The Amber Lee Boxed Set

  "What's this?" he asked.

  "Oh, I... had a dream last night," I said. "At least, I think I did."

  He picked the pad up and scanned the page. "You remembered enough of it to write it down?"

  "Not really. But I tried."

  Damien put the notepad down. "I'm not a psychologist, but I think this—the stuff you're dreaming about—is your subconscious acting out."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You haven't been able to tell anyone about what happened to you... I mean, I know, and Eliza and Frank knows, but someone really hurt you and you’ve had to hide that from everyone else."

  "So you think that some kind of trauma is causing me to have all these bad dreams?"

  Damien eyed the writing again. "Maybe it's not the whole reason... but some of it."

  "What am I supposed to do?"

  "About what?"

  "This... everything... I don't know where to start."

  He brought me to my feet and took my hands in his. "You need to put your head down and work, Amber. That's all."

  "But... I have things I need to do. I promised Eliza I'd go with her today to get a Yule log. You know we've been growing a little distant lately. I can't just bail on her again. She'll hate me."

  "I don't know what to tell you," he said, "But I'm going to help you with whatever I can, okay? Do you have to go anywhere right now?"

  I shook my head.

  "Okay, let me take care of your household chores for you while you work. I'll even help you write the assignment. How does that sound?"

  "No," I said, "No. You have things to do. Besides, if you stayed here I definitely wouldn't get any work done." I kissed Damien on the lips. Gods how I wanted to rip his clothes off and forget about this mess. "I'll figure it out, but you need to go."

  Damien nodded. "Alright. I'm a phone call away, okay?"

  We kissed again and he left, and when he was gone I knew I had made the right decision in asking him to leave. Distance suited my needs more than his body could. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. That's when I was at my strongest. I wanted none of that melting-around-Damien business.

  Not today.

  "Alright, Amber," I said to myself, breathing deep. "Here are your choices. Blow everyone off, including Eliza, and write all four papers right fucking now. Or seduce the professor, which would be gross. Or use Magick to get out of this whole thing.”

  I turned to the mountain of work and sat down. The use of Magick never offered anyone any long term solutions, so finishing those assignments was all on me. I would have to meet Eliza in a few hours to go get our Yule log and I had four assignments to finish before the weekend, and that was only three days away.

  In no universe would I succeed there.

  The assignments were huge. I couldn't physically write the amount of words necessary to make it work. So I searched through the pile and picked the most interesting one; a study on contemporary Demons and modern Catholic Exorcisms. Score! This was a subject I could get behind. With my fascination with Churches and Demons fuelling my enthusiasm it seemed to me that it would be a better idea to whole-ass one thing than quarter ass four things, right?

  I would write the best god-damn paper the Professor had ever read in his entire life. Then I would get down on my knees, beg him to give me more time to finish the rest, and hope he wouldn't take the gesture as invitation to ask me do anything… degrading.

  Gross.

  Chapter Seven

  At night and in the early mornings—when temperatures plummeted—Raven's Glen went from a lively small town to a quiet ghost town. The sun set early and rose late, so we had way more dark hours than light. But the dimness of the sky and the warmth from the fireplace I had decided to set up sent a sweet, cozy atmosphere about the house. I much preferred the winter though. Being snuggled up and warm whenever rain or snow fell outside was my kind of thing.

  So with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a fresh dose of willpower and energy I settled down to write my paper before going to meet Eliza. Of course, I got carried away and lost track of time. But could you blame me? I had so much to say about Demons and Exorcisms; some of it first was first hand—Kyle—and a great deal of it given to me by a real exorcist named Padre Perez.

  I had met him in Barcelona when I was backpacking through Europe. The priest spent his time in one of Barcelona's most beautiful Cathedrals; La Catedral de la Sagrada Familia, or, Cathedral of the Sacred Family. It was where he worked, where he did most of his praying and studying, and even where he lived. To me, though, this church was the one where I had my life-changing revelation, when I decided to start learning about Religion and the Occult.

  The Cathedral was unlike any building I had ever laid eyes on before. Tall spires could be seen jutting into the sky as if to stab the heavens. They seemed jagged and broken from afar, but when you got close you could see the detail in the walls; the cherubs, the crosses, and the piles of skulls and bones. And that was only the outside. The interior of the Cathedral also took my breath away.

  The ceiling seemed to stretch up for miles. Racks of pews numbering in the hundreds flanked the way toward an altar decked out in beautiful gold and marble decor. Every single square inch of the massive structure had been thought of with lavishness in mind, despite being a place of worship. But that’s just how buildings were built back then. Religion was everything, and everything went into veneration of deities.

  Europeans really knew how to build gothic structures.

  Regular services were performed at the Cathedral, but when it wasn't being used as a house of worship it was a mecca for travelers the world over. It made no difference where you stood, inside this massive cathedral—or standing in the grounds—one couldn't avoid the chatter of tourists, the rumble of footsteps, or the flashing of cameras. This, I learned, was the norm in Europe as far as Cathedrals were concerned.

  I also learned that Europeans really knew how to build gothic structures.

  California doesn't have cathedrals like this one. Heck, you'd be hard pressed to find Gothic architecture of this ilk anywhere in the US. There was simply no choice for the lover of mammoth, gothic constructions but to go to Europe if he wanted to feast his eyes one. And it was while feasting that Padre Perez singled me out of the horde of tourists to talk to.

  "May the Lord's blessings be upon you, child,” he said.

  I spun around and looked at the saintly old man. An aged man, the priest's gray hairline had receded to the point where he only had hair on the sides of his head. He wore a purple cassock, a simple black shirt, and the white collar of the Order of Catholic Priests.

  "Thank you," I had said to him, "But I'm not a Catholic."

  "You do not need to be a Catholic for the Holy Spirit to be with you, child."

  "That's awfully un-Catholic, isn't it?"

  "Not at all," said the priest, "I am but a messenger, and I do not judge one by their faith."

  "So, is that the message? That the Holy Spirit is with me?"

  The priest smiled, wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth. "We all have our trials, and we all make mistakes. When one makes a mistake he must seek solace in His love and he will find protection."

  "Thanks, but I really am not a Catholic."

  Padre Perez's eyes softened. He looked so much like my dead grandfather. They could have been twins! Or maybe I just thought that about all old men.

  "The adversary and his minions care not of your faith,” he said, “Only that you opened the door."

  "Opened the door? I haven't opened any doors."

  "Sometimes we open doors by doing. Other times we open doors by not doing."

  "I don't understand."

  "All will become clear with time, child."

  When I left the cathedral I didn't know what to make of the old man. My brain was spinning. Maybe I hadn't truly understood what he had said, or maybe his Spanish accent was too thick and something got lost in translation. I didn't think so, though. I got the impressi
on the priest had chosen his words, and his target, carefully. But that didn’t help me figure out what was missing.

  I also didn't know it then, but I would go back to see Padre Perez before leaving Barcelona for Rome. On the second time we met we would find ourselves sharing a long chat about religion, faith, and the spiritual crisis humanity is in now. The most interesting thing about him, though, was his status as an Exorcist. I had never met one before, and he was open about his studies, where he had trained, and his experiences. I had many stupid questions for him, of course, but he answered them all despite my own religious predilections.

  Meeting Padre Perez was one of the best things that could've happened to me in Barcelona, next to the revelation I had. My experience backpacking through Europe wouldn't have been the same without him. Now if only I could find a way to tell him that the knowledge I had gained from him would be helping me complete the assignment which could very well determine my future at Raven's Hall?

  And also, on the same note, what he would say if he knew I was failing?

  Finally I was done, so I put the last few words down on the page, grabbed my jacket, and raced across town toward the tree lot. It was cold and snowing and Eliza's black Fiero was the only car parked outside.

  I rushed toward it and knocked on the steamed up window.

  "You're late again," Eliza said.

  "I'm sorry!” I said, “I got caught up with this assignment and I just couldn't put it down before leaving."

  Eliza pursed her lips and rolled the window up before stepping out of the car. She was wearing a thick, puffed blue jacket, a scarf, and a matching pair of fluffy black boots and gloves. I kind of wanted them.

  "Your boobs are getting bigger," I said, hoping to break the ice.

  "You think so?" she asked, pulling down on her pockets to stretch the jacket over her form body.

  "Yeah, totally. I'm so jealous right now."

  Eliza's frosty demeanor cracked, and her pink lips curled into a smile. "Thanks,” she said, “I guess something has to offset the heartburn and the restless nights."

  I took Eliza by the arm and we headed into the tree yard at the side of the building together. A big sign was posted at the front of the yard which read 'ALL TREES, ONLY $69 EACH!' To the proprietor's credit, most of the trees were of a decent size and full; but if trees were horses and ponies, way too many of them were ponies. I hoped we wouldn't get ripped off.

  "So," I said as we trudged over grass and snow, "Have you picked a name yet?"

  "Not really," Eliza said, "We don't even know the sex yet."

  "Don't you want to know?"

  "I don't. Evan does. This baby was a miracle, so I want to hold on to the mystery for as long as I can."

  "That's fair. You can still think of names though, right?"

  "Yeah. I kinda like Helena for a girl and Ryan for a boy."

  "Helena and Ryan. They're nice names." Maybe Helena was a little old fashioned, but I couldn't see anything wrong with it.

  "Shame he or she won't be here this Christmas," Eliza said.

  "That's okay. He or she will be here next time and you'll get to shower him or her with all kinds of gender appropriate gifts and love."

  My insides warmed at the thought of pinching the little bean's cheeks and watching them glow. I didn't want kids yet, but I was happy whenever other people had them. And now my best friend in the world was going to have one. I couldn't wait to be Auntie Amber.

  I would be a cool aunt.

  "Baby's first Christmas," Eliza said.

  "Christmas?" I asked. It was the second time she'd mentioned it. "Won't you be celebrating Yuletide with your little one?"

  "I don't know," Eliza said, "I mean, kids love Santa and all that. I don't think I could take that away from my children. It wouldn't be fair to impose my religion on them."

  "Other people do it all the time."

  "Yeah, but I'm not other people."

  "So is this maybe your last Yuletide?"

  Eliza gave me a sidelong glance. Her eyes expressed indecision. "What would you do?"

  I thought about it for a moment. "I'd keep Yuletide, and Samhain, and all the Wiccan holidays. I'm a Witch, and I don't want to hide such a big part of my life from my kids. Then I would still have Christmas so they wouldn’t feel left out at school. Then, if they wanted to, they could celebrate my holidays with me… my way."

  "Wouldn't you be imposing on them, though?"

  "Well, not really. Like, my mom was a Witch and she never celebrated any of the Wiccan holidays around me, although we still had all of the other ones. I wish she had, though. I turned out to be a full on Witch and maybe my kids will be Witches too, so I would want them to know how to be Witches."

  "You said Witch an awful lot just then."

  "Did I?" I said, smiling.

  Eliza fell silent. I could tell this was a subject she had battled with and I didn't feel like pressing the issue. I would support her no matter what, and if this was her last Yuletide we would make it as special as possible.

  "What about this one?" I asked, stopping at the foot of a tree.

  She scanned it. "It looks good,” she said.

  "I think so too," I said, turning to her. "Listen, I just want you to know that... you're my sister, and I love you."

  Eliza narrowed her eyes. "Where'd that come from?"

  "It's just, I'm sensing this... coldness... and I just want you to know that whatever is going on in your life, I'm here for you. Always. I support you one hundred percent."

  Blood rushed to her cheeks. Her tiny pink lips turned upwards and her face brightened. She hugged me, and I felt her belly press up against my stomach. All kinds of silly, broody warmth filled me. I had to remind myself that I didn't want kids yet, although if I had to remind myself… what did that mean?

  "Thank you," she said, "I've just been so damn stressed out these days."

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "It's mommy things. Indigestion, heartburn, hormones. I'm all over the place. I'm sorry if I'm coming off as more of a bitch than usual.

  "Hey, you're my bitch. Okay?" Eliza nodded and we hugged again. "Now let me pick out a tree to turn into a Yule log."

  The log had to be a gift. Such was the tradition. And since we were having our Yule celebration at Eliza's place, it was my turn to buy the log and offer it to her. Back in the old days someone would go out into the woods and cut the log himself, but I didn't know the first thing about chopping down a tree, so I asked the lot owner to cut it for me.

  It wasn't cheating.

  Eliza waited for me as I loaded the log into the back of my car. We made our goodbyes, made plans to meet on the weekend, and I watched her drive off before going for my door; but I didn't make it that far. There, through the snowy haze, standing beneath a street light, a man was staring right at me. I couldn't see his face, but it was clear where his eyes were going.

  I tried to get a read on him but I couldn't make out any features save for a leather jacket and a hood.

  "Hey," I yelled, but the figure darted to the right and disappeared behind a row of trees.

  What the hell?

  Chapter Eight

  Despite being safe in the knowledge that I had locked every single door in my house, shut every window, and erected a Magickal ward around the perimeter I still couldn’t catch a wink of sleep that night. Who would? All night I had been wracking my brain over that man I had seen in the parking lot. He was ghostly, like a specter in the snow, his features hidden by the way the light was falling on his head.

  Who was he?

  What was he doing there?

  Was he actually looking at me?

  Was he the same guy I had caught a fleeting glimpse of in my garden the other day?

  The questions wouldn’t let me rest. The only way to stop them was to feed and placate them with answers, but I was fresh out of those. So they continued to rattle at their cages and rob me of the one night of rest I thought I was entitled to. I had to fi
nd out who that guy was, but I didn’t know where to start.

  The one thing I could do, however, was get my assignment to Raven’s Hall. Sure, my priorities may have been a little messed up, but I couldn’t neglect my studies any further. So I double checked the contents of the USB stick to double check that the work was there, slipped into something low cut at the breast, and even put makeup on. Nothing fancy. A little smoky black and red around the eyes coupled with deep plum lipstick made the statement I needed to make; I wasn’t the kind of girl to spend hours on my face anyway.

  I also wasn’t about to use my womanly charms on a forty seven year old married man, but it couldn’t hurt to give him something nice to look at. So I decided to pick out a black choker with a blood red ruby hanging off it, clasped it around my pale neck, poured myself into the leather jacket, pulled my hair out of the collar—letting it fall loosely down my back—and went for my car.

  Boy was I going to make some kind of an entrance today. No one had seen me in a few days so I wanted to make sure to catch some eyes, and with the smoky vampire thing I had going on I was sure to turn some heads. Only I didn’t even make it to the first stoplight when I saw the man in the hood standing by the sidewalk.

  My heart started to race. The hooded man was out in broad daylight! What the hell was he doing just waiting at a crossing in front of a stoplight? Who was he waiting for? An angry heat began to rise into my chest. I stopped the car at the red light and got out.

  “Hey!” I said over the hood. The man turned to me. Same stance. Same jacket. Holy shit! I couldn’t move. Rooted. Trembling. Anger or nerves, now? I couldn’t tell. Who the hell are you?” I said, but he didn’t reply.

  He stared, motionless for a moment, like a scarecrow. But then he pulled his hood down and my heart started to beat even harder and faster than before. The hood gave way to a man with a messy mop of hair, a sunken face, and what I suspected was at least two weeks’ worth of untrimmed stubble.

  I swallowed hard at the sight and blinked away the disbelief. “Aaron?” I asked.

  He shambled up to the car and stared at me from across the roof. “I need your help,” he said.