Page 68 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
As I approached Red Grove, my mood was about as dark as it had ever been. No loan. What were the chances my father would give me another extension? He couldn't put Mr. Nekomata off forever. Under better circumstances, I could ask Rick for the money. He'd mentioned he was loaded; he'd made some good investments in the 1940's, and it wasn't like he had many expenses.
The problem with that plan? I wasn't sure where Rick was. I hadn't heard from him since our fight. I was still angry and wasn't exactly counting the moments until our reunion, but I was beginning to get concerned. For one, I still didn't know what had happened with the drowned woman in the ER. Plus, it wasn't like Rick to go this long without a feeding. If we didn't get it on soon, he'd start to weaken, which wasn't a good idea for either of us with Julius turning up the steam on his search efforts.
Where was the Book of Flesh and Bone, anyway? And why did the baddies think I had it? My head pounded with questions. Crap, I needed a nap.
I pulled into my driveway, stabbing the button for my garage door on autopilot, then slammed on my brakes when a brightly colored poster in my front yard caught my eye. My father's smiling face stared back at me from one of his real estate signs, wire legs piercing the snow. That was new. Under his cat-who-ate-the-canary grin was a sliding panel. What I saw there made my blood run cold and my breath catch. This had to be a mistake.
With one shaking hand, I retrieved my phone from the cup-holder and used my thumb to hit my dad's number. My foot wandered, and the Jeep lurched forward. I slammed on the brakes. Holding the ringing phone to my ear, I eased into the garage and parked. My dad and I were European mutts with heritage so blended we simply called ourselves American, but at that moment I was feeling full-on Soprano Italian. I needed both hands for this conversation.
"Robert Knight," my father's voice trickled out to me, brimming with real estate sunshine, even on this cold December day.
"You sold my house." The words were venomous. Quiet in a deadly way.
There was a pause, my father undoubtedly registering who I was. "Grateful, Mr. Nekomata offered me twice the market price. I don't know why he wants the place so bad but that was an offer I couldn't refuse."
"You don't know what you've done." My voice cracked. I was trembling so hard I could barely grip the phone.
"Oh Grateful, I know you liked the place but honestly, it's for the best. I'll help you buy a condo downtown with the proceeds. We'll be closer, and you won't have such a long commute to work. Seraphina always says how important it is to keep family close and I think she's right. It will be good for us to see more of each other."
"Seraphina? Seraphina doesn't know Jack, Dad. You promised me you'd give me time to buy this place."
"It's sold, Grateful. Get over it. If you don't want to move closer to us, fine, but you don't have to attack Seraphina for problems you brought upon yourself."
"Us? Is she living with you now?"
The exasperated sigh he let out gave him away. "I was going to tell you in person, the next time I saw you."
Head spinning, I stared out the windshield, the engine still rumbling in the garage. Words tumbled out of my mouth faster than I could censor them. "I don't know if I can forgive you for selling my house."
Silence. Part of me wanted to take it back, but I was too devastated. I couldn't. Not yet.
"Grateful." One word, loaded with hurt and disappointment.
I poked the end call button. Never had I disrespected my father like this. He was my only family. But as I lowered my forehead to the steering wheel, and fat tears began to flow down my cheeks, the wrong I inflicted on him seemed justified by the terror that flooded me.
Somehow, I had to stop this sale or I'd be forced to move my seat of magic. Was that even possible? How could I manage the graveyard if I wasn't here? What about the portal in my attic? Would lost souls like Logan's know where to find me? I couldn't even begin to think about Rick and me; I had too many questions about our relationship already. At this point, every option seemed insurmountable, and I could almost feel my skin splitting from the weight piled on my shoulders.
I pulled the key from the ignition, threw open the door, and stomped into the snow covered yard to rip the sign, wire frame and all, from its place. Once my dad's smiling face was safely beneath the Rubbermaid lid of my garbage can, I tried to comfort myself by saying things couldn't get any worse.
But they could.
Way worse.
Ancient History
"What are we going to do?" I sat cross-legged in the middle of my attic floor, head in my hands, bundled against the daytime cold that coursed through the plastic wrap covering my broken window.
Poe's beady black eyes lacked their usual sharp luster. "I'm not sure." The flat words didn't hold the sarcasm or wit I'd come to expect from the raven, which meant my situation was all the more serious.
"What good are you?" I snapped. "The woman in my hallucination said you were exactly what I needed. Help me, now!"
The bird bowed his head. "You don't need to be hurtful. I'm sure we'll find a way. I have feathers in the game after all."
"Feathers in the game? You don't want to be associated with a washed up witch?"
He jumped down to my level and looked me in the eye. "I have served you in various forms over your many lifetimes, Grateful, and by many different names. I die when you die."
"Oh."
