Page 129 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"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 to tell 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.
Move Over, Buffy
After a shower, I threw on the most comfortable sweats I owned and returned to the attic to copy down the spell for Locating Paranormal Entities: Vampires from the Book of Light. Rick had left to make preparations to execute the spell at his cottage. When I leaned over the book, pen and notebook in hand, the antique trunk near my feet hummed to me. I crouched down and lifted the lid. My sword, all ivory bone wickedness, waited there for me next to the silver bowl, candles, salt and other witchy paraphernalia. I hadn't picked up after the fight with Marcus, and I was the only one who could touch my sword. I guess my attic had magically organized itself. Cool.
Near the back, the sword's sheath was tucked away. The crisscross of the straps reminded me of my death at Marcus's hand. I'd worn this sword on my back that night. The memory the Book of Light had shown me played out vividly in my head. I clenched a fist, remembering. I owed Marcus. I'd have my revenge.
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.
"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. A twang like singing metal rang out around me.
"Same thing you called her last time," Rick murmured, 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.
He nodded. "The herbs that grow around the house are yours. You planted them in your last life. Everything from goldenseal to lungwort on this property and in the wooded acres to the back."
I gazed at the wild field to the side of the cottage. "How do I know what's what?"
He slid his hand into my back pocket, temporarily rendering me mute with desire. I rolled into him and landed a kiss on his mouth, but he pulled back.
"There's an app for that," he said, grinning just a little too widely.
"Yeah, we have work to do," I said. "Keep your hands off me."
He winked. We got busy gathering the ingredients I needed, using my phone to verify I had the right plants. By the time we had everything, it was already 1 p.m. and the sun was due to set at 6:45. I followed him through his front door, anxious to get started.
The skulls were back as were the candles and the creepy paintings.
