord.”

“Excellent. Keep a close watch on her. We’ll need her by Sunday. And the boy… still alive?” He turned to face his second in command, a short, stocky man with a lazy eye, but not a lazy mind.

“Yes. He sleeps a lot.”

“Make sure he eats. He must be fit for the ceremony.” He brought the blood-filled cup over to the fire pit already crackling and snapping with burning kindling. He’d made sure to build the pit far enough into the woods so as to not raise suspicion. The scent of wood smoke permeated his nostrils as he added a couple of logs to the fire.

“Of course. He’s fed three times a day.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, “He still calls out for his mother.”

The Overlord remained stoic. “Arrange a visit. Explain she must put his mind at ease. She must tell him how special a boy he is and what an honor it is that he’s been chosen. She’ll do it. She’s a loyal follower.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Leave me now. I have preparations.”

Without so much as a word, Orion, his trusted soldier, turned and trudged back through the forest, while he resumed what would begin the week-long ritual to sanctify the earth and ready the alter. Sacrifice to his Lord and Master must occur this holy year of years.

He dripped some of his blood in the corners of a pentagram he painted on the ground surrounding the pit, and then the remainder he poured right on the burning logs.

“My Cursed Father, King of all Damnation, I revere you. Accept my blood as a symbol of my undying allegiance to your dark reign. Possess my human body for your will. Create my utterances and move my limbs for your purposes alone.” Flames soared into the night sky, as he knelt down on one knee and bowed his head toward the raging inferno. “I am your humble servant and guardian of Evil.”

Raising his head, he peered within the flames and straight into the eyes of His Lord. A shriek of horror escaped from his lips as he tried to turn away, but found he couldn’t. Satan’s viselike grip held him in place.

“Does my appearance offend, human? Look upon me and understand who you worship and to whom you pledge your life. Your servitude comes with a price. Are you willing to pay?”

He trembled in evil’s grasp. “Yes…yes, my Lord and Master of the Abyss.”

“Then you shall wear this as a reminder of your duty.” Two flame licks leapt from the inferno and scorched separate paths down his cheeks and neck. They etched a pentagram deep into his chest. As quickly as they laid their path, they retreated back to the pit and the fire died out, leaving him writhing and quaking in pain on the ground, convincing him that he’d made the right choice.

***

Closing time couldn’t have come soon enough. If one more bar code label crossed her desk, Camille thought she’d scream. John “The Poltergeist” Stalworthy decided to be a pain in her ass and kept throwing books across the aisles for her to pick up. He made sure he did it on aisles where no one could actually see it happening. But she heard it, knew it, and had to go put them all back. Susan and Nancy came downstairs to let her know they were leaving.
Good riddance!
Now she could let Derek out of the bathroom to explore the library basement.

She sauntered over to the alcove where the restrooms were. Knocking three times, Derek acknowledged with a knock of his own and opened the door.

“You’re such a dork.” Camille laughed and pulled him through the doorway. “Come on. The beastly ladies have left for the day.”

“Sounds like you have a hostile work environment here. And only a couple of days in? So sorry.” His empathetic grimace felt like a boon on her weary soul, yet she waved off his comment, deferring to her protective nature over her heart.

“My poltergeist isn’t helping much either. But, it is what it is. I figure I’ll deal with the evil ones if they continue the hazing after being here a week. Right now, let’s get you to the bottom of this library, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan. Which way, fearless leader?”

She rolled her eyes and led him down a hallway to the back stairs. A light switch at the landing didn’t seem to work. “Do you have a flashlight? The switch is broken. Maybe there’s one at the bottom of the steps.”

“I think I have one in my backpack. Let me check.” He knelt down and opened the bag. A netbook, an emergency kit, a pencil case, a bag of almonds, a sewing kit, and a comb were among the assortment of odds and ends dumped onto the floor.

“Kitchen sink in there, too?” she said, leaning over to get a better look.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and with perfect deadpan replied, “I just took that out the other day. Pack was getting too heavy.”

“Ah,” she nodded with understanding as he returned to his search. “They should do something about the weight of those things, shouldn’t they?”

“Here it is!” He pulled out a small LED flashlight and pushed the on button. “Oh, good. It still works.” He quickly put his menagerie back in his bag and stood up.

“Good, you can go on your own.” She ushered him onward. “Not too fond of darkness.”

“Is that so? I’m surprised to hear you say that given the fact you interact regularly with the ghosts around here.”

“Ghosts are one thing. Let’s just say darkness and I go way back and leave it at that.”

“Okay then, here we go, down a flight of stairs, to the deep, dark basement of horrors.” He walked down a couple of steps like a limping hunchback.

“You’re a regular riot. A laugh a minute.” She swatted him playfully on his arm.

“And I’m here all week.” He winked.

“All kidding aside, I have no idea what’s down there, so be careful. I don’t even know if there
is
another light switch.”

“No worries, Camille. Come on.”

“What? You mean you want me to join you? Down there?”

“Yes, I thought you might be intrigued to see where those ghosts spent their last days as people. And maybe you could help me look for evidence.”

“Well, I…I guess I could.” She nibbled on her pinky fingernail. “I mean what harm could it do? And I have been wondering about that couple.”

“Then it’s settled.” He peered at her resolutely and reached for her hand, grasping it in his strong, seemingly capable one.

They journeyed down the steep wooden staircase in silence. She had no idea what swirled around in Derek’s mind. He said he was an investigative reporter. Did he do stuff like this all the time? Sneaking into places could be a regular past time of his if he needed to get to the truth of a story. The idea intrigued her.

Curiosity had gotten the better of her and was why she followed him down those stairs. It’s one thing to have a knack for memorizing everything on the written page, and quite another to experience those very things first-hand. She’d never done anything like this before. With her parents gone and her life in a shambles, tonight seemed like a good time to start an adventure.

“We’re at the bottom. Let me see if there’s a… yup. There’s a switch. Let there be light!”

The expansive room flooded with light. They stood for a moment perfectly still and quiet. Camille didn’t know exactly what she expected, but the floor was piled high with boxes and old, broken pieces of furniture. A maze of pipes and wires, attached to the low ceiling, created dizzying designs. Gurgles and pings reminded her of her old house on the mainland.

“Rather anti-climactic, isn’t it?” Derek quipped.

“So where do we start to look for evidence of satanic worship?”

“There are symbols and objects that are frequently used. I would look to the floor first for any faint drawings of pentagrams, inverted crosses, and odd line drawings or scrawls. See if there are any candlewax remnants they may have missed scraping up. I have a black light. That’ll show me if blood, old or new, is present.”

“Okay, do you want to split up then? You with your black light and me with my eyeballs?”

“That sounds good. We’ll cover more ground that way. If you’re unsure about something, just call me over. I’ll go this way.” He pointed left.

“All righty. See you in the middle, then.”

She smiled and began her trolling. Nothing unusual struck her as she scrutinized the cement floor and carpet tiles that lay strewn about. Splotches of color were simply dried paint drippings around a few rusty cans. Sheets covered a few small tables. She held her breath, as a wicked imagination got the better of her. Slowly, she peeled each one away to peek underneath. Expecting to see a sacrificial altar with animal bones or something just as freakish, she let out a relieved sigh and laughed out loud when all she saw were metal book ends.

“Hey, Camille! I found something!” Derek’s voice seemed so far away.