Page 23 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"Yes. Grateful, Grateful Knight. You know my dad?"
He floated closer, his eyes brightening. His presence overwhelmed me, made my skin prickle. He stared at me like he was seeing inside, sifting through my cells with his otherworldly gaze. I blinked up at him, speechless.
After a long silence, his shoulders hunched forward. "I'm tired, Grateful. Can we continue this another time?"
"Sure," I said, wondering how ghosts rested when they were tired.
"I'll come to you again tonight, midnight."
"O-okay," I said. A thought cut through my whirling mind. "What do I call you if you don't have a name?"
"Why don't you come up with something? Just for practicality, until I remember my own." He faded to the viscosity of a watermark, nothing more than an outline.
I nodded.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Can you get rid of the bouquet next to your bed? That thing stinks. It's repulsive."
"No problem. I'm not a big fan. So, I guess I'll see you tonight."
For a moment, his green eyes glowed brighter. "It's a date." He winked, and then he dissolved into thin air. Nothing remained but a wisp of mist that smelled faintly of cinnamon.
Blowing out a nervous breath, I placed both hands firmly on the counter. Did I just make a date with a ghost?
Dates
I should move. I navigated to a real estate website and searched on Carlton City properties. A few apartments had potential. I couldn't remotely afford any of them. With the ghost gone, I took a deep breath and forced myself to think clearly. Although terrifying, were ghosts a reason to give up free rent? He'd said I was safe here, as long as I stayed away from the attic and Rick. I'd already jiggled the handle on the third floor and been alone with Rick. Nothing terrible happened. Could it be that I was worried needlessly?
"This day brought to you by the letter "C" for caffeine," I said, filling my cup with ghost-made coffee. I sipped, then stared at the dark brown heaven in my cup. To my surprise, it was perfect. My ghost had done what no man in my life had ever accomplished. This wasn't the weak swill of a man who was trying to please me because he assumed that I, a simple female, enjoyed dark water. It wasn't the bitter sludge of a man who'd never made himself coffee before and added extra scoops because he wanted to keep me up all night. This was the brew of someone who knew how to make coffee: smooth, rich, and satisfying.
Mmmmmmm. I closed my eyes and swallowed. There was nothing better than a good cup of Joe in the morning. Maybe, if I asked nicely, my ghost would make it again tomorrow.
My ghost. Why was I calling him my ghost? Like he belonged to me just because he was in my house. I decided a long hot shower was in order to analyze that slip of the tongue.
Once I was under the spray, my mood lifted. For some reason, my meeting with the ghost had given me peace of mind. Prudence was terrifying and the thought of ghosts rattling around my attic, unsettling, but deep within me, I felt safe. Was this how psychics felt after their first encounter with the supernatural? Maybe I had a sixth sense about these souls. I was sure we could coexist and, oddly, their presence made me less apprehensive about the cemetery. Who knew a brush with the supernatural could actually calm my nerves?
Warm water flowed over my body, rinsing away the tension and worry of the morning. I caught myself thinking again about the ghost: those sad green eyes, sandy brown hair, the stubble that gave him an Indiana Jones sort of sexiness. I guess he didn't actually have a body, but his image was thin and muscular. As I stepped from the shower, I thought, if my house had to be haunted, I was glad my ghost looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.
The jeans I pulled on were the kind you wear when you want to be comfortable, broken in with little holes in the knees and the seat. I planned to spend the day unpacking and removing the layer of dust that coated everything in my new home. I thought of cleaning as a necessary evil and vowed to treat myself to a bowl of ice cream if I could finish sprucing the main floor. As I started working my hair into a ponytail, the doorbell rang. I jogged down the stairs, stretching the elastic into place before checking the side window.
It was Rick-hoodoo Rick-in a black cotton button-down shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. Sexy. And dangerous. Skulls and candles aside, my ghost had clearly stated I should stay away from him. Clearly. Hell, after Rick's first night here, I had serious misgivings about being close to him again, anyway. I couldn't trust myself. And did I mention the human skulls? So then why was I turning the deadbolt? I wished I owned a Taser...and had already done my makeup. I opened the door.
"Good morning. I came by to check on you. How are you feeling today?" Rick asked.
I stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. "Better."
"What exactly happened last night? You came to my door screaming and then passed out. I carried you home."
"Bad dream," I said. I wasn't sure how much I should share with Rick after what I saw the night before. He was into some weird stuff. I'm not the judgmental type, but the human skulls were a definite red flag. I mean, where did he get them? They weren't exactly handing them out at Red Grove Grocery and Pub.
"Are you sure it wasn't something more? Has anything unusual happened since you've been here?" He tilted his head toward the house.
I narrowed my eyes. What was going on here? My intuition waved a red flag and pulled out a magnifying glass courtesy of the Nancy Drew mysteries. Fact one: my ghost wanted me to stay away from Rick. Fact two: Rick sounded like he was digging for information about my ghost and had brought up the possibility of a haunting his first time here. Fact three: Rick had produced a bouquet of herbs capable of repelling ghosts. Which led me to theory one: as a cemetery caretaker Rick was dangerous to ghosts. Maybe he could banish them with a sprinkle of holy water or something.
"Not at all. Nothing unusual has happened," I lied. He looked at me skeptically, so I threw him a curveball. "Well, maybe seeing the weird stuff in your house last night."
