Midnight Magick

by Katerina Martinez

  “He isn’t the only one who wants to keep it a secret, Damien!” I snapped, “Don’t think for a moment that I’m not totally in control of this. Everything happens on my terms, not his, and when he’s with me he gives me nothing but respect, which is completely different to all of the other losers I’ve ever been with!”

  “Oh, and I’m supposed to just believe that?” The veins on Damien’s neck became clearly visible whenever he’d strain his throat. “How many women out there say they’re in control of things when, really, they’re being taken for a ride but they’re just too damn blind to see it?”

  “Aaron is the guy who saved my life the other night,” I finally said, “He was there, he chased the attacker off and he’s been patrolling my neighborhood almost every hour of the day since it happened. Where were you?”

  Damien’s face dropped. I’d plunged a dagger into his gut and blood poured out of his mouth in gushes. What had I done? “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t—”

  “No, you’re right,” said Damien, backing away, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t my place.”

  Tiny shards of glass pooled beneath my eyes. “Damien, please wait.”

  He had his hand on the door. “No, I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I was about to tell you not to settle for second best but I’m… this isn’t my place.”

  “Damien, please,” I begged.

  He opened the door. “I’ll see you in class,” he said on the way out. I had no choice but to let him.

  As I went to lock the door I noticed Damien had left without taking the plastic bag he brought with him. Inside there were some snacks and a copy of the original Carrie movie; a movie I’d told him at the cabin I wanted to see. He mentioned to me that he owned it but hadn’t a clue where he’d put it.

  I threw the bag on the sofa and stormed back to my room, completely over the entire situation. Just last night he’d been cyber sexing his girlfriend! What gave him the right to be jealous about what I’d spent my time doing?

  I went to bed furious, but what happened the next morning made the bile go away.

  CHAPTER 26

  I awoke to a gentle breeze. In the sleepy moments between regaining consciousness and opening my eyes for the first time I floated on a cloud. Through blurred vision I found my room populated by luminous orbs, wafting in on the draft through the open window. They danced an intricate dance, sometimes separately, other times in formation.

  A pair of flakes drifted toward me, hovering before my face. They scurried away from my hand as I tried to touch them, coasting around like fireflies. Several more came to me, whizzing past my face and ears, weaving in and out of my hair. Whispers filled the room, an incomprehensible cacophony I couldn’t hope to understand but enjoyed hearing all the same.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  The orbs vanished into nothing leaving only tiny sparkles falling to the ground. My silver spangled bedroom fell into a dismal grey once more. I didn’t get out of bed for a few minutes yet hoping the fireflies would return, but they didn’t. God-dammit. I took advantage of the early morning to have breakfast, which I don’t normally do, and left for class.

  Walking the streets with a sharp eye reminded me of what it was like during high school. I’d scan every bush, every car and the corner of every building for potential bullies waiting to ambush me. But what could I do? I enjoyed being indoors sometimes, but I had class and work, a life to live. Was I supposed to spend my days afraid of leaving my own home?

  Besides, I wanted to see Damien. I hoped and prayed the whole way to Raven’s Hall he wouldn’t skip today like he did the other day. Shambling across campus with a still busted lip and an awkward walk couldn’t have made me stand out any more. There were stares and whispers abound. I was the elephant in the room.

  “Miss Amber Lee,” Professor Simmons’ musky cologne assaulted me in the hall as I moved through the crowd.

  I shifted my backpack over my shoulder and gave the tweed-clad professor a smile. “You remembered my name,” I said.

  “Of course, how could I not? Most of my students last longer before channeling their inner Harry Houdini.”

  “I’m very sorry. I haven’t been feeling well and I—”

  “That’s quite enough,” the professor interrupted, “I don’t want excuses, only results. No one forced you to take my class, Miss Lee, but you missed handing in an assignment, and now that you are enrolled in my class I would expect you to show a stronger level of commitment.”

  The professor had seen it all before, heard every excuse. No amount of justification or faux explanation would’ve done me any good with this man, not even the truth. The truth would’ve probably been more unbelievable anyway. I nodded, defeated.

  Being noticed always left me like a fish out of water. The lime light, whether for good or ill, exposed more of me than I cared for anyone to see, and the professor had my number now.

  I entered the lecture hall a good few paces behind the professor and found the row I’d been sitting on since the start. There, next to an empty seat with a backpack on it, eyes buried deep within a notepad, sat Damien. I approached, shuffling past the other two students. Damien glanced at me with the angry glare of a loyal dog, but when he glimpsed my copper locks he removed his backpack from my seat and placed it by his side.

  While unpacking I tried to catch a glimpse of what his eyes were on, but I found myself drawn to the way his jaw-length hair fell toward the desk and obscured all but his nose and chin. The tone for the entire lecture was set. Damien would avoid me, and I would attempt to spy on him. But after the first hour of it I’d had enough.

  On my notepad I wrote “I’m sorry. Stop avoiding me please. I’ve been practicing.” I slid it over to him.

  Damien took the notepad, read the note, and gazed in my direction—though he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, meet my eyes. He gave me no more than a nod, but that’s all I needed from him. After class we shuffled out of the room together and silently made our way to the sycamore in the garden we’d first exchanged words under.

  “I’m sorry,” said Damien, “I was totally out of line last night.”

  “I wasn’t exactly reasonable either. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. It’s just that I’m not used to being confronted like that.”

  He had a face like someone who’d been up all night. “I stuck my nose in your business and I shouldn’t have. I’m no one to judge the people you’re with. I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

  I wouldn’t exactly say great. “It’s fine. Anyway, I told you I’d been practicing.”

  “What did you practice?”

  We sat down on the grass. “Clairvoyance,” I said, “It seemed to be the easiest thing to get into.”

  “Most Witches start with Clairvoyance. What did you see?”

  Good thing I came prepared. “I saw Eliza at home,” I lied, “She was watching a movie and playing with her phone. The vision was a little blurry but it cleared up. It was like watching TV.”

  “The vision was that accurate?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Well, yeah. Clairvoyance is easy but most Witches just get impressions and flashes of images, tastes, smells.”

  “What about emotions?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I remembered the spark of happiness I experienced when I spied on Damien with his girlfriend. “Can emotions transfer to me through Clairvoyance?”

  “It’s uncommon, but it happens if you have a strong enough link with someone.”

  I stared at him in the warming light of the morning sun. Shadow from the sycamore dimmed the light hitting his face but somehow emphasized his hazel eyes and made them sparkle. A strong enough link; is that what we have?

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, “Point is that I’ve never done anything like that before. If ever I had doubts I was a Witch, they’re all gone.”

  Damien smiled. “I wouldn’t make somethin
g like that up. What would I have gained from lying to you?”

  I shrugged. “You could’ve been a lunatic?”

  “I guess you’re right. I could’ve been anyone feeding you any old line.”

  “Instead you’re you, and you’ve opened me up to something I never would’ve known.”

  “I think you always knew.”

  I caught the light sparkling in Damien’s eyes. Every time we’d speak they’d draw me in somehow. God dammit.

  “Are you free tonight?” asked Damien.

  “Unless something comes up I’m free, why?”

  “I had a dream last night, about my sister.”

  “Oh… are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I dream about her a lot. I don’t think she’s truly gone yet.”

  “Do you mean that she could still… linger?”

  “You must believe in ghosts,” said Damien—it wasn’t a question. “She came to me last night. I found myself standing outside of her house. It was dark. She took my hand and led me inside. I felt like I was floating.”

  “Do you think she’s trying to tell you something?”

  “I haven’t been to her house since I first got here, when I was looking for her. The place got locked down but no one’s been to it, no one’s living in it. It’s just sitting there like a sore on the neighborhood.”

  “There has to be a reason for that.”

  “I think Lilith is keeping the place unoccupied because there’s still something for me to find there.”

  “Then we’ll go tonight,” I said, anticipating Damien’s request.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t have to work for a few days still. Eliza’s fine to run the shop without me. Besides, I’m going stir crazy at home.”

  “Thanks,” said Damien, “You don’t know how much it means to me that you want to help with all this.”

  Damien seemed to be perpetually humble. I could tell that somewhere inside him there lived a man full of quiet passion; but I feared he may have been pulled underwater when his sister died. Occasionally I’d catch snippets of that man, but they would be fleeting and difficult to keep hold of. In my mind I likened him to a ship at sea whose captain had been knocked unconscious during a storm. I wanted to help wake him up.

  When the conversation was over we stood and grabbed our backpacks. For a moment we stared each other in the shadow of the sycamore. Were we trying to read each other? I wondered if he was having more luck than I was.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I said, “Come pick me up.”

  “I will. Stay safe, Amber.”

  A warm shiver raced up my spine as my name, spoken through his delicate voice, caressed my ears. I should’ve ignored the feeling, but the guy was like a magnet. Resisting him was almost as hard as resisting chocolate, and in twenty years I hadn’t yet won that fight.

  I had no idea what I was going to do.

  CHAPTER 27

  By the time I got home in the afternoon I’d already missed one of Aaron’s phone calls and refused to answer the text message that followed. What could I say to him? Sorry, we’ve gotten too close. Back up. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Aaron but the stark change from ferocious fuck buddy to alpha male with a kind heart left my head spinning. I simply couldn’t fit him on my plate. Not with everything that had happened to me lately.

  In a few short weeks I my life had fallen off a shelf and shattered into a hundred pieces. And even though I did my best to put them all back into place again somehow the picture seemed askew. In some ways my life made more sense, like I now knew what the cause for all the weird things happening around me was—it was me—but in other ways my life seemed completely different.

  A sturdy knock at the front door stole my attention. Damien wasn’t due yet. I advanced and peeped through the hole. Two uniforms stood on the other side; Sheriff’s department. The blood drained from my face as I unlocked the door and opened it. Cold air stung my lip.

  “Hi, officers,” I said. A light drizzle was falling behind them. Their squad car sat on the sidewalk nearby.

  “Amber,” said the Sheriff, “I’m sorry to bother you but we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Sure, yes, come in.”

  The cops swept into my house. The Deputy fanned out and scanned the room while the Sheriff moved into the kitchen. For a moment I thought they were looking for something. My body froze.

  “Sorry to bother you like this,” said the Sheriff, “But we’ve received reports of a few assaults taking place in this neighborhood, we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time to ask you some questions?”

  “Assaults?” I asked.

  “Two residents in the last couple of nights have been attacked by a masked man on their way home. We wanted to know if you’d seen anything suspicious.”

  “Suspicious?” I became painfully conscious that all I’d done was reply with one worded questions.

  “That looks like it hurt,” said the young deputy.

  He’d noticed my lip. “This?” Fuck. “Sorry, actually, yes… I got mugged on the way home a couple of nights ago.”

  “Did you report it to the police?” asked the Sheriff.

  “No… I didn’t—”

  “You should’ve come to the station,” cut the Deputy, “Why didn’t you report it?”

  “As I was about to say, I didn’t think it was necessary. People get mugged all the time.”

  “Was anything stolen? Were you badly hurt?” asked the Sheriff in a fatherly tone.

  “No, I’m fine, I got beat up a little but that’s because I was trying to get away. I broke the strap on my bag fighting to keep it from him.” All those years lying to my parents about my whereabouts and religious beliefs was paying off. “Do you want to see it?” I asked to further solidify my lie.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” said the Sheriff.

  “You should report this kind of thing to the Sheriff’s department,” said the Deputy. “We may have been in with a chance at catching him if you’d come forward.”

  “I told you. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  “Tell that to the girl in hospital.”

  Hospital?

  “Amber,” said the Sheriff, throwing his deputy a stern and disapproving scowl, “What the Deputy means is that one of the people who got attacked is in critical condition.”

  “Oh shit,” I said, “Will they be okay?”

  “We hope so. This guy is just very dangerous.”

  “A real asshole,” the Deputy said. I noticed him checking out one of the trinkets on my bookshelf; a crystal pendulum hanging from a silver chain. My blood boiled. Who the fuck did he think he was touching my stuff?

  “We want to make sure everyone’s as safe as possible,” said the Sheriff, “So if you remember anything you think is important, or you see anyone suspicious, please tell us.”

  I nodded.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” asked the Deputy. He put the pendulum back and cocked his head. Something about the Deputy’s voice made my insides churn.

  “My boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Yeah, the guy I’ve seen you around with.”

  “He’s not—” I cut myself off. “He’s not here,” I said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing important; just that he’s not from around here is he?” The Deputy approached. He had a cop’s swagger about his walk and his boots thumped hard on the ground with every step he took.

  “No, he isn’t. I don’t see why that’s important.”

  “No reason,” said the Deputy, smiling as he walked past me and toward the front door.

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Don’t be surprised if you see a squad car here and there,” said the Sheriff, “We’ll be keeping an eye on the whole neighborhood.”

  “Thanks for your help, officers,” I said, following to the front door.

  Maybe I shut it a little too quickly,
but I wanted to see where they were going so I raced to my bay window and peeled back the curtains. The officers strolled away from my front door, walked past their car and went on to the next house down the lane. A relieved breath steamed up the window. I planted my forehead on the glass and relaxed.

  I texted Damien from where I stood and asked him to hurry over, then sat down on the window ledge and waited. Drizzle transform to furious droplets in moments and awful black clouds descended upon Raven’s Glen in number, crackling with streaks of blue and purple that lit up the darkening sky.

  The light show unfolding before me was the only kind of entertainment I wanted. Just like when I was a little girl, I counted the seconds between cracks of lightning and the rolling thunder that followed. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.” The storm front advanced like a panther, steadily prowling through the suburban jungle toward its prey.

  I closed my eyes and visualized the street in front of my house. I breathed on the window and traced a pentacle on the steamed glass with my index finger. The street, the lawns, the cars and trees on the other side of the road; even the power lines and transformers, street lights and road signs, all were bound together by magick.

  A strange swirling sensation enveloped me. I was a rock in a river, the water pulling all around me in ripples. Becoming consciously aware of the Currents caused a warm vibration to race up my left hand and into my chest. I opened my eyes and stared up at the sky, drinking in the lightning show above.

  Then an urge overcame me.

  “Hail unto you, oh Guardian of the Watchtower of the South,” I whispered. Thunder rolled as the words left my lips.

  “Powers of Fire and Manifestation,” I continued. My entire body was vibrating now, as if the currents were turning into rapids. The wind kicked up, pushing trees along with it. Cables from the power lines across the street began to whip. I sensed a buildup of energy around me and a rush of excitement within me. Was I causing this?

  “I invoke thee,” I whispered.

  A bolt of lightning arched into a nearby transformer and blew it out in a spectacular display of fireworks. The power went out. I shot upright and glanced around my house only to find it dark and glum. My right hand burned as if I’d pressed it against an iron, even my fingertips were red. The stench of singed hair slowly crept into my nostrils. Was it coming from me?