The Book Waitress Series Volume One (9 page)

“I won’t let them hurt you, I promise. I will find a way out for us both.”

He sounded so sure of himself, but she refused to believe he could do anything to stop Satan from claiming her, so strong was her belief. “And the boy? What of the boy?”

“I don’t know. I think he must still be alive since they need him for their sacrifice. For all I know, he may be down here, too.”

“You have to find him. He can’t have us both.”

“He won’t have either of you, Camille. I’ll see to it.”

“That’s very gallant of you, but you’re no match for Satan and his followers. If you can find a way out of that cell, you’ll be lucky to escape with the boy and your lives intact. Someone needs to stay here to divert people from going after you two. That would be me.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. If I’m getting out of this cell, you’re getting out as well, and we can find the boy together.”

Her despair overtook his idealistic optimism and broke her soul into a million pieces. Reality appeared to be an untimely, horrible death for Satan’s sake. She’d believe differently when she saw it.

“Do we know when we’re supposed to be sacrificed? I don’t even know what today is. What day is it, please?” she asked quietly, letting tears fall freely to soak her cheeks.

“It’s Friday. From everything I’ve read, I think it’s going to be on Sunday, the sixth.”

“I really hate the number six. It’s everywhere. I can’t escape it.”

A cacophony of footsteps brought their conversation to an abrupt halt. Camille’s throat nearly closed for the lump that formed there. She scrambled over to the cot, not knowing what was in store for her.

“Well, well, well. Now, this won’t do. We can’t have any fraternizing of our guests. Bart, take our special guest to the purification chamber. She needs to be prepped for her big day.”

“Victor! Leave her alone,” Derek growled.

“How touching. Our Ms. Dutton has a champion in Mr. Galloway, Bart.”

“Sweet.”

“Victor, you’ll never get away with this! I swear it on my life!”

“That seems to be in a bit of a precarious position at the moment, don’t you think, Mr. Galloway?”

The handle on her door turned as she heard the jingling of keys and a scraping of metal on metal. Light flooded the room as the door creaked open, and then faded as Bart’s massive body entered.

He approached her trembling, huddled mass. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, you are. Now you can come easy or I can make it easy for you.” He took a syringe from his breast pocket of his suit jacket.

She could only assume what the syringe contained, and needed to keep the little control she had of the situation for her own sanity.

“Okay. I’ll come,” she hissed, unfolding from her compacted position on the bed. All the while, she heard Derek’s angry crashes of fist against metal. The poor man lost his cool and said anything and everything to direct attention away from her. It fell on deaf ears.

Bart produced handcuffs from his pants pocket and shackled her wrists before escorting her out of the cell. “Now that’s a good lamb.”

“Camille!” Derek’s frantic voice pained her heart and soul. But he had to think of freeing himself and finding the boy now, not her.

“Derek, don’t worry about me. Do what you must to stay alive!”

“Camille! I
will
find you, and they will pay! Camille!”

Her name echoed as Bart shoved her down the dark hallway and away from her only connection to life. Victor raised a hand to stop them then used it to grasp her chin. He moved her face side to side. “No worse for wear, I see. That’s good. Very good.”

They continued down a dizzying array of hallways until they came to a stop by another room. Bart sifted through his ring of keys, chose one, and opened the door. The room was larger and reminded her of a doctor’s office. A patient table, complete with binding cuffs for wrists and ankles, was the centerpiece with a bright lamp standing beside it. On the counter were trays of various implements wrapped in plastic, used for what, only her imagination could conjure.

Her feet wouldn’t take another step, as fear gripped her heart, squeezing and twisting it so tautly that she could barely breathe and found no voice with which to scream. Bart pulled her into the room by her handcuffs, and hoisted her onto the table.

Impulsively, she struggled against him, flailing her shackled hands, kicking her legs, and trying to do damage wherever she could with her feet. He leaned on top of her, restricting anymore movement, and took out the syringe, pulling the plastic protective covering off the needle.

“No! I’ll stop! I’ll stop. Don’t put that in me.” Tears trickled down her face as she fought to still her hysterical body. “Please, don’t put that in me.” He stopped.

“Behave or I
will
use it.” She nodded silently, and he removed the handcuffs only to secure her wrists in new bindings. He shifted his body off of hers and shackled her ankles to the table as well.

“She’s all yours, Mr. Langdon.” The brute walked out leaving her alone with the psychotic mastermind.

Victor approached her, studying her face, observing her body as though she were a specimen. Could he see the abject terror she felt with every cell in her body? He’d put it there. And she’d never forget or forgive as long as she had a breath to take.

“Fear and anger aren’t bad emotions, Camille. They can be quite helpful at times.” He pushed the neckline of her tank sweater aside to reveal the mark and smiled. “But you should know the role you are about to play is extremely important to the fate of the world. If I were in your position right now, I’d feel elated and honored. Satan has called upon you to guide him into this realm.”

He didn’t know the half of it. Or did he? She decided to test her theory.

“Is that right? He told you this himself, did he?”

“He spoke to me, yes.”

“And what exactly did he say?”

“You are the Marked One.”

“I thought Marked Ones were only boys.”

“That’s what makes you so special, Camille. He marked you himself when you were quite young and impulsive, or don’t you remember your little accident in the baptismal pool?”

What could she say? The events during the accident, once thought of as crazy musings from a dying child, were now not so much. Dumbfounded by his knowledge of her encounter with Satan, she could only stare back in disbelief.

“Oh, yes, but our Lord and Master has been anticipating this moment for quite some time. Many things had to align first before he could see his dream actualized. Now you are here and we have everything ready to make this a most spectacular ceremony. He shall claim you and the Portal will be opened for all of darkness to encompass the world.”

“As long as there is breath in my body, he shall not have it.”

“Precisely the reason for sacrifice, my dear. Make yourself comfortable while you await your preparations. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

He turned and left the room without fanfare. The snick of the lock amplified her dire situation. Before she had a chance to ponder and go insane, a woman in scrubs came in. She looked all business, but what kind of business Camille wouldn’t even try to guess.

“Hello, I’m here to prepare you for your special presentation to our Lord and Master. Your full participation is crucial to your success here today. I shall be etching your body with important symbols for the ceremony. So if you feel the need to scream while I’m working, go ahead, as it only enhances the sacrifice.”

Lord, give me strength to endure and survive despite my initial resignation to my dark fate. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to belong to Satan! I want to live to fight the evil in this world!

Glint from the instruments as the woman took them out of their plastic casings caused her eyes to blink and water. They looked so sharp and scary!
Keep it together, don’t scream. Whatever she does, don’t scream.

She brought over a tray of assorted tools and picked up one that looked like a surgeon’s scalpel. A broad smile crossed her face. “Let’s begin, shall we? First, I shall etch a pentagram on your stomach. Let’s see what a good lamb you can be.”

Chapter Ten

Derek made quick work of emptying his pocket of goodies from his backpack onto his cot. He silently thanked his parents for training him to be prepared for anything. Now, to see if anything he had would help him escape. The digital recorder wouldn’t help, but the granola bar was useful. He opened the wrapper and broke off a piece to eat. A bobby pin wouldn’t help from the inside, but the sewing kit had needles that could be used as a weapon. The thread could be twined together to make a garrote of sorts.

He got down to business, not knowing how long he had before attention returned to his condition. First weaving the various needles into his waistband, he then began the tedious task of blending all the different colored thread together. With nothing else to keep his mind occupied, his thoughts returned to Camille. He could only imagine what they were doing to “purify” her for sacrifice, and was helpless at the moment to do anything about it. It made him sick.

Her demeanor as they took her concerned him, too. When they’d spoken, she seemed resigned to this imposed fate. Had he more time to talk with her, he may have been able to turn her outlook around. Instead, he could only wonder if she snapped out of it herself and chose to fight for her life.

***

Victor smiled pleasantly at the people and shook hands with a few who insisted on being seen rubbing elbows with him as he entered the library. Most were leaving at this point, as it neared closing. He needed to speak with Susan personally. It was time she moved up to the next level in her commitment to the Mission. As he drew near to the circulation desk, he caught her eye and she put down the book held in her hand. She walked out to greet him.

“Victor, hello. I’m glad to see you.” She leaned in and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’ve been worried sick about Nancy. Where is she?”

In the same quiet manner, he answered. “Susan, may we have a few moments in private together?”

“Certainly. Come into my office.” She led him behind Circulation to her back office and closed the door. “What’s going on?”

“Nancy won’t be returning to work, Susan. And you may want to find a new roommate. She won’t be returning to life, either. Her usefulness had come to an end, thanks to your keen observation of her working against me. I’m asking you to step into the High Priestess position. I think you’re ready. You’ve shown loyalty and dedication to Satan. It’s time.”

“Really? Oh, my word! I’m so honored. I’ve listened to Nancy practicing her chants, so I’m familiar with them. Oh, thank you Victor.”

She impressed him by not missing a beat. No tears shed over Nancy and joy over becoming High Priestess earned her even higher marks. “Use her handbook and practice well. We sacrifice day after tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will. I’ll make you so proud, I promise.”

“See to it. I must go. I have work piling up on my desk at home.” He shook her hand, opened the office door and proceeded out to his awaiting car. Soon, he wouldn’t have to work to keep his billions ever again. Satan had promised him.

***

There was a light rap on Victor’s study door. He looked at the clock on his desk and grew concerned. He had reason to be awake after midnight, but who else would and need to see him?

“Enter!” His housekeeper appeared as the door opened and behind her, his second in command. “Orion, come in. What brings you here at this late hour? You should be at home, asleep.” Victor remained seated by his desk in the study.

“Sir, there’s news to report. I’m not sure if it pertains to us, but I had a feeling, and thought I should bring it to your attention personally and immediately.” He paused and seemed to be fighting for the courage to speak of it.

“Out with it, then. No good keeping it in. Whatever it is we will deal with it.”

“I just heard over the police scanner that they found a dead body, burned beyond recognition, in the forest.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“They were calling in from a forested area. Overlord, I think they found our ceremonial site.”

“Damn. I told Bart to go back and collect the bones once they cooled. All right, let me think. I left nothing there that could be linked to me. The site, however, is prepared for sacrifice. That’s not a problem. The entire police department’s under our thumb, but the station on the mainland may have heard about it, too. Get in touch with Bill Hadley and have him handle it. Now, it’s going to take them a while to figure out who the body belongs to. In the meantime, we need to move up the rituals and change where to do them. They must come first. Everything depends on them occurring.”

“You said we needed water for one of them. Doesn’t the library have a well in the back?”

“Yes, you’re right. It does. Brilliant idea. We can sacrifice the child in the basement and right out back, we can sacrifice the Marked One. It’s all open back there, though. Get one of those huge party tents. We’ll tell people that the well needs extensive repairs and the tent is to contain the construction work and keep people safely away. Rent a few generators to mask any sounds from the ritual. And let Bob and Dan know they need to park their plumbing trucks in the parking lot. Get one of those covered walkways, too, to connect the tent to the backdoor of the library. No one should see who’s walking in and out.”

“Got it. I’ll arrange everything and call Bill straight away.”

“Orion, you’ve done well. Very well.”

“Thank you, Overlord. I am most grateful and honored. I live only to serve him and the Mission.”

“It’s good to know you have the Mission’s health always on your mind. I shall speak highly of you to Satan. You may go now.”

Orion bowed to him and walked out a much taller man than he did coming in. If things didn’t go well, Victor knew his second in command could pick up the pieces and move forward without him.

He picked up the phone and called Susan. It rang only once before she picked up and answered. “Hello?”

“Susan, it’s Victor. Change of plans. Our library meeting scheduled for Sunday has been changed to tomorrow at six o’clock in the evening. Please call everyone in the morning and notify them of the change as they are all expected to be there. Thank you. Good evening.”

He hung up before she could utter a word. It was late and he had even more to do now. Visiting his sacrificial lambs would be first on his late night agenda. Bart would need to pay for his serious misstep. He’d have to think about his consequence and whether it required something of a more permanent nature or something semi-permanent. Then he’d prepare his body and mind for the rituals.

A hidden closet behind his desk contained the red robe he’d wear tomorrow. He put his arms through their holes and covered his head with the hood. Down to the basement he marched, eager to see the boy and the young woman. He reached the boy’s cell first.

Peering through the window slit, he saw him sleeping on the cot, a plush toy in his arms. His mother had done well to ease his worry. She would be moved up in the ranks for her ultimate sacrifice. He moved on to the reporter down the hall. He would make a nice extra sacrifice. It would show his followers that those who question the Mission or try to stop their freedom of worship were not worthy of living. He looked through the slit in the door and saw the young man sleeping while sitting up on the floor. He walked on to the other side of the basement where Camille Dutton had been moved.

He heard some muffled moans and sobs as he came to stand by her door. Looking in, he found the sacrificial rite preparer still hard at work on Camille, her canvas. Intrigued, he decided to go in and watch. Rather than knocking, he used his key to unlock and open the door. He stepped in and smiled as the preparer turned and greeted him.

“This is such an honor, you being here, Overlord. Thank you.”

“I’m fascinated with your work and wanted to see it firsthand. Don’t let me interrupt you. Please, continue.”

“Well, first I’ll explain what I’ve done so far. The pentagram has been etched into her belly over here.” She lifted Camille’s top and pointed low on her abdomen. “Eight inverted crosses have been carved into the skin on her legs and arms, as you can plainly see. Now, I’m just about to begin the final series of markings. Please have a seat. Our lamb here has been helpful at times and not so very at others. I do believe this last bit will be just the ticket to make her offering the sweetest possible.”

“You do know your craft, don’t you, Melissa?”

“Thank you. Working in plastic surgery has its benefits, sir.” She laughed and turned her attention back to her subject on the table. “Now, Camille, these are the last markings I will be making on you. They’ll be the most painful, so feel free to scream as loud as you wish. In order to do these, however, I will need to secure your head. We wouldn’t want to ruin a perfectly good etching because you were weak and moved your head.”

Camille seemed dazed and in considerable pain. As Melissa strapped her head down and taped her eyelids closed, she pleaded to be released. She tried to talk reason to him, and he let her ramble on to placate her.

“And now I will begin the final symbols on her eyelids- the pitchfork wheel, one on each eyelid.”

Victor thought Nancy’s last breaths were music to his ears, but to hear the tortured scream come from Camille as Melissa began her handiwork, he knew this to be a truly special moment. Suddenly, a searing pain swept through his chest, and he grasped the door frame so as not to fall to his knees.

Satan’s voice echoed through his mind. “I am pleased, human. I can taste her soul as she screams. Give her to me soon. I grow impatient for what is mine.”

“Yes, my Lord and Master. Tomorrow it shall be done. She shall be yours and you may enter our world.”

“What is that, sir?”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Satan is pleased. Continue on.”

The pain subsided. He watched Melissa dig precise symbols onto Camille’s eyelids, listened a moment longer to the sweet wailing, and then he left to check off another item on his late-night agenda. Bart. What would he do about him? He had a cell free. Maybe a few days in it would teach him a lesson.