Page 145 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"He might need me," I said. I was still licking my wounds about being used as bait, but I wasn't about to leave him alone out there.
"Of course. Go do your job," Logan whispered, shaking his head. "I'll be here when you get home."
I spilled out of the house into the night and made my way toward the cemetery. Rick's beast was circling above the gate but landed on the road in front of me as I neared. The oozing limb of a partially eaten zombie bounced from the corner of his mouth as he jogged toward me. I pointed toward the remains, and he flipped the chunk between his teeth, crunching the bones and licking up the black blood that leeched out from between his lips. When he was finished, he lowered his head to my level.
Close up, he looked so much like a large dog that I couldn't help but scratch the tuft of hair behind his ear. The beast closed its eyes and did that leg-thumping thing dogs do. I had to stop scratching to avoid damaging the pavement. Red Grove didn't need to deal with a pothole because of me.
One large black eye blinked in my direction before the beast's skin began to boil. The thing folded in on itself, bones cracking. Rick once said it didn't hurt when he shape-shifted, but as he unfolded himself, naked in the street, I thought he looked tired. I wondered if he'd made it out to be less than it was, for my sake.
He walked up to me, his face grim.
"Do you need my help?" I asked.
"It's taken care of," he said. His jaw clenched. He looked away from me.
"Is something wrong?"
"I can smell him on you, Grateful. You've come from Logan."
"I tried to send him on, but it didn't work. There's something blocking his name. I could see everything about him but his name. It's like I wasn't meant to see it."
"Or he's blocking you. Don't be naive. He wants to stay. He wants you."
My first impulse was to tell him he didn't know what he was talking about, to deny that Logan would do anything to avoid his final journey. But some part of me knew Rick was right. After all, Logan had admitted to me that he was afraid to be sorted.
I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. "So, how do I send him on if he's blocking?"
Relief passed over Rick's face. He took a step toward me until he was so close his chest almost brushed against my breasts. "There is another way. With your permission, I can force his soul to move on."
"I'm not going to let you make a snack of Logan," I said firmly.
"No. This is caretaker magic. It forces the soul in one direction or another."
"But I thought I needed to decide which direction he was supposed to go?"
"With this spell, the soul decides. It forces the soul to judge itself."
I thought about Logan, about the balance of his soul. I was certain this spell would end well for him. Logan's soul didn't seem finished, but his lifetime was. I couldn't sit back and watch the great forgetting take him memory by memory. Something had to be done.
"Yes, Rick. I think you should do it. I give you permission."
To his credit, Rick kept his happy dance on the inside, although our connection made it impossible for me not to notice his gleeful anticipation.
"I learned something else tonight." I placed my hands on my hips and looked out over the graveyard.
"What?"
"I think a vampire is trying to buy my house."
Rick's skin began to bubble again, and his eyes turned black as coal. "Your house isn't for sale."
"A Mr. Helleborine contacted my father and asked to see my address. "
"Helleborine was what Marcus used to-"
"-Kill me. Yes, I know. And it doesn't grow in the cemetery which means someone on the outside was helping him."
"Someone who wants you to know, he isn't happy about Marcus's death."
