The Red Witch (Amber Lee Mysteries Book 6) (33 page)

It started with a call early in the morning for Amber Lee. I had gotten up and asked who it was. The lady on the other side had told me she was calling on behalf of Collette Picarde, and that we had three suits to pick up. A few minutes later another call had come in; this one from UPS, to let me know that a delivery driver was on his way with a couple of packages for us.

I sent Aaron out to collect the suits and waited at home for the UPS guy to arrive. When he showed up, he presented me with a large box and a smaller one. I signed for them and then opened the large box—which weighed a ton—and found Collette’s headstone inside. By the time the tears stopped coming, I couldn’t think of doing anything else besides making a space for the headstone at the foot of the sycamore in my back yard. There would be no coffin and no grave, but at least we had her ashes; and I knew what we were going to do with them.

When Aaron had found me in the back yard I was up to my elbows in dirt. Damien and Frank too. Together we had planted Collette’s headstone, but we had done something else too. We had planted her ashes in the dirt along with the seeds of what I hoped would one day become another tree and grow to be just as tall as the one I already had.

“I’ve been through a great many things in my short life,” I said, as the four of us stood over the marble headstone in our best attire. “But I’ve never had to bury a sister before. Because that’s what Collette and I had become in our short time together. Sisters. Twins. Two halves of the same being. Our halves had called each other from across the gulf, and we had found one another to form a whole… but now I feel like a half again. She… she…”

Aaron looked like he was about to touch me, but I threw my hand up and halted him. “She knew,” I said, “By the virtue of what she was, she had known what was going to happen to her last night. That’s why we’re all standing here now. She knew when she was going to die, and she chose to make sure we didn’t have to work anything out after she… after she left. Because that’s the kind of person she was.”

Frank, Damien, and Aaron nodded in unison.

A long pause fell over us. Thunder rolled in the distance, but it was no more than a weak grumble.

“When we got home from Berlin,” I said, “She wanted to hurry back here. She… she took a while to get dressed and when she came down I noticed something about her was different. She said she had left me some things. When I got home I found all her stuff on my bed; her dresses, her books, her jewelry and even her favorite necklace. Because she had anticipated that we would find it in her room and feel like shit, but also because when a witch gifts something to another witch, it becomes a part of her. I could have kept some of her things, but it wouldn’t have had the same spiritual significance.” A smile swept across my face. “She thought about everything. Did you know she was a hundred and thirty-nine years old?"

“Wow,” Damien’s voice came out of him like a long breath.
“I think she knew what was coming. I think she had known for a long time, and she had been preparing for it. I think she was trying to find a way to get me ready for the difficult task I would have when she was gone.”

“Preparing you? How?”

“Do you know what else she left me along with all her stuff? She left me her book of shadows.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed into thin lines. Damien’s eyebrow rose into an arch.

“Collette’s magick was strong,” I said, “Her power was almost as strong as our enemy’s. And she had told me a long time ago that I was capable of absorbing many powers into my own soul—that it was like putty. Malleable. She was teaching me her Magick but she was being careful about it, and whenever she went to teach me something she would always fish out a spell from her Book of Shadows… and now she’s given the book to me because she wants me to
use
it.”

“Malleable is one thing,” Frank said, “But you’re talking about injecting yourself with Shadow magick. We don’t even know what becoming a
werewolf
is going to do to you. Shouldn’t we tread carefully?”

“That’s what Collette would have said. But I’m not a normal werewolf, am I? I can still feel the Power burning within me, only now it burns hotter and stronger.”

“So… now what do we do?” Damien asked.

I turned around, knelt by the headstone, and stroked the marble with my fingertips. “Memento mori, ma cherie. I love you, my sweet Collette.” I brushed my lips lightly against marble and let the tears come. I wouldn’t stop them. Not now. I let them fall as they came, dripping onto the headstone one at a time until there was enough to form a puddle. And in that puddle, an image was starting to form.

Collette was there, standing right behind me, shimmering with the Goddess' light; and she was happy. I stood up, wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffed away the emotion, and said, “We have to make another trip.”

Damien was quiet for a moment. Pensive. “Where to” he asked.

“Last time I checked,” I said, “My father wasn’t a werewolf… but my mother was a witch. I have questions for her.”

He nodded, satisfied.

“Frank?” I asked.

He looked up at the sky, then looked back down at me, smiled, and said, “Are you kidding me? I smell drama coming on. I’m in.”

I turned to Aaron, placed my hands on his shoulders, and slid them up to his face. “Are you with me?”

A breeze caught the tips of Aaron’s blonde hair and made them shiver. He smiled. “To the end,” he said.

“Let’s hope the end is a long way away.”

He nodded and we went inside. There, on the kitchen table, was the second UPS box I hadn’t yet opened. Frank grabbed a knife, sliced the tape off, and picked it open. From inside he produced a bright green bottle of Absinthe and a note.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“It says… don’t forget to drink to ze dead. She even spelt it with a Z, look.”

My eyes welled with tears again, but they were happy tears this time. “I’ll grab the cups,” I said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

If you enjoyed this book, sign up to my Reader’s Group and stay in touch!
Just click here to get started
!

**

Really, witch?

Thank you for reading my books! This was The Red Witch, and it was the 6th installment in my debut series. What did you think? Did you like it? Love it? Things are really kicking off now and it looks like we’re in the final act. The curtain is about to fall. But there’s so many questions still left unanswered.

Amber is a werewolf? Collette is DEAD? And Damien’s family could have been involved in this thing from the very beginning? Seems like a lot of revelations to cram into one book, doesn’t it? But I wanted to make this book hit you in the feels, and I hope it has. I know I got a little weepy while writing it and I’m the freaking author! But that comes with the territory, I guess. These characters sometimes take me down paths I never could have foreseen, and that’s okay, because it means I get to play reader for a while.

In the works there are (at least) another two titles. One is a Novella that follows Frank’s life before Amber—his prequel. And of course I will be writing another full length Novel to close Amber’s storyline. The Novella will be out before the end of 2015, but the next full novel may have to wait until January of 2016. I simply don’t know yet. So
make sure to sign up to my Reader’s Group
to keep in touch.

Will there be
other
books besides those? I can’t tell you that either. I can only tell you that there will be at least two more. I hope that’s enough.

Anyway, that’s enough from me. As you may already know, Indies (and authors in general) thrive on reviews so please consider going back to wherever you purchased this book and leaving one to show your support. If, on the other hand, you did not enjoy the book, drop me an email at
[email protected]
and let me know why. I’m happy to talk.

Thank you and happy reading!!!

Katerina

www.katerinamartinez.com

THE RED WITCH

Amber Lee Series

Book 6

ISBN: 978-0-9583032-6-2

Copyright © 2015 by Katerina Martinez. All rights reserved Cover uses images © 2015 Shutterstock.

Published by Katerina Martinez.

Visit: www.katerinamartinez.com

***

WARNING: This book is intended for mature audiences since it features mature language and some explicit sex scenes.

***

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Reproduction or redistribution, in whole or in part, of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited and a criminal offense. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about this serial to help spread the word!

Thank you for supporting my work.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: KATERINA MARTINEZ

A couple of years ago I told myself I wanted to write books. I had always enjoyed reading growing up, cozying up with a Nancy Drew, learning magic alongside the likes of Harry Potter and his friends, and opening my mind to the wonders of a Fantasy universe with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. But like many writers, there was something stopping me from taking the plunge.

Maybe it was a fear of putting myself out there to the scrutiny of others, or maybe it was my own insecurities at work, but there was always a reason. A block. Telling stories made me feel more alive than I had ever felt, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to seize that feeling; possibly because I didn’t feel like I deserved to have it.

I don’t know about you, but I have suffered—and still suffer—at the hands of anxiety. I worry. I stress. Even the simplest of tasks can seem insurmountable. If you’re anything like me, then you know what this feeling is like. Well, imagine having that feeling and having a dream which required you to take on tasks so big you never would have, in your life, have taken on your own accord. Because, naturally, if you know you suffer from anxiety, you would stay away from big things, right?

Do you know what I did?

I made lists.

It sounds silly, and it also might sound a lot like what you do if you have anxiety too, but I made lists, and they helped me get started. The journey was long, but it had steps, and I made a list of those steps. Then I took each step, and broke it down into goals I needed to achieve in order for me to count that step as “taken”. A year later, I’m publishing the sixth book in my very first series. I have a thriving little business, which grows larger every day. And I’m on my way to achieving my dream of writing for a living.

Because, oh yeah, that part’s important; I still have a day job, and a five year old to raise. I’m lucky I have a husband whose pioneering spirit and technical knowhow was up to the challenge. But that’s all I had. I didn’t have money, didn’t have contacts, didn’t have a previous body of work or following of any kind. In fact, I’m a pseudo-name. I don’t even exist. Not even my parents knew I was writing books until I released Forged in Moonfire, so all of my success has come from real readers like you.

And that means all my anxieties about putting myself out there, about failing, about not deserving success, they were completely unfounded. But that’s what anxiety does, doesn’t it? It doesn’t need a reason to hold you back, it just does because, frankly, it’s an asshole. It doesn’t want you to succeed. The wall isn’t there for any good reason.

Why am I telling you all this?

I just want to give you a little insight into the world I live in. I’m not a top-of-the-charts author. I’m not even a mid-list author. I’m just a girl with a dream and a wall that follows her around everywhere she goes, ready to jump in the way of stuff. If you don’t have one of those walls you probably won’t understand, and that’s fine. You don’t have to. But if you do have one of those walls and you have a dream, I’m here to tell you that it’s achievable. You can’t shut your brain up, but you can put the anxious part of it in chains with lists, mental exercises, and a little meditation.

And then the world is your oyster.

I hope you enjoyed the Red Witch. It was written for you with love.

Till next time.

Katerina Martinez

DEDICATION

To everyone who has ever felt different. What’s
‘normal’
anyway?

**