Creature of Habit (Creature of Habit #1) (7 page)

Chapter 13

Amelia

He was in the kitchen when I arrived the following morning. Uncharacteristically disheveled with mud-caked shoes and weary, pale eyes.  He glanced in my direction as he washed his hands. The water in the bottom of the sink was brown and filthy.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

“No thank you, Ms. Chase. I’ll send your list down immediately.”

He dried his hands on the towel by the sink, arranged it carefully back in place and left the room.

An hour later he brought down the list, clean and refreshed. His unruly hair was damp from the shower and he smelled delicious.

“Is that uh,” I started to ask something about shampoo or body gel, but nothing logical came out.

“What?” He looked for something amiss on his list.

“You’re uh, um, never mind. I’ll get right to this.” I snatched the list from his hands and he promptly disappeared upstairs so quickly I didn’t see him go, again.

With the day half over, I sat for a quiet moment in my chair. The clock said I had three more hours of work. I wanted nothing more than to go home. I’d spent the morning running the errands for Mr. Palmer and dreaded the tedious, ridiculous job he had for me that afternoon.

I came each day prepared, once again, to move past our bumps and enjoy my job. I watched
E!
. I understood that rich, attractive people were eccentric and spoiled. Was Mr. Palmer basically a Kardashian? At least I didn’t have to sanitize the house from a series of female visitors. Genevieve never implied he had a girlfriend and on face value I couldn’t imagine why not. Women should be crawling all over this place. But realistically? A girlfriend seemed unlikely. A one night stand? Possible, but with all the OCD stuff going on….no wonder he was such a jerk. Maybe he just needed to get laid.

Lack of orgies aside, Mr. Palmer was frustratingly difficult. With each passing day I learned his obsessive compulsive habits passed eccentric and lingered toward mentally unstable. On Tuesday he left me directions to reorganize his enormous record collection out of alphabetical order and into subgroups by artist, genre and date of release. He also wanted the covers photographed and entered into a data base. This project alone would probably take me the entire week and my brain was a puddle of mush by the time I'd gotten through the Ds.

On Wednesday he left me with various chores around the house. My instructions were to straighten and dust all the paintings on the walls. There were additional, detailed, guidelines about how I had to wear cloth gloves and to never,
ever
touch the actual painting itself. I also had a special duster to use for the other antiques. After I completed the artwork I had to dust the common rooms, taking time to hand clean each curio or knickknack he had apparently collected or inherited from around the world.

I didn’t have a history of being clumsy, but all the rules and specifications were giving me a complex. I was sure at any moment I would drop and shatter a priceless heirloom. I should check the bathroom cabinet for Xanax or get a prescription. There was no way I could continue working like this and not develop an anxiety disorder or at the very least, an ulcer.

As I carefully cleaned the panes on a gorgeous Tiffany lamp (real, I Googled it), I began to wonder if Mr. Palmer wanted me to quit. Some of the tasks he’d given me were so outrageous that I felt like this was some kind of giant test. They seemed above and beyond what Genevieve described during our training. Was he waiting to see if I was fool enough to follow his instructions or if I would actually refuse to do something he asked? Beyond that, I wondered if I refused,would have enough justification to fire me?

Amelia Chase was not getting fired.

With a defiant attitude in mind, I spent Wednesday afternoon on my hands and knees with a comb, straightening out the fringe on the antique rugs and carpets throughout the house. Which, by the way, was utterly ridiculous and a complete waste of my time. It was fringe. On a rug. No one cared if it was perfect.

Except Mr. Palmer. He cared.

Now, with three hours left in the day, I rubbed my fingers into my temples and plotted my escape from his particular brand of madhouse. I forced myself into the kitchen, to the large supply closet which would normally act as a pantry. Mr. ’Special Diet’ Palmer didn’t keep food in the house so the pantry was now a supply closet.

I had purchased new bins and containers for the closet earlier in the day. Apparently Mr. Palmer needed his office supplies separated and into specific containers. The paperclips from the push pins, the masking tape from the scotch tape, and so forth. I had to admit, going hog wild at the fancy organizer store with an unlimited credit card was pretty awesome. It was sort of like a dream come true. A dream that got even better when I armed myself with a state-of-the-art computerized label maker since he couldn't just look in the clear container and figure out which one was which.

I plugged in my ear buds, turning it to the local news station. I’d never been one to listen to this type of show but ever since I started spending so much time alone it made me feel like I had a little contact during the day. At least I was up on current events. The big one, locally at least, was the string of deaths around the state. It was all anyone talked about.

The police have little information other than they suspect an animal attack. Our reporter Jason Childs spoke to Montgomery Amerson, a National Park wild life expert, and he isn’t so sure about that theory.
“It’s uncommon for a bear or bobcat to wander into suburban neighborhoods and attack a human,” he said.

“But it’s not impossible?” Jason asked.

“No, but I’d definitely want to see a medical report on the wounds to be sure.”

The police had no comment about Mr. Amerson’s opinion and warn people to stay away from the local trails and do not approach any wildlife
.”

“Next hour on Asheville Talk we’ll discuss broader theories, like the one sociologist James Norton has about this not being an animal at all but possibly the work of a ritualistic killer…”

The box of staples slipped from my hand and fell to the floor, scattering the small metal pieces. “Seriously, my parents paid eighty-six thousand dollars for me to get a degree and I’m spending it sorting office supplies.” I dropped to the floor to pick them up but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I said a silent prayer that it was my imagination. I glanced over my shoulder.

“Jesus!” I cried, when I saw a tall, thin girl with a thick head of red hair standing in the middle of the kitchen. I yanked the headphones out of my ears.

"Hi!" she replied, with a bright curious smile.

I managed to stand even as my heart lunged to my throat, pounding like a freight train. “Who are you?”

"I'm Olivia. Grant's cousin. I let myself in."

“Mr. Palmer’s cousin?”  I took a settling breath, heart still beating in my ears. She seemed harmless. Less than harmless, I thought, eyeing her flowery dress and strappy sandals that made her tower over me like a giant. “Was he expecting you? Because he didn’t tell me you were coming,” I said. “Not that you can’t stop by, you’re family. I’m just a little caught a little off guard—“

"No, he's not expecting me. I thought I would surprise him," she answered with a smirk.  “He hates surprises.”

“He does?” I didn’t like where this was headed. I was already on his shit list.

“Yes, but he loves me, so it will be alright.”

“If you say so.” I placed the boxes on the shelves and reached for the box of Post-it-Notes. "He’s not here right now, but I’m sure it’s okay if you wait. Oh,” I said, offering my hand, “I'm Amelia, the new assistant."

"Of course. Amelia." My name rolled pleasantly off her lips. She grasped my hand in a firm handshake.

I turned back to my work but felt her vivid, candy-apple green, eyes watching my movements as I continued with the mindless task of sorting the notes by color and size. I resisted the urge to take a stack of squares and write 'I Quit' in color coordinated markers and stick them all over the house in a fit of rage.

I turned to face her again, and asked, "Can I get you something? Tea or coffee? Mr. Palmer doesn't have any food in the house, but I could go get you something if you want. I have some yogurt and a cereal bar in my purse," I rambled. Olivia made me nervous with her watchful eyes. What if he’d sent her here as another part of his crazy controlling mind games?

Olivia shook her head and said, "No thank you. I'll wait in the other room.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Do you know the way?”

“I do, but would you mind sitting with me? I had a long drive and could really use the company." For a moment I lost my train of thought. Her eyes and voice were incredibly appealing, very much like her cousin’s.

I wasn't sure what to do. I had a feeling Mr. Palmer was going to be super pissed about Olivia showing up like this. Like she said, he didn't seem the type to like surprises or anything fun. Also, I wasn’t sure how much I was supposed to entertain his guests. I mean, I had a stack of Post-it notes to deal with and seriously, I was not getting fired over a stupid sticky note. But then again, I would hate to offend his family by being rude. This whole situation was entering uncharted territory.

Olivia must have noticed my unease and said, "Please. Don't worry about Grant. He can blame me if he wants to get pissy about it." She laughed and added, "Which he will. Foul is his favorite mood.”

Oh, I liked this girl. I followed Olivia as she led the way into the parlor, taking a seat in one of the large, overstuffed chairs. I couldn’t help but check out her long legs and covet the graceful way she sat across from me.

"Really, Amelia,” she said. “Don't take Grant too seriously. I know he can be a bit of a grump but he has a good heart. He forgets how to act around people sometimes."

I smiled back but said nothing, not wanting to fall into the trap of speaking about him. There was a moment of awkward silence but thankfully she changed the subject, asking me about my schooling and future plans.

“Well my plan is to save some money and go to grad school to be a librarian,” I said, after giving her a brief rundown of my life so far. “Working here seemed like a good way to stay in Asheville and do that.” Maybe it was the fact I’d gone days without speaking to anyone like this, but I found Olivia easy to talk to.  I had to wonder if she was really this good or was I this desperate. Other than Drew and the occasional store clerk, I spent most of my days alone.

“You said you had a long drive? Do you live out of town?”

“Oh, I live in Black Mountain.”

“I’ve driven through there. It’s a pretty town.”

“We really love it.  My whole extended family has lived there for some time.”

“That sounds nice. I’m an only child so it’s always just me and my parents. But I guess you and Mr. Palmer are close then?” I was snooping. I couldn’t even deny it.

“Very close. The whole family is tight. I’m sure you’ll get to meet them someday.”

The back door opened and closed. Quiet footsteps walked across the kitchen and I stood up quickly while Olivia remained seated. “He’ll probably go directly upstairs,” I said. “I’ll go catch him.”

Proving me wrong, again, Mr. Palmer joined us in the parlor. He gave Olivia an unsurprised, pointed look, like he knew she was there before he walked in the room. Olivia smiled at him and he rolled his eyes before turning to me.

"I see you've met my cousin, Olivia. She has a way of making herself at home."

"I have and she’s been lovely to talk with. Now that you're home I'm going to go back to work.”
Those Post-It notes aren’t going to sort themselves,
I wanted to add, but held back. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Palmer," I said, backing out of the room, trying to make a fast escape.

"It's Olivia. And it was great meeting you too, Amelia. I hope to see you again soon."  She walked over and gave me a tight hug. Oh boy. She was a hugger.

I went back to my work in the closet, but listened to them quietly go up the front stairs, presumably to Mr. Palmer’s private quarters. Those two couldn’t be more different. Olivia’s open and warm nature compared to Mr. Palmer with his stiff, jerkish behavior. It made me wonder how two people who grew up in the same family could turn out so unalike. Although my confusion could be due to the fact I was an only child and didn’t have the experience of a close family.

Left alone with my news radio, I finished the notes and checked the time before moving on to another bin. An hour had passed. Just two more to go. If anything, Olivia provided a bit of entertainment in my otherwise dull and boring day. For that, I should thank her. Her visit also gave me a chance to see Mr. Palmer in a different light. Although, I thought, while arranging push pins by size, it would take more than nice words from his cousin to change my mind about him.

Chapter 14

Grant

"Grant, you didn't tell me Amelia was so fantastic," Olivia said on the way upstairs.

I didn't acknowledge her comment and walked into my dressing room to put my coat up and change out of my work clothes. Although I had to admit, at least to myself, that Amelia did smell pretty fantastic.

"What are you doing here, Olivia?" I asked, pulling a clean shirt over my head. Standing in front of the mirror I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get it how I liked it.

“No ‘how are you’ or ‘I'm so glad you came to visit’?”

I brushed past her and walked into my study and sat behind the desk looking for something to do other than talk to my cousin. My incredibly nosy, persistent cousin. Not by birth. No, all of those cousins were long gone. Olivia was part of my ‘new’ family. One formed out of both necessity and a general fondness for one another. Olivia was the one person in this day-and-age that I appreciated the most. Dare I say, cared for the most. She definitely cared for me, which was why she was giving me that look. The one I didn’t want to deal with right now.

“You can't ignore this, Grant.”

I ignored her.

"Stop it, Grant. We need to talk about this."  She flopped on a chair across from my desk, arms crossed in determination.

I sighed and looked at her. "What do you want me to say? Do I find her appealing? Yes. Am I going to do anything about it? No. There is nothing more to discuss."

She frowned. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

I glared at her. "Yes. You know I can. I have."

Olivia glared back at me. "You almost slipped with the glass. And the other night, she barely made it out of here alive."

"But she did. I told you on the phone it was fine. You know I'm disciplined. I have this very much under control." I told her hoping my tone would end this conversation.

“I’m not sure it matters anyway. She's going to quit.”

“Did she tell you that?”

Olivia tapped the side of her temple. “You know how this works. It’s like a freaking crystal ball.”

I sighed and slumped into my seat. If Olivia had a premonition then surely Amelia Chase was close to a decision. "I know."

To be quite honest, I wanted her to quit.  After my reaction to her and the worker on Monday, combined with the fact I'd failed in my attempt to save the woman in the park, I'd resolved to push Amelia Chase out of my life for good. I spent the rest of the week ignoring her and leaving her with hours of monotonous tasks. I figured after several days she would grow tired and frustrated with the absurdity of my menial projects and resign.

“It's what you really want? Because right now that’s the path she’s on, but it doesn't have to be. You have a lot of control over this situation. In fact, you’re the reason she wants to quit in the first place. Do you really have to be such an ass? I mean, combing the fringe on your rug? That’s a bit much even for you.”

I glared at her and she glared back with narrow eyes. She knew I didn’t like it when she used her powers to interfere with my life. That was the first rule between us. Breaking it now, when I was already so vulnerable, was unacceptable. “Don’t do that.”

“I can’t turn it off, Grant. I can see what’s going to happen to pretty much anyone that crosses your path. That girl has been pinging my radar for a week.”

I ran a hand over my face. I knew she couldn’t stop the visions any more than I could stop the way I manipulated people.

“Believe it or not,” Olivia said, “I’m more worried about her than you. I feel an obligation to make sure she’s safe and with you acting so unbalanced, I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Understandable,” I admitted.

“You never answered my question. Do you want her to leave?”

"It's for the best, you know that. I am under control but it is a distraction I really don't need. Especially not right now. I need to focus on these murders,” I said. “I’d rather her to leave on her own terms. I don't want to fire her."

Olivia broke out into laughter, red hair quivering over her shoulders. I quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting to understand what was so funny. She finally controlled herself and said, "She wavers back and forth. At the moment she’s quite determined to stay. To prove that you can't break her. But a couple more of these horrific dirty jobs will seal her fate."

“I haven’t asked her to do anything I didn’t ask other PAs.”

“You’re such an idiot. Like Genevieve was going to say no to anything you asked. She was happy you let her spend time with you.”

“Genevieve asked for the job and I gave it to her. We barely spoke other than through assignments and emails.”

She stuck out her tongue and it was all I could do not to grab it. She’d always been like this, ever since I found her decades ago and brought her into the coven. Half clairvoyant genius—half brat. "It doesn’t matter. I have no doubt that I can break Ms. Chase. All the qualities I desired for her as an assistant will end up making this so much harder on her in the end."

We fell into a moment of silence now that the main reason for her visit had been discussed. From her expression I could tell she had something else to say—didn’t she always? I never lived up to the expectations of my family. It was the reason we lived apart.

“What?” I asked.

“The boys were sad you wouldn't go hunting with them.”

“It’s not possible right now. You know that.”

“It's not the same without you at home. It's never the same.”

"Olivia," I warned.

She sighed unhappily.

I hated disappointing her but the decision had been made. She knew that. She could even see it in her crystal-ball-like mind. I changed the subject and asked, "When is Eli coming home?”

She pursed her lips together, clearly not convinced we were finished with the prior topic, but she let it go for now. "Tonight. They're in Montana now."

"I really need for him to come see me when he returns. Will you tell him?"

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be happy to come down.”

I got up and walked to her and pulled her out of the seat. She quickly rose and wrapped her arms around me, embracing me tightly. I reciprocated, leaning down and inhaling the smell of her hair and clothes. As much as I resisted, there were moments when I’d regretted the choices that led me to my current lifestyle. This was one of those times. I hated the strain this put on the two of us.

“Speaking of hunting, and well…Amelia, how’s your alternate food source?” she asked, stepping back to walk around my desk bending over at the small refrigerator disguised as a file cabinet. She punched in the code and opened the door revealing six containers of dark red liquid. Four down from my standard ten.

“Under control.”

She lifted an eyebrow but I knew I’d passed her test. I may have had to tap into my safety reserve but it was better than slaughtering an innocent girl.

Later, after Olivia returned home, I considered our relationship and how much it meant to me. How living in isolation was taking its toll. I knew it was for the greater good, but for the first time in many years, when Olivia left, I felt a deeper loss than usual. Something my family couldn’t give me.