The Amber Lee Boxed Set

  “What is it you’re thinking?” Aaron asked. “What’s responsible for all this?”

  “I don’t think what’s happening to you is… of this world.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is that when I first saw you, you looked like a train had hit you head on.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Swallow your pride, okay? I’m making a point. Then after we spoke, when you told me everything that had been going on in your house, things quietened down, right?

  “Yeah, enough for me to notice they’d calmed down.”

  “It’s not a ghost.” I paused and Aaron nodded. So far so good. “I think what we’re dealing with here is way more intelligent than a ghost. Older. Malicious.”

  Aaron cocked his head. “So… what?”

  “A demon.” A tingle of excitement tickled my nervous system as the words left my lips.

  Aaron’s expression stiffened, but his eyes became razor sharp. “A demon?”

  “If an inhuman demonic spirit is to blame, it could explain the reason why suddenly things have gone quiet around your house. These entities don’t like being discovered, and if it thinks someone’s on to it, it will go dormant for a while.”

  “So you’re saying there’s something following me? Listening to my conversations and messing with my life?”

  “I think so.”

  Aaron fell silent and looked away.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. I just want to know why the hell this is happening to me.”

  “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

  I got up and crossed my living room to the bookshelf in the far corner. That’s where I kept all my university text books as well as a bunch of other, obscurer tomes of occult knowledge I had picked up over the years. I dumped the heap of books I had picked out on the kitchen table and sat down again. Aaron picked one up and read the title, then flicked through a few pages.

  “I thought books were a dying thing,” he said.

  “Books will never die. There’s information in these pages you simply can’t get on the Internet.”

  He sighed. “Maybe I’m just imagining everything,” he said.

  “As an expert on imagining things, I’m pretty sure you’re not; unless you’re secretly on some kind of drug I don’t know about.”

  “Never,” he snapped. The tone of his voice implied offense. His intensity sent a shiver racing down my spine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “Aren’t you meant to be at class?” he said, the conversation suddenly shifting. I felt like the limelight had been turned on me. All this because I implied he might have been taking drugs?

  “I got expelled,” I said, coming to my own defense.

  “Expelled?”

  Oh shit, he didn’t know. “Uh… yeah,” I said. “Look, it’s nothing. I didn’t want to tell anyone but I guess there’s no point in hiding it.”

  “What happened?”

  “I fucked up.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You’re gonna have to,” I said, sighing, “I was skipping class, wasn’t handing in assignments. I was a real badass.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong,” I said, meeting Aaron’s blue eyes. “It’s exactly like me. I’m a mess these days, Aaron.”

  “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

  Was I really about to confide about my problems in Aaron? I sighed again. “I’m a firm believer in not planting my problems on other people’s shoulders. It isn’t fair.”

  I realized in the moment what I had just said may have made Aaron feel bad or guilty, but I didn’t mean it like that. I had meant to say that I liked my privacy, and I believed Aaron had the sense to see it for what it was.

  “It isn’t healthy to bottle things in either,” he said, “That kind of shit can make you go mad, or worse.”

  “What’s the or worse?” I asked.

  “It can make you grab a gun and shoot a bunch of folks. You have to tell someone about it.” Aaron took my hand. His fingers were soft and strong. “You were there for me when I needed someone. Let me be here for you.”

  “Aaron—”

  “Tell me while I make you a hot chocolate,” he said, interrupting. “Then we can go back to my thing.”

  Who was I to turn down an offer of hot chocolate?

  I didn’t think Aaron took what I had said about a demon affecting his life too seriously, but that didn’t surprise me. I hadn’t ever known Aaron to buy in to spirituality or even religion for that matter. Still, true to his word, Aaron fixed me with a cup of hot chocolate and insisted I tell him everything that had happened to me over the last few months.

  I decided to tell him and didn’t spare any details, other than the ones where I used real Magick. I even told him about what had happened to Eliza, though I also left out my suspicions that what happened to her was externally triggered… possibly by another witch. Another witch. The thought hadn’t entered my orbit until now, but when it came in, it stuck.

  “Thank you,” I said as the feather of steam warmed my nose. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “And you didn’t have to tell me everything you just told me. I know we’ve had a rocky past and I… haven’t always been the best listener.”

  “That’s behind us,” I said. “I want a fresh start with you.”

  Only… what did a fresh start even mean with someone like Aaron? We were barely friends then. We were two people who enjoyed the taste and feel of each other’s bodies. There was more on his side than there was on mine—I made it a point to keep him at arm’s length as far as my heart went—but the relationship was shallow. I could count the amount of deep conversations we had had on a single hand; not counting time since I met him on the street a few days ago.

  “I’d like that too,” he said. “And I’m sorry about Eliza. I hope she’s okay.”

  I sighed. “She will be, and so will the baby. The doctor said as much.”

  “That’s something to be happy about,” he said.

  “Yeah…”

  “Look, you’re a good person, and good things come to good people. Give it some time.”

  “See, I thought that too, but I don’t think the sky’s gonna clear for me any time soon.”

  “I didn’t say it was gonna be smooth. It’s probably going to suck, but you have to stick it out. You’re tough, Amber. I know you’re going to come out stronger when the dust settles.”

  Aaron’s words—and the hot chocolate—warmed my heart. But the poor fool didn’t know what he was saying. Eliza was in hospital, my hopes of attaining a degree in Religious Studies and Mythology were in the mud, and there might be a demon fucking with the people I loved—or worse, another Witch. Being tough and waiting out the storm might work for some people, but not for me.

  “So look,” I said, “I’ve had time to think about it, and I want to do something with you that I think will help us identify the source of this problem… if you’re open-minded enough.”

  “I’m willing to try anything.”

  “Alright. Follow me into my attic.”

  In my rush I failed to remember that Aaron had never seen the inside of my attic before. Back when we were a quasi-thing we had seen—uh, experienced—every inch of my house, save for the attic. This was the place where I did Magick, my safe place. I only took people I truly cared about into the attic. So what did that say about Aaron then? And what did it say about him now?

  “You’re a real witch aren’t you?” he asked. His were eyes fixed on the shrine I had built along one of the long walls. It was a vanity set once, but now it was covered in an assortment of colored candles, tiny animal skulls, rune stones, cards and even a crystal ball.

  “What gave it away?” I asked.

  “All this… stuff.”

  “I did tell you I was a witch.”

  “Yeah but I never thought… all this.” br />
  “Most people don’t get to see this place. You should count yourself lucky.”

  “I do, believe me. I’m just a little awestruck.”

  Aaron sat down in the center of the room and I came up to him with a bowl, a pouch, a small mirror, and even more candles.

  “This is called a Magick Mirror,” I said as I sat down, cross legged. I opened the pouch and poured a mound of black salt into the bowl. “We’re going to use it to see if anyone’s put a hex on you.”

  “A hex? Like a curse?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Didn’t you say you thought it was a demon?”

  “Demons don’t just come into your life uninvited.”

  “So, what do I do?” he asked.

  “Nothing, just sit still and look into the mirror. Tell me if you see anything.”

  I lit the candles around the bowl and carefully dug the mirror into the mound of black salt. I closed my eyes and, in my mind, stretched my consciousness into the Nether. That’s what Frank and Damien called the place where things we can’t see exist. Everyone experienced it differently. To me it was like dipping my hands into a calm, dark lake. It was a blind sense. People were warm currents sailing beyond my senses; objects felt largely the same but sometimes they were usually harder to sense.

  My own body was a tingly warm rush. Aaron, however, was like a fire underwater. I was drawn to his energy. I couldn’t tell why or what had brought on the sudden surge of feeling, but once it came it was impossible to ignore. He was hot and wild and untamed. I hadn’t felt anyone like him before. Memories of our passionate trysts came forth like lava ripping out of the sea bed, boiling the water around it.

  But then something brushed against my hand, something disgusting and foul, like an eel covered in spindles. I recoiled from it and snapped back into my mind, reeling from the experience. Lurching. Touch turned to smell and taste as my mind returned to full wakefulness, but I didn’t want to smell and taste. That brief instant of touch translated to the bitter, disgusting taste of shit, rot and mold. I wanted to wretch, and I thought I was going to—right into the bowl—but I held myself.

  Aaron reached for me and took my hand. “Amber, are you alright?” he asked

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, holding my hand above my mouth, “I just wasn’t ready for that.” My fingers were starting to burn.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To touch something I wasn’t supposed to touch.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I couldn’t have gotten to the bathroom faster if I had rocket boots strapped to my feet. There, crouched over the toilet bowl, the contents of my stomach made a hasty and violent egress. Though I breathed through the motions, the pain in my stomach prevented me from getting up even long after I had wiped the grossness from my lips.

  When my strength returned I struggled to my feet, de-robed faster than if Benedict Cumberbatch were beckoning me to bed, and jumped into a scalding hot-water shower. The heat burned my skin and I wanted to scream, but I needed to clean the filth off me more so I grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed until the muscles in my arms started to hurt.

  Aaron was more than a little puzzled by my sudden yet immediate need for him to exit my house, but he left on the promise that I would call him again in a few hours. I couldn’t explain to him that I felt like my insides were rotting, but I was aware that it wasn’t the first time I had shooed him out of my home in a hurry and he was probably used to that by now.

  I stepped out of the shower only when the water ran cold. My silky skin was probably far cleaner now than it had ever been, but I still felt like I wasn’t clean enough. No amount of soap could get the stinking, rotten smell out of my hair.

  Wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around my breasts I headed into my kitchen and went for a glass of water. I couldn’t understand why Aaron was being attacked by a demon, and dreaded to think that the same entity may have had an effect on Eliza—albeit on a much smaller scale. A demon fit the bill based on what I had felt when I touched it with my psychic senses, but none of what was going on made any sense. These entities weren’t uncommon, sure, but they couldn’t just outright attack someone out of the blue.

  Demons were crafty, manipulative and powerful, but for all their power they were required to obey a certain set of rules before they could interfere with a person’s life. Ouija boards, meddling in the dark arts, venerating evil spirits—these were the kinds of activities that could invite a demon into a person’s life, but they needed permission. I had never known Aaron to mess about with this kind of thing. And while Eliza was a Wiccan, we always used the right kind of protection whenever we would reach out and work Magick.

  Something wasn’t adding up, and all the while my mind kept circling back to that stray thought that had come through and had stuck with me even now: what if it’s a Witch?

  There was a knock on the door a while later. I hesitated before approaching door and realized only when I arrived that all I had covering my naked flesh was a towel. Luckily it was only Damien on the other side, so I unlocked the door and took a few steps away before calling out.

  “It’s open!” I said.

  Damien opened the door and came inside, locking up behind him.

  He noticed then, also, that I was only wearing a towel. My breasts were covered up, but my damp copper hair was falling lazily over the towel which only made my skin seem paler in comparison.

  “Woah,” he said, “Did you know I was coming?”

  I could tell he was excited at the sight of me. He had this twinkle in his smile which would have said ‘Oh boy, I’m going to get lucky!’ if it had its own voice. But the thought of physical contact with another human being was enough to make my stomach churn and I wanted no part in whatever fantasy Damien had running around in that brain of his.

  “No,” I said, “I just got out of the shower. W-what are you doing here?”

  “Well, you don’t answer your phone anymore so I thought I’d come round.”

  “What? I haven’t had a call all day.” I went to the kitchen table where I had left my phone and checked. No missed calls. No messages. I showed him. “See?”

  Damien inspected the blank display. “Your phone must be broken.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” It was then I spotted the box he was carrying. “What’s in the box?”

  He presented the package to me and smiled. “Just a little something. I didn’t get to give it to you the other night, so…”

  “You bought me a gift?” My chest flushed with tingly warmth which went to my neck and cheeks.

  “Yeah, you know… because it’s Yule and all that.”

  “What is it?” I asked as I took the parcel from his hands. The wrapping was festive, and though the package was rectangular in shape it didn’t seem firm enough to be a box. In fact, it was downright soft—at least to a point. Clothes, maybe? No. That didn’t account for the firmness.

  “Why don’t you just open it and find out?”

  So I opened it, and inside there was a book. The book had been carefully wrapped in bubble-wrap, which I was almost too eager to remove.

  “You didn’t have to get me this,” I said as I peeled back the last few layers of bubble wrap.

  “I know, but I saw this and wanted to get it for you.”

  The hefty mess of bubble wrap fell to the floor and I knew as soon as my eyes touched the tome why it needed to be cocooned in such a fashion. In my hands I held an original copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “How did you find this?”

  “I have a book guy,” he said with a cheeky wink.

  “No you don’t.” The filthy feeling evaporated and my cheeks turned a bright pink. I laughed and set the book down on my coffee table, then wrapped my arms around Damien’s neck and teased his lower lip before kissing him like I had never kissed him before.

  “You’ve out-done yourself tonight, Mister Colt,” I said.

/>   Damien wrapped his arms around my waist and smiled, his face all eyelashes, dimples, and hazel eyes. “Happy?” he asked.

  “Totally. I definitely wasn’t expecting this. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “I know, you did this because you wanted to and all that chivalrous crap. You know I don’t buy into that whole thing, but still. This was nice.”

  Damien’s hands sailed along the fabric of the towel and over the curve of my ass.

  “Aha, the ulterior motive is revealed,” I said throwing him a wicked grin.

  “I have no ulterior motive.”

  “Oh really? Showing up at my place with a one of a kind book I’m sure you had to go back in time in order to get?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be wearing a towel and nothing else.”

  “True, but you did know it wouldn’t take long for me to slip out of whatever else I was wearing when you presented me with that well thought out gift.”

  Damien smiled, but remained silent. I kissed him again and then stepped away a few feet toward the door to my bedroom. My thought was to go and get dressed, but Damien followed me into the dark and wrapped a hand around my waist—and I flinched away from him.

  The thoughts were coming back; the feelings, the sickness, the retching. It was all coming back, filling me with a sick feeling and preventing me from enjoying the gesture Damien had just made.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

  I turned to face him and hugged the towel to keep it shut around me. “No,” I said.

  He approached and rested a hand on my bare shoulder, and again I wiggled out of it. His hand was warm against my skin, but the warmth didn’t translate well. Whatever process one’s mind used to transfer feelings into emotions wasn’t working as it should have. It was Damien, but I felt as though an old, fat, sweaty stranger had touched me instead.

  Damien raised his hands. “Alright,” he said, “I won’t get close. Is this better?”

  I nodded.

  “Amber, if something’s wrong… I want you to tell me.”

  But how could I?

  “Nothing’s wrong, Damien,” I said, “Let me just get changed, okay?”