Amaretto Flame (3 page)

“Yes. Yes, I am looking for a job,” I said
slowly, allowing the rebellious feeling to gather throughout my
body, warm and satisfying.

The next hour went by quickly. The man’s name
was Bob Stallott, and he was the owner of the club. I learned
quickly that he had an obvious appreciation for attractive girls,
as his eyes flicked down several times to the milky white skin of
my chest as he spoke to me. Even so, he seemed very serious when he
told me that he didn’t want any hands on his girls.

“You smile and laugh, and make sure they’re
having a good time, but you let me know if some creep tries to get
touchy-feely,” he said. He glanced at the clock every few minutes,
and I assumed it was because it was nearly time for the club to
open for business. Jenny, Erika, and Renee pulled the high-backed
chairs down from the tables as I talked to Bob, readying the
place.

“If you can work Wednesday through Sunday
from four in the afternoon until closing, you can have the job. You
have to be able to handle a lot of time on your feet, and it’s a
fast-paced job. You look tough, though. It shouldn’t be a
problem.”

I watched him as he spoke. How odd it felt to
be sitting at a booth in this nightclub, talking to this human. I
almost felt as if I were in a dream. It was so far from anything
I’d ever experienced. I nodded at him as he told me how much I’d
make per hour, and that any tips I received were mine to keep.

“You’ll stay an hour after the club closes to
help clean up and wash the dishes, and that’s about it,” he said.
“You can start tomorrow. Jenny and Erika will show you everything
that needs to be done. If you write down your address,” he pointed
to a pen and sheet of paper on the table, “I’ll send someone over
with your uniform. Oh, and you’ll need to bring me your ID tomorrow
so I can fill out the necessary tax forms.”

I picked up the pen quickly, writing down the
address at the old plantation house. An ID. This would be a little
tricky. Technically, I guessed I probably wasn’t even allowed to be
in this club at nineteen years old. Even better, I thought. If
you’re going to be rebellious, you might as well go all the
way.

I smiled as Bob stood, and I waved goodbye to
the girls as I made my way across the indoor-outdoor carpet toward
the exit. Stuck as I was in my thoughts, I barely noticed the stray
plucks of a guitar coming from somewhere in the club. As I reached
toward the door, the stray notes picked up in speed, forming the
beginning of a song.

The sun nearly blinded me as I exited, and
although I craved some quiet place to think over the events that
had just occurred, I was in no rush to go back to the huge, empty
house. A few times as I slowly made my way back through town, the
wind picked up, making chill-bumps break out on my arms. As I
passed the park where the little girl and her father had been
earlier, my cell phone rang. I snatched it out of my pocket and
grinned. Everett’s name was on the little glowing screen.

“Everett.” It wasn’t a question, or even a
statement really. It was a sigh…a relief that someone had
remembered me. It was the first time since my banishment that
anyone in Eagleton had called.

“Livvy! How are you?” His voice boomed into
my ear.
Shrugging off the question, I told him I was fine and asked about
Eagleton; about my brothers and sisters.

“They miss you,” he replied, his voice
quieter. “And they’re letting Ivanna know that in no uncertain
terms. It’s busy here, with preparations for Beltane. I’ve carried
enough wood to build a house,” he laughed.

Beltane. The time of year when all the world
was in love; the animals of the forest in their mating dances, the
seeds in the ground beginning to wake up and stir. The Mother
Goddess took the form of a young maiden, seeking her lover, the
Horned One of the forest. My brothers and sisters would jump over
bonfires for luck, and the whole coven would circle the property in
Eagleton, making any necessary repairs.

There would be a huge feast, and dancing into
the night. It was one of the biggest celebrations in Eagleton, a
chance to honor the youth of the year, and it was the first one I’d
miss since going to Eagleton.

Last year, after Charlotte had mentioned
something about the Beltane dew bringing great beauty, Sylvia had
talked me into going out early with her. We rose at dawn, and I
indulgently followed her as she collected the dripping dew from
blades of grass and flower petals, swiping it all over the warm
brown skin of her face. I smiled sadly, wishing I would be there.
Then I nearly laughed at the thought of Sylvia needling Everett or
Max to go out with her and wash their faces in the Beltane dew.

“I wish you were here,” Everett said,
bringing me back to the moment.

“Me too,” I sighed. “Listen…can you have Max
call me as soon as possible? It’s really important.”

“I’ll tell him. Oh, Ivanna says you should be
ready Friday morning. I’ll be there early to get you. We’re meeting
with the Moss Point coven.” Everett’s voice didn’t change, but I
sensed the tension even from this far away.

“Have there been more attacks?” I asked
quietly, looking around. I’d wandered through the fence and into
the small park, and now I sat at a weathered picnic table.

“I don’t know,” he said. It seemed as if he
wanted to add something, but he remained quiet.

“Everett, what if I really messed up?” The
words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “What if
they find him and somehow they’re able to--” He interrupted
quickly.

“Olivia, that’s not going to happen. Besides,
the attacks that have happened are not Venator. We’ll talk about
this when I come to pick you up, okay?”

I nodded like he could see me through the
phone. “Okay. I’ll see you Friday morning then, and don’t forget
about Max.”

“I won’t. I’m hoping Ivanna caves Friday and
lets you come home. I think she misses you more than anyone else,
other than me of course.”

I imagined the smile on Everett’s face and
refused to let my eyes tear up. “We’ll see,” I said. I hung up,
thinking of Everett. He had come to Eagleton just a few months
after me. He was six then, and a scrawny, timid thing. I had doted
on him from the moment he arrived, with his soft, pale hair and
shining eyes. We were inseparable. For a long time, he wouldn’t
talk to any of the other coven members. He would whisper to me what
he wanted me to know, or what he wanted to say to the others but
couldn’t bring himself to.

He probably would have used his power – the
ability to get inside someone’s head and talk to them there – but
we learned a long time ago that normal spells didn’t work on
me.

For years after he arrived, I’d wake up and
find him curled up beside me in my bed, his little fingers
clutching mine as if I were his only life line. Slowly, he came out
of his shell and began to speak and interact with the adults. A few
years after Everett came Max, and then Sylvia.

I knew their histories. Each of them had gone
through terrible ordeals at the hands of the ‘parents’ who’d
created them. Sitting at the picnic table, I experienced one of my
bitter moments. Normal human children had parents that loved them,
that adored them even. They grew up secure in the fact that they
were loved. Some Wise Ones even shared that fate, but not
many.\

It was as if we were cursed; abandoned—and
worse—by our human parents, and then we were expected to protect
humans from the Venator. Maybe not all humans would abandon Wise
Ones as soon as they realized they were different, but I instantly
doubted that thought. Even through the bitter feelings, I knew that
I would die defending humans from the hunters if need be. Because,
despite their stubborn refusal to acknowledge anything that was
different from them—beliefs different from theirs—humans were
innocent, and they didn’t deserve the cruel end the Venator would
have them experience.

I shook my head to clear it, and stood from
the picnic table. The afternoon was wearing on, the sun a bronze
disc in the clear sky. As my feet shuffled toward the old house
slowly, I found myself remembering those first days of my arrival
in Eagleton. I was so caught up in my memories that I didn’t notice
the black jeep parked in front of the house until I had nearly
reached the low gate. I whipped my head toward the house in alarm.
If Ivanna was sending someone, she would have called, and I knew no
one in Staves.

A tall man was standing on the wide front
porch, a crumpled brown paper bag in his hands. As I watched,
trying to place him in my memory, he shifted the bag to his other
arm and knocked on the door. I glanced back at the jeep and
wondered if perhaps Ivanna had called to have something delivered.
The man ran a hand through his unruly hair and just as he was
starting to turn, I called out to him.

“No one’s home,” I said. “Maybe I can help
you with something.” He swiveled around to look at me with bright,
honey-colored eyes.
Whoa.
“

Uh…hi,” he said, his head cocked to the side.
“I’m looking for Olivia Landry.”

“What do you need her for?” I asked, crossing
my arms as he began to descend the steps. The hair that had looked
brown shone copper in the sunlight as he reached the cobblestone
walk. Curly sideburns of the same color lined his angular jaw. He
didn’t speak again until he’d nearly reached the tiny gate, and
then he stood still and looked at me for a moment.

“Listen,” he lowered his voice. “Someone paid
me to drop this off to her, and to be quite honest, I’m a little
afraid for her safety.” He looked suspiciously at the paper bag,
which was rolled closed at the top.

“Why?” I asked, my own voice lowered as
well.

“I think I heard it ticking in the jeep…like
some kind of bomb or something,” he answered. My hands went slowly
to my sides as I backed up a few steps, and then I realized he was
laughing.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “It’s your work
uniform. Bob sent me over with it.”
Wow. That was fast.

“That’s not funny,” I said, unable to conceal
a smile.

“Why not?”

“Because. That job is just a cover for my
real job, and it’s very possible that someone might send me a
bomb.”

“Oh,” he said with feigned seriousness.
“What’s your real job?”

I wiped the smile off my face and shrugged.
“I’m an assassin.”

He laughed again, his whole face lighting up,
and then he opened the gate and thrust the paper bag toward me. “In
that case, this is all yours.” After I took the bag, he made his
way around to the driver’s side of his jeep.

“Hey,” I said. “How did you know I was
Olivia?”

“Oh,” he smiled. “I saw you in the club. I’m
Jackson, the singer slash DJ.”

I nodded sheepishly, remembering the sound of
the guitar as I had left the club.

“You start tomorrow, right?” He asked,
opening the jeep door.

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Well I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah,” I said again. “Thanks for bringing
this over.”

“Just remember you owe me,” he replied,
settling into the driver’s seat. “You know, incase I need to put a
hit out on someone or something.” He winked at me and started the
jeep, pulling out onto the quiet street. I watched him drive away,
and shook my head, smiling.

With a last look around the empty street, I
turned and walked toward the house, waiting for the call from Max
and wondering if he’d have any ethical issues about helping me
break the law.

Thursday morning, I woke up to a sky filled
with thick clouds in all shades of gray and purple. In the same way
the sunshine would brighten most people, the possibility of a good
rain lightened my mood. I stayed in bed for a while, listening to
the sounds in the old house and thinking of the stark contrast
between the quiet here and the continuous bustle back in
Eagleton.

Max would arrive sometime this morning with
the ID I needed. He’d called the previous evening, during a long
soak in the claw-foot bathtub. It took a little needling to get him
to do what I wanted, mostly reassurance that I wasn’t going to get
into trouble.

When I finally did get up, I lit a fire
downstairs to fight the chill, and then picked up the paper bag
from an armchair where I’d placed it. I pulled out the uniform and
looked at it for a long time before trying it on. The skirt was far
too high, and I wondered why Bob didn’t just make his girls wait
tables in bikinis. I looked at myself in the downstairs bathroom
mirror, examining every inch of the reflection I saw.

I wondered what other people would see when
they looked at me. Thick hair that was as black as a midnight sky,
falling to the middle of my back in silky tresses. Steel-gray eyes
that matched the cloudy sky. I was pretty, but I’d long ago given
up the hope of being beautiful. My face was too guarded and cool
for great beauty, not at all warm like Sylvia’s. Sometimes when she
smiled, it was like the whole world was being lit by a cheery fire.
Feeling a sudden pang of homesickness, I began taking Bob’s tiny
uniform off.

I caught the glint of the scars in the
mirror, and for once, I didn’t look away. They were rectangular,
inch-long, silvery reminders of my past. Two rested on the
underside of my arm, three across my upper stomach, three near my
left hip, and two that were dangerously close to my heart. Everett
had told me once that they were my battle scars, the proof that I
was here for a reason, the testament of my strength. I hated the
scars. To me, they were a ‘rejected’ stamp; proof that I was hated
and unwanted.

I jumped when I heard the knock on the door,
and I quickly pulled on the t-shirt and pajama bottoms I’d been
sleeping in. Max’s face through the peep hole was the most
beautiful sight I’d seen in days, and I flung the door open with a
grin.