Out of Erebus

OUT OF EREBUS

Sandra Novelly

Smashwords Edition

Published by:

Sandra Novelly on Smashwords

Out of Erebus

Copyright 2012 Sandra Novelly

Cover art inspired by Bolas in Fire -- Frédéric Dupont

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, and names, places or events is purely coincidental. The characters are from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

Many thanks to my husband for putting up with the countless hours I have poured into this publication while doing research, writing, editing and readying for publication. Also my sincere thanks to those ladies in a long ago forum dedicated to the first American Idol©® show who provided me with inspiration for several of the events and descriptions of many of the final characters used in this book. I could not have done it without any of the above mentioned folks.

Prologue

Their childhood had been nearly idyllic—or so thought Fenella Cameron—with the exception of those times her mother and sister refused to go to Faenmor with her and Father and, to be quite honest, those occasions when Mother and Fiona, her elder sister, forced her to go shopping for clothing in which she had no interest and to be primped and curled and fussed over by the employees of Mother’s ‘day spa.’ Actually, she thought her younger years a wonderful experience, none more so than the time spent in Faenmor, hiking or fishing with Father and getting acquainted with a certain redheaded young man whose parents owned the local hotel. It was only as she grew older that she realized everything may not be quite as pleasant as she remembered.

Fiona remembered their childhood quite differently. Even as a small child when Father insisted she accompany her parents and sister to Faenmor, she balked. She simply did not like outdoorsy jaunts and considered Faenmor quite boring, especially when Fenella would go off fishing with Father or traipsing about with that redheaded boy. As she grew older she put her foot down, literally, when asked to go to Faenmor which she considered far too rural and unexciting for words. But then shopping with Mother and lunch afterward in one of Glasgow’s nice restaurants, or trips to the spa to be pampered were always quite enjoyable experiences.

***

Fenella pulled her sister’s arm. Fiona, we shouldn’t listen to private conversation. Come away from there.

Bugger off. Fiona tossed her mane of mahogany red hair and shook off her sister’s hand. A brief, crooked grin lit her face at Fenella’s pained expression over Fiona’s choice of words.

The Cameron girls, two years apart in age and worlds apart in personality, were actually so devoted they might have been twins.

Fiona’s brow creased and she gestured toward the door as her cocky grin faded. Something’s going on with Mum and Dad and I want to know what it is. You can scamper on if you must, but I am staying here. She pressed her ear to the door, and gave her complete attention to the dialogue between her parents.

"I am tired of pretending to be a dutiful wife to a dull academic, a professor of literature, she heard Mother say.

Inside the room, Jackson Cameron winced at the sarcastic emphasis of his title. Arline Cameron turned away from the study window to face him.

I know you realize you have a more solid marriage to that damnable university in Glasgow than we have, and more interest in books than you have in me. Mrs. Cameron pulled the volume her husband had been reading from his hands; it dropped with a thud to the polished oak floor. Do at least grant me the courtesy of looking at me when I speak to you, Jackson. She lowered herself into the twin of the leather armchair in which her husband sat. "The girls’ education and social training are complete, and they are well old enough to care for themselves. Now I will step into the societal role to which I was born." Before Mr. Cameron could utter a word, she rose and turned toward the door.

Arline’s skirt swished crisply as she crossed the room. When the door slammed behind her, Jackson Cameron removed reading glasses from their precarious perch on the end of his nose and pinched the area between his eyes where a dull ache had begun.

Yes, he murmured, go marry that landed gentry lover. Did you really think I didn’t know? God had finally shown favor, fulfilling the meaning of Jackson’s name, and Jackson peered heavenward in gratitude. No more harangues. I’m finally free to do the work I love, as much and as often as I like. I can hike or fish or hang about the cottage in Faenmor, then visit with the locals at the neighborhood pubs without being nagged.

***

Divorce! Please tell me this is your wretched attempt at a joke.

Even as the words faded, Fenella knew from the wooden look on her sister’s bone white face it was not a simple attempt by Fiona to be humorous. Although Fenella had long suspected there were problems, she was quite unprepared for her sister’s news.

Their parents might be at peace with this remarkable situation. The girls, however, were quite a bit more undecided.

Elder daughter Fiona embraced her mother’s ambitious and acerbic manner.

I quite understand Mum’s aspirations toward a more privileged social standing than that of a professor’s wife. She was born to be a lady. Fiona lifted a hand to toss aside tresses of lovingly tended hair, examined a polished nail, and checked the full-length oval cheval mirror in her ultra-femme bedroom to make certain the tailored slacks she wore were not overly wrinkled. She’s taught me so much and I shall miss her dreadfully.

Quiet Fenella, on the other hand, loved both nature and books since early childhood and was never happier than when she joined her father on his tramps around Faenmor or during an afternoon spent reading in his well-stocked library.

I, too, shall miss Mum. And being a family, she added wistfully. But, like Dad, I have never felt I quite measured up to Mum’s rigid social standards.

True to her wise disposition, however, she kept those feelings to herself.

The upheaval surrounding their Mother’s departure—and remarriage as soon as the law allowed—subsided rather quickly. Their father sold the house and moved into an apartment near the university and his work. The girls converted their degrees into employment with a large talent agency in Glasgow, where they, too, took an apartment and where the courses they’d labored over in communication’s, business law, and management stood them in good stead. Both young women loved the work and applied themselves diligently. Soon their names were well known by the models, singers, dancers and actors represented by the agency. Before long they worked their way up to become junior partners.

But Fiona, as usual, had greater and more far-reaching goals. She wanted to see the world beyond the boundaries of Glasgow and felt she had exhausted the city’s offerings.

Fen, both Mum and Dad have moved on with their lives. She’s remarried and Dad is quite content at the university. What say we move on, too? I’ve researched the visa process. Here is an application for a visa to work in New York City.

Fenella’s copper colored brows lifted; her blue eyes widened and she drew in a quick breath as her sister handed her the visa paperwork.

Look, Fen, Fiona continued, unmindful of her sister’s dismay, we’ve nowhere to go here in Glasgow. We’re at the top of our game at this agency. There are, admittedly, loads of entertainment types in Los Angeles, but New York presents better opportunities and seems rather more civilized than LA. And we’ll come back to Glasgow for visits. Don’t you want something more than this? She stood at the window and spread her arms as though dismissing the expanse of city that lay below.

I suppose. Fenella’s low, forced tone was lost on her exuberant sister. She knew she would desperately miss Faenmor—and the redheaded hotel operator who resided there. But she could always come back and visit…

The process was arduous, but one by one the two women ticked off items on the list of requirements until finally they left Scotland and flew to New York.

Fiona walked out of the terminal at JFK, threw her arms wide and twirled in a circle. Oh Fen, can’t you feel the vibrancy of this city. One day we’re going to have our own agency here.

After a great deal of hard work and a lot more kissing up than Fiona would have liked, her prediction became reality. At ages thirty-five and thirty-three the two women now headed their own entertainment representative agency which catered to overseas, as well as, American talent.

Chapter One

Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed

Quote from Bhagavad Gita

Gerald Blair, founder and CEO of Blair Enterprises, needed quality representation for the talent associated with the new entertainment branch, Paragon Productions, recently added to the conglomerate of industries that bore his name. A contact in the trade raved about the Cameron sisters.

Blair, you simply cannot go wrong with their agency. These women are first-rate.

Never one to come to a decision without solid evidence, he made an appointment with the sisters so he could chat with them and discover for himself if the glowing reviews this man and others in the industry had to offer were accurate.

Blair found what he learned matched what he’d heard. The sisters possessed good looks and excellent manners and breeding, as well as, adept minds well versed in the intricacies of representation of all types of performance artists.

Their prospective client put her so at ease, Fiona felt comfortable divulging some personal information she felt might be apropos to such a distinguished man as Mr. Blair.

Mum made certain we were well schooled in how to conduct ourselves in every social situation, she confided to Blair. She was quite a lady.

But, Fenella was quick to add, Our father made certain academics were not neglected. We were exposed to great literature, plays, music, and a broad spectrum of cultural ideas. He taught us to respect our minds as well as our manners.

Charmed, Blair soon employed their agency for his entertainment enterprises on an exclusive basis.

As Gerald grew closer to the women, his interest in one of the sisters took a more personal tone. Fiona he found rather tough and cool, but he became enamored with the softer and—he surmised—more easily led Fenella. Blair and his wife, Patrice, had not been intimate for some time; he found her dull and unappealing—not nearly earthy enough for his taste. Although he did not lack for female companionship, he found assignations with paramours particularly unfulfilling; they were more a matter of swift gratification with no lasting warmth.

Blair desired a relationship with a real woman, not a paid companion.

A clever spider, he spun his web tighter and tighter, careful to always behave as a gentleman should. Fenella and Fiona often met with him to discuss the latest contracts involving Paragon Productions.

Fenella, sit here by me. I need you to explain this portion of the contract. Gerald would place his chair just a little too close to suit Fenella, be overly solicitous when he seated her, and pat her back as he did so. When she pointed to a sentence in the document, he took the opportunity to lightly touch her hand, another action he’d repeated far too many times for her comfort.

It’s just your imagination she tried to tell herself. Gerald—he had insisted they call him by his given name—is a remarkably generous benefactor, and goes out of his way to introduce both Fiona and me to those we might find supportive or entertaining.

She was wary of men here in the city at any rate. Fenella remembered the ugly incident that changed her life so dramatically as though it were happening all over again...

One evening she labored over a particularly complex contract. An unusual noise interrupted her intense concentration.

What now?

Annoyed, Fenella marked the section of contract on which she was working. She lifted her head expecting to see an associate, or perhaps her secretary, only to observe that everyone else had gone home and she was alone in the quiet office—except for a large man who stood just inside her office door.

Why, what are you doing here?

My dear girl, I simply needed to see you. The man inched toward her desk.

Fenella could not recall any outstanding contract issues for this particular client and her apprehension grew as she rose to meet him. Not until he drew closer did she notice the gleam in his eyes. As quick as a snake strikes its prey, the man seized her arms and pressed his lips to hers.

Ah, Fenella, he murmured against her mouth, you have no idea how often I think of you, how often I dream of you at night. I want you; I want to feel your skin next to mine, to feel myself inside you.

Panic at the man’s actions and words filled Fenella, and she twisted her head to escape his kiss. No, don’t say that. You cannot possibly mean what you are saying!

Fenella struggled against the large man’s grasp but her small frame was no match for the man’s bulk. Her resistance only inflamed his senses, and she was shoved against the desk and bent backwards until she feared her spine would snap.

Cloth ripped as