Chapter 1 – Celaeno
CELAENO
Iam described quite simply as the darkness by those who fear to anger me. And by the others? A creature of nightmares. A horrifying being with cruelty to spare.
But the truth? The truth is that I’m none of those things.
I’m just… a woman. A shifter. Caught in a lie that was told so many times that it became the truth to all but me. Sometimes late at night, I even whisper to myself, ”You’re not a monster,” because I fear that hearing it so many times might make it true.
All the many lifetimes that I’ve lived have been filled with heartache and loneliness that eat at my very core. And yet, I still hope that this time things will be different. It feels as if I’ve finally found a place I belong.
“Cel, you daydreaming again?” Ashley says from behind me.
I startle, raising my head from where it’d fallen on my palm. I’d been so lost in thought, staring out at the busy city and enjoying our quiet little coffee shop, that I hadn’t heard her come in through the back entrance.
Turning, I face Ashley. She’s late again, but I don’t mind.
She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a sister since my sisters abandoned me.
She’s different from the few beings I’ve grown close to in the past. For one, she’s a human, a very pretty human with long legs, blonde hair, and a heart-shaped face. For two, she’s young, fun, and social.
Not at all like the grumpy witches who I’ve been grateful to talk to in the past.
“I was just enjoying the silence.”
She looks at her reflection in the metal surface of the display case and rubs some lipstick off of her teeth. “I hate the silence. Give me a busy day with hot business men coming in and out, and I don’t need anything else.”
I laugh. Ashley loves men, and she’s good with them. Something I envy about her.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure your latest guy will be here any minute. It’s almost his coffee break, right?”
She grins. Leaning down to look at her very low cut shirt, she unbuttons yet another button to show off her lacy pink bra underneath. “Yeah, and it’s been almost two weeks of flirting. This guy is definitely making me work for it.”
I grab my rag off the counter and start to wipe everything down again. “You really think he’s the one making you work for it?”
She saunters up to me and holds her arm out. A little gold bracelet hangs from it. “He slipped me this last time.”
I touch one of the little links. “It’s beautiful.”
“It really is.” Sighing, she drops it. “Would it be okay if you covered me for a while after he comes in?”
I know what that means. More loud sex in the back. The thought almost makes me laugh. Listening to her has got to be one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve had to do in my long lives.
But I don’t really mind. Nothing about her bothers me.
Not even that she’s usually late and takes a lot of breaks, because she talks to me.
She makes me feel normal and included. She calls me when she’s sad and crying about whatever has gone wrong in her life.
She even trusts me enough to ask for favors.
She really does make me feel like a sister.
I look up, meeting her gaze. “Of course, whatever you need.”
“Awesome! Thanks!”
I go to the sink and wash the rag out. “Just, this time try not to knock flour all over everything.”
Her laugh makes me smile. “That guy was like a rabbit with a carrot.” Then she winks. “A very big carrot.”
Man, it feels nice to act as young as I look. “I’m glad it wasn’t a mini one.”
“Oh no, it was big and hard and quite the perfect snack.”
We’re both laughing like fools when her latest find strides in. This time, he doesn’t even glance at me or pretend to buy one of our drinks or specialty desserts. His gaze is solely focused on her.
“Damn, you look beautiful,” he says.
She gives her fake, flirty little laugh. “Thanks. And I’m even wearing your gift.”
He crosses the room and smirks. “Glad you like it. Any ideas on how you’ll thank me?”
I almost roll my eyes. Does he want some wine with that cheese? But, of course, Ashley doesn’t seem to mind his cheesy line. Or that he sounds like some asshole in a bad movie.
Grabbing his tie, she leads him into the back. “How about you help me with some… cleaning?”
Why doesn’t she just pretend he’s a plumber and tell him she needs her pipes cleaned?
It’d be more subtle. I grin like an idiot at my own joke and turn up the store’s music when her shouts and their pounding against the counter gets to be too much.
A couple of customers come in, glance curiously at the back, and order their drinks and donuts to go.
I don’t blame them. If they’re half as horny and lonely as I am, that’s the last thing they want to hear.
A few minutes later, her new guy comes out of the back.
He adjusts his tie and dusts off the powdered sugar covering the front of his suit.
He doesn’t say a word to me before leaving.
I feel a little flip in my stomach. I doubt he’ll be back.
That’s one thing about being as old as I am.
You get a sense for people, and I think he’s gotten what he wants.
Going toward the back, I knock on the little swinging door. “You decent?”
“Come in!” she calls, sounding satisfied with herself.
When I come back, she’s sitting on our metal countertop against the wall, buttoning her shirt. Dozens of donuts are on their wire racks next to her, covered in powdered sugar. And now her clothes are covered in it too.
“So how was Mr. Gold Bracelet?”
She shrugs. “Good enough, but I don’t think I’ll be going for round two.”
Then I listen as she tells me about a new bouncer at her favorite club and how he said she’d look beautiful in diamonds.
I love listening to people talk to me like I matter, but I also feel this itch to get back to the front.
Papa Rye pays us to run his shop. He might treat me like his granddaughter, but Ashley is his real granddaughter.
I’m here to work, and I always want to do the best job I can to thank him.
When she’s just about to launch into another story about a bitch she met in the club the other night, I open my mouth to tell her we should talk at the front of the store, but then my gaze falls on something.
“Comet!”
She freezes. “What?”
“The comet,” I repeat, running over to the donuts.
There, leaning over in the middle of the donuts, is Ashley’s favorite cleaning product.
I’ve told her time and time again to put it away in the back when she’s done with it.
Chemicals are the last thing you want just sitting around with food, but she never listens.
Now, the powder has covered the donuts, along with the powdered sugar.
I can’t tell looking at everything what’s safe and what’s not.
“We have to throw it all out,” I say, frowning.
We’ll have to tell Papa Rye about this. Otherwise he’ll wonder why this month’s numbers aren’t adding up. I don’t want to, but he’s going to ask.
Ashley scrambles off the counter and picks up the can of cleaning supplies. “I don’t think we really need to throw all of it away. Maybe just the couple next to it?”
I shake my head. “That has bleach in it. If anybody eats any, they could be really sick. It’s just not worth the risk.”
She throws out the couple of donuts that were directly next to the comet with loud plunks straight into the massive trashcan. “You’re just being a worrywart. Look, all better.”
My stomach flips. I’ve never had to stand up against Ashley before, but I just can’t do it. Kids and older people come in here, customers I’ve grown to care about. If there’s even a tiny chance…
“Would you eat them?” I ask, hoping to get her to change her mind without directly confronting her.
Her nose wrinkles. “I’m not throwing these out. Papa will get mad.”
I try to gentle my voice. “We’ll tell him together, okay?”
For the first time, she looks at me the way she looks at other women. Her eyes narrow, her mouth pulls into a thin line, and something flashes in her gaze.
I wring my hands together. I don’t want to fight with her. I really, really don’t.
“Please,” I say.
Out front, I hear the bell on the door jingle.
Glad for the temporary distraction, I run for the front. Maybe with enough time, Ashley will realize that what I’m saying makes sense.
Mrs. Andrew and her sweet son are here. She smiles at me when I race over to the counter. “Hi dear, can we get the usual? Your strongest coffee for me, a strawberry shake for the little guy, and two powdered donuts.”
I nod, ringing it up on the cash register. But then I look in the case and freeze.
“Uh, sorry, we’re out of donuts.”
The door to the back hits the wall as it swings open. “Actually,” Ashley says, in her sweetest voice. “I just made some fresh ones.”
No…
I turn slowly, my stomach dropping as she carries the wire rack of contaminated donuts out.
The little boy squeals in delight, and Ashley reaches for a plate.
“No!” I say, the seriousness of my tone surprising even me.
Ashley freezes and turns to me with innocent eyes. “Why not?”
I look back at Mrs. Andrews and her son. “Sorry, those aren’t for sale.”
She looks confused. “Why not?”
“They… they just aren’t.”
The door of the shop chimes again, and I look up in horror, spotting Papa Rye. He’s trimmed his white beard, and he has his finest gold cane, the one with a little donut on top. He’s smiling too, and I swear I’m going to puke.
“How’s it going, girls?”
Ashley pipes up first. “This customer just wants her usual, drinks and donuts.”
“But she said I can’t have the donuts…” Mrs. Andrew says, trailing off.
Papa Rye’s clouded eyes turn to me. “Why not?”
“Uh…”
What do I do? What do I say?”
“Oh, my gosh!” Ashley suddenly shouts, emphasizing each word. “Are these the ones you got cleaning chemicals on? I told you to throw those out!”
My mouth drops open. “N—no…”
Mrs. Andrews grabs her son’s hand. “Chemicals? Cel, are you serious? You were going to feed us something that’d make us sick? I’d never expect something like that from you.”
I shake my head. This can’t be happening.
Suddenly, the woman is dragging her son out the door, glaring at me. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
My head feels light, and I swear I must be trapped in a nightmare. This can’t actually be happening. Mrs. Andrews was my first customer, a little over a year ago. She’s never looked at me like that before, and I feel like from this moment on she’ll only have that look for me.
“Celaeno?” Papa Rye says my full name in complete disbelief. “Is what Ashley said true?”
I open my mouth, and then Ashley breaks into tears and runs to her grandfather. He holds her as she sobs on his shoulder, and I feel the knot in my belly slowly untangling. She’s going to tell him the truth. She’s going to fix this thing.
“She told me if I tried to stop her, she’d blame it on me!” she wails.
I swear I sink into the ground, my bones melting. My mind is blown. I can't believe her fake tears and pointing fingers. It feels like something children would be involved in, not an immortal being. And yet, I’m trapped in this unbelievable situation, and I don’t know how to get out of it.
Papa Rye looks up at me really slowly, and our eyes meet.
I think a part of me hoped he wouldn’t believe her.
I mean, I’ve never seen someone cry as convincingly as Ashley, but I really thought he’d see through it.
I’ve never given him a reason to think I’m that kind of person.
Now he is looking at me with complete disgust.
I’m pretty sure my heart turns to dust.
“I didn’t,” I whisper, trying to talk around the tears gathering in my throat. “I wouldn’t.”
He closes his eyes, and suddenly he looks older. “Give me your apron.”
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. “Please don’t.”
“Your apron,” he says, simply.
My legs are shaking as I move around the counter and toward him, my fingers struggling to untie the knot at my waist. At last, it comes undone, and I pull the apron off from around my neck.
Standing just feet in front of him, I see one of my tears hit the polished floor. “I would never give someone something that would make them sick. I’d never say that to Ashley. I’m your family.”
After a long moment, he reaches out for the apron. “We’re family. I’m afraid we were mistaken to treat you the same.”
My fingers are numb as they let go of the blue apron I wore with such pride. He pulls it away and holds it against his granddaughter’s back. She peeks up at me, her makeup smeared by tears. Her expression is one of interest, as if she’s evaluating my reaction.
“Time to go, Celaeno,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gruff.
I stumble toward the door. And for the first time, I realize how powerful my emotions are. I freeze, fingers curled around the handle. I can’t be this out of control. It’s dangerous.
Pull yourself together. You’ve experienced real heartache. This is nothing…
But in my mind, I sense a storm brewing. And I know this isn’t nothing. This is something powerful on the verge of unleashing.
And I can’t let it.