The Rule of Three

by Katerina Martinez

  Heart pounding, I dove into the car, slammed the door shut and waited; watching the trees for any sign of the men in hoods. Nothing. Quiet.

  “Hurry!” I said to Damien as he fumbled with the keys, but the car didn’t start.

  Then I saw shadows in the woods, dark figures fast approaching from between the black trees. There were so many of them that they all seemed to blur into one thick, black mass. Writhing around like a solid creature made of shadow; a shadow so dark it seemed to consume the entire forest as it marched implacably towards us.

  “Damien!” I said.

  The car choked, grumbled, and then roared to life. Damien backed up until he gained enough speed to pull a fast U-turn, then he shifted the car into gear and gunned it down the road. I didn’t see the hooded men—or the black mass—run after us, nor did anyone jump out from the trees. But it wasn’t until I saw the first harsh yellow light of civilization that I allowed myself a moment to breathe.

  We had escaped, only I couldn’t shake the feeling that they had allowed us to leave.

  CHAPTER 19

  My scalp was throbbing. I tucked my head between my knees and ran my fingers through my hair to sooth the burning ache, but even the slightest touch to my head sent screaming pain ripping through me. That guy was way too strong and way too fast to have been an ordinary human, but if he wasn’t human then what was he? I thought he was a Witch. We all did. But his speed and strength… and why did Damien’s power not hurt him this time?

  “Are you alright?” Damien asked.

  I looked up and caught his hazel eyes in the rear-view. “Yeah,” I said, “What about you, Frank?” I asked.

  “Dandy,” he said.

  Frank hadn’t held back with his Magick. I recalled the shrill, almost high-frequency pulse I detected when Frank wielded his Magick—like nails on a chalkboard—and how the guy went down as fast as he had. I had never seen anyone so wracked with fear before, and all that from mere contact with Frank’s fingers. What happened inside that man’s head? Had Frank forced grotesque images into the man’s mind? Showed him the way in which he would die? Or infused him with all the pain Frank felt growing up?

  I didn’t dare ask.

  “Does anyone know what the fuck all that was about?” I asked.

  “You tell us. You heard the voices,” Frank said.

  Deep breaths helped me formulate my sentences. “They could see us,” I said, “And I think they knew who we were.”

  “What else did they say to you, Amber?” Damien asked.

  Nuptis profanum.

  “Nothing,” I lied. I didn’t know why I had chosen to lie in that instant, but keeping the truth from Damien seemed like the right thing to do. He would just worry and not get any sleep tonight. And we all needed rest. I needed rest too. But I was used to working on less sleep than Damien.

  “We should stay together tonight,” I said.

  “No,” Frank said, “I have work to get on with at home. Take me there.”

  “Work? What kind of work?”

  “Someone has to try and figure out a way to mask us from these guys, and since your shrine is at your place—which is probably being watched—and I’m sure my home is secure, I’ll do it there.”

  “Then we’ll all stay at your place.”

  “It’s cute that you think we all have to snuggle up to keep warm for the night, but Damien’s place is only a ten minute sprint from mine and we all have cell phones we can use. Just go to Damien’s and keep him safe.”

  Damien’s face twisted into a bemused scowl.

  “What about you, though?” I asked, “What if they somehow find you?”

  Frank paused. I caught him thumbing a necklace around his neck; a brazen five pointed star without a ring around it. “I have my own tricks, witch. Don’t worry your pretty little copper head about me.”

  I didn’t need any further reassurance. We dropped Frank off at his place downtown and made the short trip to Damien’s, stopping in silence in the parking lot to take stock of what had just happened. Or maybe to watch for signs of any hooded men that may have followed us all the way from the woods.

  Judging by the speed at which the man who pulled me could run, I didn’t think it impossible.

  “Long day, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Damien said. He brushed hair out of his face and sighed.

  “Are you alright, though?”

  “I am.”

  “You don’t seem it.”

  “Let’s just get upstairs and end this night, okay?. We can figure the rest out in the morning.”

  I nodded.

  What else was there to do?

  We stepped out of the car and in the short walk to Damien’s apartment I afforded myself one more dip into my own thoughts, running through everything again. Long day? More like long week. I wanted it to end. All of it. I couldn’t believe that after Mabon I would find myself in a similar situation in such a short amount of time. Is this what a Witch’s life is like? Dealing with one crisis after another? I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  Everything that could be happening was happening.

  In one week I had lost my place at college, created a rift with my best friend, and lied to my boyfriend. Sure, I had gained a few things in the last few months—like my friendship with Frank and all my teaching as a True Witch—but that happened gradually, over time. I felt like, in one single stroke, the house I was building had been blown away by a big, bad wolf; and I was still reeling from it all.

  A nice warm bed, a cup of coco, and a movie would do me a world of good. That and of course having Damien’s arms wrapped around me; let’s not forget, I had a boyfriend who enjoyed spooning nearly as much as I did. And in my state, I could have done with a warm, comfortable spoon.

  But then we got to Damien’s front door, and it was ajar.

  I froze. Damien extended his hand and tucked me away behind his back. I heard movement coming from inside. Boots? Somebody was in Damien’s house, but I couldn’t see whom. Not again. Not again!

  Damien approached the door. I could hear him swallow in the dead silence of the hallway. I curled my hands into fists and, on cue, the Power returned to me with a familiar adrenalizing vibration. With no time to question why I couldn’t call it when I needed it back in the woods, I wrapped myself inside the Power and prepared to blow apart whoever was on the other side of the door. The whole world could go to hell right now. All I wanted was a moment alone with my boyfriend, dammit!

  As I approached I noticed a faint glow coming from inside, stuttering and flickering. Was someone watching TV? Damien craned his neck, looked at me, and then shoved the door open. We followed the swing of the door, rushing inside like a couple of vice detectives on a drug bust and startling the brunette woman sitting on Damien’s sofa. She was in the process of unraveling a purple scarf before we came in, and not looting Damien’s electronics.

  Having been caught completely unawares, the girl sprang up, spun around, and threw her arms up into the air. She had brown eyes that looked black in the low light and pretty pink lips shiny with lip gloss. I also spotted a paper bag on the sofa; the corner of a wrapped-up Christmas present was poking out of it.

  The moment hung, suspended, and then her face lit up. “Well hello there, stranger” she said, smiling wide, “Guess what you’re getting for Christmas.”

  Wait, what?

  Damien was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, and couldn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly on the lips. She kissed him on the lips! I thought I was hallucinating again, but a quick pinch on my right forearm convinced me that I wasn’t imagining any of this.

  My heart may as well have stopped.

  The room started to spin. I had to prop an arm against the door frame to stop myself from going over. And then the chest pain came, dull and hard and constricting, followed swiftly by a bright, hot flash of sobering anger.

  “I’m sorr
y I didn’t tell you I was coming,” said the brunette. Unless people did things differently in San Francisco I was sure this girl thought Damien was her boyfriend. Was she high? “But I didn’t want to spend Christmas without you.”

  Damien hadn’t said a word since we busted into the apartment, apparently dumbfounded by the events taking place before his eyes. He and I both. But I sensed a kind of dread coming from him. It was as if I could taste the fear in the air; fear and guilt and, again, dread. The taste was bitter and cold and brought back memories of sitting outside of the principal’s office, waiting to be reprimanded for fighting in the playground with some kid who had decided to pick on me for being ginger.

  When the moment of introduction came and went and Damien was still silent, the brunette flicked her hair around to look at me and extended her hand in friendship. “Sorry,” she said, “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Natalie. We haven’t met.”

  Oh, but I knew now who she was.

  It wasn’t the name that gave it away, although of course the name helped. No. It was her face, her perky little face. The puzzle piece finally clicked. I had seen her in a bowl of water a lifetime ago, exposing her perfect breasts. I wanted to rip her arm off and beat her over her stupid face with it, but I shook it. Hard. “Damien’s… girlfriend, Natalie?” I asked.

  Why did I ask?

  “Yeah, I hope he’s only said good things about me?”

  “Oh, yeah, totally, loads. He can’t shut up about you, in fact.”

  Damien was in shock.

  “You’re Amber, right?” she asked.

  He told her about me! My breathing quickened. The walls were closing in. I had to get out. “Yeah. That’s me,” I said. Holy hell. A draft blew into the house from the open door to my back, cold and fresh and crisp. It was an invitation to leave, to go out into the night where it was safe.

  “Did you want to hang out with us?” Natalie asked.

  “No,” I said, “I should go and let you catch up… bye.”

  I turned tail and escaped out the front door, flying down the stairs and bursting into the cold night streets like a bat out of a cave. I staggered toward the nearest car and lay my hands on the window to catch my panicked breaths, but the angry heat buzzing inside of me demanded to get out. Emanating at the central point in chest, racing through my arms, and into my palms, there came a bolt of power which I was helpless to stop. The car frame dented beneath my hands and the windows cracked, sending a blaring alarm off into the quiet night streets.

  I retreated from the siren and bumped straight into Damien who had come out after me. Without a second thought and before he could get a word out, I spun around and slapped him hard across the cheek with a loud crack. There must have still been Power in my hands because he staggered back a few steps from the impact.

  “You’d better stay the fuck away from me,” I said, low and predatory.

  “Amber wait!” he called, but I was already running down the street.

  I had to get away. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if I would have stayed. The last time someone did this to me I ruined his life, maybe forever. Did I want to do that to Damien? Probably not. Even after what had just happened—what had just happened?—I couldn’t do to Damien what I did to Kyle. I wouldn’t.

  So I ran, and despite it all, my mind circled back to the fact that I still hadn’t called Aaron.

  CHAPTER 20

  But I couldn’t call Aaron.

  Going to Aaron would’ve resulted in the exploitation of a moment of vulnerability; and not by him, but by me. Aaron would have most certainly become my vehicle for getting back at Damien’s infidelity.

  No.

  I couldn’t go to Aaron. So, instead, I went to the only man I was safe with and tried desperately—before I got there—to get ‘video killed the radio star’ out of my head. There wasn’t any logical explanation as to why, or when, the song had gotten stuck in my head but it was there all the same, and it was all I could hear as I headed for Frank’s apartment.

  “Don’t tell me they came to Damien’s place too?” Frank asked once he had opened the door. A slow, melancholic Marilyn Manson song was playing, only this time the music wasn’t nearly loud enough to aggravate the neighbors. When he saw my angry scowl he let me in and brought his hands up in surrender.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Do you mind if I stay with you for tonight?” I asked, “I don’t feel safe at my place.”

  Frank was almost afraid to ask. Frank… afraid. “And Damien?”

  “I’m the other woman,” I said.

  He didn’t need to have it explained. Frank knew the story. But I explained anyway given that the event was still fresh in my mind.

  “Men are pigs,” he said to me after I was done. “And I would know. I’ve had my fair share.”

  “I thought Damien was better than that,” I said. “Different.”

  “Honey, they’re all different when they’re trying to take your panties off. But then they get complacent and that’s when the façade fades like a mirage. Which is a shame. I really did believe the façade too. Guess he managed to fool the both of us.”

  Frank took me into a hug and escorted me to his sofa, where I sat down and ran my fingers through my hair. Ouch. That still hurt.

  “Let me get you some herbal tea,” he said.

  Herbal tea?

  “Yes, tea, witch. You got a problem with that?”

  That’s when I looked around and realized that Frank’s house had gone through a major face lift since the last time he had invited me over. There were no dirty shirts on the ground, no dirty dishes in the sink, and no ugly posters on the walls. He had even given them a fresh coat of paint; if you can count splashing the basic cream walls with splotches of purple.

  We didn’t normally hang out at his place so his letting me in tonight truly was an exception, and one I was happy for. But, herbal tea? I never pegged Frank as the type to offer someone herbal tea. Maybe a fifth of vodka and a smoke. I wondered if the tea would in fact be laced with vodka, or Sambuca. Or heroin.

  I didn’t care.

  “No,” I said, “Tea will be fine. Thanks.”

  Frank disappeared into the kitchen and returned after a while with two steaming cups in his hands. It was a little colder in his apartment than it was in my house, and now that I had come down from the adrenaline rush I was starting to feel it. So my fingers welcomed the warm cup and my nose enjoyed the feather steam rising from the liquid within.

  “You’d better not tell anyone about this,” Frank said.

  “About your hospitality?” I asked.

  Frank let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not normally the hospitable type, I understand. But I make an exception for damsels in distress.”

  “Only damsels?”

  “Boys can be damsels too. And princesses. And queens.”

  A faint hint of a smile infected my lips. I couldn’t help it. Frank was, in many ways, like a drug. His brand of dry, sarcastic humor always put me on a high.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Really, Frank. This means a lot.”

  “You just caught your boyfriend cheating on you. Or… well, his girlfriend caught him cheating on her… with you. Or, wait, no one actually caught anyone cheating, so… fuck. The whole thing just sounds absurd.”

  “Right? I’m not crazy for having stormed out.”

  “You’d have been crazy to stay. Not because of the awkwardness of it all, but because I’m sure you would have had a hard time controlling that Magick of yours.”

  I almost couldn’t. Whoever owned the car I smashed probably wasn’t having the best of nights.

  “I wouldn’t have hurt her,” I said.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh.”

  I wouldn’t have hurt Damien, though. I tried hard not to, in fact. I mean, he deserved the slap—Gods know I needed to relieve all that pressure—but I wouldn’t have hurt him intentionally. Do bad things and bad things c
ome back to you; this was part of the Wiccan philosophy. Damien would get his without my need for intervention as part of karmic law, only you try telling that to a woman scorned.

  Frank grabbed a sweater from a basket of clean clothes he kept near an ironing board. An ironing board! It was black, baggy, and smelt like fresh apricots, and when I pressed it against my face it was like stroking a rabbit with my cheek. Who was this man and what had he done with the sarcastic, chain-smoking alcoholic I had come to know as Frank Stone?

  “This is for you,” he said, “Slip it on and keep warm. I wouldn’t want you dying of hypothermia on me. Not when there’s trashy TV to be watched and a broken heart to fix.”

  I removed my coat and boots and slipped into the fluffy, warm sweater. Frank had decided I would spend the night, and there was nowhere in the world I would have felt safer than with him. Frank was a kind spirit, if a little rough at the edges. But who likes a clean cut guy, anyway?

  I thought I did, but then that didn’t explain my attraction to Aaron.

  “My heart isn’t broken,” I finally said.

  Frank sat down. “Oh?”

  “It isn’t. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Really? You saw love when you looked at us?”

  “No, but I saw love bubbling around in that little mind of yours, though.”

  “You read my mind?”

  “Not in so many words, but I’m good at reading people.”

  “And?”

  “And… I think part of you did love him. Or at least loved the idea of him. The man saved your life once, maybe twice. You’d been through hell with him. You could relate to him.”

  “So, what about the other part—or parts?”

  Frank paused and analyzed my face. If he was reading my mind I couldn’t tell. But the pause hung for a moment. “I think he’s hurt your pride.”