The Red Witch (Amber Lee Mysteries Book 6) (3 page)

Ignoring myself, I pulled up into the drive, which was empty too, unclipped my seatbelt and headed quickly toward the door to the house with my head turned against the wind. It was stronger now, strong enough to whip up fallen leaves and twigs. She must have known I was coming because she opened the door before my feet touched her porch.

“Are you crazy?” she asked.

“Bat-shit, didn’t you know?” I said as I stepped out of the wind and into her house.

She closed the door, turned to me, and planted her hands on her hips.

“Oh come on,” I said as I wrestled stray locks of auburn hair out of my face, “Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me.”

Eliza smiled, but I could see the sadness in her winter blue eyes welling up like little spots of frost on a window.

“Please,” I said, approaching, “Please don’t cry. You don’t need to cry.”

She threw her arms around me, buried her nose in my hair, and held me tight, but she didn’t say a word. Instead she only breathed long, deep breaths. Her heart was breaking all over again and she wasn’t shy to show it.

“It’s for the best, okay?” I said as I brushed her long black hair. “It’s for the best.”

“I know,” she said. She pulled away and smiled, wiping stray tears from off her cheeks. “I’m so glad you came, Amber. Do you want a drink or something?”

“Soda?”

“Sure.”

As we walked through the living room and into the kitchen I was reminded again of the grim reality of the situation. The walls were stripped bare. The fireplace hadn’t been used in days. And what furniture belonged to them had long since been packed away into a U-Haul. All that remained now was the carcass of a once warm, family home; everything that reminded me of Eliza, gone.

An image struck me unbidden, like a photoflash that leaves a picture burned into your field of vision. Yuletide, last year. Eliza, Evan, Frank, Damien, and myself; we had shared the holiday together as a family, just as we had with Mabon a few months before that. The memory smelled like mulled cider, sounded like laughter, and felt like a hug from a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. I wasn't sure whether to smile or cry. Maybe I was doing a little of both.

“Don’t you start now too,” she said, soda cans in hand.

“I won’t,” I said. I took the soda from her and sipped it.
Cherry
. “Where’s Phoebe?”

“Asleep upstairs.”

“And Evan?”

“On his way back here to pick us up. Everything’s been moved into the new place now.”

“I’m really happy for you, Eliza.”

“I’m happy too. So sick of renting a place. I really don’t see the point in it. You’re just throwing money away!”

“Tell me about it,” I said, sipping the drink again. “At least you’re only going to be a short drive away... or well, actually, this is a short drive. Eureka will be a long drive.
But
you’re moving into your
own
place now, so that's a big plus.”

“Yeah… I just… I don’t like the thought of being away from you, Amber.”

“I know.”

But it was for the best. I had tried so hard to keep my life as a Witch separate from my life with Eliza, but both lives intruded upon each other way too often, and that clash had driven a wedge between us. I had sensed it coming a lifetime ago when Damien first brought me into my powers, but I fooled myself into thinking I could overcome it. That our sisterly bond was strong enough to endure. On its own it probably was, but I didn't want to endanger her life.

I wouldn't.

I put the soda can on the counter, took her hand, and squeezed it. “C’mon,” I said, “I wanna see the little bean before you leave.”

Eliza nodded, smiled, and led me upstairs where, lying in her cot all wrapped up, was Phoebe. Instantly my heart began to flutter and bounce. The mere sight of Phoebe’s red cheeks, her pinched little face, and the little black onesie she was wearing was enough to warm me from head to toe. She was sleeping so soundly, though, that I dared not touch her.

“She’s so cute,” I said, arching over the cot. “Just like her mommy.”

“Well, I
did
make her.”

“Yeah. She’s gonna be a real heart-breaker, you watch.”

“I hope not, for Evan’s sake.”

“Poor guy.” I arched back up and looked around. The bedroom was bare too, save for the bed, and whatever linen and furniture belonged to the landlord. “You aren’t staying here tonight are you?”

Eliza hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to come tonight?”

“I didn’t want to cry again.”

“This isn’t a sad thing,” I said, fighting my own impulses, “Not really, anyway. You aren’t moving to Mars, Frank’s gonna replace you at the store, and I’m gonna be fine. We’ll visit each other all the time and meet up for holidays and stuff. It’ll be great.”

“I know,” she said, wiping her cheeks again and smiling, “I’m being silly. Fucking hormones.”

“Don’t hide behind the hormones anymore. It’s alright to be emotional.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“Trust me, I’m doing my best here. The last thing we need is for us both to start crying.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, “Can you imagine if Evan walked into that?”

The laugh spilled out of my mouth and it caught on. A few moments later we were both laughing, and then we were crying in each other’s arms. I didn’t think tonight was going to be the night I said goodbye to the best friend I had ever had, but here I was. Despite it all, though, this was better than turning up to an empty house, and by the time I was ready to leave Eliza’s place, she agreed with me.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said at the door.

I nodded. “Always.”

“I can’t believe this’ll be the first Samhain in years we spend away from each other.”

“I know. It’s gonna suck. But I don’t want to come and visit until you’re totally settled in.”

“There’s always Yuletide.”

A smile swept across my face, but it wasn’t genuine. “Yeah… there is,” I said.

I hope.

CHAPTER 3

It took me a while to get home after having seen Eliza. It wasn’t that the wind had picked up to a hearty gust or that the streets were already wet with the first signs of rain and the cars had come out in droves. Nor was it the siren song of thunder rolling above or the mesmerizing dance of lightning whipping behind the clouds that kept me from going straight home.

The truth of the matter was I didn’t want anyone seeing me until I was ready for them to see me.

I didn’t want to think of the situation such as it was, but over the last few months the others—Collette, Damien, Frank, and even Aaron—had started to see me as some kind of leader. I was the Red Witch, the one who always had her shit together. You know, except for in the kitchen. I didn’t see myself the same way they did, but if I was supposed to be a leader to them I didn’t want them to see me upset, despite the fact they’d probably seen it a bunch of times.

So I drove around for a while, picked up a couple of groceries from the store, and did a lap of the town before heading on back home. By the time I pulled into my drive the rain was falling hard, each individual droplet lending the sound of its impact to the others to create a static hiss that could be heard everywhere.

I rushed into the house and locked the door before heading into the kitchen to put the groceries in the fridge. I hadn’t seen Frank until I turned around and saw him standing behind me.

“Frank!” I said, heart beating, “Do you have to stalk like that?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” he said. He wasn’t wearing any of his usual get up; the pair of black skinny jeans and the Motley Crue shirt he had on made him almost look like Damien. “I’m practicing.”

“Practicing? For what?”

“I’m not practicing
for
anything,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of beer. “I’m just practicing the art of stalking. It’s been brought to my attention that I’m too tall to be sneaky.”

Oh yeah,
I thought, remembering the conversation. It was something Aaron had said to him once while drunk—something about how tall, skinny people are naturally clumsier than, well, tall
buff
people. That night ended with the two of them fumbling around in the bushes in the backyard, arguing loudly over who was making the least noise.

“You didn’t seriously take that to heart, did you?” I asked.

“I might have.”

“You were both drunk!”

“One’s drunken self is usually a representation of their truest self. When you’re drunk you strip away all the masks you put up to stop people from being the real you.”

“So does that mean you’re drunk all the time?”

“No. But maybe what you see before you is a mask.”

“I doubt it. I’ve known you long enough, Frank. Don’t you forget it.”

Frank took a sip of his beer, turned around, and headed for the sofa again. The house was dark and dim save for the glow coming off the muted TV screen.
Friends? Again?
“So, how’d it go at Eliza’s?”

“You knew about that?”

“Witch, please. I know everything.”

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, clipped the cap, and joined Frank on the sofa, melting into it with a sigh. “Fine,” I said.

“Just fine?”

“Why do you have to be so nosy?”

“Because who else is going to look after your emotional wellbeing if I don’t?”

“My boyfriend?”

“Oh he’s looking after something alright, but Aaron lacks a certain finesse. You can’t deny that.”

“He has plenty of finesse where it counts,” I said, winking as I took a sip of my beer.

“I bet he does, and I’m very jealous, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Now are we going to play this game or are you going to tell me how it went at Eliza’s place?”

I chose not to argue with him, so I told him. I told him everything. And when I was done, I felt better for it. There were no tears left to cry so talking about Eliza now was easy, even if thinking about not seeing her every day, cleaning and organizing at the bookstore wouldn’t be. But she hadn’t worked there in a while, and that—maybe—would help.

“You and I both know she’s better off,” Frank said, “And she knows it too.”

I nodded. “I know. Leaving was the right choice for her.”

“Remember Yule last year? When we had that scare?”

“I try not to.”

“Never forget it,” Frank’s voice was stern. It made me look up from the beer bottle. “Never forget the wrongs that are done to you and yours.”

“To us and ours,” I said, clinking bottles with him. “Speaking of which, where is everyone?”

“The Mistress of Darkness is in her room, no doubt reading a book. Your boy-toy is in your room, waiting—shirtless, I believe—and Damien…” Frank trailed off.

“Damien? He came home right?”

Frank nodded. “He’s in his room too.”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t think so. He came home late and went straight up, didn’t even touch his pizza.”

“Did something happen to him?”

“I didn’t wanna read his aura, but it was spilling out of him like a light in the dark. I couldn’t help but see it… only maybe you should go talk to him; find out for yourself.”

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Because,” he said. “It isn’t my place.”

My eyes went toward the staircase. Damien
had
been acting a little strangely over the last couple of days, but I guessed I hadn’t given much thought to it
.
He was, after all, working a new job and juggling school at the same time. I may have decided not to go back to Raven’s Hall, but Damien wasn’t the academic fuck up I had turned out to be.

I took a sip of my beer in silence and after a moment got up, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and headed upstairs. The house was quiet save for the creaking caused by the wind and the thumping of heavy raindrops against the window at the end of the hall. Aaron would know I was home—he would smell me now as I crossed in front of our room if he hadn’t already heard me—but he could wait a little while.

Damien answered the door moments after I tapped on it. He was awake, and as far as I could tell he had been on his laptop, typing something out. His eyes looked strained and his lips were puffy and red.
Has he been crying?
I thought.

“Hey,” I said, handing him the beer. “Got a sec?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, taking the beer—albeit hesitantly.

I walked into the room that had once belonged to my sister and sat down at his computer desk, swirled the chair around, and narrowed my eyes. “Alright,” I said, “I’m just going to go ahead and ask; are you okay?”