Amaretto Flame

by Sammie Spencer

  With a bitter taste in my mouth, I broke the speed limit laws all the way back to Staves, rushing toward my prison, and toward the humans.

  Chapter 5

  My mood stayed dismal all afternoon, and although my body begged for me to sleep more before it was time to go back to Stallott’s, I was unable to. Maybe I did deserve to be stuck here, but because Ivanna was mad at me, she was risking the coven. If I was there, and Venator attacked, we’d have much better odds…better odds that my entire family would survive. So, I paced through the house, picked at some food, and paced some more before it was finally time to suit up in the ridiculous uniform and leave.

  Right away, I could tell that a weekend night would be different at Stallott’s. The previous night, Renee had worked until eight o’clock, and then a tall, thin man named Rick took over as bartender while Renee had helped us take orders and serve drinks. Tonight, Rick was already there, as was another girl, who appeared to be a few years older than Jenny and Erika.

  This was the first interesting thing that happened to me. The girl was impossibly beautiful. She was tall and shaped like a woman straight from the centerfold of some magazine. Her lips were full and pink; her eyelashes were long and thick and shaded nearly black eyes. Her dark hair was cut short, like a boy’s, but on her it was fantastic. It almost hurt to look at her.

  “Paula,” Jenny said, as I entered and put my coat behind the bar, “this is Olivia. She’s our new waitress.” Paula smiled at me, a brilliant smile that showed perfect white teeth. I tried to smile back, but I felt dim. As we moved to tie on our aprons, Jenny whispered to me.

  “Paula and Jackson had a thing going not too long back, but she wanted more from him than he wanted from her. She’s still completely in love with him.” Her face betrayed her excitement for scandals, and I glanced toward Jackson, who was already on the stage. Somehow, this sad story depressed me even more, and I rode those waves of depression for the next several minutes.

  Luckily, I was able to forget my troubles easily, because once the crowd packed into the place, it was difficult to think straight, much less be depressed. I did all I could to keep up with the drink orders, and near nine o’clock, Erika approached me.

  “You look like you could use a break. Go ahead and grab something to drink and sit for a moment. I’ll cover,” she smiled at me, and feeling an extreme gratitude toward her, I nodded and found my way to the bar. Rick made me a coke and I let my overheated arms rest against the cool, polished wooden bar top as I sipped it. My feet were already on fire, and I wondered how beneficial this experience would be for my fighting back in Eagleton. I was lost in my thoughts, sipping my drink, when Jackson’s voice beside me startled me.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said quietly, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him above the noise in the bar. I instantly let my eyes flick toward Paula, who was busy taking Jenny’s drink order.

  I smiled up at him. “It’s too noisy to think in here, so I’m afraid your penny would be wasted.”

  He sat on the stool next to me and gave me a long smile. “I guess your assassin work is much quieter, usually.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, unless it’s a particularly brutal kill,” I said. “You know, the screaming, the pleading…it’s a drag.”

  “Funny,” he said, as he signaled for Rick. “Looks can be deceiving I guess. I would have been willing to bet my favorite guitar that you could never hurt anyone. Goes to show what I know.” He let his mouth turn up at the corners in that amused smile again. Rick approached with two shot glasses full of some honey-colored liquid. I watched as he and Jackson clinked the glasses together and both drained the liquid from them quickly. With a wink at me, Jackson turned and headed back toward the stage.

  It would take me a few more hours to understand the strange ritual that I’d witnessed. I was throwing away a handful of empty beer bottles when Rick motioned me toward him. He handed me a tray with two more of the little shot glasses, full of whiskey.

  “For Jackson,” he said, leaning close. I nodded, and hurried off toward the stage. Jackson was finishing up a song just then, and he pushed a button, turning on some newer music as I approached him.

  “Nice,” he said, looking at the tray. He picked up one of the glasses and looked at me expectantly. A tiny thread of nervousness began in my stomach, and I wished he’d take the other glass so I could escape back into the crowd of drinkers.

  “That one’s for you,” he said. “It’s my rule. If you’re taking a shot with someone else, you’re never drinking alone.” After a quick smile, he added, “You shouldn’t drink alone.”

  “Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve never tried it.” I rolled my eyes to show that I knew how dumb it was, and then I said, “I’ll just go get Jenny or Erika.”

  “No, wait,” he said quickly. He bit his lip and then grinned. “You can’t really die without trying that, either.” He inclined his head toward the little glass.

  “Does everyone know something about my impending doom that I don’t?” I smiled, and then shook my head again. The lights from the dance floor were shining over us, making every part of him look blue as he held his glass up to me, as if waiting for a toast. Suddenly, he turned from me and stopped the music.

  He took the microphone in his left hand, his right still holding onto the drink.

  “Never in my life have I seen such rudeness,” he said, his voice cranking out through the multiple speakers in the place. “Can you guys believe that Olivia here won’t have a drink with me?” He glanced back at me, his grin pointed in my direction. “What kind of person won’t toast to your good health?”

  All the talking in the club had stopped, and now some in the crowd were laughing and some were booing. Booing me, I realized with horror. My cheeks burned in embarrassment, and I glanced toward the bar. Jenny and Erika were standing near the bar, laughing and giving me thumbs-down signs.

  “Shit,” I hissed quietly.

  “Now she curses me,” Jackson said. “That’s not a nice word.” He looked at me again, laughing at my obvious embarrassment. “How many of you think she should have a drink with me?”

  The crowd suddenly began shouting as one, and it was obvious that Jackson was charming them. I smiled despite myself. Humans were so weird. I glanced back down at the little shot glass of liquid. I really had never tried anything alcoholic other than a bit of wine during rituals back home. How bad could it be, though? With the crowd shouting into my ear, I squared my shoulders and stepped up onto the stage, seizing the tiny glass.

  “To your good health, sir,” I said, inclining my head toward him.

  Jackson raised an eyebrow at me, and clinked his glass against mine. His eyes were dancing, his amusement at his little prank obvious. At the same time, we tipped the glasses up and swallowed the whiskey. Liquid fire slid over my tongue and down my throat, lighting me up the whole way down as it settled in my stomach.

  For a split second, I wondered if it was some strange adverse reaction that I was having. I fought with all my power to keep my face straight, hoping I didn’t look like I was burning to death from the inside out. As Jackson shot me another smile, the liquid fire turned to a pleasant warmth. It seemed to course through my veins like adrenaline, just more subtly, and warming everything as it went. I smiled now, enjoying the sensation.

  I realized that the crowd was clapping wildly and wondered what in the world was so exciting about it. Playing along, I curtsied quickly toward the audience and shot Jackson a pretend look of hatred. He grinned at me and put his glass down on the tray. Wanting to blend back in with the crowd, I took the tray and glasses and went back toward the bar. I felt lighter somehow…and marveled at that fact. Who would have known that humans would be the ones to bring some comfort to me when I felt like my world was falling apart?

  “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about that. Jackson never takes his shots alone. Something about misery loves company, you know?” Jenny said as I reached the bar. She was gig
gling.

  “That stuff was so…awful and then so good,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You’ve never had whiskey before?” She asked, incredulous.

  I shook my head again. “No, I’ve never tried alcohol, other than a little wine.”

  Jenny gaped at me. “I’m starting to think you’ve lived a seriously deprived life,” she laughed. I watched her walk away. It was funny how right she was. She would never have been able to imagine the experiences I’d had in my life, but what had I missed out on? What knowledge was I lacking? For the remainder of the night, I chewed on that. It wasn’t as if we never did anything back in Eagleton, but with so much training and learning, there wasn’t room for ordinary human activities.

  In fact, most Wise Ones even married Wise Ones from other covens, and even sometimes their own. While marriages weren’t arranged, there was no doubt that covens pushed certain Wise Ones together, wishing to tie themselves to their sister covens for strength or other purposes. I looked around at Stallott’s, which was finally beginning to empty, and realized just how different this world was from my own.

  During the last hour, I was cleaning off one of the back booths when Jenny approached me with a glass full of what I thought was whiskey. She thrust it out toward me.

  “Try this,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  I shook my head. “No thanks. I can’t take any more of that stuff.”

  “It’s not whiskey. It’s to make up for the whiskey.”

  I eyed her curiously for a long moment and wondered if it was really a good idea. In the end, I didn’t want to look like I was scared, so I took the glass and tried it. My eyes widened with surprise. This was nothing like the harsh whiskey. It was slightly thicker, and sweet, though it still had a touch of the same warmth the whiskey had brought.

  “Good, right?” Jenny laughed. “It’s called Amaretto.”

  I took another long sip, and she took the glass back. “Careful,” she said. “It can sneak up on you.”

  Amaretto. I filed the name in my memory for later and continued wiping down the tables, glancing at the clock and wishing I was already back at the house in bed. Finally, it was time to stack all the clean glasses up to dry and go home. Jackson caught me near the corner of the bar as I was about to say my goodbyes.

  “Hey Olivia,” he said. He pronounced my name O-livia instead of Uh-livia the way some people did. “Do you need a ride home?” He’d been gazing at me for a few seconds when I realized his eyes were the exact same color as the Amaretto in the glass. It was a revelation more powerful than I thought it should be, and I found myself wanting to hold up the glass and actually compare the two shades. A moment later, I snapped out of the tiny trance I’d been in and smiled.

  “Thanks, but I brought my car today,” I replied.

  “Oh. Well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for May Days,” he said.

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  I put on the jacket, feeling as if he were going to say something else. He didn’t though, so I said a quick goodbye to everyone, and exited the bar. The air outside was brilliantly cool and light in comparison with the interior of the bar, and I stood for a long moment, inhaling and letting the breeze whip against my warm skin. As I got into the car and started it up, I realized I was giggling quietly. I’d been thinking about Jackson’s toast, and the way he seemed reluctant to leave me in the bar.

  With the realization, I dropped the smile quickly and felt my cheeks burn. Shaking my head, I started the car and drove home, determined to keep my thoughts on something other than the turmoil in Eagleton, and something other than Jackson’s Amaretto-colored eyes.

  I woke up from dreams that were troublesome, although I couldn’t remember precisely what they were. It seemed as if someone were talking to me in a strange manner; perhaps prophetically or in song, but I couldn’t recall the words. The morning was bright, the sunshine streaming into the room through the sheer cotton filter of the lacy curtains. I was no less worried about Eagleton than I had been the night before, but a more pressing matter had captured my attention—the carnival.

  I spent a few hours digging through the old armoire, trying to find something appropriate for today. Did humans typically wear jeans and t-shirts to this sort of thing, or something different? It’s embarrassing to admit how puzzled I was, and when I realized how much time had passed on my task, I exhaled loudly and walked downstairs. At least I could see if it were warmer out than it had been; that might influence my decision regarding which clothes to wear. I unlatched the front door and swung it open, stepping out onto the front porch.

  It was warmer, and the house with it’s tiny front yard was bathed in a glorious display of sunshine. The bubble-gum pink flowers that had bloomed near the fence stretched up to nearly my own height, bees buzzing playfully around the blossoms. It was just a few days from Beltane, and when that thought occurred to me, suddenly it was a little too bright outside for my taste. I turned back and ascended the steps, to be met with a sight that looked out of place on the weathered front porch.

  Near the door was a package wrapped in thick brown paper. It was perhaps a foot high, and half that wide. I stared at it for a minute, as if I could see through the paper if I kept looking at it. Then, I went up the steps to get a closer look. On the very top of the box, in block script, was the word, ‘Slayer.’

  I let my eyes scan the yard and empty street before I picked up the package and took it inside. By the time I had reached the kitchen and placed the package on the table, my eyes had adjusted to the much-dimmer light inside. I pulled the top from the box and reached inside. My hand came against something cool and smooth. Pulling it out, I realized what it was before I had it completely free of the brown paper packaging. It was a bottle of whiskey, with a red bow tied to it. Another card attached to the neck of the bottle read simply, ‘For Practice.’

  I laughed suddenly, breaking the silence of the house. Jackson. I unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a whiff, then shuddered with the memory of the heat from last night. Then I found myself staring at the bottle and broke myself away from it, still smiling. I dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a long-sleeved jade t-shirt with cherry blossoms covering the left side, and a pair of chocolate-colored flip-flops. I pulled half my hair up and pinned it, then looked in the mirror, hoping Jenny and Erika would be dressed similarly.

  I didn’t know how much a carnival would cost, so I stuffed the piles of money that had accumulated from my tips into my pocket, assuming that would be enough. I left the stacks of cash Ivanna had sent in case of emergency. I glanced at the bottle of whiskey a few more times while I waited, just for the fun of it. Finally, around noon, I heard the sound of a horn honking out front. With a nervous twinge, I exited the house and locked the door behind me.

  Jenny and Erika were hanging their heads and arms out the windows, yelling for me to hurry up and laughing. I couldn’t suppress a smile at their excitement, but I did note the fact that the only empty seat was in the back, next to Jackson. I got in the car quickly, conscious of how close he was to me. He looked fantastic in a gray t-shirt, light jeans, and black boots. He flashed me a brilliant smile as I closed the door and we pulled away from the curb.

  Jenny and Erika were chattering away in the front of the car, talking about the different rides that would be at the carnival. I looked out my window, listening to them and trying to imagine what the rides looked like based on the names they gave. They had described a few different ones before they began talking about The Drop.

  “It’s insane,” Jenny said, shaking her head emphatically. “You will not get me on that ride this year. The only time I rode that one, I just knew I was going to die…that my guts were going to be blended together on the grass below.”

  “Which one is that one?” I said, turning my head back toward them and sitting up straight.

  “The Drop,” Jenny replied. “Oh my gosh. It’s insane, Olivia. It’s this seat that you sit in and there’s this massive pole it’s
connected to. They take you all the way up the pole, which has to be like a thousand feet in the air, and then they let you drop. They stop you, of course, before you hit the ground but what if the thing malfunctioned?” Jenny shivered after she spoke.

  Jackson chuckled. “They don’t lift you a thousand feet into the air. It’s more like fifty feet. Still, it’s a lot of fun.”

  “I’m doing that one,” I said, brightening at the thought.

  “You’re nuts, Olivia,” Jenny said, her eyes wide.

  “Insane,” Erika agreed as we turned and pulled into a parking lot. I could see the fairgrounds now, and they captured my attention, holding it there. There were massive structures of all different colors and they were blinking lights and whirling around. As I stepped out of the car, I felt my breath catch in my throat as I gaped at the rides.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been to a fair, Olivia. Or tried alcohol. Sheesh. Did you grow up in an orphanage?” Jenny laughed, joking.

  It was a knee-jerk reaction. My head whirled toward her and my face burned crimson. Quickly, I looked down at my hands, already trying to think of some witty comment to shrug it off. A few awkward minutes passed, and Jenny stopped laughing.

  “Oh shit, Olivia. I was just kidding. I didn’t mean…” Jenny’s sentence trailed off, and she stood there, her face shamed. The conversation with Jackson in the car the other night came into my head, and I glanced at him, seeing the question in his eyes. Stupidly, I felt like they could all read my minds; that they all knew I was a liar. Then suddenly, he came to my rescue.

  “Are you kidding me?” He asked Jenny. “She has a rich old aunt who has never heard of fun, and I think it’s our duty to introduce her to it.”

  Another beat passed before I lifted my head and smiled gratefully at him. Jenny chuckled unsurely, but said, “Me too. Come on!”

  As we made our way to a tiny structure that they told me was the ticket booth, I filled my eyes with the sights of the carnival. It was beautiful. Tiny kids ran around with hands full of cotton candy and candied apples. Loud music of many different kinds came from all directions, creating a surreal noise that filled the area. The rides swooped and swirled, buckets and swings holding people were everywhere—flinging out from the rides holding them and thrilling guys and girls to the point of screaming.