46. Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Six
A mber fled the Emporium, feigning illness as the reason she couldn’t stay. Rosa, full of concern, let her go, adding to the guilt she already felt. After the in-depth lecture she’d had from her dad about inappropriate use of magic and his confession about his feelings for a woman called Lorna, Amber had welcomed Willow’s absence when she arrived for her shift. It was short-lived, cut short by Rosa’s overflowing need to gossip about Willow rushing out to see Nate, of all people.
Another wave of nausea threatened as she hoisted her rucksack on her shoulder and attempted to ignore Beetle squirming and protesting at his containment in her side bag. Running away unnoticed was hard enough with bright blue hair, but a ferret draped around her shoulder would guarantee attention. Once Willow spoke to Nate, Amber’s deceit would be revealed, and however white the lie, she’d see it as an ultimate betrayal. Everything was falling apart. Glenn had a date set up with Lorna. Willow was still alone, and she still hadn’t discovered who the poison letter writer was.
Garth looked up from his manga magazine as she stumbled into the shop and rolled his eyes. Refusing to react, Amber left her rucksack on one of the sofas and made her way to the back rooms. She wouldn’t be long; she’d be out of his radar as soon as she collected her portfolio of designs she’d forgotten. Maybe they’d be enough for her to get an apprenticeship elsewhere. Artie said she had talent. The staffroom was spotless and sparse of furniture apart from a couple of chairs and table. A far cry from the Emporium’s cosiness, but she’d miss it. The heartache of leaving Willow and Rosa was expected, but it surprised her how reluctant she was to say goodbye to this place. Bones Ink had only been part of her life for the summer, but she had no choice. She couldn’t hang around.
She knew her eyes were red, puffy, and she looked a state without make-up disguising her blotchy skin, but she didn’t care what he thought of her, she just needed to collect her portfolio of designs. Maybe someone would offer her a job based on them.
‘Amber,’ Artie’s voice came from his studio, ‘is that you? I’ve a customer who may be interested in a design of yours. What’s happened?’
Holding her notebook close to her chest, she bumped into him as he came to find her. With red puffy eyes and no make-up, she couldn’t hide her distress.
‘What happened?’
Unable to answer, the truth too mortifying and complex, Amber burst into tears. The following hug and mug of tea made her feel worse. Any other time, his attention would have been a dream come true. But now it added to the shame.
‘Look. Whatever’s happened don’t run away on impulse. Here’s the key to my flat upstairs. Stay and decide what to do tomorrow, please.’ Fatigue overwhelmed her, and with a meek smile, she reluctantly agreed.
The flat with its high ceilings and tall windows was larger than Willow’s, and Artie’s minimalist approach to furniture added to the sense of space; the large television, gaming console and gaming chairs showed a side of him she didn’t know. The sound of her grabbing a Coke she found in Artie’s fridge alongside the cans of lager woke Beetle up and he crawled out from the shoulder bag she wore. In reality, she should have left him at home, but Amber couldn’t face it. He was her only friend, the one she could trust and who loved her unconditionally.
‘Come on then—’she scooped him up, ‘—let’s find our room for the night.’ She snatched up her bag and headed to the room Artie said she could stay in, declaring his housemate was away. The warm feminine atmosphere with extensive cushions and knick-knacks dotted around surprised her, and despite the excess pink, it was a relief from the sweaty socks and lingering stale aftershave she’d expected.
Rummaging through her bag, Amber pulled out Jack’s hoodie and slipped it on. How could she have misjudged things so badly? She bit her lip. First, she messed up with Jack and now Willow. They’d be better off without her. She couldn’t fix the past, but maybe she could discover who penned the letters. Maybe Willow wouldn’t hate her so much then.
She found one of the envelopes the perpetrator had written on in her book. It would have to do. The letters remained on her desk for her dad to find, so he could warn Willow of the dangers lurking in the shadows. She deserved to know the truth, even if Amber was too cowardly to tell her in person. Amber checked the time. At three in the afternoon, she doubted the perpetrator would be asleep; Whitby wasn’t the Mediterranean where siestas were popular, but it was worth a try. While practising dream walking, she discovered many people drifted into daydreams mid-afternoon. It was all she needed. Beetle stood expectantly as she cast a circle around herself, but it did little to calm her unease. With her apothecary box at home, she didn’t have access to the herbs for added protection; she had to do this alone. Holding her necklace tight in one hand and the letter in the other, she closed her eyes.
The shock of arriving in his dreamscape nearly hurtled her awake. It took effort to remain. She did it. She was in his dream. The euphoria was brief. Panic set in. Instead of observing from a distance, she was sitting in the back of a car. The space was restrictive, and the overwhelming smell of new leather upholstery made her nauseous. Approaching footsteps forced her to pull her hood up further and shrink down.
Do not look. Please do not look.
He didn’t. The driver’s door opened, and he slid in. Her viewpoint gave little away. He was tall, with light brown hair, dressed in an expensive grey suit, and when he lifted his arm to rub his neck, a cufflink shone in the sunlight. She couldn’t see his face. Damn it, that’s all she needed.
He revved the car engine and shot down the road at speed. The landscape flew by as they drove through the countryside, tyres squealed as he took the corners without braking. Faster and faster he went. A tree loomed ahead. They were going to hit it. Amber screamed and lifted her arm to shield her face, her sleeve rolled up. He looked in the rear-view mirror and his piercing eyes met hers.