Free The Red Witch (Amber Lee Mysteries Book 6) by Katerina Martinez
Authors: Katerina Martinez
a big bore when you’re not here. Does he know any tricks?
Frank: So I was walking around town today and guess who I bumped into.
What followed was a selfie Frank had taken with a friend of his who I sort of knew. Frank was putting on a wide-eyed sneer which, with his milky white contacts and pale skin, made him look like some kind of ghoul. The other guy, who was as tall as Frank, with his cropped brown hair and deep brown eyes seemed way too normal to be associated with the likes of Frank.
I say I sort of knew him because Frank had spoken about an “old friend” who had come into town recently and had been spending time with him lately. But I hadn’t met him yet, this stranger who was taking so much of Frank’s attention.
Was it possible Frank had a boyfriend?
Frank: I miss you less now, see? Gonna go get a Pumpkin Spice Latte #psl4life
Frank : He’s cute isn’t he?
Frank : Music booked, catering on standby, gonna see a man about a Centenary Hall to close the deal on the Halloween party soon. You better be back in time for it. I think I may go as Wednesday Addams. Thoughts?
My stomach sank to the floor. Shit, I thought. I had forgotten about Halloween. I had wanted to help him put this party together—this great big witchy blowout—but then this happened, and now I was in Berlin. With just over two weeks to Halloween, and me caught in Europe for most of that time, I wondered how much I would be able to help. But there was a message from Aaron waiting for me on my phone that stole my thoughts; a message that I had seen come in when the Wi-Fi hooked on, but one that I hadn’t chosen to look at first. Whether I had been savoring it or dreading it I couldn’t say. All I knew was that it had waited long enough.
I pressed the screen above Aaron’s name and the message opened up.
Aaron : Come back to me in one piece, okay?
If reading Frank’s messages had me already teetering on the edge of emotion, Aaron’s message sent me plunging into it. A strange sound escaped my lips—half laugh, half cry—and the sound was followed by a smile. Collette saw it as she approached, laid a hand on my shoulder, and asked me if I was alright. I told her that it was and her touch made the swell of feeling subside to a more manageable level.
“I’m glad you’re with me,” I said.
Collette smiled and we made our way toward the exit. I worked fast at the keys to type a message out to Aaron before we lost Wi-Fi coverage, but by the time I hit send it was too late. It would have to send later on at the hotel.
Outside, a grey Berlin yawned in greeting. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds but hadn’t quite made it. It was a bright smear, feebly illuminating through cover that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. The air was crisp and cool, but it didn’t have the bite of the fall yet. From their lofty height, seated atop a power-line, a murder of crows called out their raucous, rowdy cries.
We didn’t have to pick a cab out of the lineup—a cabbie approached us . In fact, it was almost as if he had honed in on us from a distance and made haste toward us like some kind of missile. He was friendly enough, though, and he helped hoist our bags into the trunk of the cab. Moments later, we were on the road.
Berlin raced along outside my window as we made our way through the streets of the German Capital. The gothic structures, some hundreds of years old, all styled in the Christian-architecture that drew me to Europe in the first place, still held their wonder. Gargoyles, black iron, roman windows, and crosses—so many crosses—stood in stark contrast to the modern concrete structures of today, which incidentally were all covered in graffiti tags.
That was something that I loved about Berlin; it was the birth place of street-art, and today’s cradle of self-expression.
There was barely a single building I could see that hadn’t been touched by some kind of neon blue, green,
Frank: So I was walking around town today and guess who I bumped into.
What followed was a selfie Frank had taken with a friend of his who I sort of knew. Frank was putting on a wide-eyed sneer which, with his milky white contacts and pale skin, made him look like some kind of ghoul. The other guy, who was as tall as Frank, with his cropped brown hair and deep brown eyes seemed way too normal to be associated with the likes of Frank.
I say I sort of knew him because Frank had spoken about an “old friend” who had come into town recently and had been spending time with him lately. But I hadn’t met him yet, this stranger who was taking so much of Frank’s attention.
Was it possible Frank had a boyfriend?
Frank: I miss you less now, see? Gonna go get a Pumpkin Spice Latte #psl4life
Frank : He’s cute isn’t he?
Frank : Music booked, catering on standby, gonna see a man about a Centenary Hall to close the deal on the Halloween party soon. You better be back in time for it. I think I may go as Wednesday Addams. Thoughts?
My stomach sank to the floor. Shit, I thought. I had forgotten about Halloween. I had wanted to help him put this party together—this great big witchy blowout—but then this happened, and now I was in Berlin. With just over two weeks to Halloween, and me caught in Europe for most of that time, I wondered how much I would be able to help. But there was a message from Aaron waiting for me on my phone that stole my thoughts; a message that I had seen come in when the Wi-Fi hooked on, but one that I hadn’t chosen to look at first. Whether I had been savoring it or dreading it I couldn’t say. All I knew was that it had waited long enough.
I pressed the screen above Aaron’s name and the message opened up.
Aaron : Come back to me in one piece, okay?
If reading Frank’s messages had me already teetering on the edge of emotion, Aaron’s message sent me plunging into it. A strange sound escaped my lips—half laugh, half cry—and the sound was followed by a smile. Collette saw it as she approached, laid a hand on my shoulder, and asked me if I was alright. I told her that it was and her touch made the swell of feeling subside to a more manageable level.
“I’m glad you’re with me,” I said.
Collette smiled and we made our way toward the exit. I worked fast at the keys to type a message out to Aaron before we lost Wi-Fi coverage, but by the time I hit send it was too late. It would have to send later on at the hotel.
Outside, a grey Berlin yawned in greeting. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds but hadn’t quite made it. It was a bright smear, feebly illuminating through cover that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. The air was crisp and cool, but it didn’t have the bite of the fall yet. From their lofty height, seated atop a power-line, a murder of crows called out their raucous, rowdy cries.
We didn’t have to pick a cab out of the lineup—a cabbie approached us . In fact, it was almost as if he had honed in on us from a distance and made haste toward us like some kind of missile. He was friendly enough, though, and he helped hoist our bags into the trunk of the cab. Moments later, we were on the road.
Berlin raced along outside my window as we made our way through the streets of the German Capital. The gothic structures, some hundreds of years old, all styled in the Christian-architecture that drew me to Europe in the first place, still held their wonder. Gargoyles, black iron, roman windows, and crosses—so many crosses—stood in stark contrast to the modern concrete structures of today, which incidentally were all covered in graffiti tags.
That was something that I loved about Berlin; it was the birth place of street-art, and today’s cradle of self-expression.
There was barely a single building I could see that hadn’t been touched by some kind of neon blue, green,