The coolness of the crystal warmed under her hands, sending waves of calm in every vibrating cell of her body like an injection of peace. Skye took several deep breaths until steady enough to open her eyes again. Unfurling her closed palms, she focused her gaze on the silver hematite shining so bright it lit the skin of her hands, revealing the delicate spider web of veins.
Now centered, she took in her surroundings. She doubted any fairies were still alive, but just in case any absinthe-addict pixies remained, she hurriedly dumped out the contents of all the open bottles and glasses. Even with the aid of the hematite, it was hard not to take a quick sip. Boxes of absinthe, unopened, were stacked floor-to-ceiling on two sides of the room. Tomorrow, she would confront Glenna and out her to Claribel and Mama D. They needed to know what was going on right under their noses.
Skye picked up the flashlight from the counter and pulled the light switch in the tiny room, ready to get home.
The entire basement plunged in sudden and total darkness, the black air thick with the smell of licorice, and something else – a scent vaguely familiar but too faint to identify.
The light on in the main storage room went out.
She stood alone in the darkness. Sensed the presence of pure evil. It was cold and absolute, a chilling menace that brooked no hope for mercy, an abyss that sucked out light and energy, pinning its victim on the sharp edge of vengeance. Her index finger tapped nervously on the flashlight switch, unsure of whether to expose the menace.
No, best to hide in the shadows and hope the evil presence passed over like a malignant cloud in the night wind, seeking out other prey.
A stair creaked.
Someone was coming down. Instinctively searching for cover, Skye raised a hand out to her side, shoulder-level, feeling for the solid surface of the wall. Her fingers wiggled at the empty air. Slowly, carefully she scooted a foot over, feeling the spilled absinthe soak the hem of her jeans. She kept one arm up, angling for the wall. The tinkling of broken crystal brushing along the concrete floor sounded like a crashing waterfall of glass.
Keep moving. She had to keep moving, not stand in the middle of the room like an easy target.
Another creak in the stairs, closer now.
Her hand made contact with the wall and she cautiously pressed her back against it. She had to get out of this windowless room, or at least move behind the door and hope the intruder wasn’t coming this way.
Skye flinched at the next creak.
Whoever it was – probably Glenna – had come for the absinthe. Skye gathered her courage. She wasn’t going to just stand there and wait for Glenna to trap her. The element of surprise was on her side. No one expected her to be down here at this time of night. Skye eased out of the storage room, stumbling in the dark.
She turned on her flashlight, ready to make a run for the stairs, knocking Glenna down if she had to. Skye directed its golden circle of light on the floor, a few yards ahead of her feet. Her body started toward the beam at the precise moment someone flipped a light switch. The sudden explosion of light made Skye stumble again and she raised her eyes to the staircase.
Profound, utter relief made her body sag as the accumulated adrenaline bottomed out. She had never been so glad to see a familiar face.
“Miss Claribel!” Skye laughed and quickly closed the distance between them. “Boy, I’m I ever glad to see you. You won’t believe what’s –”
Skye’s voice faltered. Claribel’s head was down. Why wouldn’t she look up? Skye had expected her boss to shriek in astonishment at finding someone else in the basement.
“Miss Claribel?” Skye took a few tentative steps forward until they stood only a couple of feet apart. Now the other scent she’d smelled earlier, the one that had been nibbling at the edge of her consciousness, burst forth. Violets. Claribel’s signature scent that had always seemed so old-fashioned and grandmotherly. Now it was cloyingly sweet and repulsive.
Skye dropped her voice in concern, something must have happened to Claribel. She glanced up the stairs, half expecting Glenna to stomp down and reveal herself. But, no. It was only the two of them. Skye touched Claribel’s arm, felt the chill of icy skin seeping through the woman’s blouse.
Skye stared at Claribel’s bent head, with its mass of gray curls haphazardly shaped into its customary bun that was pierced with hair wands. As if awaking from a trance, Claribel slowly raised her head and pinned Skye with alien eyes of fury.
“You are mine.” Claribel’s voice was deep and raspy. Nothing like her former singsong girlish voice.
“Wha —?” Skye backed up, never taking her eyes off the stranger before her. “Is that you, Claribel?”
A humorless laugh, like the sibilant hissing of a coiled snake, made Skye breakout in goose bumps. Dread caused her feet to keep backing up until she crashed into a box and fell on her ass. Heavy bronze objects scattered everywhere. She tried to scurry, crab-like, to get far away from the source of evil.
“Get up you stupid girl!” Claribel walked toward her, pulling out the wands from her hair. A mass of crisp, gray ringlets fell to her waist like an armor of steel.