Dance For The Devil (6 page)

Marvelworks knew something else about this control group: although they were highly intelligent, they remained social outcasts among their own peers. They were nerds. Geeks. Through their enjoyment and success at video games, they found acceptance among kindred spirits. At Marvelworks, and at other video outlets across the country, these pre-teens and pre-adults found a niche where they were encouraged to do what they did best.

As Jake stormed in, his features set tightly, no one paid attention. He recognized most of the kids, knew a few by name. “Hey, Rat, let me see Pluto’s Playground.”

“S’awesome, Dude. Dynamite game.” Rat talked while keeping his eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying. Jake watched a mutilated body fly towards the screen, the lifeless face frozen in agony. A quick glance around the room confirmed what he suspected. Pluto’s Playground bore little resemblance to the game he developed.

“Ah, Jake, There you are! I figured you’d come here. Have you calmed down yet?”

“I’m calm, Gil. Very calm.”

“Listen, I know it wasn’t fair to spring this on you, and make the changes without telling you, but the decision was made on the weekend you refused to work. You remember? The weekend you went away with your kids instead of being here.”

Jake remained motionless, his features set.

Gil cleared his throat before continuing. “At first, someone suggested we make alternate arrangements in case we couldn’t locate the programming error, and for a while there, it seemed we’d never find it. These changes were made as a contingency plan, but the contingency turned out better than the original.”

Jake watched more bloodshed on the screen and turned away in disgust. “You waited
three weeks
to let me know? Why not tell me immediately?”

“Thought it’d be better to show you the finished product.”

“To coin a phrase from my kids, the finished program sucks. I hate it.” Jake was yelling now, not caring that the kids in the arcade were turning to stare.

Gil lowered his own voice. “Look, I understand how you feel – I’d be pissed, too. However, it’s a done deal, and when you calm down and start thinking rationally, you’ll realize I did the right thing. Just look around you, Jake, these kids
love
Pluto’s Playground, and except for some relatively
minor
changes, the game is still yours. Feel proud, Jake, you get full credit.” Gil flashed a brilliant yet bashful smile, somewhat like a small boy begging for forgiveness. As angry as he was, Jake found it difficult to ignore the persuasion emanating from him.

“Put it back to the way it was.”

“Can’t do that, buddy.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

“And since you’re the boss, you get final decision.”

“Exactly.”

Jake turned away abruptly, loosening his tie. “For the record, I’m dead set against these changes and I refuse to have my name connected to this violent garbage. I’m taking the rest of the day off – and if you don’t like it, fire me.”

Gil nodded slowly, his steely eyes appraising. “Good idea – you need time to cool off, to see the big picture. See you tomorrow.”

**

Infuriated, Jake chose to walk home, hoping to blow off some steam. He’d collect his car after, sometime after he collected his equilibrium. The distance was fair and it would take him more than an hour of brisk striding, but the crisp autumn air would help clear his head, help him think.

Vandercamp was the boss; he could do whatever he chose. Why so sneaky, then? Why hadn’t he told Jake from the beginning?

Because Jake would have fought tooth and nail. This way it was a
fait accompli
. Was the program glitch a set-up, not meant to be corrected? Jake shook his head, trying to clear the foreboding sensation that he’d been duped all along.

Images popped into his head. Funny glances directed his way, covert conversation
s silencing abruptly as he approached, the feeling that people were always watching him... waiting.

Even though he’d been at Marvelworks for over six
months, he was still the newbie. There was always a grace period upon starting any new job but how long would he continue being an outsider?

The watery sunshine warmed his skin pleasantly, calming him. Vandercamp and
Marvelworks were miles behind now, and the sinister plots he’d imagined were beginning to seem paranoid. He’d accepted disappointments before; why get so bent out of shape over this one?

After a while, he
found his rigid pace slowing as he noticed the changing colors of the deciduous trees. Crimson-reds mixed with pumpkin-orange, and yellows so bright they might have been taken from a child’s imagination. When was the last time he noticed the changing seasons? When was the last time he’d frolicked in fallen leaves, carefree?

His original plan had been to take the quickest route home, cutting through the business section and across Beacon Hill Park. But he wasn’t ready to go home yet, and something urged him to keep walking.
No reason to hurry,
he rationalized. The kids were in school, no one expected him, and this unanticipated freedom, combined with the beauty of the day, replaced his earlier anger with a guilty exhilaration. A few stolen hours to get himself back on track.

On a whim he changed direction, allowing his long legs to carry him toward the ocean, through the old section of town. Quaint coffee bars and art galleries lined cobblestoned streets. He glanced with interest at the window dressings of shops vying for Halloween business. A vintage clothing store had an eerie
display of gossamer ghosts wearing turn-of- the-century costumes. Next to it, a tourist emporium showcased autumn leaves mixed with chestnuts and pumpkins amongst the Native Indian carvings and t-shirts. The contrast was interesting enough to make him pause.

Then he saw it. A small sign, weather-beaten and dangling at an angle easy to miss:

BLESSED BE

BOOKS &
ODDITIES

A simple sign, certainly nothing special. But Jake found himself drawn to it,
compelled
to examine it further, and almost before he realized what he was doing, he opened the small door and followed the sign down a narrow stairway.

It was surprisingly bright for an underground store. Small windows near the ceiling allowed for a smattering of natural lighting, and the rest was achieved through clever use of artificial means. The room mimicked a large den, with a bright Aubusson carpet and overstuffed tapestry sofas placed near a fireplace. Floor to ceiling shelving
circumvented the room, covered with thousands-upon-thousands of books. Wooden tables filled every nook and cranny, each piled high with an assortment of items displayed with charming haphazardness. Old teddy bears wearing lacy gowns. Costume jewelry sparkling brightly from brass treasure chests. Trinkets mixed with dishware, silver frames and pottery and dried flowers spilling out of baskets, scenting the shop with a delicate herbal aroma.

“May I help you, sir?” A woman asked, standing patiently at the cashier desk.

“No,” Jake shook his head, about to exit as quickly as he came. “Thanks, but I’ll just –” But instead of saying ‘leave’ he found himself saying ‘browse’, and he headed to the back of the store, to the darker, hidden nooks that weren’t readily visible.

Come on, Jake, you don’t have time for this. You should be going home and figuring out what to do about your traitorous boss instead of skimming through this funny little shop–

And then he saw her. High up, on the ladder, her long, gauzy skirt swirling demurely around her ankles, straight blond hair hanging unbound to her waist, stretching her arms high in an attempt to squeeze in a few more volumes, her foot precarious on the antiquarian ladder.

“Careful,” he said.

She turned, then, almond-shaped eyes widening slightly as she saw him, her expression remaining neutral. “Don’t worry; I do this all the time.” Her voice was softly accented, lilting in the pleasant way of people born here.

“You have the face of an angel.”

She smiled slightly and Jake realized, to his utter horror, he’d spoken aloud. He mumbled something, turning to leave, when she spoke again.

“You need my help.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “No. Yes. I’m not sure. No, I mean,
no, thank you,
I don’t need your help. I’m just browsing. Sorry for disturbing you.”

She shimmied down the ladder with stunning agility, standing to face him. She was tiny, Jake realized, no bigger than a pixie. That was what she looked like. A pixie. An imp. Cat-shaped green eyes, high chee
kbones, a lush, generous mouth. No more than five-foot at the most. Almost girlish, until one took into account the slim figure, definitely womanish despite the loose sweater. Around her neck she wore a silver ankh, tethered with a velvet ribbon. Her face was devoid of makeup, and save for the ankh, she wore no other jewelry, not even earrings. She was, Jake realized, quite the loveliest woman he had ever seen.

“Like what you see?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes. No. I mean...” Oh God. He was doing it again. Stammering like a schoolboy. Jake cleared his throat. “Look, I’m going to leave before I make a bigger idiot of myself than I already have. If that’s even possible. Excuse me.”

She laughed then, a sweet tinkling sound. “I don’t think so.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re not leaving. Not yet, anyway.”

He smiled suddenly, catching onto her game. “I get it. I’m your prisoner until I buy a book or something. Okay, I’ll take this one. And this one, too. Just what I always wanted, a book about ancient Druids. Perfect, I’ll add it to my collection. Thank you very much.”

She was still laughing as she took the books from his hands and replaced them on the shelf. “No, that’s not what I meant, and I hardly think you look the Druid type, although I’ll certainly sell them to you if you insist.”

She cleared her throat and continued. “Forgive me for being blunt, but you do need my help. That’s apparent. So, what exactly is wrong? How can I be of service?”

Jake blinked. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

She studied him for a moment. “No, I don’t suppose you do. Look, there’s a quiet little bistro around the corner. Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

Jake hesitated. He shouldn’t. He
’d dallied long enough, it was time to go home and do some serious thinking. As if reading his mind, she put her hand into his and shook it slightly. “My name is Cari Valentine and I own this place. I don’t wish to seem too mysterious but I’ve been waiting for you. Not you, exactly, but someone. I knew someone important would be coming to see me, and I knew this person would need my help. I think that person is you.”

Jake smiled in spite of himself. “Oh? So you’re implying that I’m important?”

She smiled sweetly. “That remains to be seen, but I’ve learned to trust my hunches. Now, if you’ll let go of my hand, I’ll grab my coat and we’ll be off. Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. I know you’re in a hurry.”

With that, she walked off, leaving a bemused Jake to follow.

**

It was a special meeting, during the day, and Amy was skipping school. Jason was reluctant to take her but she pestered him until he relented. After the last meeting she could think of little else.

They were going solo, without Alex and Elise. Amy revelled in the luxury of being alone with Jason. He was so handsome, so cool. As if sensing her thoughts, he looked over at her and smiled. “Did you have any trouble getting out of your classes?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m only missing study period, then gym. I told Mr. Tait I wasn’t feeling well. Told him I was going home.”

“He bought that? Man, he never lets me off that easy.”

Amy chuckled. “I held my stomach and mumbled something about cramps, pretending to look uncomfortable. I think he was more embarrassed than me. Sometimes being female has its advantages.”

Jason snickered. “Yeah, I can see how Old Man Tait would be mortified by that. Did you know he used to be a professional football player?”

“No, I hadn’t heard that. He’s such an ox, built like a refrigerator.”

“
A refrigerator filled with beer. Man, what a gut. Scary.”

Amy laughed harder. “What’s worse is that haircut of his. Didn’t anyone ever tell him that style went out a hundred years ago
? What do you call it? A pompadour?”

They both dissolved into fits of hysteria, and were still laughing, tears streaming down their faces when Jason pulled the car over a few minutes later. Amy wiped her eyes and looked around with interest. Several upscale automobiles lined the oak trimmed street, a variety of BMW’s, Range Rovers and Mercedes. The houses were e
qually impressive. Not houses, she corrected herself: mansions.

Jason got out fir
st, then opened her door. He was so nice, such a gentleman. He unlocked the truck and passed her a black cloak. “Wait until we get inside before you put this on. It would freak the neighbors to see a hoard of hooded people walking up the front lawn.”