Page 45 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
My eyes darted to the black purse I'd dumped in the corner of the counter when I'd come home from work yesterday.
"You still keep his picture in your wallet?"
"Hey, it's not like I remembered it was in there or anything until just now. I just think there might be one in the secret compartment."
Logan bobbed his head and made a gimme gesture with his hand. "Well?"
With a sigh, I strode to the purse and with my back to Logan pulled Gary's picture out of the clear plastic photo holder it was still in. My god I was a loser. Reluctantly, I handed it over.
Concentrating his energy on his fingertips, Logan inspected the photo. After a moment or two he raised his eyes to me. A shiver started in his hair and descended, shaking his entire ghostly form until he was nothing but a blur. When he formed again, my ghost had transformed his sandy blonde hair to Gary's saddle brown coif. His green eyes were now blue. And although I could tell that the shape of his head was slightly off, Logan could've been Gary's twin.
"Grab the kitchen knives," he said.
* * * * *
I poured myself a glass of wine and tried to come to terms with what I was about to do. We'd moved downstairs, and I'd balanced a piece of plywood against the brick wall across from the wine cellar. With his arms extended to the sides, back pressed to the plywood, Logan goaded me on.
"Come on, Grateful. I promise it won't hurt me."
"For the five hundredth time, this just seems wrong."
"Get over it. It will help."
To my side was the block of knives from the kitchen. This was Logan's idea. Why not play along? I gulped down half my glass of Shiraz. After testing the weight of each of the wooden handles, I selected the largest one. I think it's called a chef's knife. I removed it from its slot.
"That's what I'm talking about, Grateful. Hit me! Say to me what you want to say to Gary."
I raised the knife over my shoulder. "You used me!" I yelled and tossed the blade as hard as I could. It tumbled through the air, stabbing through Logan's abdomen and reverberating in the plywood behind him. My eyebrows shot up in surprise at the accuracy of my throw.
"Yes!" I said, pumping my arm. I had a hidden talent.
"Gah!" Logan clutched the section of his stomach the knife had passed through as if in pain.
My hands shot to my mouth. "Did I hurt you?"
He chuckled. "No. I was just acting to make it more realistic."
"Good, because I'm starting to enjoy this." I raised another knife. "Gary, you stole my money. All of my money. How could you do that to me? I thought you loved me." I hurled the knife. It passed through Logan's crotch.
"Wow, Grateful, let it all out-"
"Because of you, I lost my home and my self-respect!" I heaved three at his head, one after the other. "Because of you, Gary, I lost my ability to trust. You asshole. I hope you rot in hell." The knife rotated from my fingers and sliced through Gary's image, right where his heart should have been.
Logan didn't move. There were so many knives through his ghostly form, it reminded me of a Road Runner episode when you know the Coyote should be dead from the anvil but he's not. I couldn't help it. I started laughing.
"I think I want you to be you again, Logan."
He stepped away from the wall, shaking off Gary's image like a dog shakes off after a swim. I leaned my hip against the pool table.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yeah. Thank you."
Our eyes met, and there was a connection. A heaviness formed at the center of my chest and my scalp prickled again, the same as when I thought of his name. The closest I could call it was deja vu, like we'd met before or something. He must have felt it too because he leaned toward me, eyes hooded.
When he was close enough to tickle my skin with whatever he was made of, I came to my senses and took a step back. What the hell was that all about? He'd practically been close enough to kiss me. It was like we were both caught in some strange tractor beam.
Logan dematerialized in a flash of light.
