CHAPTER ONE
Crosswoods, Connecticut - Present Day
It wasn’t fair.
It just wasn’t fair. Why did things likes this always happen to her? She never heard of anybody else falling into a puddle of muddy water and soiling their suit before a job interview.
Nope.
Just her. Selene Avéa Warren stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Watson Library, wiping off her suit. It was raining cats and dogs and with the luck she had, one of the heels of her black stilettos, had gotten stuck in a crack and sent her flying into a large puddle of water.
Luckily, she opted for the black suit instead of the white one she had laid out on her bed this morning.
Turning back to the hand blower, she pressed the large, silver button. She stood on the tips of her toes trying to dry the last damp bit of her skirt. “Come on. Come on!” She said in frustration. It was nine o’clock in the morning which meant she was already late for her interview that was supposed to start at that time. She took one last look of herself in the mirror. She wore a black, pin stripped suit with matching shoes. Her dark brown, curly hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Taking out a tiny bottle of lotion, she smoothed it over her light chocolate brown skin, giving it a somewhat sparkly sheen. Selene grabbed her purse and black portfolio folder that held copies of her resume and other credentials. Neither got doused in the muddy water. She was thankful though. She can handle a muddy suit, but a muddy portfolio? No.
Rushing out of the bathroom, she slid her way into an open elevator just as it was beginning to close. “Three, please.” She told the guy, trying not to stare at his tight, white shirt and shiny purple pants. She had only been in Crosswoods for a little under two weeks and came to the conclusion that some of its residents were a bit--eccentric to say the least. Just the other day, a man tried to sell her diapers for a cat even after she told him she didn’t own one!
Selene rode the elevator to the third floor, exiting. She was there. Now, all she had to do was convince that Mrs. Wilcox to let her do her interview. Making her way to the receptionist's desk, she gave a friendly smile.
"Good morning. I'm Selene Warren. I have an appointment with Mrs. Wilcox."
The receptionist, whose nametag read 'Carol', gave her a bored look. "You're late."
"Yes, b-but I--"
"But nothing."
Selene turned on her heels, swiftly, to see a short, cutesy, older woman. Surely, this wasn't the woman whom she heard about from her friend, Vanessa: patronizing, condescending, and rude. She didn't have the urge to slap this woman. She had the urge to pinch her cheeks! "Hello, Mrs. Wilcox, I presume? I'm Selene Warren. I'm here for--"
"I know who you are." She gestured for Selene to enter her office.
Selene cleared her throat, plastering a smile on her face. Why did she feel as if she was going into the principal's office? She walked in, sitting down in a chair that was placed in front of a rather large desk where Mrs. Wilcox took her place. Selene bit her lip, trying not to chuckle. The desk was obviously too large for the woman.
"You're late."
She was snapped out of her thoughts. "Oh yes. I am sorry Mrs. Wilcox, really I am. It's just that I-I had a bit of an emergency this morning with--"
"I don't tolerate emergencies, Miss Warren. I don't tolerate 'buts'. I don't tolerate lateness and I sure don't tolerate someone wearing a suit that looks like it's seen better days."
'Now, that was rude.' Selene thought to herself. It was just uncalled for. But, she was a professional and she was going to make darn sure she acted accordingly. "I am terribly sorry Mrs. Wilcox. I can't express how--"
"Yes, I get the picture, you're sorry. Now that you're here, I would like to get this over with. I have other matters, more important that I need to tend to. Let's look at your resume." She held out her hand for the portfolio Selene was handing to her. Placing it in front of her, she opened it and examined it.
Selene bit her lip. She was a bit nervous. If everything went well and she was offered the job, then her financial crisis would be somewhat resolved. She moved from Baltimore, Massachusetts, in hopes of starting over. She was an ex-Psychologist who ran away from a bad relationship; a bad man. When she met him, Robert was a charming and intelligent man who swept her off her feet as if she were Lois Lane and he was Superman. He had told her that he was an art buyer who bought art and sculptures for a major company and sold it to rich people and other companies. Until a couple of months ago, she didn't know that he actually stole the art. When she found out about his true motives, he threatened to kill her. Selene couldn't do anything but run. That's what anyone in her situation would do, right? Now, with the help of her friend, Alya, she was here in Crosswoods, Connecticut. She was long away from Robert.
"Well, Miss Warren. Your resume is quite impressive." Mrs. Wilcox said, bringing Selene out of her thoughts.
Selene smiled. Of course it was. She didn't work her butt off in school for nothing. "Well thank you Mrs. Wilcox. I've--"
"It says you graduated from Stanford University with a degree in Psychology. Then, you went on to Harvard to pursue your Master's and your Doctrine in the same. That is impressive, but tell me something: why would I hired a Psychologist, a doctor, in my Library? You have no experience and no qualifications. The only thing you qualify for is the fact that you know how to read. You're practically useless!"
Okay, that did it. Selene had had enough. Clearing her throat, she pursed her lips while her brows pulled. "Mrs. Wilcox, with all due respect, I can understand your apprehension upon hiring me. I am not a librarian and no, I have not even seen a card catalog since grad school, but I can tell you what I am. I am a woman, who might not have library experience but I am just as much dedicated and able to do the job. I might be a doctor but if you want someone who will run your library accordingly then, you're looking at her. Last time I checked, you're hard up of needing someone. Looks like you're stuck with me...unless you have a long, long line of library hopefuls just biting at the reel to work here." Well, that felt good. It felt real good actually and it probably slimmed her chances of getting the job, but let's face it. The old hag deserved it.
"This library will be run strict and structured Miss Warren. I don't tolerate tardiness. I don't tolerate noise. And I don't tolerate gallivanting when there is work to be done."
Now, she was confused. "What? What does that supposed to mean?" Her eyebrows pulled at the statement.
"You're hired."
**********
“He killed your mother and will marry your wife....and all because you wouldn’t tell him where the fucking key is. Say you want it; say you want my gift and you will have your revenge.”
The man’s words were like a knife through his gut that cut deeply within him. It enlightened the rage that he was holding inside and it poured out by the gallons. With his eyes growing heavy by the second, he took in a small breath. It may have just been his last. “Yes...” He let out with a gush of wind.
Before he knew it, he felt his teeth bite into the skin of his neck. His body shook violently against the pain; writhing. He started to feel again and the pain was excruciating. He’d been subjected to pain before but it was nothing compared to this. This pain wasn’t enjoyable. His eyes clenched shut and watered immensely.
His body felt as if it was soaring into the air but at the same time, felt as if he was falling. It was an unusual feeling, yet addictive. He found himself feeling everything around him, his body open and light. His soul lifted into the air as if it was his heart being ripped from his body. The Comte yelled out in agony. What was happening? What had he agreed to? Helplessly, he watched as his soul floated into a box the stranger was holding.
Then, everything went black.
Perish sat straight up in bed. His eyes were blinking as fast as his heart was going...if it were beating. He'd had another nightmare. It was a memory, from that night, that never went away. For years, as if it was routine, he'd sleep and then be awaken from an already restless slumber, by the reoccurrence of how he became vampire.
But still, to this day, he questioned himself who his sire was...is...was. He didn’t even have a recollection of how he escaped the dungeon and from the hands of Lazarus. He didn’t know why the man had shown up. He didn’t know why he, himself, took the stranger up on his offer.
What he did know was that this shit was getting old. He was tired of restless days and tired of being tired.
Many people assume that vampires don’t need sleep, but that wasn’t true. In order to rejuvenate their powers, vampires needed their rest. And that was something Perish was not getting.
Then again, he was never able to get a good night’s rest; even when he was human.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up and walked, naked, to one of the windows in his studio-loft apartment. He looked out and over the bright lights of the city. He watched the cars drive along the streets. People walking briskly, trying to get wherever they needed. Even at night, the city was still active.
He glanced at the clock near his bed. Seven p.m.
Time to go to work.
**********
"Okay, so you’ve been in Crosswoods, what, a week? Have you tried meeting any special friends?”
“Special friends? Ayla, I’m not trying to get in a relationship right now. Being in one with Robert was enough. It was fun while it lasted...until I found out what he really did for a living. I think the worst thing was him lying to me. If he would have confided in me, I would have understood...or I could have learned to understand.”
“Maybe he thought you’d tell.”
“Tell? Tell who? You?”
“Oh yeah. and as soon as you would have told me, I would have gotten you out of his house and then told the authorities of what type of person he really was: a criminal. People like that really burn my britches, ya know? I don’t understand why you didn’t stand up to him. I mean, you stood up to that crotchety old woman, Mrs. Wilcox, which you deserve a walnut sundae on me for doing that.”
Selene smiled to her bestfriend, Alya Sanchez.
Standing at only five-foot-three, against Selene's five-foot-nine, Alya was a young, spunky African American who took life by the ropes and pulled. She was twenty three years old with a college degree in Library Sciences. Alya's goals were to become a curator of the Cuezak Museum in California, but she had to take a job, here in Crosswoods, to save up money for her big move. She wasn't afraid of anything. The girl dressed as if she was a modern day hippie from the seventies and wore long gypsy skirts and bangle earrings. Except when she was at work. At the library, she wore normal, straight skirts and dress shirts. While at work, she looked about as normal as Selene has ever seen her.
But she didn't care about appearances and what other people thought of her. Selene was in grad school when Alya was in high school. Even then, Alya was secure in her looks, though they were quite different than some of the other students. That was one of the main reasons why Selene befriended and admired her. They grew up next door to each other in Baltimore. Even though Alya was much younger than Selene, she held a high quality of maturity that most young girls her age hadn’t experienced yet. Selene’s mother teased her for hanging out with Alya. But she didn’t care of the age difference.
"It's about time someone stood up to that woman. Her husband, who is about as short as she is, is even afraid of her!"
"Some women have that power. I wish I did." Selene nodded.
The two women walked down the isles of the stacks section on the second floor of the library. Alya showed Selene how to categorize the books and when and where to stack them on the shelves. She had to give her friend credit. The job wasn't as easy as it looked. The library was gigantic with over 20,000 books, not including reference documentation. On the outside, it looked small and quaint, but on the inside, it was a whole new ballgame. The wooden ceilings were high and vaulted and the walls were made of hard, white bricks. All the shelves were of a red wood and the floors of a darker wood. Compared to the outside, the inside looked old with a modern touch. During her day of work, Selene stacked, categorized, and stationed books galore. She couldn’t see how Ayla did it. After only three hours of doing the task, Selene was somewhat tired of looking at books. She had half hoped that Mrs. Wilcox would ask her to sit behind a desk somewhere so that she could play a game of solitaire.
After rolling one of the book carts down an isle, she stepped onto a step ladder, placing the books on the shelf while Ayla handed them to her. She glanced at the title of one of them. Her brow raised as she smirked. “‘Wicca and Paganism: The How-To’s and Why’s of Witchcraft.’ Really? Everyone knows this stuff doesn’t exist. It’s phony. What socially deprived person would actually read something like this?” She looked down at Ayla who had her hand raised. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious!”
Ayla shrugged. “What? I like to educate myself on other cultures and religions of the world. Witchcraft is one of the oldest myths and legends and many people find that with a little faith, it actually works.” She switched spots with Selene. Now, she was on top of the step stool putting up books. “I know it sounds crazy and to tell you the truth, at first, I didn’t believe in any of it neither. But, I read up on it, only because I was curious. And one day, I tried a bit of it. Nothing happened at first, but I was determined to see the spell work.”
She listened to her friend. That was one of the things she never understood. Witchcraft and things of magic had always seemed like nothing but a myth to her. It was as preposterous as teleporting and telepathy. Surely if morphing yourself from one place to another and reading other people’s minds were nonexistent, then turning someone into a black cat definitely was. “What spell was it?”
“It was a spell for good luck. After about a month of trying, it finally happened.”
“What finally happened?” Selene asked, rolling the step ladder over before handing Ayla more books.
“I got good luck for a whole month! One day, I found forty bucks on the ground. The next day, my credit card company reimbursed me for extra money they mistakenly took out, plus lowered my interest rates. And the big doosy was Mrs. Wilcox giving me that following Friday off for my good work behavior!”
Selene gave her a droll stare. “So, you got good luck. That means nothing. Things happen for a reason. Maybe there was a reason all that stuff happened.” She shrugged.
“O, ye of little faith. Call it phony all you want. The stuff works and people do believe in it.”
“Well, if I ever meet a person who practices it, I’ll be sure to walk the other way.”
Ayla hopped down from the ladder, moving it to the other side of the shelf. “Then I suggest you start walking away from me.”
“Noooo.”
“Oh yes. I attend this school online. It’s groovy too. I take special courses in Grimoiries; Paganism and Wicca; Spells; and other things.”
This time, both of Selene’s brows raised. “And you actually pay for that?”
Ayla shrugged. “They give you the option. You can have free membership but it’s best to pay for it. You get all the inside scoop on books, workshops and stuff.” She smiled. “Don’t look at me like that Lene. You’d be surprised of the number of people in Crosswoods that practice it.”
“You and everyone else that does, are insane.”
“You’d better watch your lip missy.” She slyly smirked.
Selene placed her hands on her round hips. “Or what?”
“Or...I’ll put a spell on you.”
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