Chapter One

Granddad touched my hand gently. His large hand covered mine completely and give it a little squeeze.

It was a story I had heard nearly every evening since I started working here. A story that seemed to touch him deeply, something more than a fairy-tail handed down through the generations of his family. There were times when tears caressed the corners of his deep blue eyes, a single tear getting caught in the deep-set laugh lines.

I made a fist under his hand then uncurled and slipped my hand free, leaving his bill behind. I gave his hand a gently pat in return and took his dirty dishes from the table. I knew the story nearly by heart at this point, but there was one thing that still puzzled me -- why it seemed to touch him so deeply. He spoke of centuries as if he'd been a witness to all of them. A completely impossible task but his reaction was genuine all the same.

"The old man tell you his story again?" Tau, my co-worker, asked with a knowing smile.

"Of course." I said with an absent nod, dropping the dishes into a bin.

"I dunno how you do it. You're the only one that will wait his table and listen to that damn story."

"He tells it beautifully." I said with a shrug, wiping my hands. "Besides, it seems to make him happy and sad all in the same go. Why not just let him have it."

"Not to mention the big fat tip he always leaves you." Tau said with a wink.

I shrugged again. "I have bills to pay."

Grandad stayed for another two courses and then spent nearly and hour nursing a glass of straight scotch. It was odd. He never stayed that long and today he seemed more despondent than usual. I ended up helping him to his car at the end of the night where he gave me a big hug. Stunned, I could only stand there while he squeezed me. After his car had turned the corner, I found my best friend standing in the parking lot behind me.

"Was that really old man McHutchins feeling you up?" Harper was grinning as he played with his phone and didn't even have the common curtsey to look up at me.

"Shut up." I scoffed.

He finally looked up, his brown eyes shining with mischief as he tucked his phone into his pocket and took out his keys. "Your line of odd jobs just keeps getting odder and odder." He pushed off the hood of the car he'd been leaning on and moved around to the driver's door.

Harper was my best friend, my guardian, my savior, my big brother. He found me at my lowest point and gave me a home and food. I could never repay him for all he had done but I damn sure tried. That meant getting this job waitressing and doing whatever else came my way. He always insisted I didn't need to do it but aside from keeping myself busy, I needed to feel worthy of his kindness in some way. Working did that for me.

Inside the car, Harper cranked the engine and his music blared into my face. When he reached to turn it down I knew it was because he had something to say. "I got a job for you." In order for me to do my whole "odd job" thing, Harper had insisted he be my manager and screen all the jobs for me. "A girl I know from college wants you to flirt with her boyfriend. She thinks he's a flake and wants proof. She's saying five hundred for video. One of her friends says he's at the Warehouse right now."

"Do I have time to shower?"

Harper nodded. I had taken the job waitressing only a few blocks from his apartment but he insisted on picking me up when I closed. So we were back at the apartment in no time. It gave me plenty of time to shower and wash the smell of beachside diner out of my hair. I would have no time to style it, so a wash go would result in long beach waves. It was a job which meant I had no plans on dancing the night away but just in case I pulled a black hair tie around my thin wrist. It would blend in nicely with my outfit of a short leather skirt, knitted crop top, 80's style bunched sleeved leather jacket and thigh high boots. If nothing else, since most of my gigs were of lame boyfriend/girlfriend espionage, I got to wear cute outfits and get free drinks.

I emerged from my room to sound of a low, salacious whistle and a hearty laugh. "And this is my bonus." Harper said with a smile.

"You're terrible." I said with a laugh.

He shrugged and soon we were back in the car headed to the club.

The Warehouse was a club in an unassuming location, in, you guessed it, a warehouse. It was down by the docks and used old pier boards as the walk up. It looked like an art students idea of grunge art and felt like a project that someone had either never hoped would take off or had no faith in. However it started it was a hit with the current crowd. Resting this side of a bad neighborhood and looking like something only the homeless would take shelter in from the outside it was just the right amount of danger. Of course, inside was all raw bulbs hanging from the ceiling and raw brick, complete with chips and even holes in some places for added affect. It was pretty obvious that the only additions to the place had been those suitable to convey it as a night club; a stage, a few hanging cages complete with go-go dances, and three always crowded bars. The only thing that didn't for a moment match the décor was the bathroom which was immaculately clean and even the graffiti was artful.

While I ordered our usual drinks, Harper was scanning the dance floor for tonight's target. The plan was to wrap him around my finger and let Harper get a video of him being obviously single and giving me his number. Video sent to girlfriend and voila, rent is paid for this month. Easy, right? Sure.

"There is he is," Harper said, pointing to a guy about twenty feet from us.

Nodding, I pushed my hair over one shoulder and straightened my skirt before drifting through the crowd and casually toward my prey. He was already grinding against a blonde so I simply made myself available and in his line of sight. Less than a minute and few bedroom eye glances later and he was not so subtly dancing behind me. I let my backside brush lightly against his crotch and was instantly rewarded with the hovering of a broad masculine body behind me.

I giggled.

He drew in and whispered in my ear shallow compliments.

Swinging a glance to Harper, I turned around and moved closer. The prey's hand glued to my hips making sure my gyrating was right up against his crotch. Looping my arms around his neck, I cradled his head into my neck and allowed him to continue mumbling his noteworthy pick up lines. At this rate I wouldn't even need to exchange numbers with him for his girlfriend to have all the proof he wanted. Harper was filming. I could see the little red dot from across the room. So when the prey let his hands slip down from my hips and take a huge squeeze of my ass, I didn't have to grin and bare it. Instead I shoved him back.

"What's your problem bitch?" He roared.

"You found the line." I snapped.

He stepped into me. "I hate bitches like you. Teases."

I folded my arms and leaned back, making room, "Sue me."

He grabbed my hips and pulled me into him faster than I could object to, "You can't leave me like this, you tease."

I pushed against his arms but he squeezed harder. "Get off me."

I could hear Harper calling me, moving through the crowd. Then suddenly Mr. Handsy was gone. It was fast. I stumbled into a strong back covered in a leather biker jacket. My would be hero had the prey's arm twisted behind his back. "I think the lady is done dancing with you." His voice was ice, velvet ice. With a little shove, the prey was stumbling away nursing his arm.

Harper grabbed my arm, as Mr. Hero turned to me. "Thanks man," Harper said to the stranger. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. When I turned to look back the hero was gone.

"I sent the video." Harper said looking me over. "Let's go."

All I could do was nod. There was a strong scent of man and expensive subtle cologne in my nostrils. I had hit his back and it felt like I hit a brick wall, a fiery brick wall. There had been an almost tangible heat radiating off of my dark haired hero.

Two weeks later.

My phone buzzes as I step out of the shower. It's from a number I don't know but that isn't surprising considering I take odd jobs. Squeezing out my hair one last time, I wrap the towel around my body and drop to the bed as I unlock my phone.

Hello. Is this Aria? My name is Evelyn. I would like to offer you a job.

Hello, Evelyn, what sort of work is it?

Stand in. I can tell you more if you're willing to meet me.

Perhaps. How did you get my number?

Samantha. She said you did a job for her at the Warehouse.

One moment.

I switch screens and call Harper. It rings twice before he answers.

"What's up?"

"Do you know a girl name Evelyn? Says she knows the girl we did the job for at the Warehouse."

He's quiet for a moment, then, "Oh yeah. Her and Sam are close. Eve is pretty ritzy. She asking for a job?"

"Yeah. Just checking."

"Good. She's a brunette. Drives a Mercedes convertible, grey or silver something like that. She's a rich girl you can spot a mile off. Let me know if anything pans out."

Harper, my bodyguard, my manager, my self-proclaimed big brother. "Okay, thanks. I will."

We hung up and I message Evelyn back: Where would you like to meet?

The theater on 86th and Broadway, you know it?

I do. Damnit that means I have to go into the city. When?

One hour.

See you then.

At least I had already showered. I was dressed in no time and making my way to the nearest subway. It was a fifteen minute ride into the city and the theater was only four blocks from the subway leaving me with enough time to grab a slice or five from the shop across the street. Pizza in the city was better. I might have gorged myself a little but it was so worth it.

With five minutes to spare, I was at the theatre when Evelyn arrived. Just as Harper said, she pulled up in a convertible silver Mercedes and stepped out in full glamor. Her pantsuit was pressed, this opalescent blue that shimmered in the sunlight and her beige silk blouse was loosely tucked into the pants. She wore stilettoed pumps that made her long legs even longer. Her hair was up in a perfectly quaffed ponytail and when she pulled off her old Hollywood large faced sunglasses and tucked them into the great big Berkin bag hanging off her forearm, her smile was easy and her blue eyes shone like sapphires.

"Evelyn," She said smiling, giving me her hand.

I smiled back, but noted she seemed to stay on a first name basis with me. That suited me fine. I deserted my family and liked to stay away from my last name as well. "Aria." I said giving her hand a shake.

"You are lovely!" She exclaimed then motioned to the great steal doors at the top of the stairs where I as standing.

"As are you." I said, pulling one of the doors open for her.

We entered the old theatre with it's red velvet seats and wooden stage. It felt hollow, abandoned.

"I can't believe they still put on shows here." I said following her down an aisle toward the center of the stage.

"Rarely, but it happens. Interactive theatre sometimes school plays, this and that. My great grandfather built it and with two generations of businessmen who don't care about the arts it's sliding. That's for sure." Evelyn took center stage. It seemed a place she was most comfortable with. Her resting pose was one leg extended and her hip jutting out. She looked as though she was about to start a very seductive dance. "On my last birthday my only wish was an allowance for it's restoration and that, my dear, is where you come in. Harper tells me you're a jack of all trades and lead in nearly every one of your high school plays. This isn't a play, per say... think of it more as live action movie trailers. Through out the night we'll be giving clips of many plays, new and old and just gauging the crowd. So a monologue here, a few lines there. A few costume changes? Sound good?"

I stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her, a gladiator in her arena. Highschool felt like so long ago. Jumping from foster home to foster home only made that time in my life seem even further away but I could act, sing a little and dance. "So what am I looking at? One night? A week? Pay?"

"One night." Evelyn said, shifting from her position to looking for a place to put down her big purse. She settled for piano bench in the corner and pulled out a smaller wallet, the kind that came as a matching set to the purse. "We'll rehearse for a bit then if you like and I like you, I'll pay you a thousand now and a thousand on the night. Sound fair?"

Two grand for a one night performance? More than fair. The hairs on the back of my neck started to raise. "Sounds fair."

"We're in a bit of rush." She tucked the wallet away and turned back to me handing off the first grand. "You see, these were supposed to be my parts but we've had some flakes on the business and promoting sides and I can't very well toggle the acting and the this, not with the costume changes. You'll see." She waved me on stage and we moved to the wings as she went on. "So this will be a dress rehearsal and I'm going to coach you off book. Can you do that?"

"Sure," I said as she stopped by a custom rack full of gowns.

Evelyn started to shuffle through them and gave a glance back to the stage. There was a podium with large book open on it, in the center of the stage. A lot of props were shoved to the back, scattered here and there as if they were shuffling through scenes haphazardly as I suspected we would be doing.

"I supposed the easiest thing to do would be to pick up where we left off last night." She was silent for a moment before pulling a dress from the rack. "It has the easiest lines but this dress and the hair will take some time. Come along."

And hour later, I stood in front of a long mirror in a dim room staring at myself. I was wearing a wedding dress and it was beautiful, probably more expensive than most people spend on their entire wedding. Evelyn had flippantly noted that it was a few seasons old and used in runways shows so the designer, a good friend of her mother's, had thought nothing of it to donate it to her show. It was off the shoulder, making my neck and shoulders look long and elegant. It's delicate but detailed sleeves ended at the back of my hands. The beading and aplicae work moved all through the bodice and dress and finally over the train that was added to my hips giving it an almost Victorian look. Evelyn managed to find some very high platform pumps for me since there wouldn't be time to hem the bottom of the dress to match my height. While I barely hit the marker for five three there was no way I would have survived a dress made for model without the added height.

My golden colored skin shone against the stark whiteness of the dress. In opposition to the dress, my make up was dark, almost macabre with deep plum colored lips and smoked out plum shadow and almost deadly cat eye black liner. Evelyn had braided my thick brown hair into a ring on my head and packed with a wreath of flowers that had pops of the dark plum color while she explained to me this scene would be about a woman betrothed to a man she does not want to marry, resorting to witch craft to free herself. So the make-up seemed fitting.

I sighed, looking at myself. I didn't know what to make of what I was seeing. Maybe because I had never so much as thought of marriage and now I was in something that cost more than anything I had ever laid a hand on looking as though I were going to my doom. Or maybe it was because that tingle at the back of my neck had going gotten stronger as she prepped me for this role. Either way, I brushed my hands down the front of the dress and made my way back to the stage.

"You are lovely." Evelyn said again as I emerged from the wings. "No one is going to miss me from this role with you there. I can tell already." She was standing in the orchestra box with a book in her hand and motioned to the podium.

I smiled in thanks and moved closer to it.

She looked down at the book, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "For this scene, the narrator has a monologue introducing your strife." She looked up at me. "Remember how I said this was an easy one? Right. Well, he finishes with a flourish and says, 'To battle fate is to heed directly in her path, for that which she desires will always be hers!' " She flourished her arm and then nodded to me. "Then you will run toward the podium, grip it tightly on both sides and desperately repeat the spell. Now, you won't get this twice, but it should help with those pesky opening jitters. Your lines should actually be on that page. Once you've repeated the spell you'll pick up the knife and slice your finger, letting the "blood" drip onto the page. Got it?"

"Seems easy enough." I said, stepping away from the podium so I could made a "desperate" move toward it.

"Perfect!" Evelyn smiled and repeated the last line of the monologue for me.

On her cue, I rushed the podium and my eyes fell and what I could only describe as Latin for the first few words. Once I had repeated the "spell" I lifted the knife on the podium and dragged it across the tip of my finger. I expected fake blood to drip across the page, or even form on the page but instead was greeted by a sharp twang of pain and found my actual blood leaking from my finger. Before I could comprehend what I had done, there was a flash of light glowing up from beneath me from symbols I had never seen before, symbols that were surely not there before. My head swiveled to Evelyn and I could have sworn I saw her mumble the words, 'I'm sorry' before everything went black.