“What do I sacrifice?”
Prudence looked down at her feet. “The bowl needs blood. You used to use your own in your past life.”
“Oh, I see.”
I picked up my sword and positioned it on a small table that I conjured. Prudence bowed her head. I took her in. When I say I took her in, I don’t mean the normal way, when you see someone on the street and scan the person from head to toe. My magic seemed to bloom and envelope her. Her life played out before my eyes, from her simple beginnings on a farm to her death in this house. Prudence had lived a good life. She’d always been there for others and becoming a nurse was simply an extension of the altruism inherent in her character.
“Prudence Clearwater,” I said in a strong, clear voice, “I release you to heaven.” I sliced my forearm with as small and gentle a cut as possible and watched a drop of blood drip into the silver bowl.
Prudence’s head shot up. With a smile as bright and warm as the sunrise that pressed against the horizon, she broke apart into pieces of light that swirled toward the ceiling. In a funnel cloud of positive energy, she ascended and disappeared beyond my attic to a place I knew somehow was everything she’d wanted it to be.
“Logan,” I called. “It’s your turn.”
He appeared in front of me, looking less excited about the process than Prudence had. “Are you sure there’s enough time? We could wait until tomorrow.”
“Now, Logan,” I said. “Don’t put this off.”
I concentrated on him. I saw his life in a series of images. He was running through bright green grass in a yard as large as a park. A woman I understood was his mother ran after him, swooped him up and planted a kiss on his cheek. I saw him as a teenager swinging a bat on a baseball field. He was in high school and a girl, maybe seventeen, was under him.
Pictures flashed one after the other, but it was the feelings that came with them that told me about him as a person. I wasn’t surprised when I saw him in culinary school and then cooking in a restaurant. A string of relationships flashed through my brain. As thoughtful as Logan had seemed with me, he’d been a selfish lover in the past. But there was another side to him. He could be exceedingly generous with his time and money.
I took Logan in and what my magic told me was that he was balanced—some good, some not so good. But he wasn’t evil. He didn’t belong in the underworld. If I had to say anything about his soul, it would be that he was unfinished. He was in-between.
But I was the witch, and I needed to send him home. I’d named him Logan but I sent my magic into him to find his real name. I’d decided. I would send him to heaven, not because it was clear to me that he belonged there but because it was clear he didn’t belong anywhere else.
Nothing came to me. It was as if his soul had forgotten its own name. Was this what Prudence warned me about? Was this the great forgetting? Was I too late to save Logan?
My magic receded, spitting Logan out as if I’d rolled him in my mouth like a candy. I wasn’t sure what was happening until I turned my head and saw the first rays of light cascade in through my attic window. The light washed over Michelle’s living room and as it did, my illusion disappeared. My magic evaporated in the light of day. All that was left after the light touched it was a sanded wood floor and chipping white walls. And then it was just me, Michelle, Rick, and a filmy version of Logan, standing in an ordinary attic.
“Sunrise,” I said. “I’m sorry, Logan. I’m too late.”
Logan was barely visible in the light, a human-shaped outline, but he turned toward me and shrugged, the type of gesture that indicated he was okay with what had occurred. Then he dissolved completely into the light. I knew he was still there, somewhere, in some form.
Wearily, I looked toward Rick. “Let’s go find us a vampire.” I approached my spell book, which thankfully had not disappeared but rested on a stand at the center of the wood floor, near an antique wooden trunk. The book, at least, was a physical thing that would survive the day. I walked over to it and flipped to Locating Paranormal Entities: Vampires. The spell was complex and I was fresh out of eye of newt. “How do I create a spell to find Marcus without my magic to conjure these ingredients?” I asked.
“I have all of these at my house,” Rick said, “but I think you should get some rest first. You’ve been up for over twenty-four hours.”
“No. We can’t lose Marcus.”
“Marcus is dead until sunset. You have time, mi cielo. It will be safer if you face Marcus well-rested.”
I put my arms around Michelle’s shoulders but looked toward Rick. “Okay, I think you’re right. It’s time we call it a night. Or a day. Hell, I don’t care what you call it. I just need some sleep.”
“I agree,” Rick said.
Michelle nodded weakly. We descended the stairs, and I put what had happened in a hole in my mind. I shed my magic for a cloak of normalcy like one might change clothes in the morning. Michelle took the guest room, and Rick followed me into my room. I didn’t object when he crawled in next to me and wrapped his body around mine. In the safety of his arms, I slept.
Chapter 24
Remorse
Anxiety checked into Hotel Grateful the moment I woke up. When Michelle’s life was at stake, becoming the witch seemed like the obvious thing to do. But now in the light of day, I realized what I’d done. Let’s just say I could forgive myself for having sex with a virtual stranger by intellectualizing that I’d been married to him in a past life and we shared each other’s thoughts. The sex was incredible, after all, and people had gone farther on less.
But even if I could set the sex aside, I did magic that involved cutting myself. I drank Rick’s blood. Even for a me that was pretty racy. I hadn’t done anything evil. On the contrary, I’d cast out a vampire and sent Prudence to heaven. But what did becoming the witch mean for my soul? I was in uncharted territory here.
What now? If I wasn’t able to send Logan back, I’d be obligated to include him in my life. It wasn’t like either of us could move out.
But it was obvious Rick wanted more from our relationship. Hell, he wanted to get married. I was twenty-two years old. I wasn’t ready to be married. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was ready to have made such a lifetime commitment as becoming the witch.
Speaking of lifetime commitments, there was something I needed to know about Rick—the sooner, the better. I turned over within his arms and was startled to find his eyes open and watching me. “Oh, you’re awake!”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I don’t need to sleep like you do.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“I do, but I don’t need the amount that you do. Not if I’m well fed. A few hours a week is sufficient.”
I thought he was joking but his face gave no hint of humor. The light filtered through the lace curtains and washed over the hard bones of his jaw, the crooked line of his mouth, sharp cheekbones, and clear gray eyes. Without thinking I ran my hand up his body, from his stomach to the scar on his chest. My fingers lingered there, teasing the raised flesh, as if it were the most natural position in the world. His gray eyes widened.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Then ask, mi cielo.” He leaned into me, tracing his nose up the side of my face. He buried his lips in my hair.
“We had sex last night.”
“Yes, we did,” he breathed. “But that isn’t a question.” He nibbled my ear.
I pressed my hand against his chest, trying to fight the lightheaded feeling that was quickly overcoming me. “Unprotected sex.”
He pulled back to meet my eyes.
“How worried should I be?” I asked.
“I can’t impregnate you. Unfortunately, this immortal body is unable to procreate.”
“Actually, I’m on the pill, so I wasn’t so much worried about the possibility of pregnancy. I was asking more for peace of mind about your history. You know, STDs?”
“STDs? You’re worried about sexually transmitted diseases?”
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“I’m a nurse, okay? It is everyone’s responsibility to be worried about STDs. Let’s face it, you are tall, dark, and handsome and have had more than a lifetime to be with who knows how many women. You may be immortal but I’m not, and I want to know if I should be worried.”
Rick placed his finger under my chin and his pupils expanded crowding out the gray. I thought I would drown in those black pools, like the darkness would swallow me up. The thought should have been frightening, but it was oddly peaceful.
“The only person I have ever made love with is you,” he said.
I blinked a few times in his direction while that piece of information sank in. “What?” I asked dumbly.
“I was a virgin when I married you and I could not bring myself to be with anyone else after your deaths.”
“Wow.” The word slipped out of my mouth. In front of me was a man with a face and body that would fit as the lead heartthrob in any blockbuster movie. Rick was a man who could make women swoon, and he’d waited for me, not once but multiple times.
“You need to know that I’ve been with other people.”
“It was before you knew of me. The times are different now. It is to be expected.”
I cocked my head to one side. “We’re not married, Rick. I haven’t promised you that I won’t be with anyone else ever again.”
“Then marry me. Make that promise.”
“I’m not ready for that.” As much as I wanted to avoid the tension building between us, I forced myself to maintain eye contact. He needed to know I was serious.
His expression darkened. “It’s Logan. I smelled him on you. You’ve been with him and you want to be with him again.”
“I don’t think I need to remind you that Logan doesn’t have a body.”
“What of it, Grateful? Will you tell me, honestly, that you haven’t had sex with him?” He scowled.
When he put it that way, I supposed that being possessed by a ghost while I masturbated was a type of sex. To call it anything else would be fooling myself. “Yes, we did.”
Rick leaned over me, his arms on either side of my body and his face too close. The position made me claustrophobic, and I pressed my head into the pillow to maintain some distance.
“No more,” he commanded. “You are mine now. Mine.” The smell of pine, earth, and water filled the room, strengthening with his emotions.
“Excuse me, but the only person I belong to is me.” The words floated oddly calm from my lips, partly because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me and partly because I was expecting to have this conversation.
His face contorted as if I’d punched him in the gut. His head jerked back and for a moment I thought I saw tears in his eyes. Then his entire body began to convulse. I watched his black eyes close as the spasms reached his head.
When the seizure ended, Rick opened his eyes and the irises were green.
“What the hell?” I said and wiggled under his arm. In a clumsy and very unsexy fashion, I spilled over the side of the bed and onto the floor. “What’s going on, Rick?”
“Rick? Guess again, Grateful.” Rick’s lips moved, but Logan’s voice came out.
“Logan, what are doing? Get out of his body!” I slapped Rick’s shoulder as if I could knock Logan out of him.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? A little bit of both of us? Not to have to choose?” Logan’s voice was venomous.
“Logan, this is wrong. Get out!” I tried to thrust my power into him but what was a hurricane last night came out of me a tiny puff of air.
Logan laughed. “Sun’s still up, sweetheart. It takes practice to be able to use your power during the day, or so Prudence told me. Besides, if you really want me out, all you have to do is ask.”
“Please, Logan. Please get out of Rick.”
A cloud of dark smoke filtered from Rick’s mouth until a transparent Logan stood beside a very pissed-off caretaker.
“I will send you over myself, foul vapor!” Rick growled. He raised his hand, preparing to strike.
I placed myself between the two of them and held up my hands. “Everyone, relax. I will do the sorting in this house,” I said to Rick. I turned toward Logan. “No matter how much a certain soul deserves the underworld.”
“I would prefer the underworld to watching the woman I love be with another man for eternity. It’s torture, Grateful, torture. You let me taste you. Not just the sex but our conversations, our dates. Did you think I’d be happy to live forever in this house, watching you come and go with…with him? Don’t threaten me with hell. This is hell.” He flickered out and receded into the corner, nothing but a glowing orb.
“Easy enough to do as you please,” Rick seethed. “I’ll send you to the underworld and put you out of your misery.”
“Rick! Stop! Logan isn’t a bad person. He doesn’t belong in hell. I saw that much last night.” I pressed my hand against Rick’s chest, his bare-naked chest. I couldn’t help myself. I glanced down his body, to the heavy length between his legs and a current of desire zinged through me.
“Oh, spare me,” Logan said.
Rick took my queue and backed off, taking forced interest in the window.
“Look, Logan, I’m sorry. I do like you and have enjoyed your company.” I placed my fists firmly on my hips. “But to tell you the truth, now that I’m the witch, I don’t think a romantic relationship with you would be appropriate anyway. I mean, it would be like a teacher dating a student. I’d be taking advantage of you in a way.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Is this the spiel you tell yourself to get to sleep at night?” The lights in the room flickered.
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll try again to send you home, but I can’t make any promises. Until we find a way to sort your soul, I think we’ll just have to make the most of it.”
“What does making the most of it mean for you and me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, and I don’t think I should have to decide right now,” I answered.
Logan shook his transparent head in exasperation.
“Even if you were alive and standing in front of me, a flesh-and-blood man, I wouldn’t know what our future would hold. So how can I give you any guarantees when we don’t know for sure where you’ll be tomorrow?”
Logan didn’t get a chance to respond. There was a knock at the door and Michelle entered the room, her eyes skipping around the room in her best attempt not to look at Rick’s assets.
“I’m gonna hit the road, Grateful. Thanks for the memories,” she said.
“You’re not upset with me about this, are you?” Why would she be upset? What’s a little vampire possession between friends?
“Manny’s going to be pissed I didn’t come home last night, but I definitely don’t blame you. For Pete’s sake, you have enough to worry about.”
I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “You’re the best. Let me know if I can help you with whatever you decide to tell Manny.”
“Oh, you can help. In fact, he may hate you once he learns you made me work a double for you last night.”
“Fair is fair.” I smiled and walked her to the door.
“See you tomorrow.”
I started to close the door behind her.
“Oh, and Grateful?”
“Yes?”
“The thing about Manny is that I know even now that he’ll forgive me. Marriage is about trust. You have to trust the other person more than anyone, even yourself sometimes, or the relationship doesn’t stand a chance. Promise me you won’t rush into anything on my account. I’d never forgive myself.”
“I promise. But thanks for the reminder.”
She nodded and headed for her car. I marched back upstairs and told Rick I was ready to find Marcus. I didn’t have time to analyze my feelings for Rick and Logan. I needed to kill the vampire who’d possessed my best friend and murdered me a lifetime ago.
Chapter 25
Move Over, Buffy
After a shower
and throwing on the most comfortable sweats that I owned, I returned to the attic and copied down the recipe for the spell to find Paranormal Entities: Vampires from my spell book. Next to my legs, the antique trunk, the only other furniture to remain in the daylight, seemed to hum to me. I lifted the lid and there was my sword, all ivory bone wickedness. Rummaging around the other contents, I saw the silver bowl and then the sheath for the sword near the back. The crisscross of the straps reminded me of my death. I’d worn this down my back that night.
I yanked off my t-shirt and slipped into the harness. It took me several minutes to sheath the blade while it was on my back. Donning my shirt again, the hilt poked out at the neck. I practiced withdrawing the sword a couple of times and rotating it, clumsily, through the empty attic.
If I had to use this, I was doomed.
Stiff and awkward, I walked to Rick’s cottage.
“You found the sheath,” he said, grinning.
“How did I ever fight with this thing on? It feels like I have a steel beam strapped to my spine.”
The corner of his mouth lifted impishly. “Give her a name.”
“Excuse me?” I flashed him my most confused look and paused under the wind chimes.
“You always name her. She responds better to a name.” He shrugged.
“Of course she does. What magical sword made from the femur of a dead saint doesn’t?” I stepped backward into the yard and pulled the sword from its sheath. The bone reflected the sun, its white blade taking on an almost blue glint. Memory or raw emotion flooded me with awe for her, so magnificent, so powerful. But what would I name her? “Nightshade,” I said and a twang of singing metal rang out around me.
“Same thing you called her before,” Rick said, stepping from the porch.
I resheathed Nightshade and immediately noticed the difference. She seemed smaller and lighter on my back, almost as if she was an extension of me. An extra limb.
“You mentioned you had the ingredients for this spell,” I said.
The Ghost and The Graveyard (The Monk's Hill Witch) Page 16
