Pulled to the Dark (The Siriena Series) Read online

  Pulled to the Dark

  by Julia P. Lynde

  Table of Contents

  Beginnings

  Shopping

  Charity

  Invasion

  Relocation

  The Chase

  Falling

  Blood

  Revenge

  Discipline

  Moving In

  Old Friends

  Surprise

  Scouting Mission

  Dating The Cop

  Under Arrest

  Date Night

  The Range

  Netted

  Planning

  Diplomacy

  Bought It

  Personal Combat

  Easter

  About the Author

  Beginnings

  I couldn't move.

  At first I couldn't see, either.

  I heard a voice, a woman's voice. She was humming and speaking words in a language I didn't recognize. Then, slowly, I could see.

  I still couldn't move.

  The woman was kneeling over me. That's all I could see, her form, kneeling over me. She saw my eyes looking at her, and she smiled, still humming and speaking words I didn't know.

  She had long, raven black hair. It was brushed away from her right ear and hung over her left shoulder, dangling down between us. She was dressed in a bright red silk blouse and black skirt. She had slight features and bright green eyes. I judged her slightly older than my twenty-eight years.

  She was perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

  I stared into her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came forth. "Where am I," I wanted to ask. "Who are you? What are you doing to me?"

  She lifted her hand and placed it over my lips. Still, she smiled, speaking those words, her beautiful green eyes staring into mine.

  She lifted her fingers from my mouth. They were long and delicate. Then I felt her stroke my sides with those same fingers, long, delicate strokes. I realized I was undressed, lying on my back with this woman staring down at me, still speaking her magic words.

  I woke with a start, but one word hung in my ears.

  "Mine."

  * * *

  Chelsea, my cat, was sitting on my chest, staring down at me, purring. My legs were tangled in the covers, and one arm, thrown over my head, had fallen asleep. Dervish, my other cat, was draped over the other arm.

  "You stupid cats," I told them. "You're giving Mommy weird dreams." I struggled to roll over, dislodging two now indignant felines, and looked at the clock. The alarm was scheduled for ten more minutes. I sighed, unwrapped myself from my bed covers, and sat up, silencing the alarm before it could startle me with its insistent nagging.

  I massaged my arm as the blood began to properly flow again, attacking me with pins and needles. "Stupid cat," I said, looking at Dervish. He blinked at me then stretched.

  I climbed out of bed and wandered blurrily into the kitchen. I hit start on the coffee maker and set food down for the now insistent cats. Whose idea was it to get cats, anyway? Oh yeah, mine.

  I wandered back down the hall and stepped into the shower. I stood under the water, thinking about the dream. Memory of it started to fade, but I couldn't stop thinking about a pair of beautiful green eyes.

  I stood under the water for far too long, still groggy from sleep, then eventually turned the water from warm and wonderful to cold and wake-me-up-right-now. Thoughts of green eyes and the ghost of delicate fingers caressing my sides fled, replaced by excitement of a new day.

  It was Monday, and I was starting a new job today! I was going to work for Renea Impressions, a public relations and image consulting firm. I was to be the assistant to the director of marketing, Andrea Benson. Andrea was fiftyish, brilliant, and extremely fashionable and striking. She was tall, slender, and with perfectly styled blonde hair. In other words, pretty much the opposite of everything I was.

  I stepped from the shower, dried my red hair, which I not-so-secretly knew was my best feature, and returned to my bedroom to dress. I slipped into a conservative business suit and a pair of plain but practical shoes. I examined my short, not-quite-plus-sized figure in the mirror and decided I was presentable.

  Having been fed, the cats ignored me as I left the apartment.

  * * *

  I stepped through the doors of the shiny glass and steel office tower in downtown Minneapolis and rode the elevator to the twenty-second floor. I stepped out of the elevators, through the doors marked "Renea Impressions", and presented myself to the receptionist well ahead of my nine o'clock start time.

  "Felicia Connor," I said. "My first day."

  "Ah yes," said the receptionist, examining a list on the desk in front of her. "You are to report first to Petra Darkangel from human resources. You're early. I will let her know you have arrived." I took an offered seat.

  I sat there for ten minutes, staring around the office and feeling out of place. What was I doing working for a high-end public relations firm? I was a walking public-relations disaster.

  A woman entered the foyer and walked over to me. "Felicia Connor?" she asked. She was younger than I was, slender, fashionably dressed, with blonde hair.

  I stood up and offered my hand. "Yes," I said. "I'm Felicia."

  "Karen Sullivan," she said. "Petra's assistant. Come with me, please."

  I followed Karen into the office. She led me past several offices before arriving at her own desk. "Have a seat," she said, indicating a selection of comfortable-looking chairs. "Petra will be with you shortly.

  I looked around. We were feet from the windows, and the view was amazing. I wouldn't have expected an assistant to have such a prime location in the office.

  I only waited a few minutes before a door opened. "Felicia?" a voice said. It was a familiar voice.

  I looked up. A woman of forty, several inches taller than me, was standing several feet away. She, like everyone else I'd seen, was impeccably dressed in a business suit, stockings and heels. Her long, dark hair was pulled to the right. I stood up and took her offered hand.

  "Come," she said, gesturing to her office. I stepped ahead of her, and she followed me into her office, closing the door. I took a seat in front of the desk and watched as she stepped behind it and sat down.

  Her desk was nearly entirely bare. She had a computer keyboard and two thin computer monitors. Nothing else marred the surface.

  I couldn't stop staring at her. She was beautiful, of course, but I wasn't the sort to notice other women. She leaned across the desk and smiled. Her eyes were green.

  The features were different, but they were the same green eyes. It was the same smile. The same voice. This was the woman from my dream early this morning. I was sure I'd never met her.

  I couldn't stop staring at her. Then I realized I was staring. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's just that you're so beautiful."

  Then I realized what I'd said, and I started blushing furiously. "I'm sorry!" I said. "I'm sorry! It's just that everyone here is so beautiful and I'm so-"

  "Competent? Brilliant? Amazing? Qualified to perform your job?" Petra offered.

  She stopped me cold.

  "First, never apologize for calling a forty-year-old woman beautiful. It's deeply flattering, especially when it is offered as heartfelt as yours was." Her eyes bored into me. "You are feeling out of place." I nodded. "You are measuring everything by the wrong standard."

  "But-"

  She held up one delicate finger, silencing me.

  "I know everything about you, Felicia. Everything. You went to public high school, where you were an outcast and had few friends, but the friends you had became dear, lifelong frien
ds. You performed moderately well in math and science, and exceedingly well in English and the business classes you took. Your favorite subject was history, and you wrote every English paper you could on a famous historical figure or place. Never events."

  She was completely right.

  "You went to the public university, but you took a difficult study load and graduated near the top of your class. You wanted to major in history, of course, but instead studied business. You still wonder if you made the right choice." Her eyes bored into me. She was reciting all this with no reference to notes.

  "As a girl, you operated a lemonade stand. Then you moved up to running errands for the elderly neighbor across the street, whose funeral you attended two years ago. You cried."

  "How can you know all this?"

  "You started baby sitting when you were twelve. By fourteen you were getting paid to tutor other children. You took your first job at a fast food restaurant when you were sixteen. In college you worked at an intern. Your most recent job, which you hated, but performed exceedingly well, was for a financial services company."

  "I didn't hate my job," I told her.

  "You certainly did," she said. "Your former boss is a horrid man and in spite of your outstanding performance, was never satisfied. Do you know why he treated you so poorly?"

  I shook my head.

  "So you wouldn't think you were worth more money or could find a better job."

  "You know that?"

  "I know it for a fact," she said. "He and I were at the same social event some months ago, and he had too much to drink. He was bragging about it."

  "That asshole!" Then I slapped my hands over my mouth.

  "Yes," she said. "That asshole." She paused. "I know everything about you. I know you have two cats named Chelsea and Dervish." She paused. "I bet, if I tried, I could even guess what your dreams were this morning."

  I began blushing again, but she either didn't notice or pretended not to.

  "I also knew you were going to need this pep talk this morning and scheduled extra time for you today."

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "Don't be. I've been trying to get you to come to work here for months. We need you."

  I looked back at her.

  She smiled. "You know we video tape our interviews. Dana, when she interviewed you, told you this."

  I nodded.

  "Bring your chair around," she told me. "Sit next to me."

  I got up, pulled the chair around, and sat down. I could smell her perfume. It was subtle and lovely. She typed at her computer, then the video came up, the view of me in front on her main screen, the view from two more cameras on her second screen. She turned down the sound.

  I watched as on the screen, I entered the interview room and sat down. Dana came around and sat down across the desk from me. Depending upon where I watched, I could see myself from in front or the side, and there was a third view that showed Dana.

  "I have the sound off, as I want you to watch your body language." She let me watch for a minute or two. I was fidgeting in the chair and wringing my hands. "What do you see?"

  "I was nervous."

  "And completely lacking in confidence," she said. "Your answers to the questions were quiet and restrained. Bluntly, they were not at all in keeping with someone I would choose to hire."

  "Then why did you?" I asked her.

  "Good question. Let's skip ahead." She tapped the mouse then let the video play. I was settled down and appeared animated. I was gesturing with my hands and looked excited.

  "Oh god," I said. "I was babbling."

  She looked over and smiled at me. "Was Dana encouraging you?"

  I thought back. "Yes. I tried to stop talking twice, and she told me no, keep going, it was fascinating. She appeared interested." I pointed. "She's smiling. She told me she'd never been there."

  "I was out of town during our interview, or we would have met then. I told Dana ahead of time, 'I want to hire her. Please find me reasons why'. When I got back, she had on her screen a still image of you from the interview. It is coming up, right..." She clicked her mouse. "Here."

  I stared at the screen. I remembered exactly what I had been talking about. Four years ago, I had taken a trip to Greece. That frame was from when I had been talking about how it had felt standing in the Temple of Zeus. I'd gotten far too poetic and began talking about how I could practically smell the food vendors from six hundred B.C.

  Petra tapped the screen. "This is the image Dana had on her screen when I walked into her office. She had the screen turned around facing me when I walked in. I took one look and said, 'You got it!' She said 'Yes'. She had to work for it. She told me I'd hate the first thirty minutes of the interview. But do you remember what she asked you when you were done talking about Greece?"

  I nodded. "She asked me the same questions she asked me at the beginning, worded differently, but they were the same questions."

  Petra smiled. "Yes. And this is the woman who answered." She tapped the screen. "Not the woman who walked into my office several minutes ago. This woman."

  She paused, looking at me. "Okay, you can take your chair back." I got up and returned my chair to the proper side of the desk and sat down. "You think of yourself as that woman who walked in here. Dowdy, short on confidence. Ugly."

  I looked away.

  She turned her monitor around.

  "What do you see?"

  I didn't look right away, but eventually I looked at my image on the screen. "I'm-" I said. "I'm beautiful?"

  "Brilliant. Passionate. And yes, beautiful," she said. "Do you know the difference between ugly and beautiful?"

  I shook my head.

  "Attitude."

  She let me think about that for a minute then turned the screen around. "On paper, you are perfect for the job. Repeat this. I am perfect for the job."

  I looked away and muttered it.

  She slammed the table with her hand. I jumped.

  "Do you know how many hiring mistakes I've made in my career here?"

  I shook my head.

  "Two. Both of them were brilliant and should have been perfect. But they engaged in one of two things I will not tolerate. They engaged in office politics. Everyone who works here is incredible at her job, including me, and it takes me about three minutes to see when someone is engaged in office politics. It takes me about one more minute to fire her."

  I began to smile. I hated office politics.

  "Now, you will repeat after me. I am perfect for the job."

  I looked her in the eye and said it.

  "Again." I repeated. "Again." I said it a third time.

  "Good. Now, think about yourself for a minute. Think about your skills. Think about what this job takes. Tell me, are you perfect for the job?"

  I thought about it. Then I looked her in the eye, smiled, and said, "Yes, Petra. I am perfect for the job."

  She returned the smile, and the room smiled with her.

  "Good." She paused a moment. "When Dana called and offered you the job, I believe she told you that you would work your ass off. We offered you a significant raise from your old position as well as an exceptional benefits package. But in exchange, she warned you the hours would be long and varied, and there would be unusual travel involved."

  "Yes," I said.

  "When she said you would work your ass off, she was being literal. Lunch breaks here are two hours and mandatory. Renea Impressions occupies three floors of this building. This floor is human resources and marketing. The floor above us houses the consultants that work with our clients, although you will find that both your new boss and I still work with some of our old clients. That is the source of the unusual travel you will experience. If Andrea goes on a business trip, you will go with her."

  I nodded.

  "Sometimes trips are very last minute. You will keep a packed travel bag here at the office. You do not need to worry about that for two or three weeks."

  I nodded.


  "The floor below this is our dojo."

  "Dojo?"

  "It's like a gym. There is a section for weights, but most of the space is used for various forms of martial arts training. Tuesdays and Thursdays are yoga or tai chi. The other days are devoted to more active skills. As I said, attendance is mandatory."

  I looked away. "I've never been good at things like that."

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "No one is grading or judging you. You will attend every day. You will bury yourself into this as you will everything else. Starting today. You will be provisioned with the attire you need, two sets, which are washed for us every weekend. If your size changes, you can exchange as necessary."

  I looked at her. "This is a company benefit of some sort? Why?"

  "Yes. Why? Simple. Because Renea demands it. She wasn't getting enough exercise herself, and she realized with the long hours we keep, no one else was, either."

  I nodded.

  After that, my time with Petra turned towards a more normal conversation. She told me about Andrea and what was expected as her assistant. I also learned I would meet with Petra weekly, which I thought was odd but didn't say anything.

  "Karen will go over the more mundane aspects of starting a new job. Government forms, location of the bathrooms, that sort of thing. Do you have any more questions for me?"

  "No, Petra."

  "All right. Let me hand you back to Karen. I'll see you over lunch."

  "Over lunch?"

  "Of course. In the dojo." She smiled.

  I did paperwork with Karen then met Kelly Purdue, Andrea's current assistant. Kelly looked to be in her thirties, a little taller than I was, with a round, cute face and glasses. Kelly would train me in for a week then move into her new position in the company.

  * * *

  I got home late that night, tired and a little sore. Petra herself had introduced me to the dojo, and she was a true taskmaster. She had been demanding, but kind, and for the first time in my life, I enjoyed a physical activity like that.

  I wondered if it was because she kept touching me to adjust my stance.

  Chelsea and Dervish met me at the door, their yowls insistent. "All right," I said. "I'll feed you." They continued to yowl, leading the way into the kitchen. I set my bag down on the dinette table as I walked past it, kicked off my shoes, and followed them into the kitchen. They continued to yowl until I set their food down for them.