Chapter 1

Daniela

4 HOURS FROM NOW, I’M GOING TO DIE

The chalked series of concentric circles surrounding me glowed a bright crimson, taking on the hue of the blood dripping from my wrist. Chanting echoed from the crowd of people in a language I couldn’t understand. The volume of their voices rose with each verse of their haunting song.

The world seemed to be ripping open, giving way to whatever the cloaked figures summoned. Their voices rose higher and higher until the cacophony reached its crescendo. The chanting fizzled out but something remained in its place. A tainted power that was almost alive, and it was waiting. Waiting for direction. Waiting to be unleashed. A figure stepped forward, following its tempting whispers. The glistening white cloak sweeped towards me, highlighted by the dull point of a knife swinging with each step. 

The figure took one last heavy step. They towered over me, face concealed by the solemn night and the low drawl of their hood. The power swelled, and the knife rose in tandem before slashing across my throat. Blood welled up from the gash until it broke free of its bodily prison. More blood pushed up against my skin until it flowed in a heavy stream, strengthening the swelling power.

As my head became fuzzy and my world began to fade the power wrapped its claws around me, cradling me with sick satisfaction as life drained out of me with each gush of blood. Then, curiously, it began to sing to me, a soft lullaby caressing something deep inside of me, coaxing it to come out. Pain seared through my body, radiating from the wound in my neck all the way to my toes. All the while death crept closer and closer, but it couldn’t come too close to the other monster that laid claim to me. Still, death was inevitable and I could no longer see, blinded by the pain. 

Then suddenly, it stopped.

The pain was gone and for a moment I tasted sweet satisfaction. Death had finally come for me, or so I thought…

PRESENT DAY

Ding! Ding!

The bell at the top of the door swayed back and forth as a familiar customer walked through the door.

“Hey Adam, you want the usual?”

“Always.”

I scribbled down his order, iced coffee with 3 pumps of sugar free vanilla. Adam was one of our regulars. He always came in at around 8 every night carrying a briefcase and wearing a crisp suit in some neutral color. Today’s choice was an iron gray that brought out the bright blue of his eyes.

I made quick work of his coffee order and set it on the counter for him to pick up. “Coffee’s ready,” I called.

“Thanks Dani. Same time tomorrow?”

“Always,” I replied, as he walked out of the door.

With Adam’s departure, the boredom returned. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in the middle of nowhere Idaho and the business wasn’t exactly booming so late in the day. We closed in an hour and I suspected I wouldn’t see another soul for the remainder of my shift, I never did. I’d asked my manager on multiple occasions why we didn’t just close at 8, but he insisted we close at 9 because we “couldn’t be beaten by crackpot corporations like Starbucks.” 

I let out a deep sigh just thinking about my psychotic boss. David barely cared about the coffee shop when it compared to the hours he spent researching conspiracy theories, or as he called it “preparing to dismantle the scheming government.” He thought the government was trying to hide the existence of aliens and paranormal creatures from the public and chaining down our true overlord: Satan. 

Sometimes I truly questioned why he even kept the coffee shop open. Probably because he needs an income to support all the time he spends planning a coup, I mused. I mean the man even lived in the coffee shop on a raggedy futon in his office. I’m pretty sure he only comes out to use the bathroom, not even eat. He survives on monthly deliveries of various canned goods. The fact the coffee shop is still functioning is a minor miracle. 

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I found myself agonizing over the thin red line twitching to each new destination. 8:45, 15 more minutes of boredom. I leaned against the register, my legs aching with the day's labor, and I was ready to close up and go home. 8:46, another minute passed. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound of the clock grinded at my ears for the last time before I decided I was tired of following the rules and walked back into the break room to grab all the closing supplies. I’d been working at the café for almost a month now, following every rule to a tea. I’d never held a service job before and I was paranoid I would lose it and my last hope of making rent for my apartment. So I followed the rules everyday, and was a picture perfect employee. But right now I was pretty convinced I didn’t care about that anymore and just wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

I made my rounds around the building, picking up the leftover trash before wiping down each table. I flipped up the chairs and began sweeping. The sound of the clock disappeared and I blissfully ran around the place putting everything back to order. I swept, I cleaned, I straightened. 

Some might say I’m a workaholic, I’d say I’m proactive. If you asked me the best time of day was the morning rush when sweat dripped down my back as I breezed through every order. My hands and mind were busy and the rest of my worries floated away and only the present remained. I didn’t have to think about the rent that was due or the sad state of my love life or any other stressor in my life. 

You know, maybe what I said before wasn’t right, really I’m just an escapist. Always have been. I try to never stop moving because if I do all the things I don’t want to think about will catch up to me, and when I finally stopped running, I was forced to move again.

I began to clean more vigorously, trying to sweep all the negative thoughts out of my mind. I cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned, until I could see my reflection on every surface and the tainted thoughts fled my mind, if only for a moment. The smell of chemicals burnt my nostrils and radiated through the entire shop, occupying my senses and keeping me grounded. 

I took a quick glance at the clock - 10:01 - way past the time I should’ve clocked out. I perused the room one last time, not a speck of dust. More than satisfied with my work I headed back into the break room. I grabbed my bag from the locker and headed to the bathroom, ready to shed the hand-me-down uniform. 

I slipped into some sweats and an old Harvard shirt that was two shades lighter than its original color as time chipped away at the once vibrant red. Then I put on my sherpa lined shoes and exited the bathroom, backpack in hand. I shut the door to my locker and headed over to the company tablet to clock out. I input the time, 10:10, and closed the tablet out. 

I took one last glance at the shop, making sure everything was in order before I shut off all the lights and walked out the door, locking it behind me. With a sigh I checked the time again, realizing I hadn’t eaten and it was already nearing 10:30. I pulled up Google and began perusing the eating options in the area. I passed through at least a page of bright red closed emblems before I came across a pub. It was a 6 minute walk away, manageable, so I began my walk. 

Everything in McCall was pretty much within walking distance, and anything outside of a certain radius had you entering grasslands and forests as far as the eye could see until you reached the next urban area. It was a nice change of pace from Massachusetts. There was no rush, no snobby rich people, and no crushing weight of expectations. In McCall everyone was kind and nobody glared at me with disappointment.

I shook my head, trying to shed my staying thoughts. I wasn’t in Massachusetts anymore and I could walk down the streets without carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I was determined to enjoy it. I took a deep, refreshing breath, taking in my new life. There was no need to look back, I made my choice and I was happy with it. I just need to get my footing and then everything will get better, I told myself. 

I kept walking,focusing on the wind’s gentle caress and the beauty of the quaint Idaho town. Yeah, everything is going to work itself out, and for once, I believed it.