We arrived just before dark and quickly moved supplies from the car into the house. The building was a little on the grey side. Untamed green vines crawled up the walls, around windowpanes and pipes. I handed Damien the keys and when he opened the door a breath of stale air came rushing out.
I walked into the quiet, dusty house with Damien. I had my backpack swung over my shoulder and was cradling a grocery bag brimming with chicken fillets, tortilla wraps, and packets of rice, avocados and cans of beans.
“You need any help with that?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine thanks,” I lied, “What do you think of the place?”
“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’s 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.
“Awh, c’mon!” I cursed, dropping the ruined bag and shoving my hands on my hips—defeated.
Damien scanned the mess 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.”
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.
Damien and I unpacked in the spacious, totally rustic kitchen. The walls were cream going on brown, the stoves looked fifty years old and the butane tank needed changing before we could get any hot water. I worked up a sweat before even reaching my room!
“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.”
“Listen, about the ri—”
Eliza swept into the kitchen, halting Damien as he was about to speak. My heart skipped into my throat at the close call. “Hey, you two,” she said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
“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 also slipped my mind. I truly enjoyed harvesting the crops last year, even took a gardening course to make sure I was doing things properly. Damn.
“How do you like the place, Damien?” asked Eliza.
“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.”
Here we go.
“Haunted?” asked Damien.
“Legend has it there was a little boy that used to live here,” said Eliza, wearing her best scary story face. “He was six. His name was Jimmy. Anyway Jimmy liked to play out in the back yard, with the crops and the trees.”
“Eliza, cut it out,” I said.
“Excuse me? I’m telling a story here—hush. Anyway, Jimmy’s parents would let him wander around in the orchard and play with his toys. From the kitchen his parents would hear the conversations he’d have with his action figures, the stories he’d come up with. One day, while Jimmy was telling stories, his mom heard two voices in the backyard; a deep, raspy voice. When she went to check on him, Jimmy was gone.”
“Did they ever find him?” asked Damien.
“Nope. But if you listen hard enough, you can still hear Jimmy talking outside sometimes.”
“You’re making this up,” I said.
“I swear I’m not!” said Eliza, raising her hand to her heart.
“Then why have I never heard this story before?”
“Because, silly.” Eliza approached me on her way out of the kitchen. “You never asked.”
Eliza left me wondering whether what she’d just said was true or a farce she’d cooked up to creep us out. “But... Damien didn’t ask either!” I called out, but she didn’t reply.
I caught Damien glancing out of the kitchen window.
“You don’t really believe her, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Damien cocked his head to me. “I do like a good ghost story, though,” he said in a smoky voice. I took a deep breath and smiled. His voice drew me in.
“Let’s go find your room,” I said.
CHAPTER 14
I offered Damien a tour of the ground floor before heading upstairs. In the living room white sheets fluttered like ghosts in the slight breeze coming in through the open front door. Beams of fading light streaked through the shutters, catching dust motes as they swirled around in the air. Webs from productive spiders adorned the corners, the fittings, and anywhere else that they could spin two pieces of silken trappings together from.
Damien approached the huge fireplace at the far wall and squatted next to it.
“It’s gonna need more wood,” I said.
“Do you have any?” he asked.
“Downstairs. If not we can go out into the woods and get some.”
He stood, turned to me and smiled. “There’s something I’ve never done before.”
“It’s easy,” I said, “I go out for wood whenever Evan’s parents forget to stock up.”
“What’s this?” Damien asked, pointing toward a dark, adjoining room.
A blue outline gave away the shape of a closed bay window in the stuffy little box of a room. I stood back as Damien ventured into the dark. In a few moments Damien opened the windows and the chamber was flooded with twilight. Two arm chairs stared at each other, sitting on carpeted floors. A round, brown table stood between them. On it, a huge black book with a gold crucifix embossed on the cover stared up into the ceiling.
“Weren’t kidding about a prayer room,” said Damien.
The thought of going in there made my skin prickle. “We tend to just ignore it,” I said. “Evan’s parents are full on Christians. If they knew what we did here…”
“How do they not know what goes on here?” asked Damien, emerging from the uncomfortably small prayer room.
“We clean up really well. Never leave anything lying around. We’re the ones who put the sheets on the furniture we use before we leave. We even gave the house a new coat of paint once. It’s like our way of paying rent and keeping Evan’s parents happy and blissfully unaware.”
“And if they ever found out?”
“I’d rather not think about it.”
I’d met Evan’s parents before, but only in passing. The three of us were sitting on one of the fountains down Houston Boulevard one sunny afternoon when his parents homed in on us like a pair of guided missiles. They’d been shopping that morning and caught us from a distance. They were nice, but I’ve never been around people who enjoyed talking as much as they did.
I led Damien up the creaky stairs to the first floor. The once clear, circular window on the landing had been almost completely claimed by moss and a dark, damp circle radiating out of it. When were Evan’s parents here last? I was sure the overgrowth wasn’t so bad when we visited over the summer.
“This is my room,” I said as we pa
ssed by a closed door, “And this will be your room, across from mine.”
The door creaked open to reveal a small, relatively plain looking room. White walls, a dresser and a single bed supported by black iron bars made up the entirety of the bedroom’s furnishings. A crucifix loomed over the bed’s headboard as a stark reminder of the family’s predilections.
“It’s cozy,” said Damien. He dropped his backpack on the bed and moved toward the window. I followed. From our vantage we had a clear view of the orchard behind the house. I couldn’t make out any apples, oranges or tomatoes in the field. A faint mist crawled along the dirt.
“Is it always that glum out there?” asked Damien.
“Not always. I’m pretty surprised, actually. We’re usually blessed with bright greens even at this time of year. Maybe Mabon won’t be as vibrant this time.”
“Maybe,” said Damien. He moved away from the window and bobbed his head as he scanned the room. “This is great, though,” he said. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“It’s no problem. I wanted you to come,” I said. “I was kinda worried you’d have plans.”
“Plans?”
“Yeah, with your girlfriend or whatever?”
Damien smiled. “She’s visiting family in Portland this weekend so I wouldn’t have been able to see her anyway.”
I breathed a deep sigh of relief and headed for the door. “Alright, well, I’m going to get settled. Do you need anything?”
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
“Cool. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
Damien was mine this weekend. I’d have to be on my best behavior to not risk scaring him away, but how the hell was I supposed to deal with that entrancing stare?
CHAPTER 15
I unlocked the door to my plain white room and swept inside. From my bag I produced a number of items I’d use to decorate the room with. As my smart phone played my favorite “Cardigans” song, Erase and Rewind, I went about the business of ensuring the room became well-adjusted to my presence.
Candles, naturally, I positioned on every possible counter to provide the dim lighting I enjoyed at night. I covered the dresser in a silken, purple fabric with silver embossed pentacles on either end of it and started to add semi-precious stones to my makeshift altar.
The deep black Hematite stone would ground the room and clarify my thoughts, where Quartz Crystals—one at each of the four corners of the room—would attract, amplify, and send energy into the room. I added Amber, to bridge my conscious self to the divine, and finished the display with a Moonstone, which is said to balance the yin and yang and enhance one’s inner femininity.
I was meticulous with my choice of crystals, just like whoever owned the bracelet I wore around my wrist.
By the time I’d finished with the stones I’d lost myself in the music, swaying my hips and lip-syncing the words like a true professional. I caught myself in a mirror and seductively wrapped my hands around my waist to the rhythm of the music, messing up my hair and reveling at the sight of myself.
Someone abruptly opened the bedroom door and my heart jumped into my throat. Eliza stood there, grinning wickedly. “Imagine if I’d been someone else,” she said.
“Someone else would’ve probably knocked,” I said, brushing my hair back into place with my fingertips. “What is it?”
“Aren’t you gonna help me with dinner? Or should I let your fans enjoy an encore?”
Evan arrived later in the evening to a hissing, smoky kitchen and two giggling women. He gave Eliza a kiss on the forehead, dropped off the last of the supplies we needed—plenty of soda, which we weren’t crazy about carrying—and headed into the dining room. From the kitchen I spied Evan and Damien in conversation sharing a beer; their first real chat. We thought it best to leave them to it and make them clean up later. Suckers!
“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?” asked Eliza.
“I guess,” I said, mashing the avocados into a creamy mush.
“You guess? Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“I knew it! I totally knew it. I rock a t this.”
“Oh hush, you don’t know anything.”
“He’s definitely cute, though. And I can tell he’s the kind of guy who isn’t too rough around the edges but just rugged enough for that element of thrill to always be present.”
“You get that from just looking at him?”
“I have a knack for these things.”
I glanced at Damien again and caught myself smiling. I erased the smile on my face before Eliza could zero in on it.
“Have you talked to him yet?”
“About?”
“You know, expressed interest in something more than just a platonic relationship?”
“He has a girlfriend. I told you this, didn’t I?”
“You did, but that doesn’t matter. You really like him, and I haven’t seen you this interested in a guy since you broke up with Kyle. This is big news for me, like the royal wedding or the Superbowl.”
“What am I supposed to do? Just ignore the fact that he’s in a relationship and attack him with everything I’ve got? I actually like talking to him, Eliza. I don’t want to scare him away.”
“Listen to me. Hey, stop looking at him and look at me.”
I peeled my wandering eyes from Damien and focused them on Eliza. “Yes?” I asked.
“Just go and flirt with him,” she said, “Enjoy yourself. It’s just us out here. On Monday it’ll be back to regular life. School. The bookstore. Girlfriends. If ever you have a chance to win him over to team Amber now’s your shot.”
I nodded, although I wasn’t entirely sure about her plan. Still, I couldn’t deny the butterflies I got from Damien. There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, right?
CHAPTER 16
Eliza and I set down plates around Damien and Evan. First we brought out some salsa, grated cheese, the soda, cups and cutlery. Then came the tortilla wraps, chips, sweetcorn, coleslaw and the home made guacamole. Then, and we finished with a steaming hot plate brimming with lean chicken fillets smothered in a spicy fajita mix.
“Damn,” said Evan, “That’s a lot of food.”
“There are four of us this time,” said Eliza, taking her seat.
The girls sat on one side of the table and the boys on the other, with Damien directly across from me. I went for a tortilla wrap and so did Damien. He smiled and let me go first. My cheeks went red.
“Looks delicious,” said Damien.
“I made the guacamole myself,” I said, proudly stuffing a tortilla wrap with a healthy serving of chicken, sweetcorn, cheese and a spread of guacamole. The wrap was warm and so big it nearly broke apart, and the mixture of flavor exploded into my mouth eliciting a delighted groan. I wasn’t shy about eating or healthy servings. I noted the color change in Damien’s face. I think I may have sounded a little too sexual with that first bite.
But my mouth orgasm was short lived. My phone lit up in full view of the rest of the table. Aaron. Luckily it didn’t vibrate too, but anyone could’ve seen it. I put the wrap on the plate and grabbed my phone, discreetly hanging up. A text message came through while I held the phone in my hand.
“Are you home tonight?” said the message.
I wrestled with the idea of replying.
“Okay, so you don’t actually own the bookshop?” asked Damien.
“No,” I said, placing the phone on the table with the screen down. “The owner—James—is a rare book collector. He comes in a few times a year. Keeps in touch with us via phone and emails mostly.”
“That’s a lot of trust. Why isn’t he around?”
“Spends most of his time hopping around Europe from place to place looking for old tomes and stuff. He’s like a modern day Indiana Jones. I heard he’s been to old ruins and caves in Cairo and Istanbul.”
“Last I heard h
e’s in Finland,” said Eliza, “A package came for us today with a letter from him.”
“Package? What package?”
“Funnily enough, he actually sent us a book.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was going to do it here, naturally. But after dinner. We don’t want to get sauce on it.”
I tilted my phone slightly to check out the screen. Another message from Aaron had come through but I make out what it said. From the corner of my eye I spied Damien searching for my eyes. I gave them to him and smiled, deciding finally to ignore my phone and ground myself in the moment.
It wasn’t long before we were all stuffed and all that remained from our meal were a few bowls of half eaten coleslaw and salsa. The guacamole proved to be a big hit. Damien and Evan went to clear up and Eliza disappeared to her bedroom to retrieve the package James sent to us. An hour after Aaron’s initial message, I finally picked up my phone:
Aaron:
-“Where are you?”
-“I’m having the worst day.”
-“C’mon, don’t do this to me tonight. I need to see you.”
-“Alright, if you won’t give me your attention I’m sure I’ll find some other girl who will.”
I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. What a fucking asshole. This was exactly the kind of thing Kyle used to pull when we were going out. The guilt trips he’d put me through whenever I chose to stay home instead of going drinking with his friends were brutal. He’d never let me live it down. And now I’m getting the same thing from Aaron?
I drew in slow, steady breaths and shut off my phone for good. A bead of sweat travelled down my forehead. I caught it with a napkin and exhaled. When Eliza returned even she noticed the warmth in the room.
“Spicy food really turns up the heat doesn’t it?” she asked, sitting down with the same book I’d seen her carrying at the bookshop.
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