The Sheriff pulled the dripping knife from my skin and looked over his shoulder, shielding his face with his hand. He snapped around and shot me a glare.
“Are you doing that, witch?” he asked.
I kept quiet, breathing hard through my nose.
I invoke thee, I thought, I invoke thee.
“Answer me!” he yelled, bringing the knife to my eye.
I invoke thee.
A shockwave exploded out of me and the rock beneath me fractured and cracked. The Sheriff lost his balance and fell to his back a few feet away. I floated to my feet as if the wind itself were carrying me, and as the binds on my wrists undid themselves I stretched my blood soaked hands above my head.
I took a deep breath of crisp air and stared at the Sheriff’s fuming face. “I invoke thee!” I said, screaming into the heaven. And at the sound of my voice, a crack of lightning fell from the sky and struck the Sheriff as he tried to stand, sending him sprawling to the ground and rolling along the rock.
I advanced, anger fuelling the fire burning within me. My fingers and temples burned, I could hear my heart in my head, and I was sure the wound I my gut was open and bleeding. But I was free, and the Sheriff was struggling now, propping his body up with a hand and holding his chest with the other.
He searched for his knife but couldn’t find it. “Bitch!” he said. Then he pulled a gun and trained it on me. “I should have just killed you,” he said, gritting his teeth.
The gun went off, several rounds fired at point-blank range in flashes of gold and red. But none of them found their mark. It was as if the bullets refused to touch me, or couldn’t touch me. So I reached for the gun with my mind and visualized the weapon ablaze, and in an instant the Sheriff dropped the pistol and cradled his hand. Thunder and lightning crackled above, each roaring rumble seeming to shake the Ever Dark Mesa to the core.
Disarmed and hurt, the Sheriff turned to look at me. “You don’t have the balls,” he said, “You’re just another pathetic creature!”
“You have hurt too many,” I said, advancing. “Now you’ll feel our vengeance in this life and the next.”
Though injured, the Sheriff stood up and charged, but he didn’t get far. A second bolt of lightning surged from out of the clouds and struck him in the chest. Then another strike came like a whip-crack from the Gods, smashing him in the back and forcing him to the ground, flailing and frothing at the mouth.
For a moment it felt as though I was walking on air. Incomprehensible whispers were fluttering around me, male and female voices speaking in a cacophony I couldn’t understand but whose tone was clear. Vengeance. Righteousness. Death. But when the Sheriff’s body went limp, the wind and whispers died down and vanished. Even the thunder seemed to start putting distance between itself and the Mesa.
I fell to my knees and crawled toward the Sheriff’s body with one hand on my wound. When I reached his blistering, sizzling body—Gods, the smell of it—I stuffed my hand into his pocket and checked for his phone. Miraculously his old phone was intact and still working! And although it weighed a ton in my weakening hand, I hit the call button and dialed the last person the Sheriff had spoken to.
I collapsed to my side before someone picked up on the other line.
“Is it done?” asked a smooth, female voice. “Is she dead?”
“You fucked with the wrong witch,” I said.
The line went dead after a pause and the phone slipped out of my hand. I wouldn’t have been able to reply even if someone had kept the line open, but they hadn’t.
As my consciousness started to slip I could have sworn I could hear someone calling my name, but I couldn’t turn around to look even if I wanted to. I was weak, cold, and shaking. The light from the fire still burning nearby was mesmerizing and I felt myself drawn to it; drawn to light, to warmth, and to life.
To life.
Life.
Chapter Forty One
I dreamt I was a Raven soaring above town, darting through thin grey clouds with the wind in my feathers and a song in my heart; a song of longing. Alone, I searched for my sisters, cawing into the nothingness around me until, finally the clouds broke, apart and the sun shone through. There, bathed in sunlight, were the other Ravens; and they were waiting for me.
I joined the constable and glided alongside the leader. She turned her oddly human eye at me and cawed, but the sound snapped me up from the jaws of oblivion and grounded me once more into the waking world. I blinked and struggled to make out the shapes in front of me. Breathing was pain.
Movement was worse.
Someone rushed to me and a warm hand caressed my cheek. “Amber,” the voice said, “Can you hear me?”
I groaned.
“That usually means yes!” It was Eliza!
I tried to speak but coughing to clear my throat was way worse than breathing or even moving. Eliza offered me a glass of water and I drank deep. When I could speak, I said “Where am I?”
“In the hospital,” she said. Eliza took my hand from the side of the bed. “You worried me half to death.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll let you know beforehand the next time some asshole is going to try and kill me.”
She brought my hand to her lips and kissed it. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“What… happened?” I asked.
“We got him,” Damien said. I didn’t even know he was in the room until he spoke, but his floppy hair was a welcome sight. “The Deputy pieced everything together. He’s smarter than he looks.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” I asked.
Damien glanced at Eliza. “It means the Sheriff has been charged with the recent murders in Raven’s Glen. Lily, Joanna, they can both rest now.”
The dream I had just experienced made sense, then. Lily was the Raven, and I had just seen her find Joanna. The thought filled me with a comfortable warmth and contentment I had never known until then, and would never forget—even if it saddened me a little that I would never see that Raven again.
“So… Eliza… you know?” I asked.
“It’s okay,” Eliza said, planting a kiss on my forehead, “I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Eliza is the reason why I found you,” Damien said. “She came to see you at the station and when the Deputy noticed you and the Sheriff were both gone—”
“I convinced the Deputy that Damien would know where you were,” Eliza continued. “I bailed him out, Damien went all clairvoyant, described the place, and I knew where you were.”
“You… went clairvoyant?” I asked.
Damien cocked an eyebrow. “I had a good teacher.”
“Thank you both,” I said, smiling. “You guys saved my life.”
“You focus on resting,” Eliza said, “Let me go get you something to eat. The knife didn’t hit anything vital but you need your energy. You’ve been through so much.”
I had no reason to argue with her, so I nodded and let her go but Damien chose to stay.
“What does she know?” I asked.
“Everything, I guess.”
I sighed to myself, resting my head against the pillow. “I wish there had been another way. I didn’t want to drag her into this.”
“I trust her when she says she won’t tell anyone.”
“What about Aaron?” I asked, remembering that Aaron had been in the jail too.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been back to the station.”
I drew another painful gulp of water and nodded.
“I thought we were going to lose you,” Damien said.
“I’m still here.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing happened for a time. Finally, he said, “I’m leaving Natalie… to be with you.”
“Damien,” I said.
“No… I can’t just pretend like I don’t have feelings for you, Amber. When I saw you lying there on the ground, when I carried you to the Deputy’s car, the thought of losing you hurt more than anything I had ever felt.”
“I know you’re only fighting because you think you’re telling me to do the right thing.” He took my hand. “But being with you is the right thing.”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t fight. Our future was still nebulous, but Damien kept my hand held in his and stayed with me during my recovery which, thanks to modern medicine and a little Magick, was swift and easy. I would have a few more scars on my body after it was all done, but someone once told me I looked pretty badass with a busted lip.
I wondered what he would think when he saw the scars.
Chapter Forty One
On the day I was discharged there was only one thing I wanted to do. I had a big apology to make and so I decided to go straight to Aaron’s place and talk to him. Making it through the ordeal had put color in my cheeks—which was ironic considering the amount of blood I had lost—and a spring in my step. So I arrived at Aaron’s apartment smiling, with a box full of warm, freshly made hazelnut cupcakes in my hands.
Aaron answered wearing a form flattering black vest, grey sweat pants and a pair of trainers. “Amber,” he said, surprised to find me at his door again.
“Going to the gym?” I asked.
“A run… come in.”
He stepped aside to let me in and I swept into his house, placing the cupcakes on his kitchen counter.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m okay. The pain doesn’t bother me so much anymore.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I smiled. “The psychological trauma everyone’s so worried about? Don’t worry. I’ll get over it,” I said.
Aaron nodded. “You’re a tough cookie.”
I smiled and approached. “I know you came to see me,” I said.
He kept his mouth shut turned his head away from me. “Who told you?” he asked.
“Who do you think? She’s about yay tall, has black hair, and ice blue eyes.”
Aaron nodded.
“Why did you come, though?” I asked.
“Why not?”
“Aaron, look at me,” I said, turning his face toward mine. “Why did you come to the hospital to take care of me?”
“Because that’s what I do,” he said, “I take care of you.”
I sat on the side of the kitchen counter, close to him, and stared at my knees. “For so long you tried to make me believe you didn’t care. I was just… nothing to you.”
“Amber—”
“Let me finish,” I said. “I really did think that was all I was to you. That’s why I always kept you at arm’s length. It was a defense mechanism. I didn’t want you to hurt me.”
“Did you always think I would hurt you?”
“I did,” I said, giving him my eyes again.
“You only kept me away to protect yourself. You can’t be blamed for that.”
“I used you, Aaron. You had feelings for me this whole time and I used you.”
“That’s behind us now.”
“You’re right,” I said, sternly. “Because I can’t use you anymore. I won’t.”
“You don’t have to. You know how I feel now. Things can be different between us.”
“Aaron,” I said, stopping him, “I don’t—”
“Amber, I’ve wanted more with you for a while. I was happy to take what you gave me but I wanted more. I was always working towards it.”
“How?” I asked, “We’re so different. How could it have worked?”
“I don’t know. But we’re great together. Aren’t we?”
My heart was breaking. All along I was scared that he would be the one to hurt me and now I was hurting him. It frustrated me that he couldn’t even see what was happening right in front of him.
“We can’t do this anymore,” I finally said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“This. Us. We can’t do this. It has to stop. Everything.”
“What?” His eyes darted from one side of my face to the other. “Why?”
“Because. I’m sorry, Aaron. We just can’t be together in that way.”
I could hear the tick-tock of the clock on the wall and cars whizzing past outside, but Aaron remained motionless and completely quiet. It felt like he hadn’t said anything in minutes until, finally, he spoke again.
“Then we can’t be friends anymore,” he said.
“Aaron, I want us to be friends.”
“If I have to look at you every time and see you with him… I don’t know how I would be able to contain myself. You can’t put me through that.”
“Damien and I are just friends too,” I said, remembering full well what Damien’s intentions were.
“Bullshit,” he said, “I know you’ve already slept with him. I’m more perceptive than you give me credit for.”
I swallowed and looked away, then nodded. “Alright,” I said. “Keep the cupcakes,” I added as I headed for the door.
I didn’t fight him then. Life for Aaron away from me, away from the True Witch and her drama, would be better this way. Aaron didn’t deserve to be caught up in a world he didn’t understand, or belong in.
I knew that, somewhere deep inside, a good guy lived inside of Aaron. I had experienced this goodness for a few days and couldn’t say I hadn’t enjoyed it. He was going to make some lucky girl very happy one day. But I wasn’t totally out of the water yet, and couldn’t take the responsibility of having to look after him and lie to him while I figured out who was pulling the Sheriff’s strings.
I didn’t know who that woman on the phone was, but I knew she heard my message.
Whether that would deter her or just piss her off, only time would tell.
DARK WITCH
Amber Lee Series, Book 2
By Katerina Martinez
DARK WITCH
Amber Lee Series, Book 2
Copyright © 2017 by Lee Dignam & Katerina Martinez. All rights reserved. Cover uses images © 2016 Shutterstock.
Published by Supernal Publishing
***
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about this serial to help spread the word!
Thank you for supporting my work.
Chapter One
Damien, Frank and I were sitting around a cauldron on a cold December night. Between the three of us we had hoisted it all the way into my attic, jammed it through the opening as best we could, and were getting ready to call down a spirit known as the Dagda. So not only were there three witches sitting around a huge iron pot, but we were also flanked on all sides by candles, crystals, and bowls filled with herbs.
Could the scene have been more cliché? Yes, it totally could have.
For starters, we could have had a black cat running around in the attic with us. There could have been straw brooms floating along the floor, autonomously sweeping the dust that seemed to never to want to leave my attic. Or we could have all been wearing black hats—the tall pointy hats. But there was no cat, no brooms, and unfortunately no hats.
At least, Damien and I weren’t wearing hats. But Frank was. It a little blue and white sailor’s hat he had chosen to wear along with a pair of colourful leggings and a plain black vest. The sight of him, with his square face, messy silver hair, and a hat clearly intended to be worn by a child, was pretty mortifying, like seeing a duck resting on the head of an alligator. But I had come to love his weirdness and embrace it much as I had my own.
Damien crawled over to the side of the room and lit a stick of cinnamon incense while I lit the pine and cedar. In moments, the three scents intermingled and infused the room with a war
m, woody smell; like cookies baking on a tray over a crackling fireplace. I leant into the aroma, closed my eyes, and smiled.
"I love this time of year," I said, "There's a whole foot of snow outside and the three of us are in here, warm and cozy."
"Don't get too comfortable," Frank said, "We're invoking the Dagda tonight so we’d better be at attention. He's a big deal."
Frank wasn't kidding. I had learned a lot about the Spiritual side of Magick from him in the last few months since we met. It was one of his passions, he had told me, to learn about the invisible forces living in our universe and figure out how they may have informed the myths of yore. I soon learned that the strange witch was a veritable encyclopedia, if encyclopedias could go to clubs and wield Magick.
"So, okay, how do we do this?" I asked.
"Hands," Frank said, like a surgeon requesting a scalpel.
The ritual was Frank's idea. I had a cursory knowledge of the Dagda, but it was Frank who decided to lead this ritual. Neither of us had ever attempted something like this before, but the sailor hat wearing witch seemed pretty confident he knew what he was doing. So Damien and I complied, and the three of us joined around the iron cauldron. It had to be made of iron "for authenticity's sake" Frank had said. But it meant the thing weighed a shit-ton.
My arms hadn't yet stopped aching from the effort it took to hoist it up.
I wanted to use Magick and just wish it into the attic, but Frank and Damien had scolded me for being reckless. I didn't think I was being unreasonable, though. What good was telekinesis if you weren’t allowed to move things around with your mind whenever you wanted to? Unreachable itches would be a thing of the past, for one. As would be getting up and walking over to bookshelf to pick up, or put back, a book.
But no. No telekinesis for Amber Lee.
"Close your eyes," Frank said. "Clear your heads. Let the incense fill your nose…. and… all that bullshit."
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