Amaretto Flame (8 page)

“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
giggling.

“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.