The Dark Priestess, Book One in the Cursed Trilogy

Chapter Two

I do a time consuming inventory of the delivery that had come in the morning – there have been a few times where things have been missing from my orders, happens more often that you’d think.  But everything seems accounted for this time, thankfully the glass droppers I had ordered have come as well as the perfume tester strips.  I catalogue and label bottle after bottle of essential oils.  The storeroom is windowless, so I get pretty warm in there.  After wiping down the counters and giving the shop floor a quick sweep, I switch off the lights, set the alarm and set off towards my car.

            I had parked a couple of blocks away as usual in a car park.  The streets of Charing Cross are still crowded with students and tourists at this time.  I walk briskly towards my destination and check my watch; it’s just after ten o’clock.  The cold winter air bites at my face and whips at my hair - reminding me it’s winter lest I should forget, as if!  Sighing, I turn up the collars of my coat to help against the elements and cross the road, just as the rain starts to fall, big fat plops of water from high above.  I inwardly groan at myself, great! I had left my umbrella in the boot of my car this morning.

As I walk keeping my head down, my footsteps echo ominously around the now empty back street I’m walking down, my thoughts turn to how my love of scents and perfumes began.  I had been given a perfume making set for Christmas when I was nine or ten years old in one of the many foster homes I’d stayed at.  I still remember to this day how I had been enamoured by the process of creating a scent from the beginning, and by using different types of essential oils - so many different combinations of smells could be created.  I guess it was the possibility of creating something beautiful and pleasing – almost magical - to the senses that really won my heart and the fact that it was something I could control, what had started as a hobby had soon ignited into a burning passion.  

Alongside sitting my A Levels, I had taken a perfumery course at the local college, even after completing my degree in chemistry at Oxford my heart lay with perfumery, so as soon as I had left University I had decided to open up my own business customising perfumes.  At first it was a struggle as I’d taken out a loan, against Ross’s insistence that I let him give me the money.  I had venomously declined to his chagrin, knowing full well he would never let me pay him back.  The first year had been hard, to say the least.  I had barely managed to get by.  What with keeping up with the shop’s rent and making sure it was fully stocked at all times.  The second year had been marginally better as I built a customer base.  The last few years even better, I’d made a profit!   So all in all I was very pleased that my hard work had been worth the struggle and initial long hours.  What could be better than doing the job you truly love and getting paid for it?

By the time I reach the car park, I’m soaked through.  My hair’s become plastered to my forehead and water runs down my face.  I take my keys out of my bag and start towards my car.  I regret the location now, as I had parked quite a bit further in than usual.   The overhead security lights are flickering slightly and seem to be dimmer the further in I walk in,  lending an almost eerie feel to the car park, which is deserted at this time of night, except for a few cars scattered here and there.  Maybe I should start taking the bus to work.  At least I’d save a fortune on car parking tickets, which are extortionate in London.  

My eyes dart at the dark shadows thrown out hazarpedly by the dim lighting, I quicken my pace, the back of my spine starts tingling giving me a bad feeling.  It has always been like this - ever since I can remember, It starts off with a tingling sensation in my spine before something horrible  happens – just like now.  The air around me is slowly turning palpable.  I round the corner to where my car is parked when I hear the unmistakeable sound of shuffling footsteps behind me, as if hurrying to catch up with me.  I grip my bag closer to me and hold my breath listening for any further noise or movement.  There!  There’s the very slightest of a shift in the air behind me.