Then again, maybe I was just being paranoid.
A strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist and in the window's reflection Aaron’s face melted into view. I took his hands in mine, brushed my cheek against his, and enjoyed the warmth of him, the smell of him. Aaron always smelt so good; that manly musk that seemed to be his and his alone. It wasn’t cologne, either. He never wore any. It was a natural, magnetic scent.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi yourself,” I replied, smiling.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing dishes.” Well, I started, at least.
“Not using the dishwasher?”
“It’s full,” I said, turning around and kissing him lightly on the lips. He was like a walking remnant of the summer that had passed; warm to the touch, hair as golden as the sun’s rays, and eyes as blue as a bright July sky.
Aaron’s arms tightened around my body, and he pulled me closer to him. He kissed my lips, my cheek, my neck, and buried his nose in my copper hair. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he whispered.
My body trembled as his voice tickled my ear. “What’s that?” I asked.
“I would like nothing more than to take you right here on this counter, just like old times.”
I could have melted, then, like ice on a beach. Any other day I may have ripped his clothes off and had my way with him just like old times, but I was too caught up in my own head to react. Flash images of our furious, sweaty interludes came rushing forth, riding upon the backs of waves forming as the tides of memory rose and began to crash against the shore.
“I would like to remind you,” Frank’s sharp voice shot through the air, shattering my thoughts and reeling me back into the moment, “That you aren’t the only people living in this house now and as much as I enjoy a good show, I’m hungry.”
I peered over Aaron’s shoulder just as Aaron craned his neck to look at Frank’s tall, skinny, lanky form and we both laughed. He was wearing a pair of batman leggings, a black vest, and a pair of checked Doctor Marten boots which, despite many attempts at coercion he had never allowed me to borrow.
“It’s coming,” I said, “Maybe fifteen minutes.”
Frank crossed the kitchen with a swagger to his step, shot me a naughty look, and plucked a can of diet soda from the fridge. He left without saying a word, but the look upon his face was plain. Yeah, I cock-blocked you, Witch, it said, don’t act so surprised.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to other people living here,” Aaron said when Frank made his exit.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I like having the house full again. This house was meant for a family. My parents' leaving made it feel so lonely. Besides, I feel much safer with all of you around.”
Aaron smiled, brushed stray copper strands from out of my face, and planted a soft kiss on my lips. My mouth opened for him, I found his tongue, and in the space of a heart-beat I was pressing against him again, melting against him like butter.
“We should continue this tonight when you come back from Eliza’s place,” Aaron said, running his hand through my hair and cupping the back of my head.
I nodded, smiled, and licked my lips, then Aaron let me go and we each took a deep breath, like swimmers surfacing after a long dip underwater. No sooner did we part that Collette made an entrance into the kitchen.
Her lips curled into a smile, hot blood rushing to her olive cheeks, reddening them. This year’s mighty summer sun hadn’t succeeded in burning her, and she still wore her jet-black hair long and with a straight fringe, but she didn’t dress up around the house anymore. A simple black dress would do it most nights, with the bulk of her hair caught up in a tidy bun clasped together with a silver broach.
“Bonsoir,” she said.
“Good nap?” I asked.
“Divine. I should not be going to bed so late but I cannot seem to help it these nights.”
“Dreams?”
She nodded and simply said “Oui.”
Like me, I wanted to say, but she knew. If she was dreaming, so was I. Still, I smiled and made nothing of it. “Hungry?” I asked.
“Famished, only…” she trailed off.
“Only?”
“Do I smell something burning?”
“Burning?” I asked. Sniffed. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You guys need to start trusting me with the food a little more. I’m sure I got it right this time. Besides, our resident werewolf would have smelt the charred lasagne from mile away and he hasn’t, so.”
When I turned to Aaron, triumphant, his face didn’t encourage my pride.
“I didn’t wanna say anything,” he said.
“No,” I said, rushing to the oven. “No, no.”
When I opened it, a grey breath of heat and smoke hit me so hard I started to cough. Aaron cracked a window and let the pre-storm wind rush in, flushing the smoky air out in one quick gust. But the smell would linger for a while, I knew. Smoke always does.
“Fuck sake,” I said once the coughing had stopped. The upper layer of my superbly prepared lasagne was black as coal and completely inedible. I had followed the recipe to the letter, but had evidently forgotten to set the timer on the oven and gotten lost in my own thoughts.
“I’m sorry, cherie,” Collette said.
“Its fine,” I said, defeated. “Pizza is on me tonight… again.”
CHAPTER 2
The Pizza came and went. We left a few slices for Damien to eat when he got home, but he hadn’t arrived by the time I left the house and went to see Eliza. Work, I guessed. He had managed to get himself a decently paying part-time job at an advertising firm making banner art for websites; his hours were mainly evening hours but he was usually home by nine, and tonight… maybe it was the ever worsening weather, but I was starting to worry.
Eliza had begged me to stay home, to not come and see her tonight, but I wanted to see her. And I wanted to see Phoebe, too. Every time my thoughts went to that little pink ball my heart would leap into my throat, my chest would warm, and my stomach would do backflips. Not that I was broody or anything, of course.
Aaron and I didn’t do much in the way of talking about our future as a couple and what was in store for us just over the horizon. Did we want kids? If so, how many? Maybe it was too soon for us to be talking about that. After all, before last year Aaron had only been the guy I was sleeping with. If someone had told me then we would end up together and, dare I say it, fall in love, I would have laughed in their faces. No one could deny our connection to each other, though.
The night sky lit up in shades of blue and grey as I waited under a red streetlight, but there was silence. The light turned green before the thunder came, distant and quiet. Like the ghost of a rumble. It was there alright, brewing at the edge of the town, but the storm was holding. Waiting, I thought.
Only, waiting for what?
Eliza’s place was only a short drive away, and yet I could count the number of times we had seen each other lately in two hands. Babies make people busy. That was the long and short of it, and I was fine with that. But it still stung, and as I pulled up to the house—this house that seemed lonelier and emptier now, stripped of all of its exterior decorations—a sudden pain grabbed a hold of my stomach and twisted.
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 drun
k!”
“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.
The Red Witch Page 2
