Simon Berkley

Chapter 5: Amelia

Chapter 5: Amelia

We looked like hell, if the term served any justice. Felipe had a gash running down the left cheek of his face and bruises covering most of his neck.
I could tell there were other things ailing him as he limped out of the restaurant with a hand covering his chest. I helped him walk, an arm under his, and I realized he was a light man, like he was made up of air.
The restaurant looked like a tornado had hit it. Hopefully taking the tapes off the cameras in the back was enough to keep police away from this matter. There were two kinds of police in Cathedral: the crooked kind and the irrational kind. It was almost worse than L.A.
I had a run-in with a few cops at one point in my career. Some had even tried to bug my house, their intent being to prove that my so-called psychic services were a fraud.
Thank goodness (or something) that Alice had scared them away, had even told me where the bugs were and we'd dispensed of them swiftly.
I could just imagine what they would hear in those recordings—just me, probably talking to myself all the time; they probably thought I was crazy. Maybe they were right.
We walked outside, Felipe and I, the scabs on my legs burning and my head still ringing from slamming it against the monster-chef thing.
I had been almost certain we were going to die, though I had that certainty almost every day since I started dealing with the "other world".
When you're a thing like me you can barely keep away from it.
Everything that existed before the human world was supernatural and now, though the supernatural kept (most of) its nose out of the "normal" world, if you looked hard enough, you could see there was something else—maybe something lurking in the shadows.
I got Felipe into the car and he was quiet as we drove. He asked if he could use my cell phone and he dialed a few numbers, speaking fervently in a language that always sounded so familiar, yet alien—I called it "Witchian".
Felipe was looking pretty bad and part of me wanted to rush him to the hospital, but instead I called Phil, who poofed over to the house a minute later.
It was kind of scary thinking he could just come into my house whenever he pleased, but I knew Phil and my house was foe proof, thanks to many of the spells and seals I had learned from Fran during our time.
This was one of the many reasons why I appreciated Phil's friendship—I shivered at the thought of what would happen if I ever fell on his bad side (and his bad side was really bad).
I placed Felipe on my mattress, and I have to shamefully admit I cringed a little when I thought about the bloodstains on the covers and the pillows, but I counted to three hundred in my head and decided I would clean the stains later and, with any luck, I could stop by Pillow Mart and fetch some new pillows. Alice was hovering around Felipe as if she had never seen a witch before and I had to shoo her off.  Phil did his whispering thing and told us we had to leave the room while he did his hoodoo.
I watched "America's Most Wanted" in the living room and checked on the hall door every few minutes. Under the door I could see flashes of hot white, like my room had been suddenly filled with storming clouds. I watched "Cops" for at least an hour more; the man the police were searching for was a scarred-faced individual with a pale shaved head that stood in strong contrast to his tanned red face.  He looked meanly into the camera, a number plate in his hands. It was safe to say he wasn't the type of man you would want to meet in a dark alley.
He had killed three other men in a brawl just outside of Lancaster last month and was on the run. The picture was taken back when he had held up a convenience store three years ago.
I jotted down the number on a piece of paper and turned to the door when I heard it creak open. Phil placed a finger over his mouth and closed the door behind him.
"Is he okay?" I whispered.
"Not completely. He has some broken ribs and some fractures on his left leg. It could take time to heal."
"How much time are we talking about?"
"Give it a few weeks."
"A few weeks!" I shoved my face between my hands and growled.
Alice hovered over to us and closed her eyes while she spoke. "That man is in real danger, Simon."
"Yes, and so are we if we keep him here—you should've seen those monsters," I tried to keep my voice leveled, but the hospitable Alice was not helping.
"We're always in danger," she said. "But I felt his fear. He's really scared."
A witch...scared. It seemed almost impossible. Witches always seemed very casual, even in the most distressed circumstances. I had seen a witch take down two lions one time with her bare hands—long story short, she had two nifty fur coats at the end of the night and barely broke a sweat.
"Simon," said Alice. "So what is it going to be?"
"We have to help him," I sighed after a pause. "There is no choice. But tomorrow we have to contact Francesca and hope there are no more attacks."
Alice nodded.
"What exactly happened in the restaurant, Simon?" asked Phil. I explained to them about the cooks and the way they attacked us, about their unearthly grins and claws—and about the envelope.
"I don't think I have seen anything like that before," I touched the nape of my neck, the scratches burning under my fingers.
"And he gave you an envelope for Fran?" said Phil.
I nodded "It sounded like it was really important. He said we're in danger—that they are coming."
Alice and Phil gave each other a look.
"I know! Creepy, right?" I said. "What do you guys think it means?"
"Beats me," said Phil.
Alice shrugged.
"Well. We're gonna have to contact Fran tomorrow. Let the old man rest tonight," I said and pushed Alice out of the way. "Now, move. 'Cops' is on again."
That night I slept in the living room and Alice said she would take a stroll down the neighborhood to keep watch. I agreed to not salt the door when she left. Then I had my first dream with Amelia in over three months.
It's not that I wanted Amelia out—she meant too much to me. But the thought of her hurt my chest and made it hard to breathe sometimes, so I chose not to remember—only to work. Work would be enough to sustain my sanity and for a while it had been. I had used work as a wall, but I had a feeling the wall was crumbling. Something was happening I couldn't see—and I was powerless against it.
After her funeral, I had no one except my mother, Phil, and Alice to lean on. The days were long then, filled with this yearn for the things long gone and I was left vacated of everything. She had been my wife, the only person I had ever loved, and sometimes I could swear I felt her in the room with me during the nights, as if she were watching me.
In the dream she was as beautiful as she had ever been. It was raining like on the day of her death; I could still remember the flashes casting light into the windows of the hospital. It was raining now where I stood in my dream. The expanse was long and I couldn't see the end of the foggy, ruddy road that lay ahead.
The thing that first attracted me to Amelia had been her eyes—when I had met her long ago she had been less than pleased at the sight of me but I could remember the first time I saw her eyes. They were the lightest shade of blue I had ever seen, almost hinting violet. Her brown hair was short the last time I'd seen her—not boy short, but the ends kissed her pale shoulders and around the soft nape of her neck. I only had time to blink before she was almost beside me.
Amelia smiled at me and I ripped my eyes away from her, or at least tried to. I was afraid she was just an apparition. She came closer, carefully. The raucous wind spit cold rain on my face like thousands of tiny icicles, when suddenly I felt the warmth of her body against mine, her even breath.
"Simon. I love you."
Her hands reached up to my face and she traced my forehead with her soft lips. I kissed her then—pressing her so hard against me. I could never resist Amelia. My body was begging for her, but soon she pulled away.
"Simon...you are all going to die."
I wiped the rain away from my eyes, keeping an arm around her waist.
"Isn't it too late for Alice?" I teased.
She hit my arm hard and said, "I'm being serious, Simon. There are forces looming; old forces, Simon."
I listened and I could tell she was scared. I lifted her chin and gave her a peck; I could taste her lips, the natural scent of her skin in my nostrils.
"I won't let anything happen to you," I said and immediately felt absurd.
"I'm already gone, Simon," she chuckled and I felt that ping of guilt in my chest.
"I could have saved you. I just needed more time." My heart was pounding hard in my chest. I cried on her shoulder, the warmth of my tears burning my skin over the cold rain. "I love you so much." The fire building inside me was enough to burn a hole through my chest.  I felt her tense up against me, her arms went limp on her sides and she fell in my arms, blue, her cheeks sunk in, she had stopped breathing.
"Amelia!" I screamed, but the thunder drowned out my cries.
I bent to lay her flat on the ground and tried CPR, but it didn't work, I placed a finger under her nose and felt no air. Thunder hummed somewhere beyond the skies and a man was standing on the road.
He was just far enough for me to see his silhouette, but nothing else. I held her close, dragging her from the road, away from the man. I searched the ground for something to use as a weapon, but found only a rock the size of my fist.
Lightning flashed around me and the man raised a hand. I was almost certain he would kill us both. With a thought he could wipe us out, but he just stood there.
"Wars start this way," said the man. At first it sounded like a whisper, then a great echo that expanded and hit everything.
"Shut up! Give her back!" I stood, my fists clenched to my side.
"She is mine," he said simply. "Give her to me."
"Like hell I will," I threw the rock and to my surprise it hit the man square in the face.
The rain stopped and I could hear something from afar. At first I couldn't recognize the sound, but then all around me their squawks filled the air, a dark cloud dispensing itself over us.
Crows. All around me they flapped their black wings against the night. I threw myself down on Amelia, whispering in her ear that everything was gonna be okay.
"I love you so much." Her warm skin had turned icy.
All around the birds pecked, clawed and I could barely feel a thing. All that mattered was that I had her back. She was there. I would get her to Phil and he would somehow bring he back—all I needed to do was protect her—like I should have done so long ago.
"I'm so sorry," I said to her and I hoped she could hear me through the squawks.
"Bye, Simon," I heard the man say and I shot up on my bed, beads of sweat carried themselves over my chest and forehead. My heart was going so fast I thought it would explode. I felt cold and my arms were numb.
And on my lips I could taste her lips. A black feather wafted through the window and fell on my lap.