Lost in Amber

by Esther Rabbit

  What a breath of fresh air after young Dracula. She bit her lip in anticipation.

  “IT specialist, recently single and looking for a good time. And you?” By now he had already relaxed into his chair with no sign of insecurity whatsoever, his eyes wide looking for her reply.

  “Recently single myself, I am a restaurant manager and PR and here at the courtesy of my friends who recently became single as well, so giving speed dating a try together tonight. They’re two rows away.” Sam tried to catch a glimpse of them over the crowd.

  “Well if speed dating doesn’t work, I hear Tinder’s the bomb.” He leaned closer and winked.

  Thirty minutes later they were still having a blast together. Across the room, Emma was yawning and Zoey was carefully pulling her socks. As the host announced the end of this date night extravaganza, the ladies quickly ran to each other and steered toward the exit.

  “Now this was a night to remember! I got an ex-con, a guy trying to sell me an insurance policy, and, to top it all, one of my clients who finalized his divorce just last week.” Emma laughed it off.

  “Oh, I got the insurance dude too! And not to brag or anything, but I might be the only vegetarian who got matched up with a butcher.” Zoey broke out laughing. “But Sam here looked like she was having fun.”

  “Innocent fun, yeah, my last date was a blast. We exchanged numbers and everything.” Sam was already in a hurry to the parking lot.

  Ever since Sam had gotten hooked on Outlander, she’d made it her personal mission to imitate Scottish accents to perfection. She rarely got it right, but everyone indulged her. She tried to roll her “r” the Scottish way for the next question: “Drrinks anyone?”

  “Aye! Still hung on Jamie Fraser, Sam?” Zoey draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “You have no idea. I even joined a Facebook group called ‘Heughan’s Heughligans’ for my daily dose of knee porn!”

  “Knee porn”—a concept introduced by another creative mind in awe at Sam Heughan’s knees “slightly protruding from underneath the glory of his kilt”—to quote none other than Sam Messini.

  “Say what you wish, but Sam has me hooked on that show as well!” Emma reached her car and dug for her keys. “Bali for drinks?”

  “Meet you there in ten.” Giggling on the way to the car was the only possible way for Sam to leave the Green Palace. Although her date had asked if she wanted to move the good time to another bar, this Friday night special only had room for Zoey and Emma in the front row.

  This time around, expectation ceased floating in the air and was replaced by all sorts of mixed emotions—people who decided to give each other a chance and let the night take them further into discovery, people in a hurry to escape the Green Palace, the security guards elbowing each other jokingly at the sight of it, and, naturally, people like Zoey, Sam and Emma for whom the experience turned out to be the foreplay for a good laugh. Neither of them needed a guy to have a good time, but girl-time was priceless.

  Happenstance

  A fusion of happen and circumstance (with chance perhaps also in the mix)

  Zoey was dropped home by Sam. She stood cold and almost still in front of her apartment building, arms folded across the chest as she contemplated the façade a while longer. The night spell wore off as she prepared to face the silence and memories that filled her post-breakup apartment yet again. She took the stairs.

  It was just after midnight and she was climbing the first few steps when she heard a woosh on the second floor—an unnatural, almost surreal sound coming from the apartment directly below hers. Uncertainty and curiosity made her quicken her pace and lean closer, tilting her head just enough to see what had made the noise. Her downstairs neighbor was quiet, reserved, always fiddling with his smart watch. She saw him plenty in the elevator. Mid-to-late twenties, tall, athletic, and probably rich judging by his apparent fascination with tailored waistcoats and fancy shoes, and was often visited by equally well-dressed gents. Regular working-class people did not wear silk waistcoats on a daily basis, nor afforded their own apartments in historical buildings at this age.

  Woosh. She heard it again, and there was a bright light coming in waves from underneath his door. Faint voices came from the apartment making Zoey’s hair stand on end.

  “You’re going to get me in trouble, Rufus. Stay still.” The voice sounded young but stern, almost like a parent talking to a child.

  “I didn’t mean to eat the cat! It’s like it fell into my mouth and that was it. I didn’t even chew on it, I promise!” a husky, yet apologetic voice replied.

  Zoey’s eyes nearly popped out and she started panting frantically, her back now pressed hard against the wall.

  A person just ate a cat, Jesus. Ate. A. Cat.

  Woosh. She heard a thump and saw a flash of light from under the door again. She pushed herself harder against the wall and forced her eyes shut—it almost hurt. She wanted to run upstairs with every living fiber, but shock kept her pinned to the wall and on her tiptoes, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, heart knocking violently in her chest.

  Woosh, she heard again, and this time her neighbor’s door blasted open with a blinding light and what looked like a flying cat bouncing from the wall right into her arms, knocking her balance over and throwing her legs-up, gasping, onto her back.

  Cradled in her arms, almost trying to hide in the hollow of her chest, was a ginger kitten covered in slime. Zoey reached for the back of her head and felt blood tainting her curls. She saw stars.

  Forcing her eyes open, she tried to steady her head as she looked at her chest. She felt something moving—there it was, small, shaking, and…alive.

  The kitten is alive! After that man ate it!

  She couldn’t find the strength to bolt up, so she gathered her knees to her chest without a single thought of letting that kitten go. Footsteps made their way into the poorly-lit hallway and, before she could make sense of it all, her neighbor stepped forward, followed by a red-bearded man. They hovered over her, conspicuously disturbed by her presence.

  Shit.

  “What did I tell you, Rufus?” It was her neighbor, now pushing his sandy hair back in exhaustion as a few strands came loose from his man bun. His hand lingered in his hair for a while as Rufus scanned Zoey with awkward curiosity, as if trying to figure out what to do with her. She couldn’t have pushed herself harder against the wall, trembling feet facing each other in green socks with owls embroidered on each side. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

  The neighbor’s hand came from his hair to his face, brushing over his mouth in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry, Jasper,” Rufus said apologetically. “I’ll deal with her, you don’t have to worry.”

  Zoey bolted up in an adrenaline frizz, too flustered to catch up on the end of that conversation, and started running upstairs to her apartment, kitten tight in her arms. Before she could reach the top of the stairs—she froze. Literally froze with one leg pinned on the wooden stair and one in the air ready to land on the next step.

  Like time froze. Like she was trapped in her body and not even her eyes could move. She heard the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears, flooding any logic left. Her heart shrank.

  This is not happening to me. This had to be a nightmare. Maybe if she forced herself into a blissful state of mind, she could regain balance. She could, after all, breathe. Like in yoga class, like bringing yourself to a state of reciting a mantra.

  Shit! It wasn’t working.

  “Just run, Rufus, before this escalates. Leave her to me.” Jasper blurted, obviously pissed off at Zoey’s unplanned intrusion.

  All she heard were four steps on the wooden floor, and then nothing. Silence—as if the steps had disappeared into the wall. More steps were making their way toward her on the stairs, and a displeased exhale made the hair on her neck stand on end. There was no way to calm down. The steps got louder and she felt a hand resting on her wrist. It did not feel menacing, but that didn’t help.r />
  “Well, this is certainly weird…” Jasper pushed the air out of his lungs, creasing his forehead. “You live upstairs, don’t you? I will not hurt you or freeze you again if you promise not to scream and wake the whole building up.” She was not to trust that soft-spoken voice. If she could gather enough saliva, she’d swallow so hard.

  He knows I’m frozen—he did this to me! Zoey panicked. She felt the kitten she was holding move in her arms, paws grabbing at her fingers, yet she could not look down. Who was she kidding—she was scared shitless, thoughts of imminent death at her neighbor’s hand flooding every corner of her mind.

  “I cannot risk unfreezing you in the hallway, so I’ll do it inside my apartment. You will not be harmed and you will forget everything you witnessed tonight.” In a second, everything turned blue.

  She was inside his apartment in the same position she’d been in on the stairs, his arms holding her steady. If someone could sweat on the inside, this was her, now. Would she shatter like glass if he let go of her?

  Zoey’s eyes were fixed on a pendulum carved in gold on his wall and could not move to inspect anything else, frozen in the most unfortunate of postures. She felt her neighbor holding her by the waist and elbow like a mannequin bound to be tossed to the trash, like a lump of biodegradable waste, like the uninvited guest to the least common of occurrences in the building.

  And just like that, without any warning, her body crumpled, balanceless, onto the floor of her neighbor’s apartment as the kitten flung free of her arms. Both of her hands were now pinned to the wooden floor as Zoey was gasping for air and trying to make sense of things. She could finally move.

  “You won’t kill me? You just want me to forget?” she asked between gasps. She was still steadying herself, eyes still looking down, too afraid for her life to face him.

  Jasper was caught off guard, his features gathering to show wariness while reaching down to help her to her feet. She hesitated, catching a glimpse of his face. They looked into each other’s eyes, each filled with questions of their own as he pressed his thumb to her forehead and traced it gently for a few seconds. Jasper closed his eyes, whispering, “You will forget everything you saw,” then opened his eyes, expectant.

  “Okay. I already forgot, can I go now?” She felt petrified, unsteady—alone, in a home not too different from her own. Jasper took two steps backwards, scanning her, checking his hands and glancing over at her again in what looked like utter bewilderment.

  “Show me your hands!” He glared, eyeing her impetuously.

  Zoey raised her shaking hands in the air. By now nothing barely had any logic. Something in his amber eyes looked menacing and foreign to her. He moved swiftly to get ahold of her hands, checking them sternly on both sides.

  There was an imperious air in the way he moved, scanning the veins disappearing under her sleeves, circling her as if she was some sort of prey. She gasped and swallowed hard, watching him staring as his weariness seemed to wear off.

  “You’re sweating,” he acknowledged, studying her face, “and—you’re scared?” It wasn’t a guessing game for Zoey, she was damn terrified. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m Jasper, your nice neighbor from downstairs. I have lived here for some time now and I help special people for a living.” He didn’t look pleased for having to give her an explanation, but at least he finally released her wrist.

  “People who eat cats and who want to ‘take care of me’?” She should have thought twice before being so bold.

  “Rufus would never hurt you. He’s just discovering his new self and that has its ups and downs. The world is full of people like him, people like me, and people like you!” He seemed to force a friendly smile.

  “You froze me!” She forced herself to look at him, analyzing every detail her eyes could gather, from his amber eyes to the curve of his jaw. Being paralyzed in your own body yet perfectly conscious had to be the worst thing she’d ever experienced.

  Zoey’s eyes lowered to his white shirt, purple silk waistcoat, and khaki pants. They seemed to be in his living room—pale yellow walls, stacks of books everywhere, heavy drapes. She took it all in, gazing over every detail, forcing herself to remember everything—everything the police would need in case she somehow managed to escape.

  “How did you freeze me?”

  “I suppose you can call me a wizard. But don’t tell anyone, they’ll think you’re crazy.” That chuckle meant he wasn’t taking her questions seriously, but also, that he was somehow—relaxed?

  She was surrounded by foreign walls and witnessed what he could do. There was no going back from that.

  “Where is the cat? Did it…survive?”

  “The cat is fine,” he said, casually gesturing to a heap of books behind him. The kitten was actively grooming itself, its fur almost back to beautiful from all the slime it was covered in not long ago. “It’s you I’m worried about,” Jasper continued, and fixed her with his stare. He was blatantly scanning all of her as if calculating the exact space between her freckles, the geometry of her curls, his eyes now glued to her lips as if he expected her to say something. It was weird enough as it was, her inner hourglass shifting from fear to self-consciousness, questions tangling on her tongue. They never left her mouth.

  “However, I am exhausted, so as much as I enjoy meeting my neighbors at unsuitable hours, I have some sleep to catch up on. You will show yourself out, won’t you?” He indicated the door, watching Zoey’s jaw come unhinged. He was letting her go. Just like that.

  She didn’t waste another second, sprinting toward the door and up the stairs to her apartment like in a race against time.

  It had been wrong letting Zoey go, but Jasper was drained and needed time to put the pieces together.

  She didn’t forget. He stared blankly at his hands thinking of all the training he’d received. Lilou would break his fingers one by one if she ever found out, but what was he to do?

  γ

  Sam dropped the keys on the counter and took off her shoes before sinking her toes into the shaggy rug. She sighed and headed to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of well-deserved wine. The fridge door looked empty, recently stripped of picture magnets showing her and Carlos in Saint Tropez, in Madrid, and in her nearby park having a picnic wrapped in blankets. They’d been trying to force spring and she’d gotten the mother of colds afterwards.

  She opened the fridge to grab the bottle and as she closed it, a terrified scream erupted from her throat, the bottle slipping through weak fingers. It was Sam, charming speed dating Sam, glaring at her and leaning on the side of her fridge, arms folded casually across his chest, undisturbed by the shattered glass and the wine that was now reaching the tips of his shoes.

  “We meet again, Sam,” he said on a different tone than an hour ago, “and this time under no such pleasurable circumstances, I’m afraid.” His voice trailed off mischievously as he scanned her whole. There was a certain arrogance in his tone. She took a step back.

  “I knew the world was full of perverts, but for you to have the nerve to follow me home and break into my apartment! How the fuck did you know where I live? How long were you following me for?”

  Sam would not go down without a fight. He was, after all, not much bigger than she could handle. All her senses sharp, she swept the place, figuring out scenarios. The door was right behind him, the keys within reach.

  “Fourteen days, to be precise.” His jaw tensed as he jerked forward. She took another step back and hit the counter, bumping against the cutlery drawer where she had not one but three knives sturdy enough to pierce him and allow her to make a run for it. She moved a hand behind her back and fiddled with the drawer as she spoke, hoping to distract him.

  “For what it’s worth, you were so attractive an hour ago, hell, I would have taken you home willingly!” she lied, but now the knife was steady in her hand.

  “Is that how you greet all your guests?” He scowled as she felt the knife being pulled from her grasp. How cou
ld he pull the knife off her when he was standing right there, when there was nothing, no one behind her?

  “I have no time to waste with such petty games, Sam. You’re coming with me!”

  “The hell I am!” She took a leap and launched herself at him, hoping to fight him with her bare hands, fists tight, her heart in her throat. A second later, she felt her body levitating, cold sweat running down her neck. Something coming from the inside of her stomach was pushing her up as if gravity had ceased under her feet. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight, and felt her head dropping in oblivion.

  γ

  Zoey slammed the door shut and collapsed against it, panting, reliving the happenings on the second floor like the trailer of a movie. She was shaking, utterly out of breath, and torn between wanting to run out of the building and being too afraid to set foot outside their apartment. Her apartment.

  It was just her trying to find the strength to pick herself up and carry those numb legs to the shower. Where was James now as she tried to make sense of life, as she touched the back of her head and smelled her red-stained fingers?

  Nauseated, she tiptoed to the bathroom in forced silence, measuring her every step. The hallway was dark, but she had left the light on in the bedroom. It cascaded through the open door and into the hallway just enough for her to watch her next step.

  She filled the bathtub and took off her socks, folding them carefully, then pulled her shirt over her head. It was stained with blood all around the neck. She crumpled it, threw it to the floor, and hurried to the bathtub, sinking her head in just enough to focus on the warmth that covered her body for a change. She should have had the guts to ask questions like what exactly had paralyzed her? Why had Jasper called himself a wizard? Why did Rufus, the red-bearded menace, eat a cat? And how did Jasper manage to bring the cat to life? Legitimate questions. Because she was done being the biggest chicken in the world. She was done feeling sorry for herself, and she was done hiding from everything that shook her reality.