Page 165 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"I don't believe he didn't know about Marcus. He's up to something. If he's raising an army of vampires, we have to stop him. Too many, and they will be impossible to control."
"I counted fifteen in TiltWorld. We may have already reached the tipping point."
"Do you think he was in contact with Marcus before he escaped? Is Julius Mr. Helleborine?"
"I don't know, but I'm staying vigilant. I believe we should keep a close watch on Julius. It's our best chance of maintaining the peace."
"Peace. I'd prefer an excuse to kill. The only good vampire is a dead vampire," I said.
"That's a harsh attitude, even for you." Rick peered at me through hooded eyes. "Be careful who you say that to. We don't want to alienate the supernatural community."
Who would I talk to? "Julius is up to something. If he changed Gary, that has to be against the rules, isn't it?"
"Not if Gary consented."
"But it's obvious he's building his coven, and Marcus knew just where to go when he escaped."
"We have no proof of that."
I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah...not yet anyway. Maybe I can get some dirt on him from Gary, but then if I didn't trust him before, I certainly don't trust him now that he's undead."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but perhaps you should brush up on your magic before taking on Julius. He's very old and very powerful."
"No offense taken. I know I have some things to learn." I pressed myself up from his bed. "I should get going. I have errands to run today, and I seriously need a shower."
"Are you going to see Logan?" he asked, resentment making his words short and sharp. Standing over me, the sheer size of him was intimidating, but it was this look of possessiveness that made me uncomfortable.
"Actually, no. I need to go grocery shopping and clean up the bloodstain in my foyer. But since you brought it up, I'm visiting him tomorrow. You should come. He needs all the support he can get right now."
Rick's head fell. I couldn't deal with the jealousy shit, not when the person he was jealous of currently was so weak he couldn't get out of bed by himself. I walked to his chest of drawers and pulled them out one by one. I found a t-shirt and some sweats to wear home.
"Oh, and Rick, if we're ever going to do this again, you need to stop shredding my clothes. Those were my favorite scrubs."
I left through the front door, more pissed off than I should have been, with Rick staring after me. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wasn't smiling. It was a shitty way to leave things between us. But Rick wouldn't be happy until Logan was a distant memory, and I was married to him, to boot. I couldn't talk about it anymore. The answer was no on both accounts, and I wasn't going to cave. No way.
I'm True To Myself
Cleaning bloodstains from hardwood might be easier when the blood is fresh. Dried as it was, I had to mop it up in layers. I used an old string mop I found in the broom closet and watched it taint the clear water in my bucket with every swipe. When I was done, I flushed the blood and water down the toilet and threw away the mop.
I collected all of the skulls into a large black garbage bag and left them on the side of the porch. I thought about walking down to tell Rick they were there but decided against it. He was a grown man. He could take care of his own skulls. Plus, I wasn't ready to talk to him again. Whenever I was within three feet of him, my feelings became a confused mishmash of past life memories, uncontrollable lust, and his personal hang-ups pouring through our metaphysical connection. And let's not forget the thick layer of jealousy Rick had added over the Logan situation. I needed space and time to sort out my feelings.
With my foyer back to normal, I microwaved some water and mixed in hot cocoa from a packet. It was a far cry from the scratch kind Logan used to make for me. I sat on my stoop, sipping the unpalatable concoction and tried to sort out the tangled mess of emotions inside my head.
I missed Logan.
I'd promised to help him through his recovery, and I intended to follow through. But what would happen when he was better? Could I honestly dismiss him from my life? We'd shared a deep connection, friendship for sure and more. How would our relationship change now that he didn't live in my attic? Would friendship even be possible when I could still feel the way he'd slid under my skin? I wasn't sure. And what did that mean for my relationship with Rick?
Rick was my...what? Boyfriend wasn't strong enough, but I wasn't married to him. I wasn't sure exactly where that left us. I did love him. At least, I thought I did, but it was hard to sort out which feelings were his and which were mine. What did love mean, anyway? One thing was for sure: I needed him. If I was going to fend off Mr. Helleborine from my house and keep Julius and his quickly expanding coven in check, I required Rick and his beast. Beyond the help he would give me to understand my power, his muscle and the strength his blood gave me were essential to my survival. Love or not, we were connected in a symbiotic dance of magic and wills.
Which made me think how little I understood about all of this. I wished there were more witches like me--a mentor who could take Prudence's place. On some fundamental and cosmic level, I trusted Rick, more than I'd ever trusted Gary or anyone else besides my father. But trusting someone didn't mean I had to hand over the reins of my life to him. I had to learn The Book of Light. It was my sole objective source of information about who I was and what I could do.
As I watched the sunset, the sky painting itself in pinks and purples, I came to terms with reality. I couldn't control who I was before, or the challenges hidden in my future. All I could control was today. Today-well, tonight-I was going to begin reading the Book of Light. I was going to start to plan how Rick and I would stop Julius. And I was going to find a way to buy this house from my father. Because if one thing was for certain, my attic did not belong in the hands of someone else.
The rumble of a heavy vehicle on imperfect pavement drew my eye toward the road. A FedEx truck navigated my driveway, parking only halfway up. The driver jumped out, retrieved a package from the back, and headed toward me.
"Delivery for Grateful Knight."
"I'm Grateful," I said, accepting the signature pad from him.
