Elfin

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

“Halloween is here and once again I’m struggling to pick a costume, trying desperately to ward off Elora’s attempts to turn me into some sort of gothic princess or dark fairy. If you happen to see me strutting down the street in a halter top with wings, glitter in my hair, and three-inch heels, please shoot me on sight.” ~Diary of Cassie Tate

“I’m not wearing that Elora. You might as well take that pattern, stuff it back into the bag, and send it right back to the island of misfit costumes where it belongs.” Cassie climbed into her best friends beat up Dodge Neon. The door creaked ominously as she opened it. Chipping red paint sloughed off, revealing a layer of blue beneath it. Who knew what color lay below that? Elora’s car had been painted several times for practice by her older brother, Oakley, when he had started working at an auto body shop his senior year and the original color had long since been forgotten. Few little sisters would have voluntarily allowed their brother to practice painting on their vehicle, but Elora didn’t have much of a say in the matter. At least he had finally covered up the skull and crossbones he had jokingly, and quite poorly, painted on the hood.

“I’m telling you now, as your friend, if you try and wear a costume like you did last year, I will personally put you out of your misery, not to mention my own,” Elora said in her signature dry voice. She rolled down the window, letting the crisp fall air blow through the car that had, despite the increasingly cool temperature, still grown hot from sitting in the asphalt parking lot that boasted absolutely no shade for the student parking.

“Seriously?” Cassie’s jaw dropped open. “That costume was so creative.”

Elora rolled her eyes as she started the car. She shifted into drive and pressed the pedal to the metal, coaxing the sputtering little engine to deliver its maximum effort, which resulted in a loud squeal from the tires as the girls pulled out of the school lot. Cassie latched onto the door, unsurprised by the loud noise, well acquainted with her friend’s maniacal driving skills.

“You were an ant.” Elora’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t just an ant. I was an ant on a picnic table.”

“Exactly,” Elora responded deadpan. “You were wearing a table. I’m sorry Cass, but I draw the line at wearing furniture. We’re seniors this year, we have a responsibility to blow the minds of all the underclassmen peons.”

Cassie laughed. “What about Charlie’s Angels? They’re some kick butt females.”

Elora raised a single pierced eyebrow at her best friend.

“Do you really see this,” she motioned to her face and then her body, “as Charlie’s Angels material?”

Cassie looked over at her friend. There was no doubt that Elora was beautiful, but not in a traditional way. She was heavy into the Goth scene. Her hair was dyed jet black, with the exception of the bright red chunks she’d mixed into it. She wore it in long layers, complete with bangs sweeping across her face intentionally creating a mysterious air. She had a stud resting in her left brow, four piercings in her left ear, five in her right, a stud in her right nostril, and, of course, a stud in her tongue. She wore dark eye shadow that gave her purple eyes, made possible by colored contacts, an enigmatic sparkle. She was naturally fair skinned, so she didn’t bother with any powder on her face, not that she needed it. Her skin was flawless. She wore black, black, and blacker and she rocked it. Black miniskirts with black fishnet tights drew attention to her insanely long legs on her five-foot, seven-inch frame, which was completed by black combat boots and an off the shoulder shirt revealing a black halter top. Around her neck dangled various crystals, all of which were, according to her mother, effective to promote healing, positive energy, or some other such nonsense. Various rings, designed to look like everything from skeletons to talons, adorned nearly every finger.

Cassie’s mouth quirked up. “I see your point.”

“Just leave the costumes to me. I’m sure my Lisa can help me come up with something dark and sexy.” Elora turned onto Cassie’s street and her tires screeched to a halt in her friend’s driveway.

Lisa was Elora’s mom and Lisa is what Elora had always called her. Elora despised titles of any kind. She claimed society put labels on people to set them apart, when, as she put it “we’re all just human beings. We picked our noses as children in front of people without shame. Now we just do it in secret as adults.”

“Who says I want to look dark and sexy?” Cassie asked.

“I do,” Elora answered, giving Cassie a what kind of question was that glare.

“Just remember that we are not standing on a corner ‘trick or treating’ for the wrong kind of ‘tricks and treats,’ okay?” Cassie said as she stepped out of the car.

Elora rolled her eyes, but then added, “That was actually a pretty good analogy.”

“So glad I meet your approval,” she responded, shoving the door closed.

“I’ll call you later tonight,” said Elora through the open window. “No doubt you are going to need my help on our English project.” Elora began to back out of the driveway. Cassie motioned for her to stop.

“I have to go up to my dad’s work remember?” Cassie yelled to her.

“Why do you have to go again?”

“His assistant is out for the week and he asked me to do some of the filing and whatever other menial tasks she does,” Cassie said in exasperation.

“Okay. We’ll work on the paper tomorrow. It’s not due until Friday anyway.” Elora waved as she continued out of the driveway and peeled and puttered off down the street.

Cassie looked at her watch and realized she was already late. She walked over to her less than impressive (though slightly more impressive than a beat-up Dodge Neon), not to mention ancient, silver Honda Civic, digging out her keys from her backpack. Once she’d extricated them from the bottom of the bag, she tossed her backpack into the backseat, slid into the driver’s seat, and started up her faithful silver steed. She backed out of the driveway much more cautiously than her friend, Elora, had just done and pointed the car in the direction of her dad’s office in downtown Oklahoma City.

***

“Dad, I’m here.” Cassie said loudly as she walked into the reception area of Woodland Oil Company, Inc. From what little she knew of her dad’s work, he handled the company’s financial stuff and had the words “President of,” in front of his name. She walked past the reception desk and down a long hallway, passing office after office on either side. Her father’s office was the last one at the end of the hall.

She knocked and opened the door when she heard his voice. William Tate, III sat at his paper-covered desk, tie loosened around his neck, his salt and pepper hair rumpled from his habit of continually running his hands through it.

“Come on in, Cass,” her father said and she noticed how tired he sounded. He always sounded tired, Cassie thought to herself. He worked way too much. Though he never complained about it, Cassie could tell the long hours were wearing him down. She made a mental note to bug him later about taking her on a vacation. It was for his own good.

“Hey,” she said with her brightest smile, hoping to bring a little energy into the stale room. She wanted to wrap him in a hug when he returned her smile and he immediately looked at least ten years younger. “So, what do I need to do?”

William stood and his six-foot, three-inch form seemed to make the large office shrink a bit. With a flat stomach, large muscular arms, and powerful legs, William Tate was an avid athlete. He tried his hardest to make time to do push-ups and sit-ups in his office throughout the day. Aside from his graying hair, he looked much younger than his forty-six years. He took another look down at the papers on his desk, then came around and motioned for her to follow him back down the long hallway to the reception area. His assistant, an older, frumpy woman named Martha, kept her desk in meticulous order. He pulled a box of papers out from under the organized desk.

“These need to be filed alphabetically into these file cabinets,” he said, motioning to a row of drawers behind them. Then he pulled another box from the other side of the large file cabinets.

“These need to be shredded,” he motioned to the box. “The shredder is in the breakroom which is out those doors,” he pointed to the main office doors. “Down the hall, on the left.”

“No problem. File these, shred these,” she said, pointing to the boxes.

“You’ll be okay out here by yourself?” Mr. Tate asked.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m eighteen. Technically I no longer require supervision.”

He let out a groan. “Don’t remind me,” he said, leaving her to it.

An hour and three paper cuts later, Cassie finally finished the filing. She stood and stretched her legs and then her arms. She looked down at the box full of papers to be shredded and quickly decided that, while she may be able to carry the heavy box down the long hallway, it wouldn’t be easy. She looked around the office for some sort of cart.

“Bingo.” She smiled as she found a rolling cart in a closet to the right of Martha’s desk. She hefted the heavy box onto the cart and then steered it from the office and down the long hall. Cassie had to admit that it was kind of creepy being alone in a large office building. Though she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, she couldn’t help but think something was going to jump out at her as she moved past all the dark offices. It reminded her of a movie that she once saw where the lead character woke up from a lengthy coma and staggered from the hospital only to discover that there was no one left alive in the city.

Cassie found the door her dad indicated earlier and poked her head inside to make sure that the breakroom was indeed empty. She saw that no one occupied the room and proceeded to pull the cart inside and over to the shredder sitting at the back of the room. She began the monotonous task of pushing paper into the machine and listening to the grinding sound it produced as it cut the paper into tiny pieces. Just as she grabbed the last of the papers, she heard raised voices. They sounded as if they were coming from just beyond the wall next to her.

Cassie froze. Without thinking, she tried to quiet her breathing, which had inexplicably become rapid. She stood and walked over to the wall and pressed her ear to it. She could hear the voices clearly, they were intoxicating, smooth, and intriguing, like melted milk chocolate. She found herself wanting to get closer, needing to find out who could have such a voice. Before she realized it, she found herself creeping back out of the breakroom and to the very next door in the hall. The wall of this office was made of glass instead of painted sheet rock. The blinds that hung in front of the glass were closed, blocking her view to the inside of the room. She walked a few steps down the hall, passing in front of the glass. When she reached the end of the glass, she saw that there was a small, roughly four-inch opening where the blinds weren’t quite covering the window. She peered in through the opening and her breath caught in her throat.

A long table filled the room and was surrounded by chairs, half of which were filled with people. The occupants of the chairs were all strange looking men—beautiful, regal, and masculine all at the same time. Each one had long hair, board straight and shiny, with unorthodox coloring. The hair of one of the individuals was stark white, though he looked as if he were in his early twenties. Another sported hair of pale blue, while another’s was light purple. This was bizarre in and of itself, but that was far from the most unusual feature of the strange men.