Haunts and Howls Where Demons Dwell, page 4
Uhm. That…didn’t sound encouraging. Or even settling for her worry about things skittering across the floor. Now she was just worried about things that weren’t mice—and she couldn’t hardly imagine what those things might be. She didn’t want to know.
“Do me a favor,” Doreen said, without looking away from the shelf. “Hand me one of those glass containers.”
She pointed to the side of the shelf, and sure enough there was a stack of glass jars, like short, squat Mason jars. Except the lids weren’t metal. They were glass, attached to the jars by a thick, circular wire and with a metal clip to hold the lid down in an airtight seal. There was something etched into the surface of the lid, clear lines in the clear glass. A design Riley had never seen before but looked vaguely like scrolling curlicues over a circular shape with a triangle in the center.
Wait, she had seen that symbol before. A vague memory surfaced as she lifted one of the glass jars to hand to Doreen. That particular symbol. Somewhere… She couldn’t place it. The memory remained vague.
Before she could look any closer at the symbol, though, Doreen took the jar and gently flipped the lid open with one hand, letting it hang back against the jar as she very gently placed her necklace with the round pendant inside. She held the necklace by the chain, Riley noticed, still not touching the pendant even as she slowly lowered it into the center of the glass jar. When the pendant was safely laying flat at the bottom of the jar, Doreen circled it with the chain, so that the chain also laid flat on the bottom, surrounding the pendant in a spiral of silver links.
Doreen’s shoulders relaxed as she closed the lid and flipped the metal clasp closed. A clink clink sound when the clasp clicked into place, followed by a soft sighing exhale from the jar. The clear symbol on the top briefly flashed with a reddish color, so briefly Riley could almost believe she’d imagined it. Doreen gently set the jar onto the empty shelf at hip level, all the way to the left, as if it started a new row of stuff.
When she faced Riley again, her cheeks were flushed, her freckles standing out sharply against her white skin, and sweat dripped down her temples. It wasn’t that hot in the storage room. In fact, if anything, Riley thought it felt a little chilly back here.
“So,” Doreen said, swiping a hand over her curly hair, smoothing it back into the ponytail, “there will be a two-week trial period. You’ll of course be paid the full hourly wage in that time. We’ll need you to be here from eleven in the morning until seven at night most days. Some will days will be two in the afternoon until ten at night. Will those hours work for you?”
Riley nodded rapidly. But wait… What was happening?
“Good. Benefits won’t start until we’re all sure this job is the right fit. If you make it through the first two weeks, benefits kick in. Those include three weeks paid leave each year. Medical leave is negotiable and…dependent on circumstances.”
The way she said that made Riley’s stomach do a little nervous flip, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.
But the nervousness paled in comparison to her relief as what Doreen was saying sunk in. “I got the job?” They hadn’t really asked her any questions about her relevant experience or…really anything at all except for why their ad had drawn her interest. Maybe the whole scaled-person-attack thing had been a test of some kind?
What kind of test and what did it imply about this job, though?
“We’ll also need you to sign a confidentiality agreement,” Doreen continued as she started back the direction they’d come, walking briskly past the rows of shelves. She ignored Riley’s question about whether or not she had the job.
Riley couldn’t blame her since it was obvious she was telling her she had it—at least for a trial period.
Before following Doreen, she glanced back at the glass jar. And gasped.
The symbol on the top had changed. There was now an eye etched into the middle of the triangle. She was certain that hadn’t been there before. The eye was just a basic outline, with a small circle in the center representing the iris. But at the very center of the iris, there seemed to be a little red dot.
She looked around. Where was that coming from?
And how the hell had she missed the eye in the center of the triangle the first time she’d looked at the symbol on the lid?
“Don’t fall behind,” Doreen called.
Riley looked up and realized Doreen was halfway back to where they’d started. She scrambled to catch up.
“Don’t want to come back here on your own,” Doreen said, continuing in the same no-nonsense tone as she’d used to outline the benefits and time off. “Too easy to get lost until you know your way around.”
Riley frowned and glanced at all the neat rows of shelves. The place was huge, sure, a lot larger than she would have guessed from the outside of the building, but everything was in rows. How could she get lost back here? She’d just need to go to the front of the room and walk straight until she reached the door.
She didn’t argue with Doreen, though. She had a trial at this job, and she’d be getting two weeks of pay even if she didn’t make it through the trial period. That would be enough to placate her roommates and ensure she didn’t end up homeless. At least not yet.
The journey back to the correct aisle seemed to take less time than it had taken to reach the shelf where they’d put the pendant. Doreen turned suddenly down a row that, as far as Riley could tell, looked a lot like any other row. As she followed Doreen, sticking close, she watched out for the dagger that had drawn her attention when she’d passed this way last time.
But she didn’t see the dagger. In fact, everything looked a little different. There were still stacks of boxes and jars and weird things piled onto the shelves, but it all looked like different boxes and jars and weird things. And the fact that the dagger wasn’t where she’d last seen it was pretty obvious.
They must be in a different row. Of course they were. Obviously. They’d turned too soon to have been in the same aisle. She was being silly. She rolled her eyes at herself. No wonder Doreen had warned her not to come back here alone.
When they emerged at the front of the storage room, she expected to walk a bit along the front wall before reaching the door back into the main store. If they’d turned earlier going this direction, they’d no longer be lined up with that door.
Except, they were. The door back into the store remained open just in front of them as they walked out of the aisle. Doreen walked through without hesitation, as if she’d expected it to be right there.
So either the aisle they’d been in had changed itself around drastically from when Riley had first walked down it. The shelves moved. Or the door back into the store moved.
None of which was possible.
She thought of the man with green scales and back spikes attacking Doreen. The way he’d returned to a more human form once that stuff had drained out of him and into Doreen’s pendant. The pendant they’d just stored in a glass jar that now had an eye with a glowing red dot in the center of it etched into the lid. An eye that hadn’t been there before.
Was the paycheck really worth…facing the reality of what she’d seen here today?
She was working hard not to acknowledge the strangeness. The spookiness. The fact that none of this stuff should be happening. She was working hard to pretend there were explanations. That logic applied. And that none of this was as weird as it seemed. Just seemed weird because she was new. She was desperate for the job. Desperate for the income—even a temporary job would buy her time and keep her off the streets for a few more weeks.
She could keep looking for another job while working here. That had been her intent all along. She didn’t want to be a retail shop clerk for the rest of her life. That wasn’t why she’d gone to college and racked up all those student loan debts she couldn’t pay back. But she didn’t have a fall back, any sort of backup if this fell through. No family to move in with. Very few friends who could take her in—they were all stretched to the limits too and didn’t have the room or resources. She might find a few nights on someone’s couch here or there, but those would only be short term options, a day or two at most.
She still had her winter coat on, she’d never had a chance to take it off before the interview got started, and sweat dripped in a line down her spine, sticky and uncomfortable under her button-down shirt. As they passed back into the main store, a whisper against Riley’s ear had her glancing back quickly into the storage room.
Nothing was there. The shadows were still. And no air currents brushed her hair or cooled her sweat. Just a storage room. Just a room.
Just a job.
She only sneezed once when they stepped around the counter, and mentally put allergy pills on her “things to scam from roommates” list until she could afford to buy a bottle for herself. Lauren had bad allergies. She’d have something Riley could borrow.
The lights in the main store seemed brighter now, as if the winter sunlight penetrated the front windows and reached farther into the store now. And she realized as she glanced around, that was probably true. The mess created earlier was still a mess—tables overturned, a scarf box had toppled into a heap of colorful destruction, the tin boxes and old dolls and books lay in chaotic piles, some of the larger merchandise looked broken.
Doreen looked at the mess and sighed. Ian walked back to them from the front of the shop.
“Everything settled?” he asked, his gaze moving between Doreen and the now closed door to the storage room.
“Settled and settled.” She faced Riley. “So. Are you ready to start work? If you don’t have any other appointments this afternoon, maybe you could start your trial today?” She gestured at the mess and her mouth curved up in a wry smile. “We could use help cleaning this up.”
Ian narrowed his gaze at Riley, assessing. She wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that his sister had summarily given her a trial shot at the job. Doreen hadn’t even discussed that with him. But he wasn’t arguing or asking to speak to Doreen alone. Maybe he approved the hire, too?
Riley hoped so. Because, “I don’t have anything else this afternoon. I can definitely start now.”
The sooner she started, the sooner she’d have her first pay check. The sooner she could stave off the inevitability of living on the streets.
A slight breeze whispered through the store, brushing the back of her neck. Cold. So not the heaters. Cold enough she wanted to shiver again, but she didn’t dare. Both Doreen and Ian were staring at her, as if waiting for her to do…something.
She glanced around. “Is there a place I can hang my coat? Then I’ll get to work cleaning things up.”
Another look between the siblings. Then Doreen said, “You can put your coat behind the counter for now. We’ll have a place ready for you tomorrow where you can store your personal things. We have a little break room through there.”
She gestured to one side of the main floor, but Riley didn’t see any doors. All she saw was more stuff.
“I’ll have the official paperwork ready by tomorrow, too,” Doreen said.
“Usually pretty quiet in here on a Tuesday,” Ian said. “You’ll have time to read through everything before signing.”
“Sounds great.” Riley tried to sound cheerful. Another of those cold breezes kissed the back of her neck.
And then she felt a strange sort of…opening. It was the weirdest sensation. Like something that had been closed in the store opened up and welcomed Riley inside. She couldn’t really describe it. Just like suddenly the light changed. Or the air seemed less oppressive. Or all the tables and piles of stuff no longer felt quite so overwhelmingly claustrophobic.
Something in the building decided she was allowed to be here now.
Which was an absurd thought. The building wouldn’t care if she was here or not. The owners had decided to hire her. That was all. And she had decided to take the job. Nothing more.
She was feeling relief. Relief that she wouldn’t end up homeless. Nothing else had changed.
She folded up her wool coat and tucked it under the counter where Doreen showed her an empty space. Then she rolled up the sleeves of her button-down and started to straighten tables and restack the stock that had scattered.
She didn’t ask what had happened to the man who’d been there earlier. She didn’t ask about the glowing eye in the center of the glass jar. She didn’t ask about the way the storage room seemed to move and rearrange itself. She didn’t ask anything at all.
Just cleaned up the floor alongside Doreen and Ian, and tried to ignore the feeling of being welcomed.
Mostly, because alongside the feeling of being welcomed, she also felt a vague sense of unease and foreboding. A sense that maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this wasn’t the…safest place to work.
The sense of being welcomed closed in around her, crowding out those worries. She was here now. This would be good. She’d work hard. Earn her pay. No problem at all.
This would be good.
She belonged here now.
ANGER MANAGEMENT
A DEMON HUNTER STORY
CHAPTER ONE
Quinn stalked into the pool hall, her attention focused on the meeting to come. She wasn’t entirely pleased to be here.
The bar was dark, smokey. The sounds of pool balls bouncing off the felt lined table sides or cracking against each other echoed in the low-ceilinged room. The hum of men talking. The stench of too many sweaty bodies and stale alcohol ground into the ratty, rough wood floors over the years. Made her nose twitch. Not exactly a biker bar. Just a local pool hall. But dim and smokey enough to let the patrons feel a little dark and dangerous.
She kept her expression neutral but internally, she was rolling her eyes. So typical.
The only good thing about the place was the low rock and roll music paying in the background. At least it wasn’t country music. She hated country music.
As she scanned the room, her gaze passed over the eight or so tables lit bright by hanging lamps and searched into the darker corners of the main floor. A man stepped into her path. She looked up at him.
A big man, though not particularly thick. Tallish, taller than her by a few inches, and wide enough in the shoulders. Brown hair a little long and slicked back. Clean shaven. Probably in his late thirties, early forties. Pale skin made whiter under the glare from the hanging light over the nearest pool table. He was dressed in slacks and a button-downed shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He smelled like beer and cigarettes.
She resisted wrinkling her nose, but barely.
He smiled. She stared. Waiting.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
She continued to stare.
“Don’t talk?”
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“You’re real pretty.”
She went back to staring.
He stepped closer. “Aren’t you gonna say thank you?”
“For what?”
His sneering smile hardened. “I just gave you a compliment. You should be polite.”
“You’re an absolute stranger to me, and you think your assessment of my looks is worthy of my time, energy, or gratitude? Why?”
“Kind of a little bitch, aren’t you?”
“Move,” she said, bored with the exchange. She had a purpose here tonight, and this guy wasn’t it.
“You should be nicer to me,” he said, an edge in his tone now. “You don’t know who I am.”
“You don’t know who I am either.” She was already looking past him. Where the hell was—?
Quinn shifted her gaze back to the man when he crowded closer to her, getting into her space. She didn’t move back, but she did have to tilt her head up to see into his eyes.
“You don’t smile?” he said. “I’m just trying to be friendly here.”
Another man at the table behind him chuckled.
“No,” she said.
“No to the smile?”
“No to you being friendly.”
“You should sm—”
She cut him off with a sharp hand gesture, pointing a finger at him like she might an ill-mannered dog. “If you tell me to smile, I will put my fist through your throat.”
His lip lifted in a snarl, a sneer as he made a show of looking her up and down, taking in her height and size. “Smile,” he finished. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”
She held his gaze for two beats. Then snapped out her hand, snatching him around the throat, squeezing hard. She lifted him, one-handed, up enough that his toes barely touched the floor. She continued to hold his gaze as he scrambled at her wrist, his fingers digging at hers. Her expression never changing.
“Because you’re very young and stupid,” she said quietly, her tone even, “I won’t put my fist through your throat this time.” She pulled him close, putting his face in hers. Even though that gave him better footing, her grip was hard enough he still couldn’t breathe or stand steadily. “But you should be careful who you try to intimidate and threaten.”
“Wasn’t…threatening,” he choked out.
“No. You aren’t threatening to me. But you were attempting to be. You were trying to intimidate me and thought your size was enough. It was a bad idea.”
She lowered her voice, her heartbeat steady and calm as she dragged him a little closer and tightened her grip on his throat. He choked and his face turned an ugly shade of red.
“Lucky for you,” she said, “I’m older, and wiser. You’ll survive this encounter. Back in the day, you might not have. But never tell another human being again what they should do with their face. And don’t assume you have the advantage because of that vulnerable dangly bit between your legs. You will be wrong more often than you think.”
His fingers scratched harder at her hand. A pointless attempt to loosen her hold.
“If you do this again,” she said, her voice even quieter, the tenor deepening with each word, “with anyone at all, I won’t be as restrained. I will rip out your throat and calmly wipe my bloody hands off on your clothes as you die. Understand?”
