Elyograg (Briarcliff Series, Book 1) Read online



  ELYOGRAG

  BRIARCLIFF SERIES BOOK ONE

  LORRAINE BEAUMONT

  Copyright 2016 © by Lorraine Beaumont

  Briarcliff Series 2012© by Lorraine Beaumont

  Enhanced Interactive Edition 2016 © by Lorraine Beaumont

  All Rights Reserved

  License Notes

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion hereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to event’s, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Available in eBook and coming soon to print

  www.lorrainebeaumont.com

  BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

  Elyograg (novella) Book One

  Gargoyle Book Two

  Degare’ Book Three

  Blood Fire Coming 2016

  Special Interactive Trilogy Ravenhurst Series

  A Knight Such as This

  A Knight to Remember

  A Knight for all Time

  The Ravenhurst Series

  Forgotten Time (Book 1) Free

  Shadows of Yesterday (Book 2) Free

  Time to Remember (Book 3)

  Dreams of Tomorrow (Book 4)

  Now and Forever (Book 5)

  Ravenhurst: A Victorian Christmas (Book 6)

  Ravenhurst: A Modern Day Christmas (Book 7)

  We Three Witches- A Good Spell Gone Wrong

  Lost in the Highlands, the Thirteen Scotsman

  A Scottish Time Travel Romance

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1-PROVIDENCE

  2-STAGES

  3-SURPRISE

  4-INFATUATED

  5-UNEXPECTED

  6-DEBATE

  7-AWARE

  8-ENTRANCE

  9-ONSET

  10-PREPARATION

  11-YEARNING

  12-WAVER

  13-TEMPTATION

  14-AWAKENING

  ORIGINAL VERSION

  OTHER BOOKS BY LORRAINE

  EXTRAS

  ELYOGRAG

  BRIARCLIFF SERIES BOOK ONE

  LORRAINE BEAUMONT

  AUTHORS NOTE

  This book is enhanced to familiarize

  readers with some of the pop culture

  in these books should they chose to use the links.

  Sometimes being different is a good thing

  1-PROVIDENCE

  A bloodcurdling scream echoed out in the night, starting a similar chain reaction across the blanket-filled park. Pieces of popcorn showered down as two young girls frantically hopped across blankets to empty patches of grass, trying to get out of the park before the next victim was murdered. Their two shadows hastily slid across the large white screen towards the entrance/exit, which garnered quite a few rude remarks from the people watching the movie.

  “Dude, he peed?” Colton scoffed. “What a girl!”

  “I’m not kidding around man.” Chance pushed his shaggy blonde hair back from his face. “Briarcliff Manor is whacked.”

  “Yeah,” Colton agreed. “It is.” His eyes drifted up to the ominous silhouette of Briarcliff Manor.

  “What are you two girls crying about?” Kingston stepped on the edge of the plaid blanket.

  “We’re talking about how whacked Briarcliff Manor is,” Chance said.

  “Whacked or not,” Kingston said. “That’s where my party’s going to be next weekend.”

  “No way!” Chance shook his head.

  Kingston lifted his brow. “Yes way.” He finished off his drink. “Barnaby, you got anymore jungle juice?”

  Barnaby picked up the thermos and shook it. “Sorry dude, Colton drank the rest.”

  Colton gave Barnaby a nasty glare and mouthed “douchebag.”

  Barnaby flipped him the finger.

  “You can have some of mine,” Colton offered.

  Kingston made a face. “Ah…No.”

  “What’s with the face, man?” Colton frowned.

  Kingston laughed.

  “Colton is such a baby,” Moriah complained.

  “I don’t think so.” I turned and my breath caught. Hot- Ass- to- Die- for Colton Hayward just turned in my direction. Then I realized he wasn’t exactly looking at me, but instead at Moriah, who was a big-busted Barbie look-alike. Yeah, I thought Barbie was just a pipe dream too, until Moriah came to town. Sighing, I crawled back down to the end of the blanket and grabbed up a bag of chips. Taking a handful of chips out, I ate one after another as Colton flexed his muscles at the end of the blanket.

  “Can I have some?” Barnaby leaned back on his elbows. His head was near my lap and his dark curls skimmed my thigh.

  He had nice hair and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was soft as it looked. “Sure.” I held out the bag. “What’s Chance talking about?”

  “Oh…” Barnaby pulled out a handful of chips. “He’s just having a baby over some shit that happened at Briarcliff.”

  “What happened?” I turned and looked up at Briarcliff, the silhouette perfectly outlined in the glow of the moon.

  “Chance said some friend of his walked down the drive on a dare, and thought he heard footsteps coming up behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there and he ended up pissing himself.”

  “Are you serious,” I half-choked-laughed.

  “Totally,” he said. “I bet Chance was the one that peed, though.”

  I glanced at Chance as he pulled his fluffy hair back in a ponytail—he looked hot. “Probably.”

  “Do you like the movie?” Barnaby reached out and grabbed some more chips.

  “Yeah, it’s okay.” Truthfully, I wasn’t paying much attention to the movie. I was watching Colton, instead.

  “Army of Darkness is the best one,” he said and popped another chip in his mouth.

  “There’s more than one of these?” I widened my eyes.

  His brow creased. “Um, yeah, Evie…it’s a trilogy.”

  “What did they just find?” I asked, paying attention to the movie for the first time.

  “The Book of the Dead,” he said. “And watch.” He pointed at the screen. “They’re about to play the tape which will inadvertently unleash the demons.”

  “Eww.” I made a face. “I just don’t get it.”

  Barnaby’s eyes crinkled at the corners under the clear lenses of his glasses as he smiled up at me. “What don’t you get?” He reached up and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “Why would anyone want to go and hang out in the middle of the woods, in a shack?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t be too scary of a movie if it was in the city.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Don’t look at this part,” Barnaby warned. “Cheryl is about to get it done by that tree.”

  I made the mistake of looking and almost gagged. “That’s just wrong.”

  “I know,” Barnaby, laughed. “Sam Raimi is a genius.”

  ‡

  “Scuzey, scuzey, Ms. Harrington,” Mr. Bixby said as he rushed past me doing a dodge-and-weave back onto the sidewalk as my mind came back to the present.

  “Hey, Mr. Bixby,” I called after him.

  His arm shot out in the air as he waved back.

  I glanced at my watch. “Right on time.” I pushed the easel for the specials out of the way.

  At eleven o’clock on the dot, Mr. Bixby would take an early lunch from the bank and high step (his signature workout move) around the town square. He looked like a prancing horse.
>
  Ms. Winters, backed out of alien—her neon-green hybrid car and lifted Darby, her miniature Shih Tzu out of the backseat.

  Mr. Bixby sailed past.

  Darby saw Mr. Bixby. He squirmed out of Mrs. Winter’s arms and made a break for it.

  “Darby! Get back here!” Ms. Winters yelled and hustled after Darby down the sidewalk.

  Briarcliff Township had its fair share of eccentrics. Maybe the small town merely seemed to amplify the occupant’s personalities. If they were in a big city you probably wouldn’t notice them as much…well, then again, maybe you would. They were hard to miss.

  “Woo Hoo, Evie,” Jenny Jenkins called and trotted toward me with a baby Bjorn strapped across her chest…her daughter Mable’s chubby legs dangled out the bottom.

  “Hey, Mrs. Jenkins,” I said as I adjusted the angle of the chalkboard.

  “Are your mom and dad coming back for the holidays?”

  “Ah, it’s still kind of early.” I brushed the chalk off my hands. “I’m not real sure…maybe.”

  “Well if they don’t, you know you are more than welcome to come to our house for the holiday. Mi casa es sue casa.”

  “Yeah…ah…”

  “Oh, it will be perfect,” she cut me off and reached forward to squeeze my arm. “You need some meat on those bones of yours,” Jenny said. “Don’t you worry; Jenny will have you fattened up in no time.” Her voice came out sounding babyesque. “It’s the least I can do for your mom. Of course, that will give you plenty of time to play with my little Mable here.” She patted Mable’s bottom.

  Mable? Nooo! “Ah…I forgot. I think Moriah’s mom is making something for us if my parents can’t make it.”

  Jenny creased her brow. “Oh. I didn’t realize her mother cooked…” She cooed at her daughter.

  “Yeah, she does, sometimes, um, on special occasions,” I lied, dodging the bullet. A gust of wind pushed my hair forward and I brushed it back over my shoulder.

  “Well,” she breathed, “if you change your mind…”

  “Of course,” I told her. “I will let you know. I mean if my plans change,” I added nicely. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  “Well, you know it is the least I can do. You poor dear…” She petted my arm. When her fingers hit my bare skin, I noticed how cold her fingers were. “Stuck all alone, day-in and day-out with no family close by,” she said. “I don’t know what your parents were thinking, leaving you all alone. I would never leave my little babies alone, ever…would I, my little sweetheart,” she cooed to her daughter.

  Mable gurgled out a mouth full of bubbles.

  “I’m certainly going to miss playing with this sweet little girl,” I lied again, and touched Mable’s little frilly pink sock.

  Mable kicked out her foot and screamed.

  Jenny widened her eyes, covered Mable’s leg protectively with her hand, and took a step backward. “My goodness,” she said, lifting her arm to look at her watch. “Would you look at the time,” she said a bit too loudly. “I better go before I’m late.” Then she took off down the sidewalk.

  “Kay, see you.” I waved. “That was too close.” Jenny Jenkins was nice enough, but she was always looking for someone to watch Mable. No ifs, ands, or butts about it, Mable was on her way to becoming a full-fledged brat. Dinner at her house would consist of Jenny getting tipsy on wine and chitchatting up her guests while she unloaded Mable on me. Then I would get stuck at the kiddies’ table, squashed between little Jimmy Jenkins and Timmy, his twin brother, who had a fascination with breasts. They liked to poke them with their stubby fingers and yell “booobies.” Then I would get to clean up the dishes. I knew this because I made the mistake of going last year.

  No. Thank. You.

  Bending over, I picked up the little silver bucket of chalk off the sidewalk and walked back inside the coffee shop.

  Mrs. Hayward and Ms. Collins had their heads together in the corner and looked to be in a deep discussion. Grabbing the remote off the table, I flipped on the television. The Barefoot Contessa’s velvety soft, slightly raspy voice filled the room as I fixed the chairs and pushed them back under the tables. She reminded me of a Christmas cookie…warm and sugary. I bet she would be a good hugger.

  I picked up a gray bin from the corner and cleared off the tables from the morning rush. Pulling out a rag from my gingham apron, I wiped off the coffee rings and moved on to the next table.

  This was the slow time in the café; it was after the morning rush but before lunch. After placing the cups in the tub, I lifted up a newspaper someone had left and a small clip caught my eye. Unfolding the paper, I spread it out on the table.

  “DESERTED CAR FOUND NEAR THE BOTTOMLESS POOLS”

  The article went on to say the car was from out of state and unfortunately, whoever was driving may have become another casualty of the bottomless pools. Of course, there was still no body found, so who knew. Maybe they got lucky and took their asses back across the old rickety wooden monstrosity of a bridge that covered the expanse of fifty- or sixty-feet and hovered above the steaming, bottomless pools. The pools had a bad undertow and had a tendency to suck things to who knew where. It was such a shame, too. Didn’t anyone read the signs posted all around the pools? And they were big, too, saying things like:

  “BEWARE UNDERTOW”

  “CAUTION DO NOT ENTER”

  “DANGEROUS”

  Not to mention the biggest deterrent of all, if you asked me. It was the one that read:

  “PRIVATE PROPERTY

  NO TRESSPASSING

  $1500 FINE”

  Besides, my ass wouldn’t swim in the water, and I lived here; neither would any of the other locals. It was probably another “Granola” tripping on something, who decided to rediscover their youth by taking a dip in the pools. At one time, the town’s big catchphrase had been… “Briarcliff: A place to reinvigorate your senses and rediscover your youth.” It should have said, “Briarcliff: A place to disappear for like…ever.”

  At least that is what happened to a few of the out-of-towners. They went missing. Either that or Briarcliff had become the new place to dump your car, but then what happened to the people driving them? Now that was the million-dollar question. Since no bodies had ever been found, it was hard to cry foul-play.

  I had my own ideas about what might have happened to them, but tended to keep them to myself since they were pretty out-there. “Oh well.” I crumpled up the paper and took my shot. “And she does it!” I cheered. “Two points! Beat that, Hanna!” I walked over to the chalkboard behind the counter and gave myself another point.

  Hanna worked for my parents at the coffee shop, too. She was a space cadet…a very “we are not alone” type of girl. I didn’t mind, though—she was nice. Although, I wished she would show up to work on time, for once. Not that Hanna got paid much, but hey, at least she had a job.

  Hanna and her boy -toy, Aaron, could hang and talk alien crap to each other all night. He was Scully. Hanna was Mulder. They dubbed themselves that from an old television show called The X-Files … at least that’s what was written on their t-shirts. They were even saving up to go to Roswell, New Mexico, where the aliens crash-landed, “supposedly.” They were the ultimate conspiracy theorists. Hanna liked to wear her alien antenna headband, too. The little sparkles continually flew off the green b-balls on springs and always ended up getting into some random customer’s coffee…like they needed anything else to complain about. Coffee was a great markup, but when you had to give it away free, it really put a damper on the profit margin.

  Grabbing a pot of coffee, I headed over to the only occupied table.

  “I am telling you Jill, those two are so perfect for one another,” Mrs. Hayward gushed.

  I reached in between the two women, and lifted up one of the oversized cups for a refill.

  “Heather and Kingston remind me of when Charles and I first started dating. Young love,” she exhaled and smiled wistfully.

  T
he coffee pot shook in my hand and hot coffee sloshed over the side, burning my fingers. Gritting my teeth, I quickly set the cup back on the table.

  “I just wish Barnaby would find someone, Marion,” Jill was saying.

  I bit back the pain and reached out to grab another cup.

  “Oh, no thank you.” Mrs. Hayward covered the cup with her hand. “Just the check when you get a moment, dear.”

  Reaching into my apron, I dropped the check. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, wait.” Kingston’s mother reached out and grabbed my hand. I would have groaned in pain but her fingers were unusually cold and felt really-good on my burn as she pressed a crisp bill into my palm.

  “Let me get you some change.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Hayward said. “You keep it.”

  I uncurled my fingers and looked down at the fifty-dollar bill. “Wow! Thanks, Mrs. Hayward.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She waved her hand and her huge diamond glittered under the lights. “You need it more than I do, dear.”

  Bitch. I forced a smile. “Awesome.”

  As if on cue, the door flew open; the little bell over the top tinkled and in walked Heather Bishop, my arch nemesis with her little butt-kiss minions, Addison and Brianna Kincaid

  “Lucky me.” I shoved the fifty in my apron and walked back behind the counter. Pulling out my reserve bottle of Aloe Vera, I put a glop of gel on my burnt fingers.

  Just so, I wouldn’t have to suffer through another one of Heather’s evil Cujo glares, I pretended to act busy. I had dubbed Heather that the last time she was in the café and had taken a drink of her cappuccino. The froth stuck to her top lip and she reminded me of Cujo, a rabies-infected dog from an old Steven King movie. Bitch was probably more accurate, but Cujo was funnier.

  Heather tapped her fake nails on the counter.

  The sound reminded me of a dog tippy-tapping on the floor. I bet she dragged her ass on the carpet too.

  Taking a breath, I turned around with a fake smile plastered on my face. “Oh hey, Heather, what can I do you for today?”