The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series) (13 page)

“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 e
asy with her. She’s not to be bruised. She needs to be in pristine condition.”

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 grab
bed
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 of
f
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 wa
s 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,
let
ting
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.

“Th
is is
not
good. Not good at all,
”
h
e
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
start
ing
the engine.
Uncovering
the identities of the cult members
and
Camille’s connection to it
hadn’t magically alerted the entire organization
. Paranoia w
ould 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, n
othing 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 th
e
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
kn
ew
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
.