The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series)

by Deena Remiel

  “Ah, Ms. Dutton.” When he smiled, it looked more like a grimace. “What a pleasure it is to have you here. Please, please. Come and sit down. Maritha has set us a fabulous array of delights to aid our discussion of library matters.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Langdon. It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t need to do an internet search to know who you were. I read an expose on you a ways back in Forbes magazine. I think it’s wonderful that you’re the president of the Library Board here considering you’re multi-billionaire with real estate holdings on every continent on this planet. And you certainly didn’t have to go to this extent just for me.”

  “Yes, well, we all choose our civic duties. I love libraries, and I like to entertain, so do me the honor of enjoying every last morsel Maritha has prepared. Besides, you only live once.”

  He ushered her to their table, and just like a gentleman, sat her down. She was amazed at the lengths he’d gone to for her.

  “Shall I pour you a Mimosa? I know it’s not brunch, but it’s our first meal together, so I thought it might be enjoyable. It only has a splash of champagne, so you needn’t worry about completing your tasks at home.”

  “I’ve never had one before but I think I’d like to try it today.”

  “Wonderful!” He picked up the sunny orange colored crystal pitcher and poured her a glass, throwing in a wedge of pineapple. “Here you are. Wait to take a sip. I’d like to make a toast.”

  “Okay.” She laughed as she took the drink. He picked up a different pitcher with a rose color to it and started pouring another glass. “What are you pouring yourself?”

  “I’m allergic to oranges, so I had Maritha make a cranberry mimosa for me.”

  “I’d love to try that kind, too, I think. I’ve never had one of those before either.”

  “Of course, you may. It’s not as delicious, I imagine, as yours, but you’ll have to tell me what you think. And now, for our toast. Please raise your glass.”

  “All right.” He raised his and stood by his seat. She wished he’d sit down again, a little uncomfortable with the fuss made over her, a nobody. He loomed over their table as he began his speech.

  “Thank you, Ms. Dutton, for coming to the rescue and gracing our humble library. I cannot begin to tell you what your presence here means to all of us. May your days here be so enjoyable they fly by, but may you be here long enough for us to miss you when you leave.”

  She could feel the blush attacking her cheeks, but she didn’t care. His words were the loveliest she’d heard from anyone in a long time. Even her boss didn’t say anything special to her on her last day. He raised his glass and touched it to hers. He took a long draw and then nodded at her. She lifted her glass, touched the rim to her lips, and took a sip. The tang of the orange and the dryness of the champagne played off each other in perfect harmony.

  “Mmm. Delicious.”

  “As I thought and as it should be. Now, tell me, how has your experience been here so far?”

  “I think my house is adorable. Just the right size for me here.”

  “I mean at the library, my dear. How are things at the library?” His stare pierced right to the heart of her. Did he already know what’s been going on? Is he testing me in some way? How do I answer? Tread carefully, Cammy.

  “The building certainly has an interesting history. The floor plan makes sense, and the collection of books is wonderful. I’m seeing volumes my home library doesn’t have.”

  “And how are you settling in there with Nancy and Susan?”

  “Just fine. Women are fascinating creatures. It takes a bit for us to warm up to each other. I imagine after this week things will calm down.” She picked up her champagne flute and took a sip.

  “Hmm, yes, I don’t pretend to know your gender whatsoever. They’re a couple of high quality women, but they’ve been friends forever and can be a bit exclusionary on occasion. They just started living together. Susan’s husband recently passed away and Nancy was looking for a roommate to reduce costs. Did you know? They’re like Laverne and Shirley these days. But that TV reference may be long before your time.”

  “I’ve seen that show on TVLand, so I know what you mean. Such good friends, but so different from each other. I didn’t know that they were that close. It explains a lot.”

  “You look very young, Ms. Dutton. If I may be so bold as to ask your age?”

  “I’m twenty-four, sir. But I’ve been working in a library since my college days and have my degree in Library Science. I also have a Masters in Psychology.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply you were too young or inexperienced to work in our library. I merely wanted to know out of personal curiosity. And let me guess…you’re a Gemini, aren’t you?”

  He leaned forward in his seat, as if eager to know if he was correct.

  “You’re right! I am.” She nodded and took another sip of her Mimosa. She wondered when they’d start eating. A headache was starting to rear its ugly head right between her eyes.

  He leaned back and preened. “Ah, I have a knack for identifying astrological signs. You wear your personality on your sleeve, Camille. Based on what you say and how you say it, based on your body language and facial expressions, I can make an educated guess.”

  “And based on my employee file, probably sitting on your desk, I’m sure it was easy to figure out my sign.”

  He belched out a hearty laugh that ended with a string of coughs. “Oh, my dear, you are delightful! So tell me something about yourself that the file doesn’t say. Like, do you have a boyfriend? Are you close with your parents? I am, alas, alone. No wife. No family left alive.”

  He freshened her drink.

  “Well, I have no boyfriend at the moment and my parents died recently. They were older when they had me and each had their own unique set of health problems. Within six months of each other, they passed away. It’s been about three years now.”

  “I am so very sorry for your loss. That must have been very difficult, being at such a tender age, and just starting to find out who you are as an adult and what you want to do with your life. Any other family to rely on?”

  “No. I’m an only child of parents who were only children. We had each other and that’s all we needed.” Her eye welled with tears, but she fought them back. This was not the time or place to bring the mood down. Why did he ever have to ask such personal questions?

  “I can see I’ve upset you. Let’s move on to brighter conversation. We can talk favorite genres while we eat. Shall we get up and fill our plates? The buffet is right over by the bar counter.” He stood and grabbed a plate from the table.

  “Sounds like a great idea. Lead the way.” She rubbed just above the bridge of her nose. “I must be hungry. A headache is trying to get the best of me.” She downed the entire second cup he’d poured her, thinking the orange juice should help a bit, and pushed her chair back.

  When she stood, the earth tilted off its axis, spinning her brain about as though in a tumble dryer. She teetered for a moment and careened into the table before plummeting to the ground and into unconsciousness.

  ***

  Victor picked up the chime from the table and rang it once. Maritha and Bart came soon thereafter. “Maritha, fix me a plate for lunch, would you?”

  “Certainly, sir.” She took the dish from his hand and scurried over to the buffet.

  “Bart, take Ms. Dutton and put her in the basement guest room, please. Be gentle. She is to be the highlight of our second ceremony on Sunday.”

  “Right away, sir.” He skirted around the table and hoisted the unconscious woman over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  Maritha returned with a heaping plate of food, perfect for a man his size. “Thank you. That will be all.”

  She nodded and left him to his lunch and his thoughts.

  “Bart.” The behemoth of a man turned and grunted. “I said easy with her. She’s not to be bruised. She needs to be in pristine condition.”

&nbs
p; Another grumble of acquiescence and he trudged off.

  Victor refilled his glass and raised it high in the air. “To you, dear brother, who left the responsibility of The Mission and its very survival in my hands. Joseph, I honor your sacrifice so many years ago to protect all of us, to protect Satan. And to you, Lord and Master! All is in readiness for your ascension.”

  Exquisite pain coursed through the pentagram on his chest, searing his flesh anew. He dropped the flute, but stood strong. Refusing to show fear before Satan, he instead would show his strength and fortitude to withstand whatever the Dark Lord had in store for him. Only this would prove his worthiness. As the acute torture subsided, he staggered over to the bar and poured himself a double shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. He figured a few more just like it would do the trick. He had no more engagements the rest of the day, so grabbed the bottle’s neck and brought it with him to his master suite. Being rich definitely had its advantages.

  ***

  After searching through nearly every newspaper the library had on hand, Derek finally came across an obscure classified ad that mentioned a meeting every sixth of the month at six o’clock in the evening for those disenfranchised disbelievers. A phone number was listed, so he wrote it down. It disconcerted him that the library could so easily remove information at its discretion. How could they so effectively keep newspapers with news of a cult being disbanded and the leader prosecuted out of the public eye? Did the Library Board approve of this? It must have. So here lay another example of the cult’s stranglehold on the island.

  Moving on to search the internet, he first looked up current and past members of the Library Board. He wrote down the names of all thirteen members from the year the library was founded. Then, as he skimmed over the years that followed, he checked off each name that appeared repeatedly. As expected, names had changed, probably due to attrition, death, or some such reason. But beginning thirty years ago, there had been no changes save for one. Joseph Singletary, the Library Board President for sixteen straight years beginning in 1960, disappeared from the list. It had been the same core people since then. Warning bells and sirens blared in his ears. What the hell? He knew what. He’d bet anything they were the prime members of The Mission.

  Quickly typing in Singletary’s name in the search box, a host of articles popped up. Bingo! He’d been arrested and charged with tax evasion and fraud in connection with The Mission. Paperwork filed with the government asking for tax exempt status was denied but he still kept the cult running. Other articles said he refused to implicate anyone else and plead not guilty. After a lengthy investigation and court proceedings, he was found guilty on both counts. He was sentenced to five years in jail. Just before he was to begin his sentence, he burned himself to death in a ritual pyre. He was survived by his next of kin, stepbrother…Victor Langdon.

  The next board president to be named was one and the same, Victor Langdon. And from 1976 on, he’s remained the president. Nancy and Susan were on the board, as well, along with ten other people, for the same length of time. This news did not sit well. Next, he needed to get his hands on The Devil’s Handbook set. He wasn’t sure where they were located and hoped they were accessible without help from a librarian. Knowing Nancy and Susan were involved, he didn’t want to tip them off about his investigation.

  Searching the library catalog, he got lucky. The volumes were in the open stacks. He needed Volume Thirteen. Once found, he took it back with him to the newspaper room, where he stacked newspapers into piles around his workspace so that it looked normal to anyone walking by. Flipping through the pages, he recalled the ones Camille had initially directed him to. He reread the paragraphs about the ritual sacrifice of the boys, but when he turned the page to continue, a couple of sentences stood out. They mentioned the sacrifice of a female Marked One being a cursed event and one that would open Hell’s Portal, letting Satan ascend into this realm and rule forever. It went on to explain the chants and ritual proceedings, but nothing further about the female Marked One.

  “This is not good. Not good at all,” he murmured, and slammed the book closed.

  Camille’s gotta know who she’s working with and make sure to keep her distance until she leaves. If anyone involved in the cult finds out she’s marked, they’ll scoop her up for the sacrifice. The hairs on his arms rose atop goosebumps. He needed to check up on her and share the latest information. She’d said she wanted to get off the island as soon as possible. He may just drive her off of it himself.

  Scrambling his belongings together, he left everything else scattered all over the table and hurried out of the library. He unlocked his car and threw his backpack on the passenger seat. His heart pounded like a double bass drum, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. He forced himself to take a few cleansing breaths while starting the engine. Uncovering the identities of the cult members and Camille’s connection to it hadn’t magically alerted the entire organization. Paranoia would screw things up for his investigation if he didn’t get a handle on his emotions and shift his perspective back into balance.

  Maintaining the speed limit, he repeated a comforting mantra all the way over to her house. “Just emptying boxes. That’s all she’s doing.” When he pulled up to the curb in front of her house, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As he walked up to the front door, all sorts of wild scenarios flashed through his head and he kicked himself in his virtual ass for behaving like a fool.

  He rang her door bell.

  No answer. He rang it again.

  Still no answer. He put his ear to the door, heard no movement whatsoever, and pounded on her door. “Camille! It’s me, Derek. Open up!” But she didn’t come.

  “Yo, dude. She ain’t home.” He turned around and saw a teenage boy across the street hanging out with a skateboard in his hand and a toothpick in his mouth.

  “Oh, really? Do you happen to know where she went?” He walked back to the curb and facing the young man, leaned against his car.

  “I might.” He gnawed on his toothpick, put the skateboard down on the road and did a couple of tricks.

  Derek knew this game. He opened his wallet and took out a twenty dollar bill and waved it in the air. “Now do you know where she went?”

  The boy skated up to him and snatched the twenty from his hand. “Nah, saw a nice ride come by and pick her up, though.”

  “When was that about, would you say?”

  “Probably a couple of hours ago, ’cause I was watching The Fantasy Factory when I saw the wheels pull up.”

  “Any idea whose car it belonged to?”

  “Man, there are cars like that all over this island.”

  “How about the person who picked her up, then?”

  “He was a driver, not the guy who owned it. He wore a chauffeur’s uniform, you know?”

  “What kind of vehicle was it? Can you describe it?”

  “Black, four-door, Lincoln Town Car like all them rich folk got. Blackened windows.”

  “Thanks a lot. I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem.” He shoved off before Derek could say another word.

  Hopping in his car, he knew deep in his bones where he needed to go. He slammed his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. Why couldn’t he have figured this out sooner? Who were the only people who knew Camille had come to the island? Nancy or Susan, who were working at the library today. Well, he’d only seen Susan, but assumed Nancy was somewhere about. And he doubted they had a car anywhere near as expensive.

  But who else knew of her?

  Anyone who discussed and approved her transfer to this library. And from that pool, only Victor Langdon had the status worthy of a limo driver.

  What if he sees her mark? What if he already knows about it? She’s in grave danger and I better not be too late to do anything about it.

  Chapter Nine

  Praying was boring. Even more so to a six-year-old. Camille wanted to run around and play. Her mother allowed her to go outside for a little while
to the swings in the church’s back yard. That was fun for a little bit, but she wanted to explore. Mama would never know. She jumped off the swing and ran to the other areas on the church grounds. She’d always wanted a closer look at the baptismal pool. It had a locked gate surrounding it so kids couldn’t get in and get hurt. But its beauty, its serenity exploited her curiosity and she couldn’t deny herself a closer look.

  Shoes tossed to the side, she hiked up her dress and began to climb the wire fence. Her small feet fit perfectly in the diamond shaped mesh of the gate, and quickly maneuvered up and over, coming to rest on the ground beside the pool. She’d made it!

  Now to explore the pool itself. Silly of her to tiptoe, but she did anyway, reverently, so as not to disturb the glassy appearance of the water. She kneeled down beside its edge and peered over. Midnight blue reflected her face, and she smiled. Touching the surface with her finger, she created ripples and laughed with glee. When the water returned to its original stillness, she touched it with both hands, wanting to see what two ripples would do when they collided.

  Off balance, she teetered on the balls of her feet, but couldn’t right herself and plunged into the pool head first. Instantly, the cold shocked her skin, and tumbling about disoriented, she tried to find something to grab onto to hoist her back up. She found nothing. The pool seemed an endless pit and she, not knowing how to swim yet, had no idea how to exist in this underwater predicament. Fear overtook her reasoning abilities. Her dress twisted about her face and she desperately needed to breathe.

  She couldn’t stand it any longer and gasped, but rather than filling her lungs with precious air, they filled with water. She struggled and cried out, and as her life slipped from her grasp, Satan appeared before her, reaching out his clawed hands to take her in. He touched her with one finger near her heart and a burning sensation teased at her skin. With the lasts bits of consciousness, she flailed her arms about to get away from him. Just before the darkness enveloped her, she felt a rush of bubbles around her and hands lifting her up toward the heavens. A sinister voice wormed its way into her mind.