Chapter 1:

“Thank you, Peter.  We’ll follow up on your application and interview later this week; please be on the lookout for an email,” a well-dressed, bald man said warmly, offering a smile while clasping his hands together.

Peter stared at his laptop screen, forcing himself to maintain a smile while occasionally glancing at the green light indicating the location of the built-in webcam.  “Thank you, Liam.  I look forward to it,” he responded, barely able to keep any semblance of enthusiasm in his tone.

After exchanging some pleasantries, the video call ended and Peter’s visage shifted into one of resignation.  He sat in silence, idly brushing his fingers through his short, messy brown hair while trying to ignore the sticky, cold sweat that enveloped him like a damp bedsheet.  ‘Seven down,” he muttered, thinking back to the six previous interviews he endured that week.  There was only so much rejection one could bear before it wore down their resolve.

Peter pushed his desk chair back and stood with a frustrated sigh, walking across his dingy living room and sinking into a worn gray recliner that was frayed in various places.  After ten seconds of blankly staring blankly at the floor, he took a look around his humble abode, a five-hundred and fifty square feet one-bedroom apartment that didn’t leave much breathing room, even for a bachelor like him.  Opposite from him, a thirty-inch television stood upon a wooden crate, leaning against the wall for support.  To his left, there was a door that led to his miniscule bedroom and a bathroom so small that one had to step into the tub to close the inward-opening door.

A faint buzzing from his phone snapped him out of his trance, his blood running cold as he saw the pop-up notification reading, ‘Leah’.  He winced as he grabbed his phone, a surge of negative emotions cascading through him as he worked up the mettle to deal with her; the one who so happily ruined his life without a second though-- with a smile on her face, even.  After cursing under his breath, he opened the conversation in his messenger app.



~~~

Leah: Hey hey!!! Don’t forget our monthly date on Friday.  You know I love how much you spoil me. xoxoxoxo

~~~

It was the same thing each month-- from the time he graduated from college a year ago up until now.  His monthly “date” with Leah where he’d go to be made into more of a husk than he already felt he was. ‘Why…  Why is she like this?  Why me?’ He frowned, the iciness in his veins waning in favor of hot anger.

How did his life end up this way?  He remembered when he first met Leah in his first year of college; not only was she cute, but she showed interest in him, smiled at him, and went out of her way to interact with him.  On top of his packed class schedule, he made time for his part time job and an additional self-paced side gig he did online.  The money he earned was supposed to go toward his living and education expenses with the excess saved in an emergency fund.

However, with the addition of a cute girl in his life, the concept of said emergency fund didn’t quite leave the planning phase.  Instead, he’d do favors for Leah-- buying her food when she had no money, new clothes when she complained about her out of date wardrobe, and movie tickets when she’d look at him with sad puppy eyes and go on about how she never had money to enjoy leisurely things while growing up.

He wished he had seen the signs sooner, but being a lonely, nerdy virgin left him in a desperate place.  When a cute girl leashed him and started getting sexual with him, he was putty in her hands.  At the time, he didn’t think too much of it when she begged and pleaded with him to do bizarre and frankly humiliating acts in the bedroom.  When she took pictures, she insisted they’d be for private use only-- that she’d use them for self-pleasure during the times she was horny and unable to meet with him.

How naive he had been.  If he could go back in time and talk to his younger self, he’d do it in a heartbeat to save himself from the last twelve months of torment.  He sat in silence, dropping his face into his hands as he recalled the year of abject misery he’d been forced to endure.  The more he thought about it, the more hopeless he felt; there was simply no way out of the hole he dug himself into.

Today was Thursday, so he’d be meeting her and the others tomorrow at 5PM-- at the usual location.  There was much to look forward to outside of having his meager funds drained; verbal abuse, mild physical torment, humiliation, and more.  It usually lasted an hour or longer before he was freed until the next monthly date.  How could he have known when he met Leah?  That she was close with the men who started to torment him during his studies?  That she had ulterior motives the whole time?

Peter dropped  his phone onto the nightstand next to him before placing his face in his hands.  Did he have enough money to pay rent on the first?  If he ate as cheaply as humanly possible, he might make it.  Until he landed a tech job with his degree, this is how life would be.  Living in a city with a high cost of living, his retail job combined with supplemental income wherever he could cram it in was already barely enough to get by without worrying about his monthly “dates” with Leah.  To make things worse, the high interest loan he took out the month prior proved to him that he hadn’t hit rock bottom-- not yet, and that prospect terrified him.

When his phone rang, he hardly thought about it as he picked it up and answered, “hello?” while his mind still wandered from one negative topic to another.



“Hello!  Is this Mr. Peter Elias?” A cheerful male voice inquired, using Peter’s last name.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he immediately perked up.  “Y-- Yes, that’s me.  Apologies for not stating my name when answering the phone,” he quickly replied.

“No worries, Peter!  This is Mark Rummel with Jameson National Life.  I’m the Director of IT who interviewed you about three weeks ago regarding a junior help desk position at our company.  Do you recall that conversation?”

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he was actually called back after an interview.  He tried to keep his nerves under control as he swallowed and replied, “Of course!  There’s no way I could forget. I hope you’re feeling better since then,” he offered, remembering how Mark said he was feeling under the weather last time they spoke.

“Much!  Well, I’ll get to the point since there’s no need to cause any unnecessary anxiety.  The gist of it is that we just lost a second junior admin the other day.  I decided to go back to school full-time, and it left us hanging. I get it, but it does leave me in a sticky situation.  To be blunt, I think you’d be a perfect fit based on your skill set and desire to learn.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He sat with a stupefied expression and reminded himself to say something. “I-- I’m excited to hear that!  I’m still very interested in the position.”

“I was hoping you’d say that!  I’m also hoping you can make some time tomorrow to come down for a bit of a less formal final interview.  Barring something disastrous, I feel fairly confident we’ll offer you the role.  I technically can’t make any promises until you receive the offer letter, but I wouldn’t be getting your hopes up if I didn’t feel strongly about this.” Mark cleared his throat before continuing.  “Michael, our senior most sysadmin and a team lead, would like to meet you in person to chat.  The only time that works for his schedule is 3:30PM tomorrow, and he’ll be on vacation for the next week after that.  Would you be free to come down?  Food will be provided, so please think of it as a late lunch-- or an early dinner.”

Peter’s mind reeled as he tried to keep his head on straight.  Tomorrow as in Friday?  Friday-- an hour and a half before his scheduled meetup with Leah and her gaggle of idiots.  Before he could fully think through the logistics, he enthusiastically replied, “Yeah, I’ll be there.  Same place as last time?”

Chapter 2:

Peter splashed warm water in his face with trembling hands, the sound of a running faucet filling the cramped bathroom.  ‘It will work out…  If I get this job, I might actually escape from this pit one day,’ he reminded himself in an attempt to psyche himself up.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned the faucet off and grabbed a dry washcloth to blot his face with.  He stared long and hard at the mirror, grimacing at the man reflected back.  He had once prided himself on having a well-toned physique, but those days had long since passed.  He could distinctly make out his ribs, with his arms appearing small and tubular at best.  The dark bags under his eyes contrasted the well-groomed crew cut he had gotten himself earlier that morning.  

“Pfft,” he snorted and raised an eyebrow.  He felt like a poser--  a phony trying to masquerade as a normal, functional member of society.

Taking a step back, he glanced down at the pair of gray dress slacks adorning his lower half.  Along with socks and a pair of dress shoes, these were the only things he wore for the moment.  He winced upon thinking about how much the haircut and interview-appropriate attire cost him, knowing it was an expense he normally couldn’t afford.  However, he was determined to ensure this second interview went perfectly; he had already been worried that wearing jeans and a polo shirt to the first interview would cost him the job, so he at least owed it to his prospective employer to dress professionally this time around.

“If I get the job, the expense won’t matter,” he muttered under his breath as he turned and exited the bathroom, approaching his bedroom dresser and producing a neatly folded dress shirt.

A couple of minutes later, the white top was on, fully buttoned, and tucked into his slacks with a black leather belt completing the look.  Based on how the interviewers dressed last time, their dresscode looked to be somewhere between business casual and professional.  A jacket and tie would likely be overkill, so he’d leave it at this for now; not that his wallet would complain.

After securing his wallet and car keys, he glanced at his phone, noting that it was 2:33PM.  ‘Perfect.  Right on time.’  He inhaled slowly before exhaling while clenching and unclenching his hands. ‘I can do this; I’ll go to the interview, get the job, make it to the warehouse on time, shrug off the insults, give that fucking bitch her money, and life will get better.’  It made perfect sense in his head, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t freaking out.  The next few hours could prove to be some of the most important of his life, so he couldn’t afford to screw it up now.

“Enjoying lunch?”  Michael, the senior sysadmin, asked with a smile.

“I am!  And you cater like this all the time?  Sounds too good to be true,” Peter laughed from the opposite side of the conference room table.  Mark Rummel, the IT directory, was only present during the first ten minutes of the interview before thanking Peter and taking his leave.  Despite the deep pit of anxiety he endured coming into the interview, it ended up far more casual than expected.

Peter discussed his experience and expertise when prompted, while MIchael shared his in return.  Other than that, Michael spent most of the time talking about the company culture, the various departments, lunch protocols, various fringe benefits, and more.  Much to Peter’s delight, this interview seemed more like a sales pitch for Jameson National Life to sell their work culture to him.  From his perspective, it seemed like they wanted him to fully understand why this would be a great place to work, which was a wonderful sign.

“I think that about does it for today,” Michael said warmly, scooching his chair back before standing to his feet.  

“It’s been a great pleasure; I’m honestly impressed with everything about Jameson National Life and its culture,” Peter said warmly, standing and accepting Michael’s hand for a quick, but firm shake.

“I know we’ve only been here about forty-five minutes, but don’t take that as a bad sign,” Michael promised.  “I’ll be honest since Mark said I’m allowed to be,” he continued.  “We already plan on hiring you and I know the big boss man is working on a formal job offer.  As you’re likely aware, we wouldn’t bring you here to eat and make small talk if we didn’t like you,” he laughed and offered a wide grin.

Peter’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat.  Was her hearing things correctly?  A wave of fuzzy giddiniess crashed through him in tandem with a surge of adrenaline.  For the first time in what felt like years, he felt euphoric.  A brief moment of respite, as if angels descended from the heavens and lifted him from the ground, preventing him from having to support the weight of his own body.  “I-- I look forward to it!”  He eagerly responded, unable to stop himself from smiling.  “Thank you…  I-- I won’t let you, Mark, or anyone else down.  I’m one-hundred percent confident I can handle any work thrown at me.”

“Confidence is key,” Michael said warmly.  “You obviously have the aptitude and skill.  We don’t expect newhires to understand every piece of software we use; that woud be impossible.  What we need are diligent workers with a technical background and the ability to dive head first into learning new skills.  The fact you see these new challenges as an exciting opportunity to learn and grow is quite a good sign,” he insisted.  “You’ll likely be shadowing me for the first two or three weeks out of training, so I look forward to working with you-- assuming you accept the offer, of course.”

“I’m fairly sure you can bet on seeing me,” Peter promised.  Perhaps things were finally looking up for him.

As Peter approached his beater of a car, his mind raced beyond his control.  What would this job mean for him?  He had never been more happy to be someone who wasn’t afraid to go outside his comfort zone.  Throughout his youth, high school, and college, he was always the first to dive head-first into a new skill or challenge, and it seemed that facet of himself was starting to pay dividends. 

He climbed into his car and stuck his key in the ignition when a sudden, terrible realization hit him.  His eyes widened as an icy pang of dread enveloped his chest and stomach. ‘Shit…  Fuck.’  After going so far to ensure his day went perfectly, he had forgotten the most important detail.  The envelope full of cash he had prepared was sitting on the ledge of his closet, next to a skid of old boxes he never bothered to sort through.

He quickly looked at the time, seeing it was 4:21PM, giving him thirty-nine minutes to make it to the warehouse before he’d receive special punishment of some kind.  ‘God dammit-- if I book it…’  He fumbled with the stick shift and reversed out of the parking spot before getting on the main road, going as fast as he felt he could without a chance of getting pulled over.  If he gunned it and moved fast, he might make it to the warehouse with a minute or two to spare.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he handed the money off to Leah herself, but it was always a close friend of hers who did the real dirty work; a man he considered true scum.

Upon making it home with twenty minutes to spare, Peter bolted to his bedroom, nearly tripping over a discarded pair of pants as he stumbled up to his closet and threw the door open.  “Money-- money…  Wait, what?”  He looked at his closet shelf and didn’t see the envelope where he left it.  With panic setting in, he started rummaging through the various items on the shelf, including old boxes of his father’s that he had rarely thought of after receiving them.  Cold sweat beaded on his face and neck as he gritted his teeth and tried his hardest not to have a panic attack.

He was moving one of the boxes aside when something on the floor caught his attention from his peripheral.  A quick glance down immediately filled him with elation. ‘I’m a dumbass,’ he mused, seeing the envelope sitting on the floor in the back corner.  He had been so frantic, he failed to consider looking down until this point.

As he started to kneel, his frazzled mental state once again proved his nemesis.  The box he had been moving was left teetering on the ledge and quickly came crashing down, smacking Peter on the back of the head and neck as a skid of old papers and books pelted the closet floor.



“F-- fuck! Ow!”  Peter cried out in shock and pain, taking a step back as he reached up to rub his head and neck while making sure there weren’t any cuts or injuries.  By now, he felt like a character in a bad sitcom, walking into one misfortune after another.  “What a pain in the ass,” he grunted, deciding to clean up later as he sifted through the mess and grabbed the envelope.  He quickly checked to make sure the money was all there before shoving it in his pocket and turning to leave with no time to waste.

Just as he took a single step away, he felt something indescribable.  A peculiar tingle enveloped him, causing him to break out in goosebumps while his hair stood on end.  ‘What?’ Was all he could manage, getting an eerie feeling of being watched-- or at least of there being another presence in the room behind him.

He froze in place, momentarily forgetting the urgency of his current situation.  Was someone there?  Was there actually someone behind him?  A robber?  A serial killer?  One of Leah’s goons?  It made absolutely no sense, but the sensation was utterly impossible to ignore.

After a hard swallow, he shakily and slowly turned toward the closet while adrenaline surged.  Just as he felt his heart would beat from his chest, he saw it.  ‘Nothing.’  His heart rate slowed as he let out a deep breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding.  Before him was a mere closet, with no one and nothing out of the ordinary.  But, then why did he still feel so strange?  Why did he still sense a presence coming from the closet?

Transfixed by the situation at hand, he stepped forward and peered into the closet, glancing from the shelf to the floor as he felt increasingly bewildered.  It was a matter of mere seconds before his eyes locked onto an odd book-- or, perhaps a tome.  It appeared to be bound with dark, aged leather and was undoubtedly the source of his exceedingly bizarre prior two minutes. 

“Huh….”  Peter crouched low and grabbed the tome, separating it from the rest of the mess as he stood to his feet.  The tingling sensation almost immediately amplified, as if a miniscule stream of electricity coursed through him.  Despite the potential warning signs, he couldn’t stoke his curiosity.  As if compelled by a higher force, he walked methodically to his bed and sat on the edge, holding the tome in both hands as he stared hard at the cover. ‘What language is this?’  He didn’t recognize the writing-- or, were they glyphs?  Along with the foreign characters, images of various animals were tastefully embossed.

Antitipcation swelling, he opened the bok and turned the first page.  There were some detailed images, one of them appearing to be some type of half-animal, half-human being, but the writing was ineligible to him.  He felt a pang of frustration as something in the back of his mind urged him to scour the book.

He turned page after page before finally stopping when viewing one of the written glyphs causes a word to bubble up from the depths of his mind. ‘Familiar.’  Stopping on that page the same alien writing lay before him, but for some reason or another, it made sense.  Scanning what appeared to be the title of the page, the full phrase ‘Bind Familiar’ came to mind.  He couldn’t begin to comprehend how, but was confident that was what these characters meant.

“The art of binding a living being to you as a familiar you can alter for your purposes,” he read aloud.  Below that, there was what appeared to be an incantation.  While he could once again read the characters, the words still made little sense.  “Nep shna es…”  He muttered the first few words before reading the rest silently. 

After reading the incantation and briefly mulling over how unnatural this all seemed, he felt an urging to continue onward and proceeded to turn the next few pages.  Before long, he came across another he could read.  ‘Alter Outfit…  The art of transmuting both inorganic and organic, but unliving materials that garb one’s body.  With a clear vision in mind, forge your heart’s desire.’  Once again, a strange incantation followed, which was promptly burned into his brain.  Despite reaching each page a single time, he felt as though he could recite everything verbatim without pause.

His eyes widened in horror as a sudden realization dawned on him.  The warehouse-- the money.  He had been so distracted, these important details completely slipped his mind.  “F-- Fuck!”  He stood abruptly as the book fell onto the bed and snapped closed.

Peter bolted out of the room, patting his pocket as he did so to ensure the money was there, and sprinted from his tiny apartment.  A quick look at his phone showed it was now 4:49PM.  Even if he went above the speed limit and hit every green light, he felt that he would still be a minute or two late at best.

“Shit-- shit, fuck…”  He sputtered as he got into his car and struggled to put the key into the ignition.  What started as a great day had quickly gone downhill.  By this point, he had very low expectations for the rest of his evening.

END

Read two chapters/months ahead on Patreon with tiers only up to $5/mo! Chapter 4 is releasing over the next couple of days as I write this!



https://www.patreon.com/roryrouses