Page 8 of Burn for the Devil

Samantha

Present day

“Samantha!” A voice called out from the back room. Irritated, I set the vials down on the counter and headed in the direction of the yelling.

“Yes?” I asked, walking up to Toni’s side. My favorite employee, and friend, was twitching her fingers, urging me closer. I had a couple others who filled in when the two of us weren’t here but at the moment, it was just us.

“I think we were hacked again,” Toni complained, waving her hand at the open laptop. I leaned over for a closer look at the screen.

Putting my hands on my hips, I let out a sigh. “Locked out,” I muttered, stating the obvious. “Call the computer guy.”

Toni picked up her cell phone and I returned to the front counter. While I continued to mix our special ordered essential oil combinations, I listened to my employee raising her voice. She had a point. We’d done everything we could to keep our information and operation as safe as possible. It was crazy that we had people breaking into our system and screwing things upfor us. And why? Why us? We were just a little independent shop. We sold a wide assortment of occult and new age items and literature. We weren’t anything worth hacking.

Neither Toni nor I practiced any alternative religious or spiritual lifestyles but we both had our curiosities and fascination. Plus, I really enjoyed the associated smells. The scent of the forest and flowers felt like home, familiar, although for the life of me, I didn’t know why. I hadn’t ever spent that much time hiking or adventuring. But it was as if I’d been surrounded by their scent at some other time in my life, perhaps as a child. I’d asked my parents if we used to frequent stores like my own while I was growing up, but they denied doing so. Honestly, they weren’t the type, preferring higher-end shopping and pastimes in sync with their high-society standing.

Staring out the storefront window, I tightened the cap on an immunity-boosting concoction. We couldn’t collect online payment, thanks to our odd technology issues. The money would get kicked back to the customer, if this was like the last time. I prepared the orders to be shipped out anyway, just in case. They’d eventually be shipped out, somehow.

“The guy will be here tomorrow,” Toni said, walking up front. I was too distracted to answer her immediately, dragging my eyes back to the window. My hair prickled along the back of my neck, as if someone had physically touched me. I felt watched, and not by my employee.

“That’s not soon enough,” I groaned, turning away from my observation. Whoever was messing with our computers was watching us I guessed. But why? I didn’t have any enemies—that I knew of. Yes, Timothy was bitter over the demise of our relationship, but it didn’t make any sense, seeing as he was the one to leave me. I highly doubted he’d try to sabotage my business. What would be the point? He’d finally made partner atthe law firm he’d targeted; he had everything going for him. He’d even bought in and owned a piece of the business.

Toni sidled up to me and began picking up the various vials and jars, twisting off the cap on one and taking a deep breath. “Ahhh,” she moaned. “So good.”

“Right?” I asked. “I like these a lot, I should take some home.”

“Leave one for me,” Toni stated. “Why do you keep staring at the window, are you expecting someone?”

“Nooo...” I drawled, casting a furtive look toward the wide pane of glass as I set the jars down. I wasn’t going to share my concerns with her. I was just uncomfortable in my own skin, too many things on my mind. If the hackerwaswatching, that’d be pretty strange.

“I have that event tonight with my parents, don’t forget.” I had to leave early. My parents were heavily involved with fundraising and other social activities of Boston's elite. As their single, dutiful daughter, I attended many a society gathering with them. I still had to pick up some jewelry to match the dress I would wear. I groaned at the thought of running errands.

Toni laughed. “It's not that bad, is it?” I’d grown up with Toni and we’d both attended college up here in Massachusetts, growing even closer while earning our business degrees. She knew the pains of trying to keep up with expectations, only she’d managed to escape them. Both her parents and her fiancé were very well-off, and she was incredibly blessed the man she loved was also a free spirit. Unlike myself, she’d spent the near entirety of her life in the northeast.

Shaking my head, I said, “No, not really. I’m just tired. I’d rather go home and binge watch something. I have some errands to run before I can get ready for tonight.”

“Ahh,” she murmured. “Yeah. Bummer.”

“I’ll live,” I said, laughing.

She gave me an understanding smile.

Ifound parking and strolled into Blackbeard, a small jewelry shop with curated, artistic handmade pieces. Waving off the offer of help, I slowly made my way through the displays, practically drooling. I wasn’t hard up, financially. I had my trust fund from my parents and my small store did well. But the price tags in this store would set me back—way back.

Regardless, I stood there eyeing a necklace formed of gold, twisted to resemble vines of ivy with sparkling lavender tear-drop shaped gemstones dangling from the chain. It took both my breath and my savings away. It would have been stunning with the glittery gown I would wear in a few hours. My finger traced the shape of the piece, sliding along the glass enclosure.

“Would you like to try it on, miss?” The shopkeeper pulled keys from his pocket and moved toward the lock.

“No, thank you,” I said softly. “Thank you for your time.”

The door shut softly behind me as I stepped outside. I’d known I would probably see something outside my price range if I visited Blackbeard’s, but I’d gone and tortured myself anyway. Twenty minutes later, I’d selected a lesser piece of jewelry from a different shop and headed home with my robin’s egg blue-boxed purchase.

The house was still mine. The once-safe haven where I’d been held down against my will by a man clad in a mask and cloak was the place I returned to every evening. The thought had crossed my mind to sell it, but I’d never gotten around to starting the process. All the therapy in the world would never give me any answers as to what had happened. I’d almost agreed with my counselor and doctors that I’d had a psychotic break—almost.The thought was too frightening to consider for very long. They’d even had the nerve to suggest I’d never healed from my little sister’s death, and it was my misplaced guilt that had instigated traumatic hallucinations. I didn’t want to think about that right now, there were just some things that always stayed with you.

With my family originally being from Georgia, I’d considered moving back. There was no one left; my parents were now up here, and I’d only moved for my fiancé. It was too much of a bother to turn back, although I’d taken a weekend trip to visit recently. I was in the city to stay. We’d remained in Savannah too long as it was. The public backlash my family received was too much after my little sister. So many relationships had been destroyed.

My cell phone chimed, and I picked it up. My mother reminded me of our invitation for tonight. As if I’d forgotten. As if I were still in the middle of a mental health crisis and barely hanging on. I sighed to myself; she meant well.

While I was washing my hair, the lights flickered and dimmed before returning to their expected brightness.One more thing I would have to take care of,I thought, making a mental note to call an electrician as I washed the shampoo out of my hair. It was just another task to add to my list.

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