A Job From Hell (Ancient Legends #1)

day.
    Slamming the door shut, I grabbed the
suitcase when the driver rolled down his window. “Ye paying now?”
    “I don’t know what kind of taxi rip off you’re
pulling, but your company sucks.” I opened my handbag and pulled out my wallet.
    “That’d be thirty,” he said, unfazed.
    “You said it’d cost me twenty.”
    He shook his head. “It’s thirty.”
    Frowning, I retrieved three banknotes. No
point in arguing. The sooner I got going, the better. I was already late, and
what sort of first impression is that? “You won’t be getting any tip from me,”
I said, handing him the money.
    “Good luck, lass. Ye’ll need it.”
    “How far from here is it?”
    “Ten minutes tops,” he said with a sympathetic
smile. Unfortunately, his concern didn’t stretch out as far as not dumping me
in the middle of nowhere with no map, GPS system, compass, or working phone.
    I watched the cab turn and speed off in the
direction we came from. Dragging my heavy suitcase behind me, I trudged up the
narrow street. It was getting dark now. To both sides, tall trees filtered the
light cast by the rising moon. No houses as far as I could see. No street lamp.
Why the hell did I agree to arrive in the evening? What person in their right
mind arranged for a summer temp to find this place at night anyway?
    Sighing, I quickened my pace; the sound of
the suitcase rollers echoing through the eerie silence of the night. Several
times I stumbled over stones and almost fell, but I kept walking up the hill.
The wind grew colder by the minute. I switched arms. No way would I return to
the airport. This job was my only chance to save up enough money for college.
Without it, I’d swap marketing classes for lessons in how to prepare the
perfect cheeseburger at the local McDonald’s.
    Ten minutes later, I nearly bumped into
what looked like a gate. I peered through the iron bars into the stretching
darkness, and frowned. Could this be the McAllister mansion? I hoped so because
my toes felt numb from the cold and my arms were on fire. How much longer could
I carry this heavy thing Dallas called a suitcase?
    Blindly, I moved from one iron bar to the
next, pushing to find an entrance. On the third try I heard a click and the
gate opened. I grabbed my suitcase and pushed my way through quickly. Like on
cue, the gate closed behind me. Someone was probably watching behind a security
system screen, laughing their pants off at the way I had to drag my luggage
like a dead elephant. I raised my chin a notch, straightened my shoulders and trekked
up the jagged path, my heels clicking noisily on the cobblestones.
    The trees grew sparser, the path wider. Sensing
someone’s presence, I stopped, frozen to the spot. My heart skipped a beat. I
turned, ready to scream as loud as my lungs would allow.
    “You must be Amber,” a girl said.
    I exhaled. “You scared the hell out of me.
I didn’t hear you. Where did you come from?”
    The girl moved a step closer and lifted my
suitcase in one go, as though it weighed nothing. “The woods,” she said. “Let’s
hurry. He’s expecting you.”
    I gaped after her in awe. The way she ambled
away, my suitcase tucked under her arm, she should be on the front cover of
Weightlifter Magazine. If hiking in the woods gave one that kind of strength,
then I was all for it. I’d hike until I dropped...starting tomorrow. Or maybe
the next day, or the one after that. Truth be told, I wasn’t into hiking in the
woods at all. Or hiking anywhere, as a matter of fact. Who was I fooling? I was
doomed with chubby arms and stumpy legs.
    We walked up the cobbled path until we
reached a huge, gloomy mansion stretching against the black canvas of the
night.
    “How did you get here?” the girl asked,
opening a door.
    “Your splendid taxi service. I’ve no
complaints at all.” I shook my head. “The cabbie wouldn’t come anywhere near
the house.”
    “Yeah, the locals are scared of their own shadows.
You should’ve called. Someone would’ve picked you up.”
    “I did, but no one answered.” I followed
her in, my hands patting the walls to find my way in the darkness. My foot
caught in something thick and soft—maybe a rug—and I toppled forward,
biting my tongue to keep back a startled yelp. Why wouldn’t someone just switch
on the lights?
    “Mind your steps,” the girl said.
    “It’s okay. I’ll just use my bat radar,” I
mumbled.
    The girl made a noise that sounded like a
chuckle. Eventually the