Page 100 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"You can't put us off forever," Prudence said one night from the edge of my bed. Tonight she was her young, nursey self, soft spoken and vulnerable. "It's not fair to Rick or to Logan."
"Or to you. Don't forget yourself, Prudence," I snapped.
She sighed heavily.
I circled my hand in the air. "You know who this entire situation isn't fair to? Me. This isn't fair to me."
Prudence rippled and blinked out of sight. "Perhaps," her disembodied voice said, and then she was gone.
The next morning, I worked a full day and an hour of overtime. I plodded to my car, exhausted from thirteen hours of beeping machines, blood, and drugs. The extra shifts were catching up with me along with the stress of avoiding the supernatural entities in my life. On the way home, I called my dad. I'd neglected our relationship since what I'd come to refer to as "the big reveal." The call went straight to voicemail.
"Dad, I just wanted to tell you I love you. I'm so glad you told me the truth about Mom. Maybe we can have dinner Sunday night. Call me when you get a chance."
I ended the call and pulled into a Java Jane's for a cup of coffee. I wasn't sure I'd stay awake on the country roads to Red Grove without it. A line had formed for the drive thru, so I parked and drifted to the counter half-asleep.
"I'll have a Fall Spice Latte," I said to the barista.
She nodded and requested an exorbitant amount of money in exchange, which I promptly handed over. All part of the Java Jane's experience. I folded into a wooden chair at one of the bistro style tables while I waited for my grande. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn't help but notice an old man in the corner of the cafe staring at me. He was giving me the hairy eyeball as if he'd just seen me on America's Most Wanted. Beady eyes peeked out from a deeply wrinkled face of a yellow color that only comes from a lifetime of heavy smoking and abuse of alcohol.
Every self-defense class I've ever taken emphasized that eye contact simply encourages the aggressor, so I looked away, hoping he'd lose interest. I heard him scoot his chair back on the tile and out of the corner of my eye, saw him scratch his potbelly through his stained t-shirt. Besides the barista, he and I were the only ones inside. I silently prayed he'd leave. No luck. I didn't hear him approach until he was right next to me, close enough for me to smell his foul breath, a smell I could only compare to the stench of gangrene.
"I see you," he said in a raspy drawl that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
My protective instincts told me to run. Instead, I turned my head and looked him square in the face, my most professional demeanor sliding into place like a mask. "If you need a doctor, the hospital is a mile north of here. You can get treatment in the emergency room."
The wrinkles of his face swallowed his eyes as he considered what I said. He tilted his head to the side, contemplating me with such intensity I stood up and stepped toward the counter just to get away from him.
"I'll be right with you," the barista said, busy finishing my latte.
The old man showed a mouthful of yellow teeth. Was that supposed to be a smile? "For now, heh-cah-tee," he rasped. "But I see you. I see you." And then, to my relief, he left, laughing all the way out the door.
"Here's your latte," the barista said, handing me the cup.
"Thanks. Jeez, that guy was creepy, huh?"
"What guy?" she asked.
"The old man who was just here talking to me. The one with wrinkles like a Shar-Pei."
She looked at me blankly. "I didn't see anyone. Gosh, I hope he doesn't complain to the manager. I'm supposed to greet everyone who comes in."
Annoyed, I grabbed my coffee and headed for the parking lot. I looked both ways, seriously freaked out by the old man's vibe, and then strode toward my car as quickly as possible. The girl must have been half deaf and blind to miss that guy. Not to mention the smell. Ew.
I'm not sure what set me off. I didn't hear him come up behind me, and his body was out of sight. But I knew when he lunged for me. I expected it.
One of his hands shot around my waist, the other clutched at my mouth. I grabbed both and lurched forward, sending my backside into his fat belly and using his forward momentum to launch him over my shoulder. He landed flat on his back on the pavement. Thank you Hapkido. I slipped inside my Jeep and used my key fob to lock the doors. Cell phone, STAT! Receipts and tissues flew as I dug through the Bermuda triangle of handbags.
I ditched that plan when movement out my window caught my eye. The wrinkled old man rose unnaturally from the pavement, tipping up onto his feet like gravity forgot about him. Fuck! I slammed the keys into the ignition. Who the hell was this guy? The impact from that fall should've broken something, and it wasn't like he was in tip-top physical condition.
He lunged for my car. I shifted into reverse and slammed on the gas. The man pursued me. Like a high school track star, he sprinted after my Jeep. Tires squealing, I stopped, shifted, accelerated forward in a car-on-man game of chicken. He didn't flinch. I swerved before impact, narrowly missing him and gunned it toward Red Grove. I only slowed when I'd put miles between his wrinkled face and my bumper.
With shaking hands, I dialed 911 and relayed what had happened. Identifying myself as a nurse, I suggested the man was mentally ill and probably on PCP or something. The dispatcher promised to send a squad car.
Describing the scenario forced me to analyze it with a clinical eye. Nurses are assaulted more than any other helping profession. Sick people aren't in their right minds, and drug users often have what seems like superhuman strength. I'd taken self-defense classes for years and used my skills on more than one occasion. The fact the man attacked me outside the hospital was irrelevant. He'd seen my scrubs and wanted something from me. What had he said? Hecate? Probably a new name for heroin. Maybe he thought I could get him some.
Halfway home, I remembered the coffee in my cup holder. I didn't need it anymore. The scare woke me right up. I drank it anyway, for comfort more than caffeine. Why did my life have to be so bizarre? I came to Red Grove to get over Gary and move on, but all I'd found was one crisis after another. I wanted a normal life. I didn't want to be a witch, and I didn't want a supernatural relationship.
I contemplated leaving Red Grove and all of my problems behind. My mind raced while my subconscious drove. It wasn't the safest way to travel. But before I knew it, the garage door was opening, welcoming me home.
