Amaretto Flame Read online

  “Okay,” I smiled. “I guess I can’t die without having gone.”

  “Yay,” Jenny grinned. “I’ll pick you up at your house on Saturday afternoon. Where do you live?”

  “She’s in the old Whitfield place,” Jackson said. Jenny’s eyes turned into giant saucers.

  “Wow. That place is huge,” she said.

  Feeling uncomfortable, I shrugged. “It’s my aunt’s.”

  “So you’re loaded then, huh?” Jenny asked, and Erika gave her a playful shove.

  “Sheesh, Jenny,” she said. “Tactful.”

  I chuckled. “I’m going home. My feet feel like they’ve been dipped in hot oil,” I joked.

  “You’ll get used to that,” Erika replied. “Wait. Are you walking?” She gave me a look that said I was demented.

  “Oh. Yeah, I like walking. No big deal. Good night…er, morning,” I said, smiling.

  I walked toward the door, and I’d only made it a few feet when I heard them whispering. Before I even realized what I was doing, I allowed my senses to stretch out just enough to hear what they were saying.

  “It’s pitch black outside. She shouldn’t be walking home,” Erika said. I softened towards her when I realized she was concerned about my safety. If she only knew that I was the kind of thing people were scared of in the dark.

  “She could get mauled to death in the dark and the police will find her in the morning and then we’ll all have to pull double shifts,” Jenny whispered melodramatically. “God, Jackson. What kind of a gentleman are you?” She added, hissing.

  I let my senses return to normal, because Jenny’s sentence embarrassed me and a second later I was out the door. I started walking faster across the parking lot, the black, inky puddles splashing my ankles as I went. I wasn’t fast enough.

  “Hey, Olivia. Wait up,” Jackson called, coming out the door at a brisk walk.

  I turned as he approached.

  “Why don’t you let me give you a ride home? It’s pretty dark out,” he said, glancing around.

  “Oh, it’s really okay. You don’t have to do that,” I muttered.

  “Actually,” he squinted at me, “I do. There is a whole lot of estrogen in there getting ready to choke me if I let you walk home right now.” He hooked a thumb back towards the bar.

  I glanced toward the road and then back to him. Great Goddess! It’s just a ride home. Do you really want to walk the whole way? My feet were aching, shooting pains all the way up my calves, and the water from the freezing puddles hadn’t helped.

  “Besides,” he said, “I don’t mind anyway.” He glanced away from me as he said this.

  I exhaled. “Okay. I don’t want to get you choked or anything. But this makes us even, so no assassinations for you.”

  He pretended to consider, exhaling loudly through pursed lips. “Okay. You have a deal.” His eyes twinkled at me as he led me to his jeep. After he opened the door for me, I climbed in, grateful for the chance to rest my feet. As he closed it and walked to the driver’s side, I inhaled. The inside of the jeep was clean and smelled of leather and some sort of spice – it was masculine and pleasant. He drove with the same fluid movement with which he played the guitar.

  “So, did you grow up here?” I asked. I couldn’t stand the silence, and felt the need to make small talk.

  “Yeah—well, since I was five. My father died and my mom needed a change, I guess. So she picked Staves and we’ve been here ever since,” he said with a smile.

  I thought about my own father who had passed away as well, although I was quite sure under different circumstances.

  “That must have been pretty difficult for her. Do you have brothers and sisters?” I asked.

  Jackson’s lips turned up in an amused smile. “No. I don’t think my mom could have handled another kid after me. Besides, I’m selfish so I don’t think it would have worked out anyway.”

  “Were you a bad child, then?” I smiled, interested in what a normal human childhood might have been like.

  He chuckled. “Not bad, just different. What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  I carefully plucked the lie out of my head—one of the ones Charlotte had instructed me on. “I have a brother named Everett,” I said.

  “And where do your parents live?”

  My cheeks burned and I was glad for the dark interior of the jeep. “My father died when I was little too,” I said, feeling the hollowness of my words. “My mother…she wasn’t able to take care of me, so my aunt took me in.” Then I added, “Us,” remembering about Everett.

  “Oh. Your aunt doesn’t live here, though. Where are you from?”

  “Not too far. Just about two hours away,” I said.

  A moment later, the black jeep slowed and pulled up to the curb. The house porch light sent a pool of illumination cascading down the porch and the front walk. A few drops of rain that had collected on the leaves of the oak tree lost their balance now, and splattered the windshield of the jeep.

  “Thanks for driving me home,” I said with a smile.

  “It was no problem at all. Goodnight Olivia.” His face was bright, eyes twinkling and dimples appearing on either side of his smile. My stomach did a nervous flip-flop.

  “Night, Jackson.”

  I climbed out of the jeep self-consciously and shut the door behind me. I watched him pull away from the drive before going up the walk and letting myself inside the house.

  It was a chore to haul myself up the staircase and into the bathroom, where I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth. Glancing longingly at the massive, four-poster bed and the thick, ivory colored quilt, I climbed in. As I collapsed on the pillows and pulled the quilt up to my chin, my entire body seemed to sink into the mattress with relief. I found myself thinking of Jackson’s face and honey eyes just before the darkness found me, but it was murder that I dreamed of.

  Chapter 4

  My dream that night was a memory. It was a memory of the second time I had killed. Ivanna and I waded through the crowded streets of the colorful city, killing time while we waited for a meeting with a girl we thought might want to come and learn in Eagleton.

  That’s where the dream started—with hazy memories of the street performers dancing, playing music and drawing. There had been a fortuneteller with tacky gypsy garb and needle tracks in her arms. We passed her small table, which was draped with shimmering fabric and held a large, fake crystal ball. Ivanna and I had smiled at each other, amused.

  About fifty feet in front of us, I spotted them leaning out of an alleyway. At first, they were just faces in the crowd—regular men, laughing and enjoying the spirit of the city. As we got closer to them, though, I felt the hairs rising on the back of my neck. A hazy red tint colored my vision, not obstructing but enhancing it. Ivanna grabbed my hand as we walked, desperately trying to keep my attention focused on her. But the fact that she had noticed something strange as well only increased my interest in the men.

  As we passed them, one of them turned and I saw a glimpse of the back of his neck. In thick, tattooed lines were the marks I had spent my life learning about. The arrows were crossed, both ends boasting black fletching before the nock. On the opposite ends of the shafts were exaggerated points, looking sharp and deadly even though they were only tattoos.

  The hunter’s arrows. Whether it was instinctual or born from years of learning how to fight them, I was unable to stop myself. I felt the air shift around me and lunged at them, forcing them backward into the alleyway. Ivanna was powerless to stop me now. She could fight them, but she was using all of her effort to conjure an illusion—protecting the normal people from seeing what was really happening just three feet away from them.

  I had surprised them, but they recovered quickly. We formed a deadly triangle, with one of the dark men on my left and ahead of me, and one on the right. The one on my left distracted me momentarily as his hand shot out to cast a spell in my direction. While my attention was caught, the man on my right threw a
furious kick that connected with my thigh. I heard the bones cracking, but the pain was barely noticeable under the adrenaline.

  I knew the dangerous effects of his spell – whatever they were – wouldn’t catch up to me. The red haze deepened, and my senses stretched out, reaching around with invisible fingers. I could hear every noise—an argument in a nearby apartment, the gypsy woman conning a young man who had paid to have his fortune read, and the breathing of my foes. I saw the caster of the spell glance wildly at his companion, no doubt wondering why I wasn’t writhing in pain or at least consumed by his magick.

  As the other one attempted a kick of his own, I caught his leg and twisted furiously, sending him flipping and flying. I had been amazed at my own strength. With a flick of my wrist, an old orange extension cord lying in the alleyway became animated. Both stretching tautly and whipping around at the same time, the cord caught the legs of the man still standing and viciously tore them out from under him.

  When they were both on the garbage-flecked ground, a mind-numbing desire to scream rose within me. I had felt this before, but never so severely. I was aware of the people on the street, but hoped Ivanna could somehow keep them from hearing. I couldn’t fight the urge, and when I opened my lips, the wail issued forth, blasting out of me with the force of a rocket.

  Moments later, the men were gone. Piles of dust lay on the ground where they had been previously, and it blew around with the breeze. Shocked, I stared, realizing what I’d done. I stayed frozen in the spot until Ivanna grabbed my arm, panicked, and drug me away, half-carrying me because I was unable to walk. Before my dream faded, I saw the memory of Ivanna’s face—shocked and awed, and a little frightened.

  This was when we had learned the full extent of my power. The inability of magick to work on me had been a blessing in my fight with the Venator , but a curse when Charlotte was unable to assist my body in healing. I had spent eight weeks in a cast.

  Through the haze of the dream-like state I was in, I heard a voice.

  “Tag. You’re it.” The voice didn’t belong to the sinister figures I’d been remembering. It was more familiar, and even in sleep, I tried to find the face that belonged to it.

  “Liv-vy,” the word was stretched out and said in a sing-song voice and seemed to be coming at me through a tunnel. Everett. For a long moment, I thought I was back in Eagleton and he was waking me up for breakfast. Then I remembered. I was banished. It was Friday. Ivanna’s meeting. I let my eyes open, feeling groggy and still exhausted.

  He was lying beside me on the bed, his head propped up on his hand. It was wonderful to see his face—the pale hair, golden-tan skin and clear blue eyes. His mouth was curled up in a crooked smile, showing even, white teeth.

  “Good morning. You did not want to wake up. It took twenty minutes,” he laughed.

  I was overjoyed to see him and I threw my arms around him and buried my face in the collar of his shirt. He chuckled, and gripped me in a bear hug.

  “You don’t know how great it is to see you,” he said.

  “Oh yes, I do. But it’s really nice to see you, too.” I laughed.

  “Get dressed. We’ll get breakfast on the way,” he said, standing and tossing me a pair of jeans from the antique armoire in the corner. After deliberating on a shirt for a few seconds, he gave up and tossed me the first thing his hand grabbed. He automatically turned away so I could dress quickly.

  As I put my clothes on, the discarded pieces of my uniform on the bathroom floor caught my eye. I remembered that I’d be gone all day and needed to wash it for tonight. With any luck, though, Ivanna wouldn’t make me come back. Still, I picked up the skimpy bits of clothing and slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops, grabbing my brush from the dresser in the room. Everett followed me as I padded down the stairs and tossed the clothing in, starting the machine.

  “In a hurry to get your laundry done?” He asked, amused.

  “It’s for work,” I waved his question away.

  “Yes. Max told me about the ID. I hope you’re not making any bad choices, Olivia.” His tone was disapproving, and I chuckled.

  “What, you mean hanging around a bunch of weird humans?” I joked.

  “Yeah, and I bet to them, we’re perfectly ordinary,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  I laughed, pulling the brush through my thick locks. “I’m just trying to be human. To be normal,” I shrugged.

  “Even without being a Wise One, I don’t think you would be normal,” he said, smiling.

  I feigned offense. “What does that mean?”

  “That’s a good thing. Do you want to fit nicely in the box?” He asked, amused.

  I thought about that as I finished brushing my hair and decided that I wasn’t sure. We walked out into the bright morning sun and I locked the door behind me. The fragrant flowers in the yard were brighter after yesterday’s rain. A few small pools of rainwater stood in the crevices between stones on the walk.

  As we walked to the car, Everett asked me again about the job. I sighed. I had never tried to keep anything from him before. He and I shared everything—almost to the point of being able to read each other’s minds.

  “It’s just a silly job. Nothing important,” I said, getting in the car. After he got in the driver’s side and we pulled away, he looked at me.

  “So what kind of silly job is it?” He prodded.

  I spent the first few minutes of the car ride telling him about Stallotts; about Jenny and Erika, Renee, Bob, and the customers that I met last night. He pursed his lips and gave me a sidelong glance, but didn’t comment on how much Ivanna would hate the job, the way I thought he would.

  He pulled into the parking lot of a diner a few minutes later and the thought of food made my stomach rumble. Inside, our ears were filled with the clinking of plates, the sizzling of the grill and voices. We both ordered pancakes and drowned them in syrup. After several bites, I took a sip of the cold milk and looked at Everett.

  In the past few years, Everett’s childish features had all but disappeared. While he’d been so slender through most of his teenage years—mostly arms and legs—now he was filling out. His biceps bulged under the sleeves of his shirt. His baby face had hardened into adulthood, but he’d kept that innocent and charming look that made him handsome.

  He had never been much of a talker and never demanded to be the center of attention like some boys his age. He was quiet and reflective most of the time, his eyes twinkling with intelligence. Knowing he wouldn’t begin talking on his own, I prompted him.

  “So what do you think the meeting’s about?” I asked, curious.

  He had finished almost all of his food and I put my fork down, full, and pushed my plate toward him.

  “I’m not sure,” he said after taking a sip of his own milk. “I know it has to do with the attacks from before,” he said, keeping his voice low. He started eating the rest of my pancakes automatically—it was something he had done since childhood. I used to laugh and call him my garbage disposal. Charlotte always picked on him for eating so much and staying so slim, telling him he had a hollow leg.

  “That was a few months ago. Do you think there’s been another?” I asked.

  He swallowed, and licking his lips, looked up at me. “I hope not. I was really hoping those were random—you know, someone wanting money or something totally unrelated to the…” He trailed off, and I knew he didn’t want to say the word out loud, not only because we were in public, but also because it was terrifying.

  I remembered getting the news from the coven in Moss Point. Two of their wise ones had been attacked, but not hurt. While we had found the news disturbing, we had assumed along with them that it was something random. Perhaps the act of a religious group that fancied themselves as vigilantes or something similar. We had, of course, promised to leave at once to assist them if necessary, but after no other news, we’d nearly forgotten about it.

  “They don’t just attack that way, though. Lillian told us that the
wise ones who’d been attacked weren’t even hurt,” I said.

  Everett glanced up at me and put his hand into his pocket, placing several bills on the table. When we were outside of the diner and climbing into the car, we continued with the conversation.

  “I mean, if the Venator,” I could barely squeeze the word from my own lips, “had been that close, it would have been a fight to the death.”

  “You’re absolutely right. That’s why I’m hoping it has nothing to do with them.” He shuddered, and I understood the revulsion that had caused it. The Venator were our greatest enemies, but they were also our greatest fear.

  “Well it has to be something pretty important if they’ve scheduled a meeting and Ivanna wants me there,” I said, still trying to get him to speculate.

  “No matter what happens, you are and will always be a part of our family, Livvy. If you’re not a part of it, neither am I.” Everett raised one eyebrow at me.

  “Oh, I’m a part. I’m a very banished part,” I said sourly.

  “I feel like I should be banished too,” Everett said, furrowing his brow.

  “No, you shouldn’t. It was my mistake. I broke the rules. I’m just having a very difficult time with the consequences,” I said, taking his hand.

  As I watched the town of Staves vanish and the trees along the highway getting thicker, I felt my eyelids getting heavy again. Even through the excitement of seeing my family and home, I dozed. Although it wasn’t under wonderful circumstances, being near Everett relaxed me—made me feel at home. The long hours from last night didn’t help any, either.

  He woke me again when we passed through the massive, black wrought-iron gates in Eagleton.

  “We’re home, sleepy head,” he said, smiling at me.

  I yawned and sat up, my heart pounding. Rolling down the window, I inhaled. The green, fresh scent of home comforted me but only minimally. The long, winding drive after the gates was as familiar to me as my own hands. Everett, Max and I—and then Sylvia when she’d arrived—had raced up and down the drive hundreds of times over the years. I felt as if I knew every blade of grass, every tree, and every speck of dust personally. The trees pressed in on us from both sides, and with the sun shining through the massive boughs full of leaves, a river of flecks sparkled on the pavement.