The Red Witch (Amber Lee Mysteries Book 6) (2 page)

“Why? I mean, why would she go around doing that? To what end?”

“As zey say, 'absolute power corrupts absolutely', and ze corrupt care only to seek out more power. She was once a Witch like you and me, but no longer. She iz something else now; part Witch, part… I don’t know. Her power is matched only by ze influence of her cult.”

The story was vexing. Collette had me hanging to her every word, and her sultry French accent had nothing to do with it. I found myself drawn to the story, watching it unfold before my mind’s eye as if it were real, like a play on a stage. Part Witch, part something else.
What was the something else?
Part demon, maybe?
She had command of at least one such entity that I knew about, and a cult of men who weren’t quite human.

Or at least she
had
a cult.

“Aaron cut her cult up,” I said, “The night he transformed, he… I watched him do it. Every single one of them died. Where is her power if she doesn’t have her cult?”

“Ze tip of ze iceberg,” Collette said, dismissing the fact. “She has more followers than you could imagine; zealots who drink her blood for a measure of her essence and will die for her if she asked. Zere will be more. And zat is why we must be ready for her. Zat is why I came to you; to help you defeat zem.”

My head started to spin. I watched Collette shrink and grow for a moment until I could right myself with a pinch to the thigh. When my vision snapped back I shook my head and sighed. “What can we do? We’re just a bunch of Witches.”

“A bunch of Witches and a Werewolf,” she corrected, “And with my powers returned, I will teach you ze art of Shadow Magick. Together we will prepare ourselves for her next attack and when she comes we will defeat her. We have no choice, Amber.”

“Yeah, I figured she wouldn’t just leave me alone of her own accord.”

Collette shook her head. “She knows you are ze Witch spoken of in ze prophecies. Your blood is powerful—holy, even—and Linezka wants it, but we will not let her have it. I will die before she takes it.”

Die. Death.
The thought of anyone dying at the hands of this mad Witch wrapped itself around my throat and squeezed so hard I lost the ability to breathe for a moment. If there was any truth to what Collette was saying—and I had no reason to doubt her—, then we were dealing with some epic business here; the kind of business that puts a person’s life on hold.

I thought of Aaron and how much I just wanted to wrap myself around him and sleep. Even if I knew I wouldn't ever have an ordinary life, was it impossible to want and have a normal week? Or even a normal day? I would settle for that. I'm not greedy. But Collette had promised me that I would never have a normal life, not as long as this stranger drew breath, and I had read way too many books and watched way too many movies to know that if anyone ever said that to someone, it was probably true.

“We should be doing something then, shouldn’t we?” I asked, “Trying to locate her?”

Collette shook her head. “You are not ready to face such a foe yet, Amber. I am here to prepare you, but if we go searching for ze asp in ze sand we will be bitten before we know what’s hit us.”

“So… we wait?”

“We wait. She will not strike for some time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because our quarry is immortal; and immortals are slow.”

“Immortal?” There’s that something else, I thought, answering my earlier question. “How is that… how is it even possible?”

“Some say she made a deal with ze devil in exchange for eternal life. Ze story of ze Witch desperate for ze fountain of youth has been told many times, but zis is because it happens more often zan you could imagine. Ze devil would never suffice himself with a single servant.”

“I didn’t… believe… in the devil before this all started,” I said, “Wiccans don’t believe in the devil.” 

“But you know ze truth now. And in any case, ze devil is only a name by which to know ze beast. It has many names in many cultures and tongues. Some believe and others do not, but it has great power and has always existed; as has Magick.”

“And one of its servants is after me. What I want to know is why.”

“Because, ma chèrie,” said the Necromancer, “Ze Red Witch is ze only one who can break ze game Linezka has been playing; and she doesn’t want zat.”   

CHAPTER 1

The summer had come and gone, and the dreams had gone and come back.

The sky was overcast today, grey and miserable, and the evening wind had regained its ability to bite and snip at unprotected skin. From the kitchen, I could hear the bedsheets I had hung out to dry earlier snapping in the wind outside, could smell the stink of ozone that heralded the approach of a storm, could feel the very earth opening up to accept the incoming rain as if it had never tasted water.

I've got to bring those sheets in
, I thought as I watched, but my body chose not to move. So I continued to gaze out of the window, my eyes drawn to the way the clouds above rolled on, grey, greyer, and greyest, pregnant with rain and lightning. They reminded me of Lily, Damien’s sister, and that thought in turn reminded me that it had been a year ago, almost to the day, where I crossed the line from reality into fantasy.

It was a year ago I had dreamed of Collette and of Aaron, met Damien and Lily, experienced a blessing from the Crone herself in the shape of a bountiful harvest on the day of Mabon, and had my first brush with death. These memories had started to seem far and distant during the summer, like a shore that had receded to the point where the makings of sunken ships could be seen. But as the nights went on and the dreams came back I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was coming full circle; that the tide of memory was returning, and that much like the impending storm about to hit our sleepy town, something big was about to happen.

Then again, maybe I was
just being paranoid.

A strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist and in the window's reflection Aaron’s face melted into view. I took his hands in mine, brushed my cheek against his, and enjoyed the warmth of him, the smell of him. Aaron always smelt so good; that manly musk that seemed to be his and his alone. It wasn’t cologne, either. He never wore any. It was a natural, magnetic scent.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself,” I replied, smiling.

“What are you doing?”

“Washing dishes.” Well, I started, at least.

“Not using the dishwasher?”

“It’s full,” I said, turning around and kissing him lightly on the lips. He was like a walking remnant of the summer that had passed; warm to the touch, hair as golden as the sun’s rays, and eyes as blue as a bright July sky.

Aaron’s arms tightened around my body, and he pulled me closer to him. He kissed my lips, my cheek, my neck, and buried his nose in my copper hair. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he whispered.

My body trembled as his voice tickled my ear. “What’s that?” I asked.

“I would like nothing more than to take you right here on this counter, just like old times.”

I could have melted, then, like ice on a beach. Any other day I may have ripped his clothes off and had my way with him just like old times, but I was too caught up in my own head to react. Flash images of our furious, sweaty interludes came rushing forth, riding upon the backs of waves forming as the tides of memory rose and began to crash against the shore.

“I would like to remind you,” Frank’s sharp voice shot through the air, shattering my thoughts and reeling me back into the moment, “That you aren’t the only people living in this house now and as much as I enjoy a good show, I’m hungry.”

I peered over Aaron’s shoulder just as Aaron craned his neck to look at Frank’s tall, skinny, lanky form and we both laughed. He was wearing a pair of batman leggings, a black vest, and a pair of checked Doctor Marten boots which, despite many attempts at coercion he had never allowed me to borrow.

“It’s coming,” I said, “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

Frank crossed the kitchen with a swagger to his step, shot me a naughty look, and plucked a can of diet soda from the fridge. He left without saying a word, but the look upon his face was plain. Yeah, I cock-blocked you, Witch, it said, don’t act so surprised.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to other people living here,” Aaron said when Frank made his exit.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I like having the house full again. This house was meant for a family. My parents' leaving made it feel so lonely. Besides, I feel much safer with all of you around.”

Aaron smiled, brushed stray copper strands from out of my face, and planted a soft kiss on my lips. My mouth opened for him, I found his tongue, and in the space of a heart-beat I was pressing against him again, melting against him like butter.

“We should continue this tonight when you come back from Eliza’s place,” Aaron said, running his hand through my hair and cupping the back of my head.

I nodded, smiled, and licked my lips, then Aaron let me go and we each took a deep breath, like swimmers surfacing after a long dip underwater. No sooner did we part that Collette made an entrance into the kitchen.

Her lips curled into a smile, hot blood rushing to her olive cheeks, reddening them. This year’s mighty summer sun hadn’t succeeded in burning her, and she still wore her jet-black hair long and with a straight fringe, but she didn’t dress up around the house anymore. A simple black dress would do it most nights, with the bulk of her hair caught up in a tidy bun clasped together with a silver broach.

“Bonsoir,” she said.

“Good nap?” I asked.

“Divine. I should not be going to bed so late but I cannot seem to help it these nights.”

“Dreams?”

She nodded and simply said “Oui.”

Like me, I wanted to say, but she knew. If she was dreaming, so was I. Still, I smiled and made nothing of it. “Hungry?” I asked.

“Famished, only…” she trailed off.

“Only?”

“Do I smell something burning?”

“Burning?” I asked. Sniffed. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You guys need to start trusting me with the food a little more. I’m sure I got it right this time. Besides, our resident werewolf would have smelt the charred lasagne from mile away and he hasn’t, so.”

When I turned to Aaron, triumphant, his face didn’t encourage my pride.

“I didn’t wanna say anything,” he said.

“No,” I said, rushing to the oven. “No, no.”

When I opened it, a grey breath of heat and smoke hit me so hard I started to cough. Aaron cracked a window and let the pre-storm wind rush in, flushing the smoky air out in one quick gust. But the smell would linger for a while, I knew. Smoke always does.

“Fuck sake,” I said once the coughing had stopped. The upper layer of my superbly prepared lasagne was black as coal and completely inedible. I had followed the recipe to the letter, but had evidently forgotten to set the timer on the oven and gotten lost in my own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, cherie,” Collette said.

“Its fine,” I said, defeated. “Pizza is on me tonight… again.”

CHAPTER 2

The Pizza came and went. We left a few slices for Damien to eat when he got home, but he hadn’t arrived by the time I left the house and went to see Eliza. Work, I guessed. He had managed to get himself a decently paying part-time job at an advertising firm making banner art for websites; his hours were mainly evening hours but he was usually home by nine, and tonight… maybe it was the ever worsening weather, but I was starting to worry.

Eliza had begged me to stay home, to not come and see her tonight, but I wanted to see her. And I wanted to see Phoebe, too. Every time my thoughts went to that little pink ball my heart would leap into my throat, my chest would warm, and my stomach would do backflips. Not that I was broody or anything, of course.

Aaron and I didn’t do much in the way of talking about our future as a couple and what was in store for us just over the horizon. Did we want kids? If so, how many? Maybe it was too soon for us to be talking about that. After all, before last year Aaron had only been the guy I was sleeping with. If someone had told me then we would end up together and, dare I say it, fall in love, I would have laughed in their faces. No one could deny our connection to each other, though.

The night sky lit up in shades of blue and grey as I waited under a red streetlight, but there was silence. The light turned green before the thunder came, distant and quiet. Like the ghost of a rumble. It was there alright, brewing at the edge of the town, but the storm was holding.
Waiting,
I thought.

Only, waiting for what?

Eliza’s place was only a short drive away, and yet I could count the number of times we had seen each other lately in two hands.
Babies make people busy.
That was the long and short of it, and I was fine with that. But it still stung, and as I pulled up to the house—this house that seemed lonelier and emptier now, stripped of all of its exterior decorations—a sudden pain grabbed a hold of my stomach and twisted.