Cyrene had worked at a lot of jobs over the years but she never hated one so much as a 99 cent store cashier. She had four bosses and four different jobs (the register, stocking, cleaning, and picking up rejects) and each boss expected their orders to be carried out yesterday. The six other cashiers she was supposed to work with were always conviently unavailable when lines were longest and her hours varied between 8 to 10 hours a day; they had only figured out a week ago that her neatly printed application had asked for part-time work. Still it wasn't unusual to get to work at 8 in the morning and stay until 4 in the afternoon, only to be called on to fill in for someone else and work from 4:30 until well past midnight. The nicest people she could find were her customers, all of whom could only offer condolences and support. The fact that she and Liam needed her minimum wage earnings to make rent and her own desire to beat these people at their own mind games, kept Cyrene from complaining loudly or better yet, quitting.
Still, that just made the few times she got a part-time day all the more freeing for then she could race down to the library and bury herself among the stories. On this particular day she made it to the huge building by 3 that afternoon. She paused to pat the paws of the stone lions guarding them steps in greeting before sprinting up the steps and through the doors.
She spent the next few moments walking up and down the rows, trying to catch her breath. Her runs served no real purpose except that they helped clear her head and it helped to have somewhere to run to. She glanced up and down the shelves, looking for any book, that for some reason, she just had to have. Last time it had been Haunted America, the Scarlet Pimpernel and for the tenth time, Dragons and Dreams. This time...nothing.
"May I help you?" Came a voice. Cyrene jumped and spun around. An middle aged woman with dark hair and light eyes, in glasses stood behind her. Her name was...what?...Cyrene racked her brain...Cal-cala-Callahan, that was it, or something like it. She was a part-time librarian, with an air about her that said she held a special secret. She smiled as Cyrene faced her. "Oh hello dear. Good to see you're back. Do you have a list this time, or 'just browsing' again?"
"No ma'am," said Cyrene. She removed Liam's crumpled napkin and handed it to the woman, who looked it over, nodded, then began to walk, trusting the girl to follow. She spoke as she walked.
"So how is your father?"
"Not bad, got o'er that bad flu bug. Like magic ya know?"
"I know. And your jobs." Cyrene gave a sigh from the soles of her sneakers and Callahan chuckled. "I understand completely." She continued with small talk as she removed Liam's requested volume's off the shelves, not really expecting the girl to answer. Suddenly Coyote's voice filled Cyrene's mind, repeating the advice from her dream:
"You are not complete...there are those who can help you find the key...one you know already. Ask for their counsel."
Liam's daughter piped up. "Whata ya know 'bout coyotes and ravens?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Like in the Native myths. How they always talk 'bout Coyote or Raven...what ya know?"
Callahan's brow furrowed. "In Native American stories you mean?" Cyrene nodded "They're both known to be tricksters and bearers of wisdom, but that's really all I can tell you. It's not my strong point--but why are you asking me? You've traveled, surely you know more about it than I do?"
"Ya I know.,...jus' wanted someone else's thought that's all." The librarian smiled again. " I have some things that you may enjoy taking with you," she responded. "A few books that are to be discarded and I know I can trust you to give them a good home. C'mon." Callahan led the way through the shelves back to the checkout desk, set the stack of Liam's requested books on the counter and left to the back room, while Cyrene rummaged in her bag for her card. The elder woman returned in a few minutes with another stack. "Will these fit in your bag?" She eyed the thing dubiously.
"Oh sure," replied Cyrene confidently "it's held heavier." She slid her card over the desk top and watched as she completed her visit. She half wished she could stay longer, but Liam would be coming back from work soon and it was her turn to cook dinner, one of the few things she did better than him. She glanced over her shoulder as she left: the elder woman's face had changed, as if she had just confided her deepest secret to the girl. It wasn't until she had gotten home that Cyrene looked at her new collection for the shelves:
Stephen King's Carrie (a paperback version)
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
Harold Schechter's Nevermore
Dragons and Dreams (the copy she'd checked out for so long.)
The Dark is Rising
Midnight Magic.
But what caught her eyes most was an brown hardback, hardly thicker than Dragons and Dreams and about Cyrene's same age. It had no title on the cover or anything and looked as if it hadn't been taken out and read once since it was published. She opened the cover, wincing in sympathy with the cracking spine. Nothing on the first page. She turned and saw the title page. Two words, but they sent small shocks through her body.
The Art.
**********************************************************************
A/N: In memory of my old job as a 99 cent store cashier, faithfully recreated in the first paragraph. And as a tribute to Sarah and Nomali, the two people (out of 20 that I worked with) who were actually good people.
Still, that just made the few times she got a part-time day all the more freeing for then she could race down to the library and bury herself among the stories. On this particular day she made it to the huge building by 3 that afternoon. She paused to pat the paws of the stone lions guarding them steps in greeting before sprinting up the steps and through the doors.
She spent the next few moments walking up and down the rows, trying to catch her breath. Her runs served no real purpose except that they helped clear her head and it helped to have somewhere to run to. She glanced up and down the shelves, looking for any book, that for some reason, she just had to have. Last time it had been Haunted America, the Scarlet Pimpernel and for the tenth time, Dragons and Dreams. This time...nothing.
"May I help you?" Came a voice. Cyrene jumped and spun around. An middle aged woman with dark hair and light eyes, in glasses stood behind her. Her name was...what?...Cyrene racked her brain...Cal-cala-Callahan, that was it, or something like it. She was a part-time librarian, with an air about her that said she held a special secret. She smiled as Cyrene faced her. "Oh hello dear. Good to see you're back. Do you have a list this time, or 'just browsing' again?"
"No ma'am," said Cyrene. She removed Liam's crumpled napkin and handed it to the woman, who looked it over, nodded, then began to walk, trusting the girl to follow. She spoke as she walked.
"So how is your father?"
"Not bad, got o'er that bad flu bug. Like magic ya know?"
"I know. And your jobs." Cyrene gave a sigh from the soles of her sneakers and Callahan chuckled. "I understand completely." She continued with small talk as she removed Liam's requested volume's off the shelves, not really expecting the girl to answer. Suddenly Coyote's voice filled Cyrene's mind, repeating the advice from her dream:
"You are not complete...there are those who can help you find the key...one you know already. Ask for their counsel."
Liam's daughter piped up. "Whata ya know 'bout coyotes and ravens?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Like in the Native myths. How they always talk 'bout Coyote or Raven...what ya know?"
Callahan's brow furrowed. "In Native American stories you mean?" Cyrene nodded "They're both known to be tricksters and bearers of wisdom, but that's really all I can tell you. It's not my strong point--but why are you asking me? You've traveled, surely you know more about it than I do?"
"Ya I know.,...jus' wanted someone else's thought that's all." The librarian smiled again. " I have some things that you may enjoy taking with you," she responded. "A few books that are to be discarded and I know I can trust you to give them a good home. C'mon." Callahan led the way through the shelves back to the checkout desk, set the stack of Liam's requested books on the counter and left to the back room, while Cyrene rummaged in her bag for her card. The elder woman returned in a few minutes with another stack. "Will these fit in your bag?" She eyed the thing dubiously.
"Oh sure," replied Cyrene confidently "it's held heavier." She slid her card over the desk top and watched as she completed her visit. She half wished she could stay longer, but Liam would be coming back from work soon and it was her turn to cook dinner, one of the few things she did better than him. She glanced over her shoulder as she left: the elder woman's face had changed, as if she had just confided her deepest secret to the girl. It wasn't until she had gotten home that Cyrene looked at her new collection for the shelves:
Stephen King's Carrie (a paperback version)
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
Harold Schechter's Nevermore
Dragons and Dreams (the copy she'd checked out for so long.)
The Dark is Rising
Midnight Magic.
But what caught her eyes most was an brown hardback, hardly thicker than Dragons and Dreams and about Cyrene's same age. It had no title on the cover or anything and looked as if it hadn't been taken out and read once since it was published. She opened the cover, wincing in sympathy with the cracking spine. Nothing on the first page. She turned and saw the title page. Two words, but they sent small shocks through her body.
The Art.
**********************************************************************
A/N: In memory of my old job as a 99 cent store cashier, faithfully recreated in the first paragraph. And as a tribute to Sarah and Nomali, the two people (out of 20 that I worked with) who were actually good people.