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 han
d 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?”
He bowed out and went into the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the dirty handprint on my shoulder. I must have sounded like a bitch, but what was I supposed to do? Have sex with him? And then what… throw up during? No.
I slipped the towel off and used it to rub the spot on my shoulder where Damien had touched, but no amount of rubbing helped. In the aftermath of my attempt at removing the filthy feeling from my skin all that remained was… irritated skin. Add to that a frustrated boyfriend, a startled ex, and the knowledge that some foul, invisible being—or another Witch—was to blame.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The sun had disappeared by the time I stepped out of the bedroom. I had slipped into a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved black without sparing much conversation for Damien. I didn’t know what to besides apologise, and doing so would require an explanation; one I wasn’t ready to give.
My belly was grumbling, though, so I checked the fridge for something to eat and decided upon a bunch of red grapes I figured would go bad if I didn’t eat. The stomach-emptying revulsion I felt earlier was gone, but a ceaseless cabaret of thoughts was cascading through my mind now. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Why is a demon attacking Aaron?
Had that same demon attacked Eliza?
Did I really touch that Demon?
Do I need a priest, now?
Do they need a priest?
How the hell am I going to get a priest?
“Hey,” Damien said, snapping me out of my trance. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, quickly swallowing my mouthful of grapes.
“You don’t seem fine… did I do something wrong?”
“No, no. You didn’t. I’m just… I’ve got things running through my head.”
“Anything I can help with?”
I sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything.”
“But?” Damien’s interest had been peaked.
“I don’t like worrying people.”
“You’re worrying me right now. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. I’ve just been having some dreams and lately I’m starting to wonder whether I’m going insane or some… thing… is trying to tell me something.”
“What do you mean?”
A breeze floated into the house. I watched it flutter curtains, lampshades, and even the table clothes on the kitchen window as it made a circle of my house and headed for my ears.
“Blood in the snow.”
The words came from out of nowhere, as if spoken on the breath of a ghost. A horde of spiders scurried down my arms and ribs making me shiver like a leaf in the winter. Eyes wide, I turned toward the bay window all the way across the room. There, a silent figure watched on from the dark.
“Oh my Gods. Damien!” I said. The shrillness of my voice made Damien spin around and face the window, but the figure was gone. A rush of cold wind came, and the lights went out. I swallowed as my heart-rate started to fly, then I dashed to my kitchen window to peer out of the back, but the backyard was quiet.
“Where is he?” Damien asked.
“I don’t know!”
Someone knocked at the front door; three hard bangs loud enough that I could feel them in my chest. The doorknob started to turn. Damien and I stared, waiting to see what would happen next. Then the locks undid themselves, one by one each giving way without anyone touching them.
I clenched my fists. Warm waves filled me as my Power manifested. I pointed at the door and opened my palm, visualizing a pulse of energy pushing against the door to hold it shut. In my mind I invoked the power of the Watchtower of the South—the Watchtower that held the power to hurt people—but the door started to open. And crack. And creak and groan. Thunder grumbled in response to my waking of the Guardian. I saw the door open an inch, but I pushed another pulse of power into it and forced it shut again.
Damien closed his eyes and his fist, then he opened his palm and tossed hundreds of shiny silver motes into the air sending light to all corners of the dark room, but as the light spread I found that I couldn’t hold the door! My power was fading, my connection to the Watchtower weakening, somehow. The door suddenly swung open and luminous silver light from Damien’s orbs spilled outside, engulfing the hooded man in light.
An instant passed, and the man at the door groaned and shielded his hooded face. Another instant and he was retreating, pulling the door shut behind him to protect himself from the light of the orbs.
I didn’t hesitate. I rushed out of the house and charged onto my front lawn. The hooded man was sprinting toward the trees on the other side of the road, stumbling over himself as if somehow the light had hurt him.
“Fuck!” I cursed.
The attacker disappeared into the trees across the road and I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. Above, streaks of lightning were starting to whip and crack inside of thick, dark clouds. I closed my eyes and thanked the Guardian for its help, but the rumbling thunder and the crackling lightning wouldn’t stop.
Damien pulled me back into the house and closed the door, locking it once we were inside. The little silver orbs had disappeared, but the power in the house had returned and the lights, at least, were back. Though with the sudden change in weather I had caused I wondered how long it would be before the power went out again.
“Are you okay?” Damien asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, breathing heavily. I couldn’t believe he had gotten away.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
“I don’t know. Was he a Witch?”
“He must have been.”
“Why the hell do assholes keep showing up at my house? It’s not like I advertise where I live!”
“If he’s a Witch it wouldn’t have taken him long to figure out your location,” Damien said.
We went around the house to make sure all of the doors and windows were locked, but my home still didn’t feel safe. The whole building felt heavy and stifling, like a car that had been left in the sun for too long with the windows rolled up. This place was becoming synonymous with unease and discomfort.
“God-dammit.” I said. “I’m calling Frank.”
“Frank?” Damien asked.
“Yeah. We’re a Coven and we need to figure this out. That means the three of us are involved. For all I know, he’s in danger too.”
“You really think that?”
“I’m not about to take any chances.”
Frank picked up his phone pretty quick when I called, thank the Gods. He promised he was fine and told me to stay put and that he was on his way down, but I couldn’t tell him just how happy I was that he was okay. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t picked up his phone. Panicked? Gone out looking for him? Cried?
All three, I suspected.
I squashed my what-ifs like a bug under a boot and brought my mind to bear on what was about to happen. My eyes met Damien’s and my chest tightened. I was about to tell him about Aaron, and I had no idea how he was going to take it. Nor how he would feel when I told him that Aaron had been in my house before Damien had shown up.
Damien had, after all, been in that situation before.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wasn’t sure what was worse; that Aaron and I only ever had sex throughout the duration of our agreement or that Damien and I hadn’t had nearly as much sex in our time together as I had with Aaron.
Sometimes I wondered whether Damien could perhaps sense Aaron’s mark upon my body as if by scent or by Magick. I wondered whether, maybe, every time he walked into my house he could see me sitting upon the kitchen counter, digging my nails into Aaron’s back and moaning his name. I was probably making all that up in my head, but the worries came all the same as worries tended to do.
Maybe if my relationship with Aaron hadn’t been of a carnal nature I wouldn’t have felt so bad for not telling Damien about the help I was giving Aaron. I wouldn’t have been sitting on my couch, with my chin to my chest, chewing the inside of my cheek. I wanted to tell him, really I did, but I just didn’t know how he would react.
Did I really trust our relationship so little?
I shook my head and climbed back down from my thoughts. “Damien,” I said, “Sit down.”
He had been pacing.
“I’m fine,” Damien said, “I’m just trying to figure out who that guy was.”
“You’re not going to do it standing up and pacing around the room. Sit.”
Damien gave me a sidelong glance and sat down on the sofa with me.
We were silent for a while until I gathered the courage to speak. “Damien, there’s something—”
A rapping at the door stopped me in my tracks. Damien sprang up and answered. Frank had arrived, covered in bits of snow.
“Where’s the fire and or blood?” he asked as he rushed inside.
“What?” I said.
“You told me it was urgent so I figured there’d be fire or blood involved.” Frank analyzed Damien and then me. “Is someone going to tell me what happened?”
“Someone came to Amber’s house tonight,” Damien said, “A guy wearing a hood, possibly a Witch. We had to fight him off.”
“Well… yeah, okay, that counts.” Frank sat on the arm chair across from me, one leg crossed over the other. “Is me or is it stuffy in here? Someone should crack a window.”
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