The Amber Lee Boxed Set

by Katerina Martinez

  “Murderer, perhaps,” his voice was soft and inviting but dangerous, “But that sow is unimportant in the grand scheme of things. You, however, are our star attraction.”

  Unimportant was all I heard. “What do you mean, unimportant?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Don’t you know why you’re here?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  His lips curled into a knowing grin. “I thought you said we had fucked with the wrong Witch.”

  My eyes darted from side to side as I registered what he said, then it hit me. Those were the words I used on the Mesa, the words I spoke into the Sheriff’s phone after I had killed him. Was it he on the other side? Had I sent this man the threat? What a stupid idea that was, huh Amber?

  The man stood upright and directed his minions to carry Aaron’s lifeless body away. My heart shattered when I saw how he was just dragged across the snow like a sack of meat, but the worst part came when I saw the trail of blood his body was leaving on the snow. There was so much of it… I wanted to retch, but I couldn’t throw up. I just couldn’t.

  Before I knew it someone yanked me to my feet and herded me in one direction while they dragged Aaron in the other. I knew he would die out here and for that I would never forgive myself.

  If I survived the night.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  My fire was starting to dwindle. With each complacent step I took, I could feel the strength ebbing from my body in the same way Aaron's blood had rushed out of him not moments earlier. Concentration was impossible, resistance futile. I was being steered like cattle, and in that moment I could do nothing but concede to captivity.

  What was going to happen next was no longer a certainty. Aaron was dead. Even if I made it out alive, nothing would ever be the same. Someone had died because of me. Blood in the snow. Time slowed as if to allow me a chance to grieve. But I didn't want to grieve. I wanted to go back in time and stop this from happening, to stop Aaron from dying. If I hadn't gone to see Damien I would have been able to leave with Aaron straight away and he would still be alive.

  If only I hadn't put my needs in front of his, I wouldn't be here. About to die.

  No.

  No!

  I wasn't about to die. Dying wasn’t what Aaron would want me to do. He wouldn't have wanted me to give up and let them take me. I had to think and get my head in the right place. I needed time, and luckily time itself seemed to have slowed just for me. So I closed my eyes and conjured feelings of warmth, safety and comfort within myself. I had never done this before, never allowed myself to exist inside a moment, but I knew I didn't need Magick to do it.

  I only needed to meditate, and think.

  "Amber," said a voice in my ear. I blinked, and in an instant I was no longer in the forest, transported instead to the interior of a familiar eatery.

  Joe's.

  The diner was empty save for the distinct scent of cooked tomato, cheese, and meat. Pizza. The delicious aroma floated out of the kitchen and caused my stomach to grumble hungrily. I was drawn to the smell and the warmth, so I went to it. This was it. This was my chance. I knew that this wasn't real and couldn't understand why my mind had taken me to Joe's, but I didn't question it.

  I had been given a chance and a familiar space in which to think.

  Possessed by the sudden urge to open the kitchen door I went for it and pushed. Much to my surprise, though, someone stepped out before I could walk in.

  "Damien?" I asked. My pulse started to race as soon as my eyes fell upon him. "What are you doing here?"

  "I... don't know," he said, "I was with Frank. We couldn't find you."

  "You were… looking for me?"

  Damien nodded.

  A cursory glance of the kitchen behind Damien revealed that the inviting aroma emanating from inside had no source. I could see no pizzas, no vats of tomato and no vegetables on the counters. Only plain, empty stainless steel counters, glittering as if caught beneath rays of sunlight. Something about my surroundings felt wrong and unfinished.

  "What is this place?" I asked.

  "You know what this is," he said. "You're still in the woods, Amber. And you're in danger. But right now you’re here, and you can think."

  "Right,” I said, “I know where I am. Only I hadn’t thought this far ahead.”

  “Sounds like you.”

  "Enough jokes. Damien, what am I supposed to do?"

  "Think," he said. "You have to figure out how to get out of this mess."

  "How? I can't use my powers."

  "I know, but that shouldn't stop you. You're a Witch, and a clever one." The light fixtures began to flicker. "It's coming," Damien said. "Think, Amber. You don't have much time."

  "Damien, I need help! I need you to tell Frank where I am. I'm in the place—"

  "I can't," he said, interrupting, "I'm not really here."

  "But you told me you were with Frank. How could I have known that?"

  "Because I'm always going to be there no matter what."

  He was right. Damien would have helped if he knew I was in danger. Of course he would have. We had been through too much for him to not get involved. Yes, he had been a royal dick and screwed me over, but it didn’t mean he would have chosen to not come out looking for me if Frank told him I was in trouble.

  "Maybe I did know that,” I said, “But how am I supposed to find answers in here?"

  I thought that, upon entering my headspace, I would be sent to a place that looked like home or the bookstore, where answers would reveal themselves to me in the pages of books... or something. But Joe's? The lights stopped flickering and returned to normal.

  "You have the answers inside of you," Damien said, "You just have to look deep enough."

  Damien gestured at the door to the men's bathroom with a nod of his head. It was a simple door with the men's sign on it, but it didn't look like the same door I remembered from Joe’s restaurant. I had eaten at Joe's a million times and I knew something about this door didn't quite feel right. The paint job was a little off, a little too clean and shiny red, and it seemed to glow as if it had an inner light of its own.

  "What's behind that door?" I asked.

  "An answer,” he said, “And many more questions."

  My pulse kicked into high gear and started to beat against my temples. Wh-whack - Wh-whack -Wh-whack. I didn't want to go near the door, but it seemed as if the door was starting to take on a more sinister tone as time went on. The paint had begun to crack and break, the door’s own glow had started to fade causing the seams in the paint to become harsh black lines, and the smell of backed up toilets was starting to float away from it.

  "Will that knowledge help me get out of this?" I asked.

  "I don't know," Damien said, "All I know is that behind that door there is a lesson you must learn."

  "He's right." Aaron's voice caught me by complete surprise. I turned around and there he was, fit and healthy, with an almost angelic glow to his tanned skin.

  My eyes welled with tears the instant I saw him. I went to hug him, but he stopped me. "Aaron," I said, as my fingers struggled to find his, "I'm so sorry this happened."

  "Don't be," he said. "It was my own fault. I shouldn't have run off on you."

  One of the lights at the far end of the room popped and sent half the diner into darkness.

  "Amber, you have to hurry," Damien said, "It's coming for you. You're the one it wants, not Aaron."

  Another light popped, this time in the kitchen. Now only one light was left to illuminate the room, but it was starting to buzz as the power surge crept closer and closer towards it.

  I nodded and stole another glance at Aaron before turning to face the now near black door to the men's room. I approached with my hand outstretched, moving toward the door one inch at a time. Finally my fingers touched the slick, black thing and with a single push the door croaked open; and the last light at my back died.

  B
ehind the men's room door there came the steady slap of flesh against flesh and muffled moans. The smell of sex followed; that hot, musky scent of sweat and heat. I stepped through the portal and emerged not inside a bathroom, but in a moonlit bedroom. Before me there was a large bed, flowing white curtains, and sex toys; a ridiculous amount of sex toys scattered over every possible flat surface save for the bed.

  On the bed there was a woman straddling a man. Long black hair fell down her pale skin which was covered in tattoos. Where her arms met her wrist the skin began to blacken, ending in onyx fingers topped with razor sharp claws which gleaned like razorblades in the moonlight slipping in through the window. Beneath her there was a man who, though erect, couldn't have been alive. It took me a moment to recognize the withered husk, but as I circled the bed I knew.

  It was Kyle, my cheating ex-boyfriend, the man who—in a moment of spite and rage after learning of his infidelity—I had put a hex on.

  I didn't know then that my summoning of a succubus had worked and that a disgusting creature had been called forth from whatever broken realm it lived in, but I learned after the fact that I had worked real Magick, and that I had ruined his life with my own hubris. My stomach sank into the floor with a loud clunk and I fell to my knees.

  Eight words the Wiccan rede fulfil,

  And you harm none, do what thou will.

  "I did this..." I said. "It was me. This was all me."

  The woman ceased her steady gyrations and spun her head one hundred eighty degrees, her neck giving off a series of cracks as it turned. She was a stunning beauty of a woman; a pale goddess with black hair, full red lips, and violet eyes made sinister with dark make-up. But her beauty belied the evil I saw behind those eyes. She, it, was evil and chaos incarnate—and she was here because of me.

  "Yes you did," she said, but her voice wasn't female; it was male.

  "W-who are you?" I asked.

  "Don't you know?" it said, "I took what I needed from him, and now I'm going to give it to you." The creature stepped off the husk and glided to the foot of the bed, turning its neck around to face the right way in one fluid motion. Then she came at me; clawed hands opened and sharp fangs at the ready.

  "No," I said, raising my arms and shaking my head, "No!"

  I opened my eyes again to the interior of a dilapidated building lit only by candlelight and filled with hooded men. I blinked to adjust to the light and spotted the satanic iconography decorating every inch of every wall; from pentagrams inscribed with odd runes to images of horned beasts having their way with women. The hooded man who had killed Aaron was standing before me, and he had a grin on his face that made my skin crawl.

  "Lost in thought?" he asked.

  I couldn't find words. My mind drew blank. Damien was right. The knowledge may not help me get out of the situation I was in, but I needed to know. I had to understand that everything which was going on was a direct result of what I had done to Kyle.

  Everything comes back times three.

  But I still couldn't figure out how Aaron fit into the picture. Aaron. I wished I could have held him one last time and told him how sorry I was about everything that had happened. I didn't want any of this. I didn't even know what I was doing when I put that hex on Kyle, but ignorance was no excuse when dealing with Magick.

  "Now," said the man, "It's time for you."

  "Time for what?" I asked.

  "Lay on the slab."

  "And if I don't?"

  The man produced his gun from the seat of his pants, held it to the side of my head, and pulled back the hammer. "Do we understand each other?"

  I nodded and complied. The men were rough with me, but it was better than being beaten. I guess they wanted me in pristine condition seeing as I hadn't been hurt by anyone. Good. Being hurt would only make my escape more complicated. And I would escape. I only had to figure out how.

  A hooded figure had me lay down on the slab and bound my hands in leather straps. The rest of them formed a circle around me while the leading man—the priest—crossed the room toward an altar covered in demonic paraphernalia and began to collect the objects he would need for the ritual that was about to take place.

  I watched him gather a large book, kiss it, and pick up a silver and black chalice from the altar. I saw candles sitting atop the marble surface, a ram's head skull looking down upon a five-point star where the book was being kept, and a tall with an ornate gold frame and black glass. I noted how the book gave off a heat haze that disturbed the air around it; a haze that reflected in the black mirror as a strange purple glow.

  The mirror didn't seem to reflect any people in it, though; only the haze coming off the book.

  "Before we commence the ritual of the nuptis profanum upon this vessel," said the priest, "We deliver ourselves to the blood of our holy lady, Acheris."

  Acheris?

  The priest raised the silver chalice with one hand, swirled it around as if it were a glass of wine, and passed it to one of the men. He drank, passed it to his left, and once everyone had imbibed, the chalice was returned to the priest, who then finished the contents of the cup and placed it back on the altar.

  "Without she," said the priest, "We are nothing but mortal flesh and bones, but by the power of her blood we are transformed. Empowered. Blessed."

  "Who is the holy one?" I asked. "Is that the demon?"

  The priest hovered over me. Now that he was close to me I could discern his features; his harsh eyebrows, his wide—madman—eyes, and his purple lips. Only his lips weren’t quite so purple anymore. They seemed, somehow, warmer and less… dead.

  "There are more pieces in this game than those you can see with your own eyes, little witch," said the priest.

  "What pieces?"

  "You may have dispatched the pawn," he said, "But he served a purpose sure enough. We needed to know."

  I almost dreaded to ask. "Know what?"

  "If you were the one spoken of in the sacred texts."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "So powerful, and yet so blind. How could a witch have such power and not know anything about the world? Haven't you wondered why you are so capable? Why your power is as strong as it is?"

  "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Soon enough, little witch, you will know all there is to know. Past, present and future—yours will be the knowledge of the universe; the power of the witch, the demon, and the wolf. Wouldn't you like that?"

  "Demon and wolf? What does that mean?"

  "That’s enough out of you. There will be plenty to discuss when this is over, when your indoctrination begins."

  I spat in the priest's face. He wiped the spittle off his cheek and stood upright again.

  "Let us begin," he said, and an icy wind came rushing in to the building at the gesture of his hand.

  Chapter Thirty

  "The time has come," said the priest, "To unite you in an unholy wedding with the hand of our lord, the Incubus."

  "No," I said, "I won't allow this. Demons need consent! I. Will. Not. Allow this!"

  "Oh but you will, because you have no choice."

  He was right. My choice was consent or die, and I wasn’t ready to die. I needed a plan, but I had no Power, no strength and no options. I let my head rest on the slab and caught, in the black mirror, something descending upon my body. A mist, purple and thick. Slow. Writhing. Dirty.

  The priest reached into his black robe and produced a crucifix. He then held to the center of the room, upside down, and said "He is here! Our Lord's Hand is here."

  "Fuck you!" I yelled, struggling with my binds, but it was useless. The leather was too tight.

  Cautious, as if he were about to pet a lion, he put his hand to one of my breasts and began to narrate a passage from the book in his hand. I couldn't speak Latin, but I didn't have to in order to understand what was being said. He was edging the demon on, empowering it with language and intent. And in that moment, the only thing I could think to do was pray.

>   I closed my eyes and cleared my head. "Horned God of the Sun," I said, aloud, "I call unto you to vanquish those who would wish your child to come to harm." I wanted to drown out the priest's words, but it was of no use. With every syllable he spoke his words became louder and deeper in my ears, it was like listening to a video of someone speaking with the bass turned all the way up.

  “Hail unto you,” I said, “O’ Guardian of the Watchtower of the South, powers of fire and inspiration,” but my prayer was going unanswered. The invisible tether connecting me to my own Power wasn't there, and as the entity crawled closer to my skin I learned the reason why.

  All this time the demon had been there, following me, manipulating me, and stifling my ability to use Magick. I wish I had known it sooner, but I was too close to my own problems to believe they were being caused by some kind of external force; by a wicked, malevolent intelligence.

  Demons destroy a person's life. They damage minds, bodies and souls, sever social ties, and do whatever they can to isolate their intended host. I had said similar words to Aaron, and I was blind to the fact that the Demon was after me and not him. I wasn’t receiving phone calls or letters, I wasn’t sleeping well, and I had let myself fall behind on my studies to the point of expulsion. How could I have been so wrong?

  I was wrong about everything!

  Chaos erupted beneath my ribcage as a cold snake forged of purple mist slithered up my legs and thighs toward my belly and chest. I couldn't move, couldn't work Magick, and couldn't flee. The demon writhed and seethed pure evil, its foul touch leaving me sullied and dirty as it crawled across my flesh. I wanted to scream, but I held on to my composure. I would not give these people the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

  Inky tendrils crossed the length of my chest, slithered along the line of my jaw, and inched toward my mouth. I could feel the coldness, the foulness, at the edge of my lips, which weren't staying shut despite my best efforts. I shook my head to keep the misty tentacles—now visible even to my eyes— from my face, but they followed my lips wherever I went and forced their way into my mouth. Inch by inch, the thick purple tendrils pushed their way into my throat causing me to gag, triggering my reflex to retch and blocking my airways.