The Amulet (Custodian Novel # 1)

by Alison Pensy

CHAPTER FOUR

  The next couple of nights Faedra did not get much sleep, it was fitful, at best. The events of the past few weeks, and more recently the past couple of days, kept repeating in her dreams. She would wake often, usually in a cold sweat.

  She dragged herself out of bed as she had done the previous morning, and all but crawled over to the dresser. She thought about calling in sick, but integrity fought against her and won.

  “Urgh,” she groaned when greeted by her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles framed her once sparkling eyes that were now dull and lackluster.

  “If this carries on too much longer, I’m going to have to steal some sleeping pills from somewhere,” she croaked to Faen.

  She fiddled with her makeup and after applying a healthy dose of concealer and foundation, started to look a little less like the monster from the deep. Faen, who was sitting beside her, looked up at her with what she considered was a look of concern.

  “It’s okay, boy, I’ll be fine. Not sure what’s going on, but I’m sure it will pass.” She said it more as reassurance for herself than anything else. After she was done putting on the finishing touches of her ‘disguise’, she wandered over to the closet and picked out something smart but casual for work.

  She had a job at a company that shipped freight all over the world. It was located at the local airport. It wasn’t a large airport but did have flights to Scotland, Ireland and various European countries. She had flown out of there herself in the past, on holiday to Spain. The view from her office almost made the abuse she was dealt worth it. Her office looked over the entire airfield, and she could see the planes take off and land all throughout the day, but she hated her boss.

  Jerry Thompson was the most unpleasant person she had ever met. It wasn’t just his very poor attention to personal hygiene, but he also seemed to go out of his way to make her life a misery, and, quite obviously, enjoyed doing so. She often wondered why she put up with it and didn’t just leave. She wasn’t a quitter, that was why.

  Dressed and caked in make up, she almost stumbled down the stairs to the dining room. Her Dad was already sitting at the table in the kitchen having his breakfast when she walked in.

  “Cup of tea, Fae?” he asked. “God, you look awful,” he continued when he looked up to see his daughter.

  Faedra groaned inwardly, her attempts at applying make up hadn’t had the desired effect.

  “Yes, please, and, thanks, I love you, too,” she replied testily to his question and subsequent observation. She was never her best when tired. A bear with a sore head was an apt comparison.

  Henry poured her a cup of tea as she joined him at the table.

  “Are you okay, darling? Maybe you should call in sick today,” he suggested.

  “I haven’t slept very well the past couple of days. I’ll be fine though, I’m not about to give Mr. Thompson any more reasons to pick on me than he already feels he has.”

  She ate her breakfast in silence. Today was not going to be a good day and she could already feel herself wishing it were over. Apart from the fact that she felt like a zombie, and probably looked like an extra from the Thriller video, it was also the anniversary of her mother’s death. She closed her eyes for a moment and gave herself an inward pep talk.

  Come on, Fae, pull yourself together. It’s only twenty-four hours and then it will be over for another year.

  She always spent some time at her mother’s grave on the anniversary of her death. It was a tradition of hers that she started some years ago now. She would take a blanket, a small picnic, sit down next to the headstone, and talk to her mum about anything and everything. Somewhere deep inside she knew her mum was listening. She had to believe it, it was one of the things that kept her sane.

  “Morning, Faedra, you look like crap,” Mr. Thompson greeted her as she walked in the office dead on nine o’clock. “Another minute and you’d have been late,” he continued in his smarmy voice as he looked down at his wrist and tapped his watch.

  She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “Morning, Mr. Thompson,” she sighed as she took her seat behind her desk.

  Mr. Thompson was a greasy looking middle-aged man. He was fat and balding with a shiny head usually covered with a sheen of sweat. He had beady little eyes that were positioned far too close together on his face to be natural, and, for some unknown reason, he decided it looked good to have a beard. Faedra had felt her stomach lurch on several occasions when he had come back from lunch with bits of greasy food stuck in it, and imagined him in his office picking bits off for an afternoon snack. She stifled a shudder. His clothing was always dirty, especially his shirts, that, more often than not, had splotches of spilled food on them. It was as if he didn’t know what a washing machine was, or cared.

  Everyone in the company hated him, but they were relieved when she started working there because his attention was now directed completely on her, as it was on all the new employees before her, and would be until some poor soul was hired in below her. Something that wasn’t likely to happen, as her position was the lowest on the totem pole.

  Faedra was the receptionist for the freight company, so her main job focus was to answer the phones, direct people to various departments, and greet people who walked through the door. She was the first person you saw when you walked in, and the last when you walked out. Mr. Thompson did throw in some filing for her to do for good measure. Just such a task would set the wheels in motion for Faedra to become very aware that something was seriously amiss.

  “Faedra Bennett,” Mr. Thompson snapped, making her jump. She had her back to him with her hands in the filing cabinet; putting away the load of files he had given her just a few minutes ago. “How many times do I have to tell you? ANSWER THE PHONE IN ONE RING!” he bellowed, making her jump once more.

  The whole office fell silent, and all heads turned in her direction.

  “But, Mr. Thompson, I have my hands in the filing cabinet filing the records you just gave me and the nearest phone is all the way over there,” she pointed to a desk a good twenty feet away.

  “I don’t care about your petty excuses, girl. Do what I ask you to or I’ll write you up. DO I MAKE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD?”

  Faedra could feel herself get hot and her cheeks redden. She was not used to getting shouted at. Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she’d be darned if she were going to show this bully that he’d upset her. She certainly was not about to cry in front of the whole office, so she managed to blink them back.

  “Sorry, Mr. Thompson, it won’t happen again,” she said softly.

  “Just make sure it doesn’t, girl,” he gloated and turned to leave. “Oh, and I need the Hodgkin’s report too.”

  “Yes, Mr. Thompson.”

  She heard him mutter stupid girl as he stormed off in the direction of his office. Heaving a heavy hearted sigh, she finished the filing and wandered past all of her co-workers - who were looking at her with sympathy - to her desk at the end of the room. She smiled sheepishly at the ones who made eye contact with her, but most just averted their gazes as she passed.

  She had only been in front of her computer for a few minutes, not time enough to calm herself down yet, before she heard the familiar weighty footsteps stomping down the office towards her. Within seconds his hefty form was taking up the space in front of her desk. Looking up warily, she grimaced at his demeanor. His face was almost puce; she thought he was going to have a heart attack right there and then. He better not because there was no way she was giving that mouth-to-mouth. The thought made her incredibly nauseous.

  “Did I not make myself clear, girl?” he shouted.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson, I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “When I tell you I need a report, I need it NOW. I do not expect to have to wait until Christmas! Trust me to hire another imbecile!” he bellowed, before snatching the report that Faedra had already printed - just not gotten it to
him yet - off the printer and stormed off back down the office again.

  Faedra was shaken; she struggled to force back more tears, but this time they were tears of anger. Had she ever been this angry before? She couldn’t remember. Her whole body was trembling and her palms that were resting face down on some paperwork were burning worse than they ever had before. This time it was not just a sensation, it was downright painful. She lifted her hands to blow on them, and, as she did, her eyes widened in horror and confusion. There on the paper were two scorch marks right where her hands had been.

  She scanned the office to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone had their heads down attempting to look like they were working industriously. Balling up the paper, she threw it in the bin and went to the rest room to run her hands under some cold water. She was getting very concerned about her hands now. What just happened was definitely not normal; she also knew that she couldn’t tell anyone; they would think her crazy for sure.

  For the rest of the day Faedra managed to keep herself under the radar until it was time to go home. An enormous weight lifted from her shoulders the minute she walked out the door. She felt as light as a feather, as if she would float away on even the most delicate of breezes.

  After going home to change and pick up Faen, and her picnic basket, Faedra pulled into the church car park. There were no other cars there, which suited her. People often gave her funny looks as they walked by when she was nattering away to no one visible. She pulled her blanket and picnic basket from the trunk, and strolled towards the graveyard.

  It was a beautiful, warm evening with not a cloud in the sky. There was a slight breeze that ruffled the leaves on the trees. The graveyard was about an acre or two in size and framed on three sides by ancient oak trees, with the church standing proudly on the remaining side. She knew that the vicarage was behind the trees to her right and believed that there were fields behind the other trees. It was hard to see through them; not because they were a thick stand of trees, but because they were covered with their summer foliage.

  Faedra was in a daze as she meandered her way through the headstones. She had been here to visit her mum so many times that she thought she could probably find her headstone blindfolded by now. It was just as well; she was so tired this evening she didn’t have her wits about her, and felt like she was on autopilot navigating her way through them.

  The friendly black and white collie had spotted them as they came through the gate from the car park and bounded up to greet her and Faen, giving Faedra her usual toothy grin. The collie and Faen went through their established routine of him growling softly at her, while she rubbed her head against his chin in response. This time though, instead of her running off to sit in her usual spot after Faedra had petted her, she stayed with them and followed behind until they made it to Lillith’s grave.

  “Here we are again, boy,” she sighed, her voice weighted down with sadness.

  Faedra set down the picnic basket, threw out the blanket on the ground and sat down on it. Leaning up against her mother’s headstone, she outstretched her legs in front of her. She patted her hands on the blanket either side of her legs.

  “Come on you two, you can join me, you know,” she said to the two dogs that were standing either side of the blanket and looking at her with an understanding she couldn’t quite figure out. They did as she asked and lay down next to her, putting a head on each of Faedra’s thighs so that they were nose-to-nose. The ‘sibling rivalry’ was completely gone, and they both let out a sad sounding whine.

  “Hey, you two, I’m okay,” Faedra ran her hands over both of their soft silky heads and they didn’t take their eyes off her.

  Faedra let out a heavy sigh and leaned her head back to rest it against the cold hard granite of the headstone and closed her eyes. It felt nice and cool against the balmy warm of the evening air. A few minutes passed and she said nothing, but listened to the sounds of nature surrounding her. She could hear the dogs breathing and feel their hot breath on her hands that were now resting on her thighs. The birds chirped in the trees behind her; in the distance she could hear a horse whinny from the stables across the road.

  A crunching on the gravel path prompted her to open her eyes. It was the vicar and he was heading in her direction.

  “Good evening, Faedra. I thought I might find you here this evening,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “Hello, Vicar.”

  “Are you feeling alright, my dear?” he asked, his eyebrows pulled together to form a frown.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Haven’t been sleeping very well the past couple of nights and right now I feel a little sad, but I’ll be fine.”

  He seemed satisfied with her answer and smiled again. “Well, if you need me, dear, you know where to find me. Say hello to your mother for me won’t you.”

  “I will, Vicar, thank you.”

  The vicar turned and headed towards the church. Faedra watched as he disappeared behind it, closed her eyes again and sat in silence for a few more minutes. She was trying to clear her head before she spoke to her mum, but the more she tried, the more out of focus she became until she could hold it in no longer. A wave of emotion swept over her and she burst into tears. She was tired and had had an awful day.

  “Mum, I miss you so much,” she sobbed. “All this strange stuff is happening to me. I don’t know why and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t feel like I can tell anyone. I mean, I think I’m going crazy, so I can’t imagine what other people would think. They’d probably lock me up and throw away the key.”

  Tears tumbled down Faedra’s face. The eyes in the woods, the fortune-teller at the fair, the abuse by Mr. Thompson, her hands, and the fact she missed her mother desperately, all came flooding out. She buried her face in her hands; her body was wracked with emotions that were out of her control for the moment. The tears were relentless and she felt powerless to stop them. She was hoping a good cry would make her feel better.

  A cold wet nose nudged her elbow. She ignored it. Faen nudged her again; this time she took her hands away from her face, which was now red and blotchy. She could see the blurry outline of her dog looking at her with sadness in his eyes too.

  Faedra wrapped her arms around his neck, just like the first time she had met him. She buried her face in his soft fur and accepted the comfort she felt when she did so.

  “I wish she could give me some kind of sign that she was still with me,” Faedra said into his neck. “Faen, sometimes I feel so alone.”

  He whimpered in response; she still had her head buried in his fur. She didn’t have the strength, just yet, to leave the security and comfort she felt when he was close to her, and he was not about to move a muscle until Faedra had calmed down.

  A few more moments of sobbing passed, and the shudders rippling through her body started to ebb. Her breathing became less ragged. She pulled herself from Faen to wipe the tears from her eyes with a tissue she had grabbed from the picnic basket. When her eyes began to focus and the drumming in her ears from the pulse of her heartbeat calmed, she heard a familiar sound that she hadn’t heard for a very long time.

  She looked up and gasped. Sitting on the headstone directly in front of her was a bird, not just any old bird, but her mum’s favorite bird. Its name escaped her at that moment, but she knew it was fairly rare and not seen in this area very often. It looked directly at her and sang its beautiful lilting song.

  A surge of comfort swept through Faedra at the sight. It was the sign she had asked for.

  “I knew it. Look, Faen,” she said, pointing at the bird. “It’s Mum’s favorite bird. She sent me a sign; she is with me,” she looked up heavenward. “Thanks, Mum, that’s just what I needed.”

  Faedra felt her spirits lift exponentially in comparison to how she felt when she first entered the graveyard a little while before. She regained her appetite and decided it was time to eat the sandwiches she had p
acked into her picnic basket. Straightening herself up, she sat cross-legged on the blanket and placed the basket in front of her.

  The dogs both sat up and looked expectantly at the picnic basket that was now positioned between them.

  “Don’t worry, you two. There’s something in here for you, as well,” she said with a smile, the first one she had managed all day.

  She pulled out a couple of ham sandwiches and passed one each to Faen and the collie. They wolfed theirs down in seconds and looked again at Faedra, and then at the basket.

  “That’s your lot, you greedy buggars,” she laughed and pulled out an egg sandwich for herself. She loved egg sandwiches; they were her favorites. Her mum used to make them for her when she was a child, so it was only fitting that she would bring one to eat when she visited her.

  The little bird sat perched on the headstone the entire time; Faedra threw it a few crumbs. It hopped down onto the ground and finished up the crumbs that had been offered it.

  A few moments passed and their picnic was finished. Faedra felt like a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders. She leaned back up against the cool granite of her mother’s headstone and closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to leave just yet; although, she was incredibly tired.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when she was woken suddenly by a low carnal growl. She recognized it instantly as being the same as that time in the woods a few days ago. Her eyes snapped open and fear whipped through her. She felt disoriented for a second because it was almost dark. That odd light just after the sun goes down and the night sets in.

  Faen and the collie were both standing to her left; their hackles were raised and they were postured ready to fight. Faedra noticed the oddest thing at that moment. The collie was looking at Faen and growling in different tones. Faen returned the collie’s gaze and growled back in different tones, also. Were they talking to each other? It certainly looked like it. Faedra watched in amazement as the two dogs seemingly had a conversation right before her eyes; then they turned their attention on her and she almost jumped.

  The collie barked at her; it was an insistent bark, like she was instructing her to do something. But what? Faedra didn’t talk dog. The unusual scene unfolding before her almost made her forget what was causing it in the first place, until the collie looked back in the same direction as Faen and continued her deep menacing growl. The two of them looked ferocious, sending shivers down Faedra’s back. Although Faedra was loathed to, she couldn’t stop herself looking into the trees, and the familiar icy cold feeling washed over her again.

  “Oh, no, not again,” she whispered to herself as she bent down and scooped up her blanket and picnic basket, ready to make a quick exit. “What are those things?”

  She was watching, trance-like, at what looked like the same pairs of eyes she had seen in the woods the other day. Only this time there were three pairs of them. The collie barked a response to her question, then looked at Faen and snapped a bark at him, too. He turned and all but pushed Faedra in the direction of the car park. She snapped out of her trance and picked up the pace, running as fast as she could while dodging between the headstones. The older ones were dotted randomly all over their exit path. Symmetry was not something that had been adopted in the olden days, but she wished for it now. She bashed her hip into the corner of one as she miscalculated its position when running past it.

  “Ouch. This is getting beyond a joke,” she cursed to herself, not daring to look back in case those things were chasing her. She could hear the collie’s growl getting fainter as they drew closer and closer to her car. They reached it, but Faedra couldn’t find her keys. She had tossed them in the picnic basket when they’d arrived and now was frantically feeling around in it, trying to grab them.

  Faen barked several times in quick succession.

  “I’m trying, Faen, I know they’re in here somewhere.” Her heart was racing; she didn’t know if those things were close or not. Her fingertips brushed over the cold metal of her keys. “Got them!” she exclaimed as she pulled her hand out of the basket clutching onto her car keys. She opened the door and let Faen in the back, threw the basket and blanket on the passenger seat, then jumped in herself and put the keys in the ignition.

  “No, no, no! Don’t do this to me now,” she cried as she turned the keys, and the car responded with a splutter. “Come on, Sally, you can do it. You have to get us out of here,” she coaxed her car as she turned the key again. Still there was nothing but a splutter. “I promise I’ll never call you an old banger ever again if you start for me now,” she pleaded and turned the keys once more. The engine spluttered to life.

  “Yes! Thank you,” she patted the steering wheel.

  Faedra revved the engine a couple of times and then put it into gear and drove out of the car park, spraying gravel behind her as she did.

  “Sorry, Vicar,” she cried, as if he were standing right there and had witnessed her speedy exit. “Thanks, Sally, you have my word, I’ll never call you an old banger again.”

  Faedra had named her car when she first bought it. Her dad had thought it cute and her uncle had made fun of her, but she didn’t care. She heaved a sigh of relief as she put more and more distance between her and the church.

  “I hope I’m going to get some answers soon. My life is getting just a little too weird of late,” she thought out loud.

  The next morning Faedra wasn’t surprised to see that the bruise that had been forming on her hip, where she had bashed it against a headstone during last night’s getaway, had all but vanished. A slight reddening of the area was all that remained.

  She got ready for work. Only another couple of days and it would be her birthday. She was so pleased that it fell on a Saturday this year. She was planning an evening out with Zoë and Amy, and was looking forward to going out and having some fun with her friends.