A hard gust of wind came rushing in and knocked over a tall lamp shade on the other side of the room. Outside I could hear cars and the rattling of a pneumatic drill on hard tarmac down below.
But as soon as the moment had passed I found myself turning toward the bedroom again, and when I stepped inside my heart started to race.
“Come out,” I said into the darkness, “Fight me, coward.”
Someone was watching me. From where I couldn’t tell. Above me? Below? From the darkness inside the bedroom? I could have reached out into the Nether again and been more thorough with my scanning, forced the creature out of hiding, but if a single brush with it had made me wretch, what would prolonged contact do?
“I’m warning you,” I said, “Demon or not, you don’t scare me. I’m a Witch. The Goddess of the Moon is on my side. The Horned God of the Sun is on my side. You’re just filth.”
“Yggip elttil olleh,” a deep, raspy voice said from the farthest corner of the room.
My heart skipped a beat, my body froze, and the bedroom door slammed shut behind me.
Chapter Twenty Three
“Shit. Shit!”
I felt around for the nearest wall, groping for the light switch, but a powerful pressure came down on my shoulders. My body felt slow and sluggish, like I was wading through water. No, immersed in water! I closed my eyes tight. My heart thundered against my temples, chest and hands, and then.
Click.
The lights came on and the bedroom door opened, only I hadn’t found the light switch and I hadn’t touched the door. The pressure on my shoulders started to lift, but it would be a while before my heart-rate returned to normal and the hairs on the back of my neck would relax.
I stepped into the living room and looked around. Nothing struck me as out of the ordinary; no smells, no heat, no pressure. The windows were still open, too. I couldn’t understand what had just happened; had this entity just presented itself to me? If it had it wasn’t a very clever Demon. And what had it said? The words were a jumble of language I had never heard before and—Aaron opened the bathroom door and drove a wedge into my thoughts.
“Oh… hey,” I said, “I was just… how was your bath?”
“I feel better,” Aaron said. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, or pants; only the boxers I had picked out. Despite the battering his life had taken over the last few months, his body had kept its hard, rigid shape. I had to concentrate in order to keep my eyes from wandering.
“Sorry,” I said, “I couldn’t find you any clothes.”
“Yeah, I’m a mess. Don’t worry, I’ll get some.”
Aaron sailed into his bedroom like it was no big thing, emerging a few moments later wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a long woolen top. Grey, loose, but cozy. I wanted to yell Aaron, don’t before he went in, but that would have been stupid, so I left him to it and hoped nothing would happen. When he emerged he went to pull the living room window down but left it open a tad when he saw the objection on my face.
“I like it warm,” he said, “The heating is busted.”
“I didn’t know that. I just couldn’t breathe before.”
“I guess it did get a little warm in here.”
Warm and stinky.
I sat down on the sofa and he joined me once he had dressed himself.
“So… what was it you had to tell me?” he asked.
Right, only the whole reason I came. I had to tell him the whole truth, more so now after what just happened in his bedroom. I needed to get things moving. I needed Aaron protected. And the first step on that road was for me to tell him the truth.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something first?” I asked.
“I’ll eat after you tell me.”
“Okay.” I paused. “I’m a Witch.” Another pause. I waited for his reaction but Aaron didn’t seem surprised. He knew I was a Wiccan, though, so maybe a little more explanation was in order. “A real Witch,” I continued. It was the best I could do.
“I know,” he said, “I saw all those things up in your attic.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m saying that I can do real Magick, and I know things most other people don’t.”
“I’ve seen you use magic before. You used that bowl thing on me the other day, in the attic.”
“Yeah, I kinda lied about that. I wasn’t using it like it was supposed to be used. I was using it another way.” Aaron narrowed his eyes, curious. I took it as a sign to continue. “So I’m a Witch, and I know things. Today I learned more about what’s happening to you, and in order to explain it, I had to come out and tell you that I’m a Witch—and you have to promise not to tell anyone, because this is the kind of thing that gets people locked up in an asylum.”
“What is it that’s happening to me?” Aaron didn’t seem too concerned about the Witch part. I was happy about that. Having never done it in front of a human before I didn’t quite know how he would have reacted to a demonstration of power. Having said, Aaron was way more likely to react to a demonstration than to an explanation.
I didn’t think he understood what I was trying to tell him.
“I think you are actually being possessed,” I said.
“For real?” Aaron said. I didn’t think he believed it, even now, even after he had said himself not a few days ago in my car. But this wasn’t so much about belief but rather acceptance. Belief implies room for interpretation, acceptance makes an intangible thing tangible. “I thought that only happened to kids with Ouija boards. I haven’t done anything like that.”
“You didn’t have to,” I said, “I think someone has done this to you on purpose.”
Aaron’s eyes shot open Wide and angry. “What?”
“Over the last few days I’ve had encounters with men wearing hoods. One of them came to my house the other night. I had to fight him off. Then I followed him to a spot in the woods where… there were more of them. I think they did this to you. And they’re after me, too.”
“You?” Aaron’s confusion bubbled to the surface in angry waves. “Why you?”
“Because… I don’t know,” I said. “I’m still trying to figure that out. But the point is, for some reason, they’ve targeted you.”
I didn’t realize until then, but I was shaking.
Aaron ran his hands through his wet hair and then wiped his hot face with the water that came out of it. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
“We?” I said.
“Yes, we.”
“Aaron, there is no we.”
“Then why did you tell me all this?”
“Because I need to fix this problem, and the only way I can do it without having to dance around the truth of what I am was to just outright tell you.”
“But I already knew you were a Witch.”
“Yes, but…” I sighed and glanced over Aaron’s left shoulder. With a gesture of my right hand, the window Aaron had left open a tiny bit bolted open. A downward gesture sent it slamming shut. A trickle of dizzying power coursed through my veins until it passed and left my system.
“How… did you…” he said, stammering.
“I told you. I’m a Witch. A True Witch.”
“So you’re…”
I narrowed my eyes and made a thin line with my lips. He had better not ask me again, and to his credit he didn’t. Aaron had accepted it, somehow, and instead of asking me if I was a Witch he asked me to explain to him what I knew and suspected. So I filled him in as best I could, particularly where this cult that wanted to marry us was concerned. The news seemed to only further gnaw at Aaron’s already razor thin patience.
“Look,” I said, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I know it’s probably the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, but right now I don’t know how good our options are.”
“Okay?” he said.
“We could run.”
It totally wasn’t like me to suggest someth
ing like this, but there weren’t any good ways of dealing with the situation. Every choice was a bad choice, including running. I had never run away from anything in my life. Running never solved anyone’s problems. But it would give me time to think.
“Run?” he asked.
“I could get this thing away from you and we could get the fuck out of Raven’s Glen for a while, figure out what to do next.”
“Can you get rid of this thing?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But if it’s here, and it’s listening, it’s possible it already knows what we’re planning on doing so we don’t have much time.”
“Amber… running… no. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s… it doesn’t feel right.”
I shuffled closer to him on the couch and took his hand. “Aaron,” I said, “There are people out there right now gunning for us. For both of us. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“And I don’t want to see that happen to you either.”
“So then let’s grab our things and get the fuck out of here for a while. At least until we can figure out how to get close to those guys without drawing attention. They knew where I lived, Aaron. I can’t go back home. And they probably know where you live too.”
Aaron thought, long and hard. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, the lines on his face harshening. In that brief silence I also considered what I was saying. The idea to leave hadn’t come to me until it left my lips, but why not run? My life was a mess anyway, and the suggestion didn’t come from a selfish place; I was worried about Aaron, not me.
Aaron wasn’t only innocent, he was human, and way more vulnerable than I. Guaranteeing his safety wasn’t something I could just do. We needed to leave, check out our options, and then come back with a plan on how to get rid of those assholes. It was the sensible thing to do; if not the most courageous thing.
After a long lull, Aaron said, “Alright.”
“Alright? We’ll go?”
He nodded.
“Perfect. Okay. We’ll figure out where to go later. Grab your stuff and I’ll—” My phone vibrated in my pocket, cutting me off. It was Frank. I took the call without thinking about it.
“Frank,” I said, “What is it?”
“I’ve just had an awkward conversation with your ex-boyfriend,” he said.
“Right… I forgot that was happening.”
“Here’s the thing. I fucking love you, but I’m not going to play middle man here. Go talk to him.”
“What? You said you would talk to him. I don’t want to see him right now. I’m busy.”
“Well, you have no choice. Look, he really needs to talk to you. You just stormed off last night—and yes, I know, you had every right to, don’t worry—but I’ve listened to his side and I think you need to see it too.”
“But—”
“Listen, witch. Would I ever steer you wrong? No. So put on your big girl panties and go see him. I’ll owe you a favor if you do.”
“A favor?”
“Yes. A big one.”
“Okay. I’m going to go and see him, but I’m also going to cash in that favor right now.”
“Oh?”
“I need you to go home and pack. We’re leaving Raven’s Glen tonight.”
Chapter Twenty Four
“You can’t protect a person, but you can protect a place.”
That’s what Frank had told me back at the bookstore before I went to talk to Aaron. He had corrected himself by telling me that a person could be put under protection, but it would take far more time and resources than what I had available. Placing a ward around Aaron’s home by consecrating its portals would have to be enough.
Aaron watched on, perplexed, as I moved from window to window making strange gestures with my hands. I was using my left hand to feel the vibration of the portal until the very wood tingling beneath my fingers sang to my skin. Then, with my right index finger, I drew a five point star into the portal in midair and consecrated it with a silent prayer. Aaron couldn’t see the wards, nor could he feel the Magick in the room, so I must have looked like a mad woman.
I said a final prayer of protection to the Goddess of the Moon and the Horned God of the Sun when the sigils were in place, then went to Aaron.
“Give me your hands,” I said, and though he was a little weirded out, he complied.
Our eyes locked. He was sitting down on the sofa and I was standing before him, in the space between his legs. My heart started to race. I didn’t have to tilt my head far for my lips to reach his forehead.
“Gods, keep this man safe till my return,” I whispered against Aaron’s skin.
I went to pull away but Aaron held my shoulders and kept me close to him. “You can’t leave,” he said.
“I… I have to.”
“Not if my house is safe.”
His breath was hot against the side of my face. My heart sped up, zero to sixty in three seconds flat.
“You don’t understand. There are things I need to do… one last thing I have to take care of.”
“And I’m supposed to sit here and wait? You know I can’t do that. You should wait here… with me.”
I pulled away just enough so that we could see each other’s eyes. Blood had flushed to his cheeks giving his skin a healthy red glow. “Aaron,” I said, “I promise I’ll only be gone a short time. An hour. Tops.”
Aaron’s strong lips pressed together into a thin line. Color was returning to him, as was his strength. “Fine,” he said. “An hour.”
I swallowed. My heart was still racing. Aaron released me from his grip but I still didn’t move. I couldn’t. There was something about him, the way he had just been with me… it reminded me of the man I used to know.
When I couldn’t wait any longer I nodded and stood. “An hour,” I said, “Pack a bag.”
Aaron stood and watched me leave, and with Aaron’s protections in place I shot off to see Damien.
Frank and I had spoken about forcing Damien to join the Coven, reminding him of his responsibilities, but a Witch couldn’t be forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. And while there were spells one could use to force someone against their will, the Rule of Three would ensure such dark Magick practitioners would get what they deserved after.
No.
Damien couldn’t be forced.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether I even wanted him around at all. Frank had said it would make Damien suffer, that he would have to see me every day and feel the stab of guilt in his heart. But did I want that? I couldn’t care less about Damien’s feelings, what worried me were my own. Could I handle seeing Damien day after day knowing I had been… the other woman?
Not the girlfriend, but the other woman!
After all those long talks, after everything we had been through, to find out I had been a mistress... stupid, stupid, stupid! I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. I wondered at times if maybe I had a sign on my forehead saying ‘Please cheat on me?’ I had opened myself up again only to be caught up in someone else’s infidelity a second time.
And who said that lightning didn’t strike twice?
At about four o’clock evening was starting to unfurl like the wings of a giant, dark beast. Christmas was close, so the streets were lined in festive decorations and folks were scampering to collect last minute gifts before stores closed for the season or ran out of stock. It was always the same, like some kind of global phenomenon.
People threw themselves at shops in droves, desperate to try and catch those last minute gifts while in parking lots and street corners, sharks waited. They could taste the desperation like blood in the water and their hunger knew no bounds. They weren’t responsible for the shops being out of stock, but if they saw someone struggling to find the right gift, well, these people were only happy to jump in and throw a lifeline. Although those unfortunate souls could expect to pay, in some cases, triple what they would have if t
hey had had their shit together and bought early.
Like I did.
Early November was around the time when I would buy gifts for Yule. Yule was still a time of gift giving—hell, Yule where the whole gift-giving tradition came from—and I never enjoyed being unprepared or caught unawares. I had already bought a gift for Damien; an expensive replica of Jon Snow’s Longclaw blade, from Game of Thrones.
I always imagined how he would react to seeing it. His face would light up, I guessed, and the dimples in his cheeks would come out to play. They weren’t always there—only when he smiled—but I lived for those moments. They were such kissable things, his dimples. And his eyes, the cutest lines would spring from the corner of his eyes whenever he beamed with glee.
Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why’d he have to go and fuck everything up?
As I stood at his door—deciding whether to knock or blow it open in an angry rage—I wondered what the store’s return policy on replica swords worth hundreds of dollars was. I would have to return the blade, right? Or, you know what? Screw him, I thought. I would keep the blade for myself. I bought it, so it was mine.
Finally, I knocked. Then again, and again.
I expected the door to open to Natalie, but it was Damien. He was wearing a long-sleeved black tee that covered the tops of his hands and a pair of black jeans. His face was ash white against his clothes and his aura tasted like a raw potato, bitter and tough. I hated how involuntary this seventh sense was and I never enjoyed using it on people—to me it felt like an intrusion—but I couldn’t control it sometimes.
“Hey,” he said.
My hands went to my hips as if pulled by magnets. “Hey? You do what you did to me and all I get a lousy ‘hey’?”
“I didn’t know what I was supposed to say.”
“You can start by telling me what the fuck is going on.”
A door opened down the hall and a woman peered out. She was easily in her thirties. A baby was crying in the background.
“Can we go inside?” Damien asked.
“Will I run into her?”
Damien shook his head and so I wasted no time in entering his apartment, barging into his shoulder as I went past him. I could smell perfume in the air. Her perfume. Sweet and fruity. It wasn’t cheap perfume either, Gods-dammit.