Kick The Candle (Knight Games)
Chapter 3 A Rough Night at the Office
Chapter 17 Out of the Frying Pan
Chapter 19 My First Engagement
Chapter 20 The Book of Flesh and Bone
Kick the Candle
By Genevieve Jack
Kick the Candle: The Knight Games series, Book 2
Copyright © 2013 Carpe Luna Publishing
Published by Carpe Luna, Ltd., PO Box 5932, Bloomington, IL 61701
www.carpeluna.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
First Edition: August 2013
eISBN: 978-0-9852367-9-3
Cover design by Steven Novak
v 1.0
A Familiar Tale
“H
ey Grateful, why are zombies entered under Wayward Magic instead of Supernaturals?” Absent-mindedly, Michelle leaned back from the computer monitor, hands cradling the base of her head.
“Because they're animated dead bodies,” I explained to my friend. “The body itself is natural, as opposed to ghouls or fairies who were born and raised Supers.” I flipped to the next page in the
Book of Light,
which featured
an eavesdropping spell that enchanted a bee to listen in and relay information to the spell caster.
Sigh
. As if a vampire wouldn’t be suspicious of a bumblebee persistently circling its head. Still, an earlier reincarnation of myself thought this spell was important enough to put in the daddy of all
grimoires
. My book of magic had been with me for multiple lifetimes; I needed to trust in its wisdom. With a tap of the return key, I started a new database entry.
Michelle lifted her cup of coffee from the desk and took a deep swig. “But what about vampires and shifters? They were human once? Why are they under Supernatural?”
I stopped typing and gave it some thought. I'd only been the Monk's Hill Witch for two months. Magic and supernatural monsters were new to me too, even if I was a Hecate, a.k.a sorceress of the dead.
“I think it's because with zombies, someone else is pulling the strings. Whoever animates them controls them. They're soulless, for lack of a better word. Vampires and shifters can make their own decisions—well, as long as it meshes with the orders of their coven or pack leader.”
“Hmm. Who controls the ones you've imprisoned in the cemetery?” She stood and walked to the window overlooking my front yard. The glass still sported the
Anderson Windows
sticker from when Rick replaced it two months ago after the vampire, Marcus, shattered it escaping us.
“The zombies? They're possessed by a type of vaporous demon from the underworld. In my last life, I sentenced them to hell for possessing humans. Of course, the demons were expunged from the human bodies, so...ah...they possess corpses to come out at night. They can't come out of the underworld without one. The fresh air is toxic to them.”
“Oh.”
I didn't want to be a bitch or anything, but I wished she'd get back to work. I’d slayed Marcus, but Julius was still out there. As vamps went, Marcus was child’s play compared to Julius. I’d only met the vamp once, but once was enough. Julius was ancient, insidious, and had a following. I suspected Julius had killed my last incarnation, and now was growing his free coven to dangerous sizes in hopes history would repeat itself. The spells in the
Book of Light
offered my best hope for protecting myself against Julius, and this database promised fast and easy access on the move. The book itself wasn’t going anywhere. The tome weighed hundreds of pounds.
I truly appreciated Michelle volunteering to help me with data entry, but when she got like this, questioning, it really slowed us down. We'd only put in about four hours. I wanted to get another hundred entries done before sunset and all the responsibilities that came with it.
Thankfully, she walked back to my iMac and sat down. “At least we can work during the day now. Real, honest to goodness desks,” she said, knocking on the wood.
I shrugged. I'd found two big desks at Elmer Bishop’s estate sale for next to nothing, which was everything in my checking account. I butted them against each other and networked my new computer, a birthday gift from my dad, with my old laptop. We could both make entries to the same database. Plus, the
Book of Light
was large enough that if we opened it across the two desks, Michelle could enter one spell while I entered another. It was a nice set-up.
“Not that your magic isn’t totally cool, Grateful. I mean, conjuring shit out of the ether is wicked awesome, but you have to admit, it’s nice not to have them disappear when the sun comes up.”
“Yeah.” Unfortunately, the magic of my attic was tied to the night air and everything I conjured disappeared when the sun rose. It sucked, but I suppose everything has to have limits. Otherwise, I’d be conjuring myself a million dollars up here.
The soothing rhythm of vigorous typing filled the air between us…for all of thirty seconds.
“Did you hear about Logan?” Michelle asked, blowing away any delusions I'd had about her getting back to work.
“Hear what? I saw him at physical therapy yesterday. He's walking pretty well with a cane. Put some weight on too.”
“He’s starting back at Valentine's. Just a few days per week at first, but he’s planning to work up to full-time.”
Valentine's was Logan's pride and joy. He'd started the restaurant from scratch and it was one of Carlton City's best rated. In my opinion, Logan was lucky his assistant manager had kept the wheels on while he was missing. Another employee might have closed shop.
“That’s good news,” I said. “Logan needs somewhere to focus his energy.”
“You mean on something other than you.”
“No,” I said defensively. “I mean on something other than the pain of his recovery.” Logan had been in a coma for almost a month after a truck plowed into him on his bike. He'd been damaged bad enough to knock his soul out of his body and leave him unrecognizable to his rescuers. It was sheer coincidence he ended up in the hospital where I worked as a nurse and serendipity that I was the one who could put his soul back into his body. His recovery had been a long, hard journey.
“So, you’re saying that Logan hasn't tried to rekindle those old romantic feelings now that he has a body?”
“What Logan felt when he was a ghost was just a misunderstood metaphysical attraction to me as his soul sorter.”
“Nice story. How do you explain what you felt for him?”
“Logan knows I'm with Rick now.”
“Yeah,” she drawled. Her eyes drilled into me.
I wasn't sure what she wanted me to say. Rick was part of my job description. He was my caretaker, the immortal vessel for my soul between lifetimes. Hundreds of years ago, the first me, Isabella Lockhart, had made Rick her caretaker. At the moment of her death, she stored a piece of her soul inside of him, which he’d returned to her when she was reincarnated. I was a reincarnation of that same witch, and I’d taken back the immortal part of my soul from Rick in a ceremony that included blood, magic-and sex.
Pursuing anything with Logan didn't make sense for a number of reasons. Aside from the superhuman level of understanding it would require of him to allow me to continue to be the witch, having sex with Rick as needed, my feelings for him had changed since he was reunited with his body. As far as I was concerned, the night we shared when he was a ghost had been an accident. I was seeking comfort, and he’d accidentally slipped inside my body and given me an orgasm. Ancient history.
“Logan’s my friend. That’s all.” To signal I was done with this particular avenue of conversation, I flattened my page with my palm and returned to typing vigorously on my laptop.
Michelle raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips inquisitively. “How is Caretaker Rick anyway? You guys still trying to start a fire by rubbing your crotches together?”
I fought a smile but only half of my mouth obeyed my command. “Nice, Michelle. You know, it's not like it's tawdry or anything. We
have
to do it. It strengthens our powers.”
“Power sex. Right. He gets all charged up and you get...”
“Multiple orgasms and sometimes his blood.”
“Yum.” She grimaced.
“It heals me. Last week, we were bringing in a vamp we caught feeding on a human at a strip club in the city. The thing practically bit though my arm before I sentenced it to Hell. A little sip of Rick and the wound healed right up. It's nothing short of miraculous.”
Michelle shook her head and took another gulp of coffee as if she could rinse the taste of blood from her mouth. The TMI convo was enough to make her turn back to her work. She focused on the page closest to her and poised her fingers over the keyboard.
“Hey, here's something interesting,” she said.
“What?”
“It's a spell to call a familiar.”
“A what?”
Michelle scooted closer to the book and read to me. “
Familiar, Spell to Call. A familiar can be summoned to amplify a Hecate's power by performing the following spell. A willing spirit will arrive in the form of an animal possessing those traits the current incarnation is deficient in and supporting optimum natural balance. Through mutual respect and bonding, a familiar can become a trusted and powerful companion.
”
“Cool. Like a black cat or what not.”
“Or maybe you'll get an owl like Harry Potter!”
“Oh yeah, those things are wicked awesome.” I stood and leaned over the book to get a good look at the spell.
