The Amber Lee Boxed Set

by Katerina Martinez

  “Wow, really? That was fast.”

  “I love to read.”

  “What did you think?”

  “A little unbelievable, if I’m honest.”

  “Oh? In what way?”

  “Well, for starters, I don’t believe that the Wiccan religion is a diluted form of the truth about real Magick.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because Wicca is…” I found myself stuck. I didn’t have an answer for him.

  Damien simply smiled. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but it’s the truth.”

  “And if it’s the truth, how is it that you’re still Wiccan and not whatever this religion is?”

  “I’m both.”

  We arrived at the calm riverbank. Its waters gently lapped against stone and logs while frogs croaked unseen in the undergrowth and an owl sang its song up above.

  “What do you think of this place?” Damien asked.

  “I didn’t really want to come back to this part of the river, not after what happened the other day.”

  “I know, but you have to trust me. Close your eyes,” he said.

  I did as Damien said and exhaled. “Okay, now what?”

  “What do you hear?”

  I considered my answer. “Birds. Water. Wind. Frogs.”

  “Concentrate on the sounds. Don’t just hear them, listen to them.”

  “What am I listening for?”

  “Whatever you can hear.”

  If Damien was trying to teach me something, I wasn’t getting it. “I can’t hear anything,” I said. “I feel kinda stupid.”

  “Don’t. It’s only me here. Trust me. Try again.”

  I closed my eyes tight, hoping that would help, and allowed myself to relax. Remembering the words in The True Witch, I imagined myself floating on a black sea, surrounded by fog. The waters were quiet. I was sitting on a small dinghy with an oar and a lantern, gentle waves licking the sides of my boat. The smell of salt hung in the air.

  Peering over the side of the craft, clearing the mist with my hand, I spied my reflection in the black water. My heart began to race. The reflection twisted and contorted with the ripples caused by the boat. I graced the surface of the water with my fingertips, against my better judgment, and the image looking back at me suddenly wasn’t my own. Something didn’t feel right.

  “Hello?” I asked. The mist swallowed my voice. Seconds later, as if delayed, my echo returned. I pulled my arm away from the water but a cold, clammy hand grabbed me and pulled me out of the boat and head first into the freezing ocean.

  The current beneath the surface was impossibly violent. I was thrown around like a rag doll as if caught in the jaws of a powerful and thrashing beast, completely unable to control myself. When I opened my eyes I was on the ground, on my back, and Damien was holding my neck up. My body was shaking.

  “Amber,” he said, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded and calmed my breathing. “I’m feeling déjà vu.”

  “That’s because we’ve done this before.”

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “You went into a trance.”

  I blinked to accommodate regular light. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would go into a trance. This doesn’t happen to new Witches.”

  I sat up. “Who said I was new?” My whole chest tightened, like I’d been struggling for air that wouldn’t fill my lungs.

  “What did you see?” Damien asked.

  I thought about it and checked my body to make sure I wasn’t wet—again. Luckily no, I was perfectly dry. “I felt the Currents,” I said, “Almost exactly as it described in the book you gave me; the black ocean and the mist.”

  Damien nodded. “So then you used the meditation technique in the book?”

  “I didn’t know that’s what I was doing. I… may have skimmed over that part.”

  “You should read it again. It’ll tell you how to concentrate fully so that you can control the Currents, so they won’t sweep you away.”

  I shook my head. “But then… that can’t be right. If that’s true, then everything in the book is true and I’m a… true Witch.”

  Damien remained quiet, staring into my eyes. I caught my reflection in them and saw myself the way he saw me; a messy haired weirdo.

  “I’m sorry, I sound crazy,” I said.

  “How can you sound crazy when I’m the one who gave you the book?”

  “I don’t know, Damien. How is this possible? You just came into my life and all of a sudden I’m a Witch?”

  “You’ve been a Witch all along, you just didn’t know it. I’m here to help you.”

  “Did… someone send you?”

  “No,” Damien said, helping me to my feet. “I could sense you. You carry your powers with you. The world changes around you just because of what you are.”

  I thought about the books moving around in the bookstore and started to question whether a ghost was to blame at all or if Damien was right, and I was causing all that… somehow. That maybe the disappearing and moving around of books was just a side-effect of my being a Witch.

  “Tell me this is all real,” I said, glancing up at Damien from my lowered head. “And I’ll believe you.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Amber. This is real.”

  My lips curled into a wicked smile. Then I’m a True Witch.

  “Are you busy this weekend?” I asked.

  Chapter Twelve

  Damien didn’t have plans, which was lucky considering I’d asked him point blank to come and spend his entire weekend at the cabin with the rest of us. He’d already thought to celebrate Mabon on his own, so why not celebrate the holiday among new friends? I headed to the bookshop after my encounter with Damien to relay the news to Eliza; although I wondered how in the hell I would be able to contain my excitement. Damien told me to keep quiet about the Witch thing, for all of our sakes, and I wasn’t about to go against his advice.

  It seemed pretty sound.

  “So he’s coming?” Eliza asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, stuffing fresh candles I had just bought into my backpack. “I spoke to him today. We’ve been so busy I didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk to him about it.”

  “Or you were avoiding him?”

  “Oh, I was not.” I said.

  Eliza grinned. “You know what happens at cabins, right?”

  “Stupid people screw and get killed by marauding men with hooks for hands?”

  “It’s a cabin in the middle of the woods, no one around for miles, and it’s not like you’re in a relationship.”

  “That’s not happening. And I swear, you guys better keep the sex down this time. I’ve gotten used to being the third wheel but we have company.”

  “What do you think Wiccans do out in nature on holidays? I swear, sometimes I don’t think you know your own people.”

  “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but this is the Autumn Equinox. It’s about harvests and giving thanks, not about fucking your boyfriend.”

  “I have a lot to be thankful for,” said Eliza, gently rubbing her belly.

  I smiled and sighed. “I want to impress him, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

  Eliza grabbed the keys to the bookshop, closed the register, and swung her backpack over her shoulder. She held a book in her hand I didn’t recognize; it was old, brown, and a little dusty.

  “I’ll bite,” I said, when she didn’t mention it. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?” she asked.

  “The book.”

  “Oh this?” Eliza’s playful tone emerged. I was in for it. “I’ll tell you what this is when you admit that you’re in to Damien.”

  I froze at the front door and shot Eliza a look. “Who said I was in to Damien?” I asked, with added quotations.

  “It’s written all over your lovely pale face. I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out, sweetheart.”

&nb
sp; I laughed. “You’re so far from the truth, you don’t even know.”

  “Didn’t you yourself say you wanted to impress him with our ritual this weekend? Show him what a hot little witch you are?”

  “Yeah, impress him, not fuck him!”

  A sly smirk swept across Eliza’s lips but she didn’t press the subject. “Alright, c’mon you. Let’s get out of here.”

  We left the shop and made a stop at Eliza’s place. All the while, waiting in the car, fumbling around blindly on Instagram, a steady knot began to tighten deep within me. This week had been a strange one to say the least and to top it all off my last encounter with Damien left me wanting. Whether I wanted more of him or more of what he offered remained a mystery, but those fifteen minutes I spent in Eliza’s car were the longest of my life. What if Eliza was right about me and Damien?

  What if I really did like him? I felt so infantile but I couldn’t help it. Damien was everything I had wanted in a guy. Patient, understanding, and open-minded. Guys like those came one in a million, and one of them had come right for me as if the Gods themselves had sent him.

  And who was I to deny the Gods?

  Damien lived in a student apartment downtown, in the Raven Crest district. This part of town was the hub of all things government, authoritative, and tourist. From hotels, to parks, to city hall, Raven Crest was the literal beating heart of the city. A train station sat comfortably at the center of this heart of commercialism, acting as the artery delivering the lifeblood to the town. I didn’t normally have to come here on a daily basis, but Briar Park was a short walk away, so it made sense that the university had its student housing here.

  We only had to circle the block once. I thought maybe I’d written the address down wrongly, but we caught him on the second pass standing just outside Mama Lulu’s bakery wearing a black hoody and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He smiled as the car slowed to a halt and then slid into the back seat.

  “I thought we got the wrong address,” I said, smiling into the rearview. “Hope you weren’t waiting long?”

  “No,” Damien said, “Actually I was in the bakery getting something for us.”

  “For us?” Eliza asked, her eyes joining mine in the rearview. “What’ve you got for us, Damien?”

  “You’ll have to wait before I let you get your hands it,” Damien said, suggestively.

  “Eliza, um, could you drive?” I asked.

  She grinned, but the car pulled onto the road and started on its journey out of town. Streetlights gave way to trees fairly quickly. I turned on the audio, cranked some Nirvana, and we were underway. I didn’t even have to ask him if he would like a little grunge. He had the look.

  “So, have you ever celebrated Mabon with a Coven?” I asked.

  “No,” Damien said, “It wasn’t a big celebration for us down in San Francisco.”

  “I get that. It’s a harvest festival.”

  “Yeah, it isn’t that widely celebrated anymore,” Eliza put in.

  “That’s a shame,” I said, “I think it’s such a beautiful time of year. When greens move aside to allow browns and yellows to show their colors, the last chance to bring in a good harvest; a time where we give thanks for the things we’ve got.”

  “And a chance for a road trip,” Eliza added.

  “We basically love to take road trips,” I said, “You’ll learn that about us.”

  “That’s cool. I never used to get out of San Francisco very much. This is pretty fun.”

  “Right? A Coven of Witches out in nature. What could be more primal?”

  I wanted to bring up our encounter at the river, but I had to pinch myself to stop the words from leaving my lips. I couldn’t talk about it in front of Eliza, and keeping this from her stung like a betrayal. Every once in a while I’d take a glance at the side mirror and catch Damien’s face in the reflection.

  Sometimes I caught him looking back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite Damien’s presence looming over my shoulder the entire ride, the drive up was as peaceful as ever. Raven’s Glen lived on the upper side of California and didn’t seem to share the same climate as the rest of the State. Temperature fell as we ventured further into the woods, skirting the Nevada and California State lines. Faint beams of sunlight courageously broke through low-hanging clouds to only barely make it through the trees, and the air filling the car was so fresh you could taste the wet leaves.

  Ah, nature.

  The Carlson family vacation home stuck out from the surrounding forest with its tall white walls, brown roof, and pastoral design. Evan had explained a while back that some fifty or sixty years ago a family friend built the house by hand using only the pines from the surrounding forest. When he died, Evan’s parents bought it out and decided to use it as a vacation home.

  The entire area had a kind of rural feel a Coven of Witches would truly enjoy. Ironic considering Evan’s family held strong Christian values and damn near shunned their son when they discovered his belief system had changed. He may as well have come out as gay; the way Evan tells it, their response would probably have been the same.

  I never questioned how, then, Evan managed to snag the keys to the place, but I suspected pleading, forgery, or possibly a little bit of both. Most likely forgery, though.

  We arrived just before dark. The building was a little on the grey side, but it stood tall and proud amidst the pine stumps that never seemed to have grown back; like a lumberjack happy with his work. Untamed green vines crawled up the walls, strangling windowpanes and pipes, as flying bugs of all shapes and sizes fluttered about. But despite the greenery outside, a breath of stale air came rushing out to greet us when I opened the door.

  Walking into the quiet, dusty house for the first time since my last visit felt like something out of a horror movie. There wasn’t any fear, but the house was dark and gloomy, smelled oddly of old man’s cologne, and didn’t seem to have known sunlight in some time. Someone should crack a window, I thought as I stepped through the door and made my way toward the kitchen.

  “You need any help with that?” Damien asked.

  “No, I’m fine thanks,” I lied. Carrying a paper bag filled with cans, fruits, and tortilla wraps—all which seemed to like moving about—wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but I wasn’t about to look ungraceful. “What do you think of the place?” I asked.

  “I love it; never been in a house quite like this one before.”

  “It’s got a homely kind of feel. I could see myself living in a place like this.”

  “Really? I don’t think I could.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Cellphone coverage, internet, coffee? Wouldn’t you miss all that?”

  “I don’t think I would. It’s like, I—”

  Just as I was about to argue Damien’s point a can slipped out of a hole in the bag and the remaining contents followed. Cans and fruits spilled out and scattered like rats hurrying to get as far away from me as possible as quickly as they could.

  “Awh, c’mon!” I said, dropping the ruined bag and placing my hands on my hips, defeated.

  Damien cocked an eyebrow and glanced at my red face. The smirk on his lips disarmed me in an instant.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I asked if you wanted help.”

  I smiled, turned my face away and laughed at myself. “Yeah, you did. Smartass.”

  Smartass or no, like a true gentleman, Damien helped me pick up the mess. What a clumsy idiot! There I was trying to impress him and not two minutes into the house I make an ass out of myself. Luckily Damien didn’t much seem to care about my blunder. In fact, I got the impression he enjoyed helping me with the groceries.

  It was nice to know that gallantry wasn’t dead in some people.

  Damien and I unpacked in the spacious, yet totally unused kitchen. The walls were cream going on brown, the stoves looked fifty years old, and the butane tank would need changing before we could get any hot water.

/>   “How often do Evan’s parents use this place?” asked Damien.

  “Not very,” I said, leaning against a kitchen counter with a bottle of water to my lips, “Maybe three, four times a year? They spend a week here when they come, then leave.”

  “Looks like it,” Damien said, running his fingers over a dusty counter.

  “Yeah, I don’t think they cook much here either.”

  “Don’t… cook? So how do they eat?”

  “I don’t know. Osmosis? But this kitchen doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned or used in years.”

  “Listen, about the ri—” Damien was about to say, but Eliza swept into the kitchen and Damien shut up. My heart skipped into my throat at the close call, beating hard and fast.

  “Hey, you two,” Eliza said, grabbing a bottle of water from the table.

  “Hey,” I replied, “We should’ve closed up earlier. I’d have loved a few more hours here.”

  “We should’ve planted crops in advance too but that’s okay,” said Eliza, “We’ll just keep to the rule of not using electronics tomorrow.”

  “We didn’t plant crops?” I asked.

  “Nope. We’ve all been busy. Evan with work, you with class, me with the bookstore. No biggie.”

  A little piece of me deflated, but I couldn’t blame anyone. Coming up to plant crops had slipped my mind too so I’d have been a hypocrite to get all worked up about it. I truly enjoyed harvesting the crops last year when we came up for Mabon, even took a gardening course to make sure I was doing things properly. Damn.

  “How do you like the place, Damien?” Eliza asked.

  “I was just telling Amber how amazing the house is. I’ve never been in a place like this before.”

  “Well you’re in for a treat,” she said, sipping the bottle of water, “Because it’s haunted.”

  Oh here we go, I thought.

  “Haunted?” Damien asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Legend has it there was a little boy that used to live here,” Eliza said, wearing her best scary story face. It was convincing, too. She did this thing with her eyes where she widened and narrowed them at the same time. Made her look deranged! “He was six,” she continued, “And his name was Jimmy.