Fading Amber (11 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reed

BOOK: Fading Amber
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“Great.” I needed another heavy responsibility on my shoulders, I really did.
“This is why I've come to see you, to explain what is in store for you,” she continued. “Your bonding with Caleb is one of many concerns.”
“Yeah, about that . . .” I began, fighting the sudden nausea. “Doesn't our empathic link count for anything in all of this? Caleb's drink had been spiked with olive oil on Halloween, and he wound up in a coma for a month. We may not be bonded, but the link that we share almost drove me insane. As far as I'm concerned, we're already screwed—no pun intended.”
“I've considered that.” Angie nodded. “Cambions rarely mate with other Cambions and when they do, it's done immediately. The link you and Caleb share was meant to be a temporary phase, in the way an engagement precedes a wedding. How you've held back for this long is remarkable, given what we are, what's in our nature. Which makes sense that the family believes that you and Caleb are already bonded, and who are we to make them believe otherwise?” she said.
I stared at her sly expression, weighing what she implied, but even more so to what she didn't say. “You mean you made them
believe
that we were? So basically we just fake it until we make it.”
“These are very unusual circumstances that never had to be addressed before. Lilith is a mature spirit trapped in a child's body, and you are too young to make a decision so permanent. This is the best option for you right now.”
“How will they know if we're not lying? Is there a test? A secret handshake?” I asked.
“Not likely if there are those who can attest for you, someone they trust to give a sound witness.”
It took me a second to catch on. “Ruiz,” I said.
She nodded. “He reports everything to them. If you can convince him that you are bonded, there will be no reason for further investigation,” she said. “Allow the detective to observe you together as often as possible. Once he is convinced that you are a bound pair, he will report it and the family will have no choice but to close the issue.”
I shook my head, dumbstruck. “How on earth will I pull that off?”
“Be creative. I trust your judgment on this.” Angie winked.
“What about Tobias?” I asked, afraid to know the answer. Whatever it was, it was going to be bad for all of us, but I had to know what I was up against.
“Quite simple, little one,” she began with a gentle smile, her words honey sweet laced with poison. “The demon must die.”
 
After I left the hotel, I drove around for a while to clear my head, because Angie's words kept scrambling my thoughts.
“The demon must die. The demon must die.”
The phrase played over and over, the repetition digging grooves into my brain. I didn't want Tobias to die, not if it meant Caleb and I would go with him. My concern was entirely selfish and I was completely comfortable with that. Though I was sure Tobias could survive just about anything, I still needed to find him before Angie did.
I took the city tour through Tobias's path of destruction, the demon walk of ill-fame, as it were. I cruised past my house, my school, Merchant's Square where Tobias took me to feed, then I finally parked in front of Caleb's townhouse, which was under construction. Apart from the blue tarp covering the roof and the boarded windows, the outside looked fine. Most of the damage was inside, and it had to be gutted and renovated.
Whether it was a woman or a solid building, nothing was left standing after Tobias was done with it. I doubted he would have the nerve to show up in Caleb's neighborhood again, so I ventured to my next destination.
The spray bottle of olive oil that I always kept in my bag now rested on my lap, just in case he decided on another sneak attack. And as always, Lilith worried my spine, in full knowledge of the damage anointing oil could cause. Caleb almost died when a few drops were slipped into his drink at Courtney B.'s Halloween party. Naturally, Lilith would fear for my own safety, and as far as she was concerned I was a child playing with matches.
Staring out to the road, I remembered the costume party all those lifetimes ago. What I would give to go back to a time where a party was just a party, and not a prelude to tragedy. I remembered my green fairy wings, the candy apple on my head and Caleb's nifty trick with his bow and arrow. Then I recalled the masked man on the dance floor who I now knew was Tobias. I followed him around the party, just as mindless and desperate to reach him as I was now.
All thoughts led back to him, and I had to admit, he was a beautiful distraction as well as a despised habit. Even in thought, he wouldn't leave me alone, and Lilith's flaky behavior only aggravated this rash. I wouldn't give up the search for him and there was one last spot that I hadn't checked.
The Colonial Parkway was the one place you didn't travel after dark unless surviving the dawn just wasn't your thing. The unsolved murders over the years made the parkway notorious throughout Williamsburg, but only the stony path and ancient forest edging its border knew the real story. Of course, this was the route I chose to take, the path of truth.
With high beams glaring, I scanned the road for any sign of wreckage, though the police had cleaned up the area by now. Thirty minutes into my search, I found shiny fragments of glass on the road. I slowed my speed and found more debris ahead—some shards of metal, a small piece of rubber, but there was no crash site. I was about to give up when I caught something bright and colorful on the right shoulder.
I was alone on the road, so I put the car in reverse and parked right next to the marked point. On closer inspection, I noticed that there were old flowers, candles, and personal notes grouped in a neat little pile. No doubt Malik's friends and loved ones had visited this spot before me. I didn't bother reading the thoughtful words on the weather-beaten sheets of poster board; I knew they would all say the same thing and I had enough guilt riding on my back.
I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the car, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Despite the dictates of common sense, a strange boldness guided my steps. No one could truly hurt me without feeling Lilith's wrath. No one
human,
anyway.
I strolled a few yards from the crash site and found ridges of dirt bulging up through the stripped grass. Tire marks had molded their print in the cold mud. There were no skid marks on the actual road, but if there were, it would likely follow the same arcing path the mud tracks made toward the ditch.
Going into detective mode, I tried to replay the scene. Maybe something jumped out, making the truck swerve to the right. It could have been a deer. They were pretty crazy around here. I moved farther down, my heart pounding with excitement as I searched for the next clue. I walked until there was no more glass and the trail went cold.
“It must have happened here,” I said to the glittery concrete. “Tobias, what happened to you?”
I listened for movement, any odd shift of leaves, or the presence of anything alive. Roaming possums and raccoons were my only company, the moonlight reflecting in their eyes in a sinister glow. It appeared that even
they
knew I shouldn't be on the parkway at night. As I went back toward my car, I noticed that one particular light was too big and too bright to come from an animal.
I squinted my eyes, following the light as it moved through the trees in a sweeping motion. It drifted low to the ground, swinging from side to side then swooping up the trees. They weren't eyes at all. It was a flashlight.
There were no houses in this area, and there were no other cars on this road from what I could see, but it was clear I wasn't the only one here looking for something. Suddenly the light went out and I could hear something moving closer, the snapping of twigs and the crunch of dry leaves. I stood motionless, powerless as another noise carried on the breeze. It was an unusual sound for wind, not quite a howl but a sharp whine of an injured animal.
As soon as it began, it stopped.
Had I imagined it? Fear tended to play tricks on the mind, but I was clear headed enough to know I wasn't alone here. And if paranoia served me correctly, I was being watched. I could feel the deep penetrating stare of something dangerous and hungry. I felt the stare before I saw the dark figure through the trees. It reminded me of a bird of prey, the way it perched on a branch, guarding its home from invasion.
A crawling sensation ran up my back and I jumped and looked behind me. When I saw no one there, I felt stupid for not remembering Lilith was around. She was always around, all-seeing all-knowing, and forever irking my nerves. To my surprise, she wasn't afraid. If anything, she seemed conflicted and a little sad, unsure whether to stay or leave. So I made the choice for her.
Reason finally arrived, and I almost broke into a run to my car. I didn't look to see if the thing was following me. Past experiences taught me to never, ever look back.
Approaching headlights forced me to abandon the main path and walk on the shoulder. I reached my car, jumped in, and locked the door behind me as the car pulled alongside mine.
The tinted window slid down and a dark head leaned in from the driver's side. It would probably be the only time in my life that I would ever be glad to see the detective.
“Samara?” Ruiz called. “Is that you? What the hell are you doing out here this time of night?”
I took my time rolling down my window, thinking of a good excuse. Then I remembered the flowers by the ditch. “A classmate of mine wrecked his car here and I just wanted to pay my respects.” I pointed to the flowers and candles on the road.
“You couldn't do this in the daytime? Does your mother know you're out here?” he asked.
Uh oh, not the mother card. “It's not that late. What are
you
doing out here?” I asked, trying to get him off the topic. The last thing I needed was him ratting me out.
“Have you seen Haden or Michael Ross? I saw them come this way, but I lost them.”
They were on the parkway too? Was this a Cambion rest stop? “No. Haven't seen them,” I said.
He leaned in, his expression hard and brooked no nonsense. “If you're trying to protect them from something, don't. They are in enough trouble as it is, and running off like this is only going to make it worse.”
“I haven't seen them, I swear!” I said. “Last time I saw them, they were back at the hotel. Have you checked the bars in the area?”
“Yeah. They do like their alcohol. It's a bit out of the way just for a drink, though,” he said more to himself then to me. “You should get home, Samara. This isn't a good place for you to be alone. I've heard stories about this area.” He looked around the woods. “I'm sorry about your friend. How did he die?”
“Uh, not sure. When the police find his body, I'll let you know. They only found his truck.” I started the engine and took one last look to the woods to where I saw the strange figure. Of course it was gone—creepy things always left the scene when other people were around just so you would look crazy. But I knew what I saw, and I knew it had to be another piece to the puzzle. I just wished I knew what it meant, and I wasn't brave enough to find out tonight.
“Yeah, it's not safe out here at all,” I said to myself.
9
I
t was a ridiculously cold Friday, partly cloudy with a high chance of mortification.
One of those days when your pillows started talking, bargaining with you to stay.
Fifteen minutes, ten more minutes, just five more minutes.
School let out yesterday for holiday break, so I didn't bother to set my alarm and even with the extra three hours, I had to peel myself out of bed.
I didn't get much sleep last night for two reasons. One was that I stayed up watching Christmas specials with Mom. It was our tradition and the year couldn't end without viewing commercialized cheer. And on those rare occasions when the planets aligned, the great trifecta of holiday cinema would show in the same day:
It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story,
and
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
. Mom saw it as a sign of good luck for the new year, but I wasn't holding my breath.
The second reason for my fatigue was what I'd like to call “naughty sleep deficiency.” Real talk, was it normal to have vivid, raunchy, X-rated dreams about your boyfriend? Five nights in a row? I knew girls had fantasies about getting married or going to the prom, or being swept away by some guy on a white horse trotting all sexylike along the beach. But my nocturnal experience was straight scramble porn nasty. I wasn't sure I could look at Caleb in the eye after what I'd seen, which was unfortunate because I had to see him at work today.
I had no doubt Lilith was giving off some subliminal vibes. She'd done it before with Tobias, but now Caleb was the star of the show and the imagery had never been this hard-core, never this real. I would wake up in a cold sweat with half the sheets on the floor, and I could swear on a stack of Bibles that he was in the room with me. Lilith was pulling out all the stops to get her point across, and she wouldn't let me rest until she got a slice of some Cake Boy.
In addition to the skinamax movie that played in my head, my waking hours were no better. I was getting it from all angles—home, school, and work. The paranormal world bled into my everyday life, its virus infecting everyone I knew.
In summation, Mom was losing sleep and had to up her meds, Dad kept calling me every day in order to guilt-trip me into getting therapy, Ruiz kicked his stalking duties into overdrive, and Tobias was on the warpath and his whereabouts remained unknown.
Lilith wouldn't talk about my blackout and kept jabbing my back whenever I broached the issue. Angie was chain smoking and conducting lengthy conference calls behind closed doors. Michael and Haden kept slipping from under Ruiz's radar and disappearing for hours at a time for “beer runs.”
Dougie had become a gigolo overnight by dating five girls in one week. Mia still refused to talk to me in class, Caleb was still acting shady, and Malik Davis was still dead and kinda missing.
But all that had been put on pause for one grand announcement.
Robbie Ford was back in town.
It began with a text that I got while getting dressed for work.
 
ROBBIE: Yo Sammy! Off for Xmas break. Tell Ur boy to call me ASAP. New Year's party @ my house. Be there. Clothing optional. :p
 
Robbie was an evil genius in every respect—the Brain with no Pinky—and voted most likely to blow up the planet with one stroke of the keyboard. He just finished his first semester at MIT, but according to his spastic e-mails, college wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I guess he figured a little drunken debauchery would do everyone some good, and I couldn't agree more. Robbie's parties were what made the world go round, and it boosted my ego to be one of the first to know about it. But his direct correspondence might've had to do with Caleb and his musical expertise. With Caleb as the deejay, it was bound to be the jump-off of the season.
Having an idea in mind, I texted Mia. If anything could get her to open up, a kick-ass party would.
 
ME: ROBBIE FORD NEW YEARS PARTY! COME WITH ME!!
 
I waited for her to reply while eating a bowl of cereal. Draining the bowl, I almost choked when I saw her message.
 
MIA: OMG! What R U gonna wear?
 
I started break dancing in the middle of the kitchen—no joke. The line of communication had been opened. It was a step in the right direction and I would take what I could get at the moment. I was going to get my friend back no matter what it took.
After texting back that I had no idea what to wear, I grabbed my coat and bag by the door, busting a move the whole time. I could already hear the bass pumping through the speakers, feel the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, and savor the freedom of not thinking, just for one night. This small glimmer of hope put a much-appreciated spring in my step.
That was until I opened the front door.
“What the . . . ?” I gaped at the blonde standing on my porch.
Olivia turned around and faced me. She appeared to be in mourning, wearing a black funeral dress and a permanent frown.
“Hello, Samara. I'm glad I caught you before you left. I plan to join you today,” she said, all droopy-eyed and taciturn.
I stood frozen in place, still holding the door. “Join-what-where?”
“Mama is occupied with business. Mishka and Szymon are annoying. I'm bored, and I want to accompany you to work, as a guest, of course.”
“Good lord, why? I don't even wanna go.”
“I'm curious and this would be a good way to get to know each other. It doesn't seem fair that you know so much about me where I know virtually nothing about you. I would like to explore and see how the other half lives.”
“You mean slumming?” I rephrased.
“More like broadening my horizons,” she corrected.
I regarded the seven-foot wall in the expensive suit standing next to her. He reminded me of a German gymnast action hero on steroids with his buzz cut, square face, and cold blue eyes. “Who's this guy? He looks vaguely familiar.”
“This is Gunner. He's my driver and personal guard. Pay no attention to him.”
Was she kidding me? The guy was as wide as my door. I thought Haden looked intimidating with all his scars and bulk, but this guy looked like he ate Haden. “There's no way he can come to my job. He's too obvious. People will think he's Secret Service or a hit man or something.”
“We must have a guard with us at all times, especially while in this country. You won't even notice him, I promise. The bookstore opens at ten, yes?”
“Doesn't matter 'cause you're not coming with me.” I stepped out onto the porch.
“What's going on?” Mom yawned on her way down the stairs, wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and a night mask on top of her head. After rubbing her eyes, she screamed on sight of Nadine's clone at the door. “Holy crap! Is that a ghost?”
“No, Mom. It's Nadine's little sister,” I answered. In all fairness, “clone” wasn't a precise description, because unlike Nadine, Olivia actually knew how to smile, and did so with relish as she poked her head inside to address Mom. She also spoke better English than Nadine did; I just didn't like what she had to say with that vocabulary.
“It is nice to meet you, Ms. Marshall. I'm Olivia Petrovsky. I was hoping to accompany Samara to work today.”
“Oh. How exciting. Come on in.” Mom motioned for our guests to enter, then tipped her head to the heavy for hire. “What about Tony Boom Boom over here? Is he going, too?”
“Yes, he has been instructed to keep watch over Samara as well,” Olivia explained.
“Well, that's nice. Isn't that nice, honey?” Mom asked me.
“No. No it's not. I have enough drama going on and you want me to add more to the mix? She's a—” I lowered my voice so the bodyguard couldn't hear. “She's a Cambion, Mom, and she's pretty, and she's mean. That's a triple-threat. She's gonna get her butt kicked, or worse, she'll get me fired. I've got enough on my plate as it is.”
“Samara, it's only for a day and this would be a great way for the two of you to connect. You are Cambion siblings now.” Mom tried to reason, but I wasn't having it.
I glanced at Olivia, who spoke to her watchdog by the door. I noted their body language: their closeness, the assuring touches on the arm and shoulder and the immersed stares between one another. It was very intimate given the two-decade age difference, but I didn't feel any seedy vibes, so a quick call to the police wouldn't be necessary. It seemed more of a form of communication, a language of hands and eyes only they could understand; something animals would do.
Catching me staring, Olivia tossed her Pantene Pro-V hair over her shoulder and gave a smile that no sane person should ever trust.
“Oh, hell no!” I yelled then turned to Mom. “We can hang out when I get off work or maybe even tomorrow, but there is no way—
no way—
she's coming with me to work!”
 
“That is so freaky. She looks just like her.” Alicia stared in a trance while letting the blender whirl at high speed with no lid.
“I know. If you think that's bad, you should see her mom,” I replied as I wiped up the mess she made on the counter. It was weird seeing the exact replica of a dead co-worker roaming around, but Alicia handled this poltergeist better than most.
Olivia had reached celebrity status in a matter of hours, which made for some hateful looks from female shoppers. She strolled the aisles, scared half the employees into the next life, and turned the heads of every male in the bookstore. Gunner hadn't even tried to be subtle while doing recon on the area. One high point was that none of the customers harassed me, except to ask for Olivia's number.
I was so not feeling the holiday cheer. The Colonial actors in their eighteenth century garb singing carols outside only solidified my bad mood. Between songs, a few would come in for hot drinks, and I became the Scrooge to their Dickens' story. To accent the shame to this misadventure, all the employees had to wear stupid Santa hats for the rest of the week.
Aside from the Colonial weirdoes, there wasn't much as far as entertainment in town, especially if you didn't have a car. So it came as no shock that half the kids I went to school with haunted the shopping center and movie theaters. It could have been the holiday sales or boredom, but it seemed that everyone decided to stop by the store today. It was like they could smell fresh meat.
Holding a stack of books in her hand, Olivia approached the counter. “I would like to buy these. And a latté and scone please,” she said with a wicked smirk, knowing that I was obligated to do her bidding.
I rushed to make the drink, but Alicia was already on the job, leaving me to ring up Olivia's order and make small talk. “You know there are cashiers in the front of the store.”
“Yes, but I can only purchase coffee here.” She surveyed the busy atmosphere. “Cuppa-Joe. Interesting name. My sister really enjoyed working here. Not sure why she would make the choice to work, but she liked her independence.”
Since no one else was in line, I snuck a peek at her reading selection, seeking some hint of humanity. I saw the familiar font of one of the books in the middle of the pile, and for the first time in recorded history, I was glad to see it. Making sure Alicia was out of earshot, I asked, “So, you like
Specter
?”
“Is this your attempt to relate to me?” she asked.
“Maybe. How's it working?”
“Not in your favor. Nice hat, by the way. Real politically correct,” she commented. “If you must know, it's not for me. I'm buying the book for Mishka. She loves the series and she won't stop talking about it.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“Lame. They portray ghosts wrong,” she replied. “Ghosts are demons that impersonate the dead, not the lingering souls of the dead. Demons are imposters of the living.”
“Interesting theory.” Especially since she owned a demon and everyone around here thought she was Nadine's ghost. I examined the other books in her pile and stopped at a thick volume at the bottom. “
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
. Wow.” I took the book and thumbed through the pages. “I take it you're into Shakespeare?”
She shrugged. “Who isn't?”
“You'd be surprised. Some people only go as far as the high school requirement:
Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet
. They never get to the good stuff. Sometimes, I start talking Elizabethan for no reason.” I chuckled to myself and scanned the bar code of the book.
“This sounds like a symptom of schizophrenia. If I'm not mistaken, there are psychology and mental illness books on the third aisle if you need a diagnosis.”
Ignoring the dig, I asked, “What's your favorite play?”

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