Page 85 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"Yes. Not only has the world missed your talents for the last twenty-two years, every day that Rick goes without you as his partner becomes more difficult for him."
"But there could be another, right? If I say no, the part of me that is the witch will move to someone else."
She sighed. "Yes. When you die, the piece of you that is the witch will be freed from your body and find another host. There has to be balance. But that would take a lifetime. And what about us? Do you know what will happen to Logan and me?"
"Logan said that the next witch might be able to sort you, but the longer it took, the harder it would be."
"Death is the great forgetting. You as the Monk's Hill witch sort the souls who are caught between life and death. You do so by remembering for us. You give us a name. You call us out and send us on. Every day that a soul isn't sorted, that soul loses more memories of his or her life. Eventually, there aren't enough clues left for you or any witch to name the dead. Logan has already forgotten. If you accepted your responsibility tomorrow, it might not be soon enough for him. And now that the magic you've given me is wearing off, I will forget too. I've been here two full years waiting for you. Logan's only been here a few months. Think how fast I will forget now that my purpose has been fulfilled."
All anger had bled from Prudence's expression, and she patted my hand, the nurse in her coming out over all else.
"I'm too young for this kind of responsibility, Prudence. I'm sorry."
"Do you know why I kept the scrapbook of your life?" Prudence asked.
"Uh, no. Stalker comes to mind though, to be very honest."
"Every stage of your life proved your worth. At six-years old, you never forgot to feed the dog. By eleven, you were cooking meals for your dad. Do you remember?"
I nodded reluctantly.
"You are here because you are responsible. A lesser person might declare banckruptcy and move on. Not you, Grateful. You are working off every dime of Gary's debt."
"It's the right thing to do."
"And at twenty-two, you are choosing to do the right thing. Seems you are more responsible than you give yourself credit."
She had a point, but I wasn't ready to pull the Band-Aid off. It was all happening too fast. I needed more time.
"Let me think about it," I said.
Grave Matters
Someone had injected me with liquid concrete. I dragged my limbs to bed, unable to form a coherent thought and fully aware that the best night's sleep of my life wasn't going to solve this dilemma. The summer heat had left the room stuffy, so I dressed in a cool silk camisole and shorts. But I didn't dare open a window. Every sound terrified me. The wind blowing a branch into the glass filled me with dread. After tonight, I pictured the things I'd seen in the graveyard and in my past-life memory fighting to get in, to hurt me. As tired as I was, sleep was impossible. I tossed and turned, drifting off only to startle awake and see the clock had advanced a mere five or ten minutes.
Fate's arrow had hit my ultimate weak spot; I had no control. Tonight, Rick and Prudence had taken away my world of safety and security and replaced it with horror and uncertainty. My body ached with tension. My mind raced. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling.
All at once, I sensed a familiar presence that registered as a heaviness in the pit of my chest. "Logan?"
"I'm here." His voice came from the corner of the room, and his body formed there.
"How long have you been watching me?"
"Since you went to bed. I was worried about you."
"I'm not doing much sleeping. But it helps to know you're here."
"I'm here, Grateful."
"Will you stay with me?"
He was suddenly standing next to the bed. "Yes."
"All night?" I asked.
"All night," he answered.
I scooted to one side of the bed. As he slid in next to me, I knew he didn't need to lie down but was doing it for my sake. I tried to close my eyes again, restless. Logan touched my face. Whatever he was made of brushed over me, an electrically charged feather, somewhere between a tickle and a purr. I reached for his hand. The density changed as my fingers passed through him, like plunging my hand into warm water.
