"Speaking of happy and burdens," Frank said, "Where do we stand on Damien?"
Damien.
My feelings were mixed when it came to him. Whatever anger I felt toward him had been placated by the immensity of what happened to me the other night, but I still couldn't trust him. Not in a romantic way.
"We'll find out in a little while, won't we?" I said.
Frank dipped the book below his eye-line. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he's coming here, and we're going to talk."
"What? When?"
I checked. "Soon."
"And are you going to be civil?"
"No. I'm going to scream and holler at him for being such a giant tool-bag."
"Oh good! I'm glad I'll be here for that."
"Actually, you won't be. You're going to sit up here and keep reading that book while I go downstairs and talk to him. Understood?"
"Yes,” he said and after a moment’s pause he added, under his breath, “Witch."
I threw him a smirk and stood, stretched, and crossed over to my shrine. Earlier I had filled a bowl with holly leaves and planted three candles into it; one white, one black, and one green. Behind the candles was a picture—the only picture I had—of Kyle wearing a blue baseball cap and jersey. This arrangement of herbs and candles was part of a spell I had cast to send goodwill and protection to the man whom I had hurt so long ago.
"Be safe, Kyle," I said, "If I ever see you again I’ll tell you how sorry I am."
"That's a good little white witch," Frank said.
I turned to look at him and smiled. "It's about time I started taking this seriously,” I said.
"Damn right. Magick is not to be fucked with or used lightly. Self-defense is one thing, but harm with intent is another."
I was about to reply when a tingle manifested upon my right shoulder, as if a phantom bird had landed on it. "Damien's here," I said.
"What? How do you know that?"
"Magick," I said, smiling, and I headed for the ladder, climbed down a floor, and marched toward the front door where Damien was waiting.
I unlocked, opened, and let him and the cold December air in. It was cold out and snowing. Everything was white, even he.
"Hey," I said.
"Hi."
His aura appeared to me as a cloud of muted grey surrounding his head. Depression. Exhaustion.
"Listen, about the other night—" I said.
"Could I... say something first?" he said, cutting me off.
"Okay, sure."
Damien nodded, but paused for a moment before he decided to speak. "Everything happened so fast," he started, "One minute she was in my house and the next minute you were gone."
"What could I have done?"
"No, you... did the right thing. I would have been pissed too. I just want you to know that I'm... sorry... for everything. I royally screwed up with you and you didn't deserve that."
I didn't need for him to say it again to understand how tough this was for him. I guessed I was starting to understand him a little better, though. Damien liked to make things difficult for himself. He did it with Natalie and now again with me. Some people enjoyed hardship. Others even lived for it.
I sighed. "Look, I was pissed. Yes. Really, I was. But I'm over it now."
Damien cocked an eyebrow. "Over it?"
"Yes. I'm over it. I'm a big girl, okay? Besides, Frank told me you went out looking for me with him." I decided to omit the part where Damien had told me himself... when I saw him in a daydream.
"I did," he said, "I knew you were in danger, so I called Frank."
"I know. And I'm happy that you did. It means I can trust you as a member of our Coven; trust that you'll put aside spending quality time with your girlfriend if your sister is in danger."
"I wasn't—"
"Damien, it's okay. You have a girlfriend and for whatever reason you can't break it off with her. I think you're an idiot—a huge idiot—for getting involved with impossible people, but we weren't a thing for that long. And once the shock and the dust settled I found myself able to think, so I've decided to be supportive."
"That's... really big of you."
I shrugged. "Near death experiences have a way of putting things into perspective. But I need you to understand something."
"What's that?"
"We're over, and you can't try and win me back. Even if you broke it off for real with Natalie."
Silence hung in the air. I was still no closer to being able to read minds, but the cloud of color over the crown of his head was starting to shift to a light pink. Still muted, but pink and not gray; and that was something. To me, the color of his aura felt like friendship. Maybe even love. Friendly love. But for whom?
"It's gonna be tough," he said.
"Yeah. For both of us. But you should have thought of that before you tried to game the system. And if we ever bring anyone else into our coven, no one is allowed to sleep with them. Not even Frank."
Damien nodded. "That's fair," he said.
No. Fair would have been not lying to me about Natalie. Fair would be us being happy, like we were before this started. Fair would have been me not getting humiliated. But when presented with a choice one has to take the moral high road, because to hold on to rage and vengeance is to invite evil into your life. I had done it once and I didn't know how far the consequences of my actions had gone; but I wasn't going to do it again.
"So, I guess this is it?" he said.
"No," I said, "This isn't it. I'm going to see you again tomorrow. But for now, yes, I have stuff to do."
Damien nodded and hesitated before going for the door.
"Damien," I said. He turned, and I hugged him.
The embrace lingered, but not because there was any romance in it. This was a hug to symbolize a fresh beginning, a better beginning. One forged in light instead of darkness. And when I glanced over at my bay window and saw the front yard and the street covered in puffy white snow, I had no doubts that it would be.
Damien left and I watched him hug his coat shut and walk down the street. I would have offered him a ride home but I knew he enjoyed walking in the snow much in the same way as I enjoyed walking in the rain.
"How'd it go?" Frank asked, startling me.
"How long have you been there for?" I asked, turning to him.
"Long enough. Am I really not allowed to sleep with the next person who joins our Coven?"
“No.”
“But what if he’s really cute as well as gay? Beggars can’t be choosers, and Raven’s Glen isn’t exactly known for its gay community.”
“I said no, okay? Anyway it went well with Damien. I think we're gonna be okay."
"Well, good because it fucks with my mellow when the two of you fight."
"I'm glad your mellow won't be fucked with, then."
"Me too. Now come and look at this."
Frank was holding the book open to a specific page. On one leaf there was an image of a goat-man descending upon a wolf and a woman; on the other, a large block of Latin text which would take me a while to translate. I remembered the priest's words, though, and the image on the page took me back to the phrase he had spoken aloud: "witch and wolf and demon."
"Turns out they got it wrong," Frank said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Says here that the child of a gray wolf and a red witch would inherit the power of both parents. Coupled with blood touched by the devil, the child would spell doom for the world."
"Are you sure?"
"Witch, please. I double check my facts."
"So, how did they get it wrong?"
"Unless I'm mistaken they needed a werewolf to be able to make this work, and I don't know of any werewolves living around here. Do you?"
I did, only I hadn't told anyone. And in any case, he wasn’t the worst secret I was hold on to… for the good of all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Afternoon had come and mine was the only car on the whi
te, icy, winding road leading out of Raven's Glen. When Frank left my place he wasn't aware of the weight he had dropped on my shoulders. Demon and Witch and Wolf. I wanted to tell him what I knew about Aaron, that I could still feel part of the Demon, the Incubus, inside of me, but I couldn't. Not yet. It was too soon, and I was only too aware of the pitfalls of speaking too soon and leaping without looking.
I needed to be sure first.
Because the last time I made half-cocked assumptions I almost got myself and someone I cared about killed. To think, for the longest time I thought Aaron—wracked with pain as he was—had been the Demon’s target. That his temper, his ill health and his night terrors were all being caused by an external force attempting to take control of his body. In my want to be right I had never stopped to consider that the source of his personal ordeal, the long, painful transformation into a werewolf, was internal and not at all linked to the demon attempting to attack me.
Unless a link existed and I just couldn’t see it?
When Aaron sent me a text asking me to come and meet him on the edge of the freeway, however, I didn’t hesitate to do as he had asked. Aaron and I stayed at my place when we got back from the woods that night, and while I hadn’t seen him since he went home the next morning, I didn’t miss him. We shared something now, a bond forged in moonfire and blood. A bond more powerful, even, than the secrets which surrounded it. Unbreakable. This was something no one would be able to take away from us.
It was about two PM when I made the roundabout turn, stopped at the fork which would have taken me to the freeway, and found Aaron waiting for me. He was leaning on the side of his car. It was a 1970 Plymouth Road Runner, all gray save for a black stripe which went from the hood to the boot; a long, sleek, wide car; the kind that growled even at low speeds and guzzled gas like an eighteen wheeler. It had been so long since I had seen Aaron's muscle car I had almost forgotten he had it.
I stepped outside after a breath. Aaron pushed off from his car and turned to me, and we stared at each other for a moment. My heart sped up, racing at the mere sight of him, healthy and alive. He was wearing a gray shirt beneath a black jacket with the sleeves pulled up to his forearms. His face seemed pale against the backdrop of black, white and brown, but his cheeks were flushed red and vibrant. And his eyes. They sparkled like little arctic oceans, catching the sun's rays and throwing them all around like they were meant to.
I took a step to him and, following my movements, he took a step toward me. We each took another step, and another, and before I knew it I was running to him. Running. My long black cardigan was like a cape at my back, my copper hair wild and untamed, and when I reached him he opened his arms and scooped me up into a lip-locked embrace which felt like a burst of light and warmth.
Aaron smiled as I wrapped my legs around his torso and gazed into his eyes. He was so strong, now. I didn't think I was heavy, but he spun me around and carried me to the hood of his car with no trouble at all. And then I was there, in that moment, staring at Aaron and running my fingers through his short, golden hair, something about him sang to me. Maybe it was his smell or the bond we shared. Or maybe it was the power I felt running up to him and kissing him the way I just had.
I didn't question how this had happened so fast or how it felt so right.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Just this."
"This."
"How... are you?"
"Hungry."
"Hungry for food, or for... people?"
"Aren't people food?" Aaron grinned. His teeth were so white and perfect. He had always had nice teeth, though.
"Is it me, or are your canines pointier?"
Aaron felt them with his tongue. "Maybe. I don't know."
I brushed crazy hair out of my face and tucked over my ear. "So," I said, "You said it was urgent."
"Yeah, that's because it is."
"Tell me, then."
He sighed and his smile dropped. "I have to leave town," he said.
I tucked my chin into my neck and pulled away from him, surprised. "What? Why?"
"I have to go and talk to my father. Everything that's happened to me, this... transformation... I have no idea how or why it happened, but I feel like maybe he might."
"You're just gonna go up to him and tell him you're a werewolf?"
I didn't even know werewolves existed a few days ago and now here I was, using the word in a sentence referring to a fact. What else lurked in the shadows of our world, tiptoeing the boundaries of human civilization? What other terrors lived, grew, and even thrived, unchecked, in our world?
Acheris.
"I don't know,” Aaron said, “I'm hoping he'll see me and just... know."
"And if he doesn't?"
"I'll have to figure it out."
A car came rolling past and took the turn for the freeway. In a moment, Aaron's car would be doing the same thing, and a great pain hit me. He was leaving with so much left unsaid. Unexplained. Unfelt.
"So, you're leaving... now?" I asked.
Aaron nodded. "I have to. I can't wait. I wouldn't want to be around here with no clue when the full moon comes."
"Yeah. That's... serious business."
"I wanted to ask you to come, but… I didn't think you would want to come with me."
I shook my head. "I can't. I have things to do here."
"I know."
"No. Aaron, this... this whole thing isn't over. These people who came for me, they're gonna come again. I can feel it."
Acheris. The name came to me again, this time as hard as a thud. A reminder that there was, at least, one other party involved, that everything comes round in threes. The Sheriff, the cult, and now Acheris; those were the rules.
"We'll be ready for them," Aaron said.
"We?" I asked.
He nodded again. "We. I'm coming back, Amber. I won't be gone long."
"Okay. And I'll be here."
"Waiting for me?"
I smiled and kissed him on the forehead, but I didn't answer. Instead I slid down from the hood of the car, smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek. "Get out of here," I said. "And hurry back."
Aaron's lip curled into a sly smile. He got into his car and revved the engine. Our eyes met, and without using words we gave each other a promise. He promised to come back, and I promised to be waiting. Neither of us knew how long we would have to wait, but we both had some answers to find and—at least for now—I was safe in Raven's Glen.
I took a step back and Aaron pulled the car off the side of the road, spun it around, and went rumbling down the freeway. As I watched, my cardigan and hair flailing from the back-draft caused by the car as it passed, I wondered why I didn't tell him about what Frank had read in the book. About what the priest had said. And about the strange sick feeling I had woken up to every morning since I came into contact with the Demon.
The gray wolf, the red witch, and the devil; their child spells doom.
I'll just have to be careful around him.
To be continued...
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I truly hope you enjoyed reading Dark Witch! When I first published Dark Witch it was originally called “The Rule of Three”; you’ve probably noticed the rule of three being mentioned several times throughout the book. It’s a common steeple of magic (fictional magic and “real” magick) that it comes at a price, and if you do harm to others, it will come back to you threefold. I wanted to play with that a little bit, and show how Amber’s actions - however ‘innocent’ they may have been - had real life consequences. I think she’s learned her lesson and will come out as a better witch because of it, but you’ll be the judge of that.
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I was glad to have Frank next to me at the hospital. I would have ground my fingernails to bone if he hadn’t been here, sitting with me in this sterile white hospital waiting room. Up until now my day had been fine. I was in the garden, enjoying a beautiful spring afternoon in the sun with Frank, talking about Aaron, Magick, and the future. But now my knees were bouncing up and down, my stomach had cooled some ten degrees, and I couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence to save my life.
Me? Nervous?
Never.
But Eliza was about to have a baby. Sure, babies are born everywhere in the world every single day, but this one was Eliza’s! I wanted to be an aunt way more than I wanted to be a mom and now I was finally going to get what I wanted. Of course, every good thing comes at a price, though, and for me that price was a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room with Frank and my nerves.
“Do you know what I don’t like about doctors?” Frank asked. His voice cut through the silence like a knife.
I didn’t look at him. My gaze had been enraptured by the pentacle clasped between my fingers. I was trying to pray, pray for a safe birth, and failing. “What?” I asked.
“They’re impersonal. I mean, why would I let a doctor stick a finger up my ass without taking me out to dinner—or at least having the decency of trying to get me drunk—first?”
“You can say the same about gynecologists.”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s like they get a free pass.”