The Amber Lee Boxed Set

by Katerina Martinez

  "What?" Eliza's tone did protest, but her mouth was salivating at the thought of consuming the half I was breaking apart for her.

  "Seriously, take it," I said, pushing her half of the wrapper across the counter, "I'm hungry, but I'll be fine with this."

  And I was. I wasn't the kind of person to pig out on vast amounts of food, and the cheese steak I had was huge. Joe's portions always were. I liked to eat, but I knew when to stop. It didn't come from some conscious calorie counting habit or something, but simply because I didn't like the feel of being bloated.

  I didn't envy Eliza for having to carry a child around.

  "That... was awesome," I said, leaning back into the chair when I was done with my sandwich. "Really hit the spot."

  "Totally. Cheese steaks are the best," Eliza said. "So, what did you do last night that's got you hungover?"

  "Who said I was hungover?"

  "Oh come on. You're totally hungover."

  "I guess I'm busted. I didn't do much last night, though. Damien, Frank and I went up into my attic to chill and talk. Do a little Magick. That kind of thing. Started innocent enough."

  "Frank." Eliza's tone dropped into a chasm of discontentment. I knew she didn't approve of him.

  "Yeah, but you know how it goes. Somehow the bottle of Sambuca wormed its way into our circle and soon enough... hangover city."

  "That wasn't really very responsible, was it?"

  "Responsible? No, I guess not." Eliza's motherly instincts were kicking in, but I couldn't help at note the hypocrisy. Eliza would often come into work hungover before she got knocked up, and I never gave her any grief for staying up late. Difference was we were both doing it together back then so neither of us cared, or even noticed.

  Now it was only me doing the drinking and partying, and Eliza was noticing.

  "Well, I'm glad you had a good time last night,” she said, “I was up rubbing coco butter on my stomach and nursing the heartburn that doesn't seem to want to go away."

  “That sounds like it sucks. Can’t you take anything?”

  “I don’t want to take anything, but I want it to go away.”

  I took her hand. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “It’s not your fault. This is just my life now, being pregnant and all. I want to be able to drink and party and do Magick.”

  I wondered whether Eliza’s Cobalt eyes were starting to look more like Jades. She knew I was a True Witch, and as much as I may have tried to draw a line between my life as a Witch and my life as Eliza's sister, I may not have been doing as good a job as I may have thought. She was ordinary and I got the feeling that, sometimes, she felt a little cheated. But how could it be helped?

  "Are we still going to the tree lot tomorrow?" I asked, "We have to get a Yule log—oh, and the ingredients for the mulled cider!"

  Eliza couldn't drink alcohol this year, but she had always enjoyed preparing the cider and had promised to help make it this year too.

  "If you want," Eliza said, but her lazy shrug said more than her words did.

  Still, I pressed on. "And, actually, I wanted to ask you something."

  "What's up?"

  I braced myself. "It's about Yuletide. We've got this whole night lined up including the ritual we're gonna do, and I was just wondering... if we could include Frank in this."

  "Frank?"

  "Yeah... what do you think?"

  "Do you really want to know?"

  "Of course I do."

  Eliza paused and looked away from me. "I think you're spending too much time with Frank and Damien."

  "Too much time?" I asked.

  "Getting drunk in the attic, missing class, missing work. It isn't like you at all, Amber."

  "So I'm spending time with them and having a little fun. You remember what I went through just a few months ago, right Elizabeth?"

  "I do," Eliza said, her harsh expression softening up, "But you're not acting like yourself, and I think Frank's a bad influence on you."

  "A bad influence? I'm hardly sixteen. And besides, they're Witches. I've learned so much about myself in the past month. I wouldn't be anywhere as good as I am at using my Magick if I hadn't spent as much time with them as I have."

  "I don't get it, okay? I just don't get it."

  I sighed. "What don't you get?"

  "I'm not a Witch like you! I'll never get what you have with Damien or with Frank. I'll never be invited to your rituals so why should I invite him to mine?"

  A hard lump lodged in my throat. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. You’re totally invited to my rituals. Okay? I promise. All of them. You can come."

  "Invite Frank if you want, okay?” she said, standing, “I don't care. I have other things to worry about."

  I circled around the counter and took Eliza into a hug, then kissed her on the cheek. "You're my best friend, okay? You're my sister and I love you. I don't mean to piss you off."

  "I know you don't."

  "C'mon, let's get you all packed up and on your way out. You can't be stressed out right now."

  Eliza nodded and collected her things. Backpack, laptop, phone, keys. I watched her pack her bag and we made our goodbyes, but they weren't sweet goodbyes. Eliza was being eaten up on the inside and I wasn't doing anything to help. I hadn't realized until then how big a wedge this Witch thing—and perhaps the pregnancy—had shoved between us, but it made me sick to my stomach. Eliza and I used to be inseparable.

  I had to make it up to her.

  When she left and I settled behind the counter, pulled my laptop and text books out of my bag, and prepared myself to type. I got as far as “This is…” before a customer entered the store. A middle-aged housewife in need of a recipe book she couldn't find online for a roast she wanted to cook for her three kids and husband. Then a man walked in looking for a very specific book on Military Aviation History I was sure we didn't have, but he insisted I check for.

  Last minute purchases. Always urgent.

  When the store was quiet, it was quiet. At times I would find myself surprised the store even made enough money to warrant one employee, let alone two. Did all the customers come in the morning? I guessed as much, though I wasn't at the store in the mornings so I didn't know. Eliza never complained of it being busy, though. Not like it was tonight.

  James sometimes sent parcels from random places all over the world. The last one he sent was from Prague, and I had explicit instructions not to open it and file it away in the safe we kept in the back. I was always curious, of course, and so was Eliza. But neither of us dared go against James's wishes—he paid our wages and was fine with leaving two twenty-something's to manage his store by ourselves, after all. And if the bookstore went a day or two without opening, he didn't much care.

  This was a pretty sweet gig. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that it was a front for something, but it was a sweet gig nonetheless.

  When the bookstore was busy, though, it was chaos. People who wanted non-fiction were patient enough to wait for me to find the book they wanted. But this patience—or stubbornness—often led to a back-log of customers who needed attention, and they in turn created an even longer back-log. Hadn't they ever heard of Amazon? I shouldn't think like that, of course. The bookstore was my livelihood. But I sometimes wished I could wave patrons off and ask them to look online.

  Today, of course, had to be one of the busy days.

  My assignments, then, would go unfinished for another day.

  Chapter Five

  The hour crept up behind me like a wolf creeps up on a rabbit. Closing time had come and I had no idea where the afternoon had gone. I hadn't managed to get a single keystroke down and my tired body was starting to fight the thought of working on my assignments at home. What I needed was a cup of herbal tea and an undisturbed good night's sleep.

  Only then would I have the energy to get these assignments off my workload.

  Lucky for me, what I did h
ave plenty of time to do between, and during, customers was think. Eliza couldn't have been right, could she? I didn't think Frank was a bad influence on me. He was fun and, dammit, I was allowed to have fun, wasn't I? Maybe I could be a little impressionable at times, but that didn't make sense because I fancied myself a logical thinker who put plenty of good reason behind most of her actions. I knew I had to stop partying so hard with him, sure, but he just brightened up my day! Why would I want to give up one of the only fun things about my life?

  Eliza was exaggerating, I decided.

  That's what it was. I was late and hungover once! It wasn't like I staggered into the store stinking of sweat and booze. She made me feel bad for having a good night and that wasn't cool, pregnant or not. I didn't need to make anything up to her. She needed to make it up to me. Right? Okay, maybe I didn’t really want to ask Eliza to make it up to me, but angry people say and think stupid things in the heat of the moment.

  Darkness fell and I started to pack up my things and shut the till. If I hurried home I may have been able to -at least get a start on one assignment. But fate wasn't going to let me off the hook so easily. The doorbell twinkled and my heart skipped. Another customer? Now? I put the closed sign up, didn’t I?

  I was about to throw a "we're closed" at the intruder but it was Damien, and Gods what a welcomed sight he was. Only... no! He was meant to stay away tonight!

  "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  Maybe the question came off a little harsher than I would have liked, but dammit, I had every right to be harsh. I told him to stay away, now all I wanted to do was pull him into the back and have my way with him. I would never forgive myself for allowing him to have such an effect on me. Swooning was an unwomanly habit which I simply had to cut out of me.

  “I can leave if you want?"

  A pang of guilt shot through me and I sighed. "Sorry, it's been a really long afternoon and I'm still so tired."

  "It's fine. In fact, that's why I came. I thought you could use some help closing up."

  "Of course you did," I said, circling the counter and wrapping my arms around his neck. His skin was cold and welcome against my warm fingertips. "You're just so damn sweet, aren't you?"

  "I'm glad you see it."

  "How couldn't I?" I asked, "You remind me of it every time you do something like this."

  His lower lip caught my eye, so plump and full. I reached for it with the tip of my tongue and licked it before taking it into my mouth and holding it between my own lips. Damn you for swooning, I thought. But I couldn't resist his lips. They were so soft and kissable and tasted of peppermint—Damien's favorite gum.

  "I can see now I made the right decision in coming here," he said.

  "Damn right. You offered to help me close up, so I'm putting you to work."

  "What do I need to do?"

  "Get naked," I said, grinning.

  "Get—what?"

  "You heard me."

  Damien glanced at the front door and the large window to the still bus street outside. "But... why?"

  "Well," I said in my best matter-of-fact voice, "There's nothing you can do here that I can't do myself. And, actually, I should do most of this myself. Like, you can't know how many books we've sold today or—"

  He smiled and the sides of his mouth curved up to reveal playful dimples. Damien had, many times, guessed the right number of gum-balls at the candy shop down the street. I didn't know how he managed it and he wasn't willing to part with the secret, but his approximations were better than anyone else's. I was sure it was Magick, but he wouldn’t confess it.

  "Don't," I said, offering him a clear warning, "Just stand there and look pretty for me. Naked. That’s an order."

  Damien removed his jacket and set it on the arm chair. I cocked my head to the side and watched him, curious. He wasn't really going to strip, was he?

  "Damien," I said.

  "What?" he asked. He tucked his hands under the hem of his shirt.

  "Stop it!"

  "You told me to get naked."

  I marched up to him, smiling, and grabbed hold of his hands. "It was a joke, you tool! What's with you today?"

  "I don't know. I'm just happy. Yule is close. I haven't celebrated it in a long time."

  "You didn't celebrate it in San Francisco?"

  "My sister and I always swapped gifts, but we never... let the holiday fill us with happiness. There was always something to be sad about."

  "That sucks..."

  Damien's lips pressed against my forehead and sent all manner of tingles through me. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'm really trying now. And this time I've got you."

  I smiled. "We're gonna make this Yule special for you," I said. "To make up for all the other ones you didn't get to have."

  "You don't need to do that."

  "Of course I do! We can even have a wreath in Lily and Joanna’s honor.”

  Damien's smile never faded, nor did the light in his eyes diminish. It was nice to see him accept the idea that his sister was no longer with us. Talking and thinking about her still brought a kind of sadness to his face—and mine, if I could be honest—but a few months ago his voice would break at the simple mention of her name and now.

  Now everything was better.

  "C’mon, we have to finish up," I said. “I have work to do at home and you, mister, have a home to get to also. Don’t’ think you’re worming your way into my pants tonight. The bar is closed.”

  Damien put his hands up and smiled. “All I wanted to do was help you close up. So how about we do that and I walk you home—and then I can go back to mine.”

  “Alright, fine,” I said, “But no funny business.” Although I knew full well that if it came down to the crunch I would pick funny business over work.

  Chapter Six

  I shot upright into the waking world, eyes wide and heart pounding. A foul stench tickled my nostrils and I could swear I tasted dirt in my mouth, or maybe it was something fouler. What the fuck did I just dream about? Stunned, I scanned my bedroom. It was dark and quiet and I heard no swallows. No cars. No children getting ready to go to school, but I knew the sun was out. Panicked, I reached for my phone and checked the time.

  Class ended almost two hours ago. "God-dammit!"

  Damien. Where was Damien? I felt lost. I couldn't remember a lot of what had happened the night before. It was like being hungover without the stomach pain and the headache. A gap existed where memories should have been. Was I so tired I had forgotten the entirety of last night?

  I picked myself up and staggered into my living room like a drunken person searching for a late night beer. My kitchen table was covered in papers, books, pens, and a closed laptop. My bag was propped up against one of the table legs meaning that I must have come home and worked on my assignments, but in my mind there was nothing but the faintest hint of a being chased in my dream and the unsubtle aroma of something rotten, or burning.

  My stomach twisted and a cold wash overcame me. I knew I had calls to make, texts to send, but the dream I had just experienced didn't—wouldn’t—let me focus on anything else. I wanted to dig for details, images, sounds, and smells, and this determination was holding my concentration hostage. So I grabbed my writing pad, clicked the pen top, and wrote my dream down as best as I could remember.

  Only that I couldn't remember it.

  I had slipped out of that place between waking and dreaming in the moments of indecision since leaving my bed, and the dream was gone.

  "Fuck!" I threw the pen across the room and cursed, sure that the dream had been more vivid than any of the other dreams I had had experienced since my attack. But just like a cloud of smoke, there wasn't anything left for me to take hold of and I had to abandon it.

  I sat at my desk, staring at what little I had managed to scribble onto the page for ages. There was nothing of use on the page, of course. Just some scattered words here and there, impressions mostly. And most of it, I had good reason to believe, inaccur
ate at that.

  When someone knocked on my front door I was happy for the reprieve, so I stood, approached, and checked the peephole. It was Damien, and I would have had to be blind to not notice the concern on his face.

  "Hey," I said when I opened the door, "I was just about to text you."

  "Is everything okay?" he asked, stepping inside.

  No. I didn't know what to say. "Yeah... why?"

  Damien walked over to my kitchen table and unpacked some papers, pens, and a brand new notepad from out of a bag. "You missed a test today."

  "Shit."

  "Shit is right, and there's another assignment to do."

  "Another one? I've already got three to do!"

  Four assignments? How did I let it get this bad? I knew I had missed a couple of classes, but I thought I had it under control!

  "I don't know how you're going to finish four assignments in... three days," Damien said, "Including today."

  "Don't kick me while I'm down, okay?” I said, “I know how many days I have left."

  "I'm sorry," Damien said, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I just don't know how you're going to do it."

  I sat down on the chair by my laptop and ran my hands through my hair. "I don't know either. I don't know what happened. I fucked up again."

  Damien squatted to my level and looked up at me. "You didn't fuck up, okay?" he said, taking my hands. "You've just been through something most people will never go through. You're allowed to not be in the best of shapes."

  "Yeah, too bad I can't tell anyone about what happened, though."

  As far as the world was concerned, I was nowhere near the Sheriff when he was killed. The then Deputy made sure the cover up excluded all mention of my involvement to protect me from the slew of media attention I was likely to receive; attention I fought hard to not get. And as much as I enjoyed the normalcy that not being the near victim of a serial-killer it meant that I couldn't tell anyone about what had happened to me. As far as college was concerned, I was just another time waster.

  Damien stood upright and caught a glimpse of my failed attempt at writing down a dream on the notepad on my table.