Page 163 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
"Aww, Dad." My eyes misted over, even as the two men loaded Seraphina's stiffening body onto a stretcher and carried her toward the door.
"The guilt...Before she'd left for the night we'd talked about her moving out. What if something I did, our fight, somehow distracted her?"
I walked to the window and watched the men load the body into a large box truck. "That can't be true. You said she was with her uncle Kai. Who was driving? He wouldn't have allowed her to drive if she was upset."
He sobbed.
Hell, this was killing me. "I'm so sorry, Dad. Do you need me to come down there?"
"No. I've just got to pull myself together. Detective Flynn said he'd be notifying the rest of the family. I just hope they include me in the service. Besides Kai, I never met any of them."
"Mmhmm." What could I say? I was pretty sure the entire family was being piled in the back of the truck.
"Dad, I don't know how to bring this up, but what will happen with the house?"
He gave a deep sigh. "Kai's lawyers included a clause in the contract that in case of death on or before the closing date, the property would revert to the seller. Some folks do that to avoid adding debt to the estate. The house is mine. I know how much you wanted it. If you still want to buy it, it's for sale again."
I frowned, my heart breaking at the sadness coming over the airwaves. "Thank you, Dad. I'm truly sorry for your loss. I still want the house. Give me a week to get my finances in order. I'll pay full market price."
"I still don't know why you want it so badly, but after almost losing you over this sale, I'm not going to fight you anymore. You're all the family I have, sweetheart. Please tell me all is forgiven."
"All is forgiven," I said, and I meant it. I missed him, and I needed him.
"I'll see you at Christmas," Dad said.
"Wait, Dad, is it okay if I bring a guest?"
He coughed. There was a long pause. "I thought it would be just the two of us."
"It could be, if that's important to you. But there's someone special in my life. I'd like you to meet him."
"Who?"
"Er, Rick. The caretaker of the cemetery. We've been dating."
Another long pause. "Sure. Why not? Bring him." That was the real estate agent voice, held together by a plastered-on smile. The timing wasn't great with his girlfriend freshly dead and, based on my trail of failed relationships, he probably thought this one was doomed as well. But I was sure he'd come around once he knew how serious Rick and I were.
We said our goodbyes and I tapped the screen just as Poe flew in through my front hole and landed on the banister. The ogres carried out the last body, and Detective Silas Flynn approached me, handing me a piece of paper.
"A bill?" I asked, defensively.
"The Malmot brothers don't work for free. That price includes disposal and cover-up." Silas raised his bushy eyebrows and shrugged.
"Twenty-two hundred dollars!"
He slapped me on the shoulder. "You have thirty days to pay. And just so we're clear, you don't want to stiff the Malmot brothers." The corner of Silas's mouth tugged downward. "Good to see you again, Grateful."
I nodded dumbly, staring at the bill as he slipped back out the door. I watched him climb into the box truck with the Malmot brothers and back down the drive.
"Not that I don't love the open air feel of the place, but maybe we should call someone to fix this," Poe said.
Yes. The door. My door. To my house. Needed to be fixed. I stared at the mountain of melting snow in my foyer for a minute, then at the shards of wood and metal scattered across the house. I let out a deep breath. "Let me try a trick I learned." I raised a hand under my chin, and picturing my foyer as it once was, I called all of the magic I could muster from the house and my night with Rick. I blew. Air left my lungs and tornadoed toward the foyer, picking up snowflakes and ushering them out the door. Slivers of wood lifted from the floor and implanted themselves back into my walls. The door stood up and walked itself back into place, followed by the etched glass oval that melded and became whole again.
Again and again, I huffed and puffed, until the last gust of air seeped from my lungs and my foyer was restored.
"Wow," Poe said. "Practically a miracle."
"No. Just practical magic."
