JENNIE
Lunch? i berated myself for not asking whether or not I would be on the menu before Lisa disappeared through the doorway.
For a minute, I could only stare after her, until a bit of common sense finally managed to sink in. Get dressed, stupid.
I staggered to the wardrobe and appraised the teeny bits of black material with a sense of dread. Bustieres, leather skirts …
Not exactly casual wear. Jisoo had to keep real clothes somewhere, and I determinedly pushed my way through hangers to reveal the very back of the closet.
As if conjured by my desperation, I found a garment bag hanging from a hook and I snatched for it, too distracted by Lisa's voice in my head—hurry up!—to worry about the implications of stealing. Swiftly, I undid the zipper and withdrew the two pieces of clothing stashed inside.
One was a white blouse, lighter than gossamer, with flowing sleeves and a delicate collar. Paired with it was a navy skirt way more fashionable than my mother's brown tweed monstrosity.
But that wasn't all. The bag still felt heavy so I raced over to the table and dumped out the remaining contents. A tiny makeup case plopped out, along with a folded slip of paper. The case, once I gathered the nerve to open it, held a matching pair of black lace underwear and a bra, a tube of red lipstick and more of that mint gum. The note had been written in the same, elegant scrawl as the message from my dinner tray last night.
This is your chance, Jisoo had scribbled in black ink. Ask her anything you will, but remember—the word was underscored by three heavy lines—that quaint little saying about curiosity and that unfortunate cat! –Jisoo
P.S., she'd added at the bottom of the page, we don't keep toothpaste here (only mouthwash) so do the best you can with the gum. And, Belize is lovely this time of year, isn't it? I wonder if Lisa thinks the same.
Huh? The gum thing I understood—and absently, I unwrapped the strip and began to chew it—but Belize?
Perhaps I was being too cynical, but Lisa didn't strike me as the type to serenely lounge on the beach, sipping Mimosas, let alone give a damn whether or not it was 'lovely' in the tropics this time of year. Rather than ponder the odd request, I shed my robe and dressed more quickly than I ever have in my life.
When I finally faced the mirror, I expected the usual 'Jennie the unfashionable' horror show. Instead …
The white of the blouse played over my skin, making it seem more porcelain than sallow. The blue countered the darkness of my eyes. I still looked creepy, of course—though more 'undead flight attendant' than childlike ghost.
Tucked in the corner near the door, I found my shoes and hastily pulled them on while shoving Jisoo's note into my pocket.
"Are you ready yet?" Lisa snapped from the hall.
"Y-Yes."
I grabbed my purse and swung it over my shoulder before racing for the door. I hadn't gone more than a single step over the threshold before an icy hand seized my forearm.
"Keep your head down," Lisa hissed. I had to jog just to keep up as she sped through the hall, dragging me after her, and down a flight of stairs.
I expected for us to go out the back way, the same way I had come in. Instead, Lisa turned through a door I had missed before, and I found myself in a brightly lit lobby where sunlight streamed in through sleek windows.
It was midday already. The sky was a glorious blue with no clouds in sight …and I found myself glancing back at Lisa, heart in my throat.
Would she combust?
Burst into flames the moment a drop of sunlight touched her unholy skin?
As if my very thoughts were the trigger, she froze and I waited for her to sizzle into ash right before my eyes. Instead, she eyed a potentially lethal puddle of light and frowned. "Damn. Forgot my sunglasses." Looking directly at me, she added, "The sun's killer today."
Had this been a movie or something that I was observing from the outside, I would have laughed—how funny, the vampire had jokes. As it was, I could only stare. What made it worse was that I knew that she knew I was gaping at her. Surely some nasty remark would come next? Maybe a quip about biting or blood?
As it was, she simply headed through the main glass doors, leaving me to catch up. By the time I finally stumbled outside after her, Lisa's only reaction was to raise a hand to shield her eyes in lieu of those missing sunglasses.
And she didn't even burn.
Out front, the same black car that had delivered me to the club waited by the curb. It looked even more terrifying in broad daylight. The driver stood beside it, holding the door open and without pause Lisa hauled me forward.
"Watch your head," she warned before shoving me inside.
I crawled across the backseat and sandwiched myself against the door—but it still didn't seem far enough away from her.
Lisa alone took up more than half of the backseat, and I had to do some fancy maneuvering with my legs just to keep any part of me from touching her. Regardless, I felt her chill without the need for any physical contact. Her very scent seemed ingrained on my conscience; winter and spice.
"The Café Claret," she told the driver.
At her request, the car lurched into the mid-morning traffic. I didn't know how to react when Lisa leaned back against the leather headrest without acknowledging my presence. I watched her from the corner of my eye, unable to decipher a single emotion.
This is your chance! Jisoo's voice urged in my head. Ask her what you will.
"So…" I cleared my throat. "You aren't burning to death in the sun."
Nice one, Jennie, I scoffed to myself. Way to hit her with the tough questions.
However, the remark didn't earn me the exasperated reaction I would have expected. Rather than roll her eyes, Lisa simply shrugged.
"I'm not." Then, with what I guessed was deliberate slowness, her finger struck the button that lowered the tinted window, allowing the sunlight to stream in uninhibited. "It's beautiful out," she remarked while gazing at the brilliant blue sky above. "Not too warm. The perfect day for a stroll."
Okay, so obviously the rules of Dracula did not apply in this instance—at least not to her. I squirmed, wondering just what that meant for me, but while we were on the topic of weather, I decided to take the rest of Jisoo's advice.
"Belize," I blurted, gauging her reaction carefully; her jaw tightened, though it could have been just a response to me talking in general. "It's beautiful this time of year isn't it—"
A shrill tune cut over me; the beginning notes of Beethoven's 5th symphony, my ringtone for Rosé. How ironic, considering the location of her current impulsive getaway.
I fumbled inside my purse for my cell and brought it to my ear. As I did so, I happened to catch sight of the notice that flashed across the screen: 15 missed calls over two days—all from the same three numbers.
Uh oh.
"Jen?" Rosé demanded before I had the chance to even say hello. "Jennie, are you there?"
For once my chirpy, happy sister sounded strained and frantic.
"I'm here. What's wrong?"
"Did you send the money?"
Oh. Somewhere in the chaos of selling my body and soul to a vampire, I had forgotten all about Rosé and her two hundred grand.
"I'll have it to you by the end of the day," I promised, perhaps a little harsher than necessary, unable to shake a nagging sense of guilt that mingled with irritation. These days, I was lucky if she called me three times a year and I couldn't even remember to fulfill her usual monetary request.
What a horrible sister I was.
"Oh, Jen …" Rosé sighed. I could picture her readjusting the headset against her ear and nervously fiddling with a strand of blonde hair. "I didn't mean to sound so bratty. It's just that …things with Paulo didn't work out at the villa—" Poor Roseann. Had he run off on her? Found a new blonde to play with? God forbid that she would have to suffer the mess she created. "I just need a little something to tide me over."
"Just wait a few days and you'll have more than enough," I snapped before I could help it—and I wasn't talking about the length of time it would take to process the transfer, either. Lisa, supposedly, would only give me enough of her magic blood to last another two days, counting this one.
After that …
Mortality was staring me in the face. I still hadn't gotten around to drawing up that will. Time was ticking.
My cat needed a guardian.
My sister needed to know some glimmer of the truth.
My wardrobe needed to be burned rather than plague the unfortunates at Goodwill with hideous fashion choices.
But what was I doing instead? Hopping into a car with a brooding woman who claimed to want to take me to 'lunch' after all but damning me to hell.
"Don't talk like that," Rosé said. "I know that lately I've been playing the role of selfish little sister but I—" She broke off abruptly. "I love you, Jennie. I promise that I'll be home in a couple of weeks, but …I've got to go now."
Click! She hung up and I was left to process her words; I love you.
The phone slipped through my fingers to land with a thump on the seat. I couldn't even remember if, outside of childhood, we had ever consciously uttered those words to each other. Not at Father's funeral. Definitely not at Mother's. Maybe, at Christmas one year, after too much wine?
Was it absolutely pathetic that I couldn't remember?
I could always blame the memory lapse on shock; it wasn't like Rosé to carry on a conversation longer than it took to say, give me money, oh, Jen, please? Ta-ta! I couldn't shake the feeling that she had been trying to tell me something, something important ...
I'd be damned if I could even begin to guess what it was.
"We're here." Lisa's quiet declaration jolted me back to reality.
The car had come to a stop, and she already stood on the curb. I scrambled out after her and gaped up at the front of a chic hotel. It overlooked the bay and had a grand view of the harbor. The Café Claret was apparently housed inside of it.
"Come on." Without waiting for me, Lisa had already passed through the glass doors of the building. I hurried after her, clutching my purse to my chest.
Inside was an elegant affair of expensive wallpaper and antique furniture lined in gold—the kind of place my mother would have loved to hold court. A pretty young woman stood within the spacious lobby and smiled, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for the very moment that Lisa walked through the door.
"Ms. Manoban!" she greeted warmly. "Your table is ready."
"Thank you, Abigail." I almost didn't recognize the person standing beside me from her warm tone. She even smiled with a charming grace that she never displayed toward me.
Abigail turned and led the way through a pair of French doors into a well-lit dining room. A row of bay windows revealed a stunning view of the waterfront. The soft yellow walls and polished wooden floors made the space seem charming and I could picture people fighting to eat here.
Though, at least for now, it was entirely empty, save for us.
Odd. But it wasn't until Abigail came to a stop before a table facing a window that I realized why; it was the only table set.
"A private room, as requested," Abigail chirped, proving my suspicions to be true.
The table itself looked harmless enough. A cream tablecloth set off the gold filigree in the china plates, and a vase of daises in the center added a splash of color.
No knives or goblets of blood in sight.
With a wary glance at Lisa I sat down, and she took the seat across from me.
"Thank you, Abigail," she said, flashing the woman a magnificent smile, and she skipped off, closing the doors of the dining room behind her. "All right, Jennie." All at once, her voice changed. It deepened, taking on a hard edge, and something told me that it was a special tone she reserved only for me. "You wanted to talk? Let's talk."
She snapped her fingers and a second later a man entered carrying a tray of food. One by one, he placed dishes of soup and salad and bread between us and then left again.
"Let's start with your options," Lisa went on, unconcerned by the interruption. She unrolled a set of silverware and placed a spoon and fork on my side of the table. "There are none."
She stared me down from over a bowl of clam chowder and waited, as if to make sure the words sank in.
"You're stuck now, Jennie. I hope you've enjoyed your little taste of hell."
I forced down a dry swallow—though, like her, I played my role in our charade by picking up a delicate salad fork. "I wouldn't exactly call being attacked by a mad man something that can be enjoyed—"
"Don't do that," she warned before I could even finish my brave little quip. "Don't you dare pretend like this is some big bad deal that I forced you into. I gave you every chance to save yourself."
"Oh?" As casually as I could, I tilted my fork and watched the sunlight glint off the silver. The view from the window was breathtaking; the busy harbor front and stunning blue water. I couldn't help thinking that, if it wasn't for Lisa, it would have been a wonderful place to waste away the afternoon. At least without facing her directly, I could gather up the courage to finally speak. "What else do you call it when someone barges into your bedroom and won't leave until you sign a silly piece of paper—"
The entire table jolted as she lashed out and snatched the fork from my hand. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?" She slammed the utensil down on the table. "Well, it's too late for you to back out now."
"So then tell me," I countered, matching her tone to my own surprise. "I'm sorry, Lisa, but it's pretty melodramatic when someone spews doom and gloom all the time but won't give you any damn details!"
Her eyebrows shot up into a fringe of blond hair and frankly, I was pretty shocked myself.
This wasn't me. Jennie Kim didn't talk back and she certainly didn't get flippant with those bigger and stronger than herself. She was a docile little mouse and very comfortable with the fact.
Until now.
There was just something about Lisa—something irritating—that made me want to dig my fingernails into my own eyes and scream at the top of my lungs. Even worse, once she noticed me there, bleeding and hysterical, I would probably point and laugh, 'hahaha, I made you look! I made you notice me!'
It was such a juvenile reaction and I absolutely loathed her for being able to make me feel this way.
"Thank you for the lunch," I stammered, suddenly rising from my chair, "but—"
I didn't get the chance to go so much as a single step.
In a blur of motion she was standing as well. Her arm went around my waist, yanking me back into a wall of solid, ice-cold muscle. I squeaked out a sound that could have been a scream, only to find myself flipped over and shoved onto the table so hard that the wood buckled.
A vase of flowers fell to the floor.
Silverware clattered down.
It was all I could do just to throw my arms out on either side and grab hold of the table's edge for balance.
"Easy." Lisa hovered above me, hands on my waist. Those eyes were so dark that they were no longer gray but a fathomless black. "You make it way too easy …"
I shivered as the pad of her thumb came to trace my throat, brushing the bandage covering her bite. Through French doors leading to the lobby, I saw that Abigail had mysteriously disappeared from her post near the front desk.
"You make it way too easy to have your body coiled with fear, heart pumping so frantically that I could choreograph a waltz to your damn pulse." Her nail tapped out a rapid rhythm against my carotid artery; tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap! "I only have to look at you for you to reek of fear, Jennie. You must really think me the Devil."
I couldn't respond.
Right then, she did look like the Devil; undeniably beautiful with fire in those eyes. My nails dug into the underside of the table, scraping wood as sweat trickled down the back of my blouse.
I waited for her to hurt me. Bite me? Kill?
Suddenly, she pulled back instead.
"You want to know the truth, Jennie? I tried to give you an easy deal. Hell, I all but handed more time—more life—to you on a golden platter. But you couldn't just quit while you were ahead." She shrugged, but the motion was a violent display of tension. "Well now …it's too late."
"What-what do you mean?"
"I mean the terms of your contract are now set in stone Jennie," she declared with all the warmth of a death sentence. "I don't make the rules anymore."
"Then, who does?"
She made a terrifying sound that could have been a chuckle. "I'm only the salesman, Jennie and just like everyone else, I too have a boss."
A boss? So, she didn't go out collecting souls on her own sick whim—it was her job? I recalled what Somi had said; too bad, Lisa, you don't own her contract, Raphael does.
"Then who? Who owns my contract?"
"Well, he's not the Devil," Lisa began, before the thought could even form in my mind. "Though, to be honest, he's not too far off."
A not-Devil who held my virtual Devil's chains. Interesting.
"So …" I cleared my throat and fought to keep my voice steady. Stay in control, Jennie. "You got my contract for him? Why?"
I was proud of myself—at least I sounded civilized. What I wanted to say, 'You're like a dog on a leash, how quaint,' probably didn't have the same ring to it. Regardless, Lisa frowned as if reading my mind.
"All contracts belong to him," she insisted, apparently referring to this mysterious Raphael. "I am merely the broker."
'Merely the broker,' my ass. I could sense that there was more to it—so much more. Though, I figured that you could fill a book with everything Lisa wasn't saying.
Not that I was exactly in the position to demand any answers, considering that I was slung over the side of a table, holding onto the edges for dear life. I blushed at the realization that my skirt had ridden up dangerously high.
I clamped my knees together to salvage what little shred of dignity I had left, and slid forward until my heels hit the floor. Then I tugged my skirt back into place and ran a hand over my blouse. My eyes were on the floor when I gathered the courage to speak again. Two sets of silverware were scattered about, including my unfortunate salad fork.
"Do you pick your victims at random?" I wondered. "Or is there some kind of 'Manifesto for the Dark-hearted' which lists all of the sick and downtrodden souls ripe for the taking?"
No answer.
All righty then …
I had gotten my little dig in. I should have left well enough alone, but I just couldn't seem to help myself.
"Does this Raphael ever meet his 'contractors,' in person? Or," I added on a bitter note, "is he content with allowing you to perform the brutalizing and intimidation in peace—"
"This really isn't a conversation we should be having out in the open." Lisa sounded as if we were merely discussing the weather—but I wasn't fooled.
Not a bit.
Her eyes were molten, threatening to burn if I stared at them long enough …
So I peered down at my heels instead.
"Why?" I prodded. "Is he like Lucifer, after all? Will saying his name out loud make him appear?"
I tried to sound mocking, but deep down I trembled at the thought of whoever could make Lisa so serious that she didn't even scold me for disobeying her little rules.
Someone, Jennie, my inner voice warned, who you never ever want to meet.
Still, I couldn't help the urge to twist the knife. My mouth opened, eyes narrowing. "Rapha—"
An ice cold hand descended over my forearm, squeezing so tightly that I gasped out loud, but the sound had scarcely left my mouth before Lisa let me go again. I suspected that the contact had merely been a warning.
Watch your mouth.
Instead of saying as much out loud, she withdrew a wad of money from her pocket and tossed it onto the table. Then, she turned on her heel and headed for the lobby.
I was forced to run just to keep pace with her, and by the time I made it outside, the sleek black car was already pulling away from the curb and zipping into the thick of traffic ...
Though, Lisa stood on the sidewalk as well, watching it go.
I stiffened, as she glanced over and found me there, huffing and puffing. Rather than speak, she turned and began to stroll down the street, blond hair gleaming in the sun. The silent command to follow her was all in her posture; her shoulders set in a firm line that dared me to run.
Regardless, something held me back; an invisible hand on my collar, shaking me. Use your brain, Jennie, it told me, while I wavered there on the sidewalk. You can run—go home—it's not like she can stop you in broad daylight.
Though she certainly seemed to have no qualms about renting out an entire restaurant just to terrorize me in peace. I doubted that the police officer strolling into a doughnut shop across the street, or a bit of mid-morning traffic would ever deter Lisa from attacking me if the mood struck her. So, I swallowed, held my head high, and chased down my Big Bad Wolf in a pair of designer heels.
The bastard made me sprint after her for nearly a block, and it wasn't until a change in the traffic light forced her to stop at the curb that I finally managed to draw even with her. The moment I did, her hand shot out for my wrist before she turned down the other end of the street, pulling me along like a dog on a leash.
Despite everything, I found myself gazing around, embarrassingly wide-eyed. I had never seen the city like this. My family wasn't exactly the 'afternoon stroll' type, and I had only glimpsed most of the buildings and winding streets from the safety of a car.
This was so different.
So …real.
The cacophony of activity was overwhelming without a sheet of bulletproof glass to hide behind. A barrage of sounds assaulted me: honking horns, shouts, chatter. For a moment I could pretend that I was just an average pedestrian, hurrying through the chaos of mid-morning city life—but Lisa's icy grip was like an anchor tethering me to a grim reality.
She steered me down a narrow street that opened onto a boulevard where a beautiful cathedral rose in the distance. It sat in the middle of a park amongst a strip of emerald grass littered with flowers, and was such an unexpected sight that I found myself staring.
"I never knew this was here."
Lisa didn't reply. She continued at a brusque pace down a path that cut through the green, heading straight for the church. It was an odd destination for a vampire. I had to bite down some nasty jab about crosses and holy water. With every step we took, the grandiose building loomed above, beautiful and imposing.
It had been built in the Gothic style, with tall spires aiming to pierce the sky. I think I even caught sight of a gargoyle or two scowling from the roof, cold and distant—but beneath the intimidating exterior there was a faint softness that couldn't be denied.
Children played beneath the shadow of the bell tower. Couples strolled along the path, gazing up every now and again at the stained glass windows depicting biblical scenes in vibrant colors.
A sign near the entrance read, The Cathedral of St. Jude the Apostle.
"How fitting," I found myself murmuring. "The saint of lost causes and desperation …"
St. Jude was definitely on my shortlist if I ever needed a patron; my entire life had been nothing if not a lost cause.
"You know the Saints?" Lisa glanced at me from over her shoulder, as we mounted the steps leading to the cathedral entrance.
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the way my insides twisted as her eyes met mine. She sounded so skeptical, as if she'd assumed that I didn't know anything outside of the inner workings of my family's accounts. Oh, and how to use my checkbook, of course.
"I went to boarding school," I admitted, fighting to keep the irritation from my tone. "To keep my sanity I used to read. At some point I picked up a book listing all the Catholic Saints."
Not exactly the average light reading of a sixteen-year-old girl, but it had certainly passed the time.
"Hmph." Lisa made a sound in the back of her throat as she pulled on the handle of one of the building's main doors. "And here I thought that all you girls did at those schools was ride ponies and learn which doilies go best with which tea set."
"Oh, we did plenty of that too," I said, smiling at my quip.
Welstrom Academy had been the perfect hell of my mother's devising. There, the girls had been periodically stuffed into identical confections of starched white cotton, and forced to recite 'the duties of a proper lady' until our ears bled.
"But in between the tea parties and etiquette lessons I had to find some way of keeping my sanity."
Lisa didn't reply, but I was too distracted by my surroundings to really wonder why. Not counting the creature by my side, the interior of the cathedral was the most beautiful and intimidating sight I had ever seen in person.
The stone walls stretched at least ten stories high, leading to a vaulted ceiling that made every breath within its chambers echo. The pews were fashioned from solid wood, and yet everything seemed cared for down to the last piece of pristine glass hanging in the windows. There wasn't a single cobweb or item in disrepair.
Not a speck of dust.
I couldn't seem to think of a single thing to say—yet, at the same time it didn't seem right to speak inside the cathedral anyway.
For once, Lisa appeared to be of the same frame of mind. She led me by the sleeve, past a seemingly endless aisle of pews, to a darkened corner. However, as we passed a crucifix of Christ nailed to the wall, she paused. With what I guessed was deliberate slowness, she reached out to trace the silhouette of the metal figure.
Not screaming in agony, I noticed when she pulled away. A little ways away from it was a basin of holy water that I assumed was used for blessings. Lisa dipped a finger within the liquid and allowed a crystalline drop to fall onto her tongue.
"Refreshing," she murmured, with a pointed look in my direction.
Once again, I cursed the vampire rules established by that esteemed Dracula—apparently, the whole bit about crosses and holy water was useless as well.
Had Lisa been merely a slave-of-the-night and allergic to all things holy, as the folklore claimed, I could at least dream of one day having the upper hand.
As it was, I was pretty much stuck in the same figurative situation that we were literally in now; her dragging me by the arm into the unfathomable shadow.
She didn't even have the decency to at least pretend that traipsing over sacred ground was painful. Without so much as a wince, she pulled me past the altar toward a confessional tucked into an alcove. Someone had placed a sign over the door the parishioner was meant to enter. Out of order. Do not use.
The sight struck me as odd, considering how everything else inside the church seemed so carefully maintained. I wondered why the object had just been left here, forgotten—at least, until Lisa pulled open the door, heedless of the warning.
Rather than a chair to sit and do the confessing, the cabinet opened to a set of stairs cut directly into the stone wall behind it. Something told me that the passage had been purposefully hidden.
But where would it lead?
"Ladies first," Lisa prompted, before I even had the chance to question.
I found myself gulping instead. How many people knew this was here? The few patrons spread out amongst the pews seemed too busy contemplating to notice us.
The staircase was pitch-black and narrow. The damp smell of decay tickled my nose and despite my newfound bravery, I wasn't inclined to go skipping merrily into it.
Not that Lisa gave a damn whether I wanted to or not.
"Any day now, Jennie," she growled against the nape of my neck.
Right. With a sigh, I squared my shoulders and took a step into the confessional. It was a tight squeeze. My shoulders threatened to brush the stone walls on either side, and I had to fight down the urge to scamper right back out. Only the thought of who waited behind me deterred me from doing just that.
It was dark. I could barely make out the next step before the door closed behind me with a solid thud, plunging me into further shadow.
"L-Lisa?"
No answer. I didn't dare risk turning to see if she followed, so I just continued to feel my way forward.
It was a long climb. I swore I counted at least fifty steps alone before I lost track.
And there only seemed to be countless more.
Sweat had glued my shirt to my skin by the time I finally came against a solid surface blocking my path. I reached out, feeling what felt like wood beneath the tips of my fingers. A door?
I searched blindly for a doorknob—but before I even found one, the door opened from the other end as if on cue.
"About time," Lisa harrumphed from within a puddle of bright light. She stood back, revealing a spacious room where a series of lattice windows overlooked the lawn below. I turned, even though I now had a pretty good idea that Lisa hadn't been behind me all along. In fact, she looked like she'd barely gone a step, let alone two flights of stairs to get here.
"How did you … How—"
"Come." She jerked her head for me to follow and didn't bother to elaborate.
The room resembled a typical entryway. The layout was circular, with several archways leading into separate areas. The walls were covered in old wood paneling, but the style seemed different than the overall feel of the rest of the church—even simpler. A sleek chaise sat in a corner, paired with a silver light fixture that hung on the wall above it; this time, a candle, rather than a serpent-shaped sconce.
"I had you take the visitor's entrance," Lisa explained while closing the door I'd come in from. "Hope you don't mind."
Her tone revealed that she didn't give a damn either way, but I was too busy pondering her words to really notice.
"The entrance to what?"
Rather than answer, she turned and headed through the closest archway. I assumed the room beyond was a study of sorts. Shelves covered almost every inch of the walls, lined with books that—at a glance—didn't seem to be the typical biblical volumes one might find in the average church. I don't think most parishioners were interested in reading 'War and Peace' or 'The Complete Literary Volumes of Chaucer' in between bible verses.
A desk sat in the room's center, before a large window that let in gleaming daylight. Without much fanfare, Lisa walked over to it and casually pulled open a drawer.
"I'll allow you to review the basics," she offered before tossing something onto the desk's surface. "I don't want to sound too melodramatic, but you did sign it in blood."
I gulped, knowing exactly what was beneath the cover of that leather contract book without even having to flip it open.