by Deena Remiel
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 himself 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 g
rimace 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.
“Where are you?” She looked around the room and a hand popped up, waving from the other end of the room. “Coming.” She jogged over to see what he’d discovered. He’d crouched down in front of a high, red leather bench one might find at a bar and held his black light. “Hey, nothing unusual so far on my end. So, what did you find?”
He waved the wand over the seat.
“Oh, oh, my God.” Her feet had a mind of their own as they stepped backward, away from the blaring evidence, and she bumped into a huge box of toilet paper, sending it toppling over, spilling its contents. But she didn’t care. On the settee wasn’t just a little drop of blood. A small droplet or two she figured she could handle. Instead, it appeared as though the entire seat had been bathed in the gore.
Derek jumped up and raced over to her. “Whoa, are you okay?” He grabbed her gently by her shoulders. His strong hands steadied her as she tried to regroup.
“Not sure. Startled a bit. I really hadn’t expected to find anything like that down here. I’ve never seen anything quite like this in my life. What the hell happened and to whom I don’t even want to fathom.” She shook her head and breathed in deeply, but it did nothing to erase what she’d seen. “You know what, Derek, I thought I could use a little excitement in my life, but this, this is so not what I had in mind. I think I’m gonna leave this to the professional here, you, and go upstairs. I have plenty of work left to do, so take your time.”
She ran back to the stairs and took them two at a time. Back to the safety of her stacks and books. With trembling hands, she shelved books that earlier had been entered into the system and barcoded. She walked away from the cart for a moment to put a book away, and on her return, all the books fell from the cart to the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” She stomped her foot. “John Stalworthy, stop it this instant! I’ve had all I can handle today, so go bugger off!”
She picked up the books and replaced them, trying to gather some semblance of normalcy. Ghosts on their own were enough to handle. Now, satanic worshippers had been discovered doing unspeakable things in the library’s basement. She hadn’t bargained for this. Derek would connect all the dots and find those who needed to be brought to justice. He didn’t need her for that. And she would get off this evil island if it was the last thing she did. Schemes and plans took form then reconfigured into others. Over and over again, though, each plan led to her leaving this job and this town.
“Camille.” A soft, tender voice broke through the tumultuous playground of her mind.
“What, Derek?” She didn’t stop what she was doing, and she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t face him after her cowardly display downstairs. This budding friendship had just taken a turn for the failure zone.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I feel horrible.”
“Don’t be. I went down there willingly. I made my own choices. I just didn’t anticipate my spineless reaction.” She slid a book into place on a shelf. “Didn’t realize I would wither so easily at the sight of invisible blood. Did you know blood makes up ten percent of our bodies? It’s also twice as thick as water.” She paused and took a breath. Damn these useless facts worming their way into my mind at times like this! “Are you finished down there already?”
“No, but I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Are you? All right, I mean. And you’re not a chicken. I didn’t expect to see that either, quite frankly. It’s rather gruesome, but I’ve seen much worse in my reporting over the years that I’ve become numb to it and forget others have not.”
She still refused to make eye contact, choosing to shelve another book instead. “Well, I can tell you that I’m totally freaked out right now. That blood could belong to children, Derek. Someone’s sons or daughters could have been slaughtered right on that makeshift altar.” She couldn’t speak further for the lump in her throat, and a sob escaped her mouth. Still holding a book, she leaned her forehead against the shelf in front of her and closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. “Damn it.”
A gentle yet solid hand cupped her shoulder and forced her to turn around. He drew her to him and held her in a firm embrace, crushing the book between them. “It’s all right. I’m gonna find out who’s behind this, find the kid, and find out what happened to all the others. Camille, I will bring these people down. I promise.”
“Ow,” she mumbled with her nose and mouth smashed against his chest.
“Oh, geez,” he said. A blush crept up his neck and cheeks as he released her with the book still clamped in her hands.
