Kick The Candle (Knight Games) (10 page)

He wiped a hand over his face. “That sounded like the witch talking.”

“I think it was.”

“So, I’m a medium or something?”

“Or something.” I gave him an empathetic frown over my shoulder. “I can do some research in the
Book of Light
if you want me to.”

He nodded. The dustpan was full, and he nudged me aside to empty it into the garbage can under the sink. Standing hip to hip, I noticed the scruff along his jaw and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, features ghost Logan hadn’t had. He was really human again.

“What else aren’t you telling me?” he asked. Ghost or not, his green eyes blazed just as bright. I ignored the subtle pang of attraction his look elicited and turned away to finish wiping the counter.

“There’s a guy trying to buy my house out from under me and a recent influx of supernatural baddies in Carlton City. Rick and I can hardly keep up.”

Logan groaned.

“My sentiments exactly.”

He returned the cleaning supplies to their place under the sink and stretched to open the little cabinet door over the fridge. When he returned, there was a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. “We’re going to need something stronger than wine.”

By the time I finished wiping, two shot glasses had appeared next to the bottle. He poured. “Do you think the two are related?”

I blinked once, twice.

He downed his shot and plunked the glass down on the counter. His lips pressed together for a moment, then he pointed a finger at me. “What if Julius isn’t trying to woo you but distract you?”

I raised eyebrows.

The pointed finger waved deliberately. “He needs to distract you while he searches for the
Book of Flesh and Bone
. He does this by sending someone to buy your house, then planting the seed of doubt in your head about Rick. Maybe returning the money wasn’t about the money at all but about giving Gary the chance to drop that little emotional bomb on you. Meanwhile, he’s calling in his buddies to help him look for Satan’s grimoire while you reel from all the shit he’s thrown your way.”

For a moment, I tried to digest that, taking interest in the whiskey on the counter. “You may be right. I had the sense he was trying to stir the pot, but it doesn’t change that what he said was true. Rick admitted as much. Unfortunately, if Julius wanted to shake me up, he did a good job. I can’t let this go. I need to know the truth.”

“Even if you can’t change it? You can’t go back. You’ve accepted your role, and Rick is your caretaker. Finding out that he manipulated you and had a hand in Gary’s fate isn’t going to change your dependence on each other. Believe me, I’d like to think that it could for my own selfish reasons, but it won’t.”

His eyes burned into me, and I looked toward the shot snuggled in my grip for release from the heat. The conversation was veering toward dangerous territory. Again, I’d let Logan in too deep without taking into consideration his feelings for me, feelings I knew in my heart I couldn’t return. I nudged my full shot in his direction. “Sorry, I can’t partake. Getting ridiculously drunk with you sounds magically delicious at this point, but I need to get home while I’m sober enough to drive. I have to work in the morning.”

“Ah. Sick people don’t stop coming to the hospital because a vampire is threatening to take over the city.”

I laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Plus, if you’re right about Julius, I’ve got to get to my attic and make a plan. Tainted or not, the money will help. I’ll use it as a down payment and buy my house.”

Collecting my arctic outfit from the sofa, I stepped into my snowpants.

“I know you have to go, Grateful, but we haven’t had a chance to talk about us.”

Intent on my coat zipper, I refused to meet his eyes. I couldn’t start this with him right now. I shook my head and reached for my gloves.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he murmured. “Maybe, at my party?”

Reluctantly, I agreed. I guess I owed him that much. But for now, I was exhausted. I donned my winter layers and kissed him goodbye on the cheek. He escorted me to the elevator, and I stepped into the empty compartment.

“I meant what I said before. Fred downstairs knows to let you up here day or night. If you ever need anything…”

“Thanks Logan.” The doors closed between us. A wave of guilt passed through me. Why was I so careless with Logan’s emotions? I knew he had feelings for me, feelings I couldn’t return, yet like a sore tooth, I couldn’t stop poking it where it ached. I had to be more careful with him.

I made a mental note to protect his apartment with an enchantment. The last thing I needed was some jagged-toothed supernatural nabbing Logan and using him against me. So far, I didn’t think Julius knew about our friendship. I needed to keep it that way. Medium or not, Logan wasn’t equipped to handle the life I could inflict on him.

I
arrived at Dad’s brownstone in the city around a quarter to one, having already put in a half shift at the hospital. Dad wanted a traditional Thanksgiving, so I’d changed out of my scrubs and into a form fitting chocolate brown sweater with an ankle length skirt and tall boots. Since I’d promised to help him cook, I’d gathered my honey blonde waves into a messy bun.

Dad came to the door in a suit and tie. Geesh. He was really taking this seriously. Seemed like a lot of fuss for just the two of us. I returned his hug.

“You look great,” he said, kissing me on my forehead.

“Well, I have good news.”

He pulled back, raising his eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“I have the money for the house. I’m going in for the loan as soon as possible.”

He smiled stiffly. I expected him to argue that I shouldn’t live there or ask me how I’d gotten the money. Instead, he seemed distracted. He shifted from foot to foot in front of his traditionally decorated living room. Since I’d moved out, my dad’s house always looked “staged”, as if he could put a “For Sale” sign out front without so much as dusting. But then as the owner of one of the few historical buildings in the city, he was often asked to show the place for newspaper and magazine features. He took the privilege seriously. Usually, though, there was some hint of the man behind the décor. I instinctively looked toward the decorative cabinet on the far wall, the source of what I considered to be the house’s dirty secret. The doors were closed. The TV wasn’t on.

“Aren’t you going to watch the game?” I couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t had the cabinet open for football on Thanksgiving.

He shrugged. I glanced across the foyer into the dining room. Flowers. My father had purchased centerpieces. “What the hell is going on, Dad? Are you going to tell me you have cancer? I don’t think I can take a cancer diagnosis right now.”

“I don’t have cancer.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Then what is all of this?”

Hands on hips, he pressed his lips together. “You’re going to find out sooner or later. I might as well just tell you now.”

I bobbed my head emphatically.

He opened his mouth but, like a cartoon, the sound of the doorbell replaced his voice. Holding up one finger, he backed into the foyer and reached for the doorknob. Who the hell was visiting my dad on Thanksgiving? If it was a client, we’d have to have a serious talk about boundaries.

The bell ringer was a ballerina. Tall, lanky, graceful, and holding a casserole dish. Since when did ballerinas deliver Thanksgiving casseroles?

“Seraphina, you look lovely as always.” Dad extended his hand, and she nestled her long fingers in his palm. He helped her over the threshold. Yeah, like that quarter inch strip of wood was a hazard. Don’t let her go, she might trip on the rug. Now his hand was on the small of her back, pressing into the graceful drape of her tailored black wool coat. I pressed my lips together to keep my mouth from falling open.

“Thank you, again, for inviting me, Robert.” Her too full lips planted on his cheek in slow motion, leaving a smear of red lipstick in her wake. Then she turned her sights on me. Her eyes were green with flecks of amber and gold around the pupil that brought out the highlights in her golden brown hair. And she was young. Really young.

“Dad, aren’t you going to introduce us?” I muttered.

He cleared his throat. “Of course. Grateful, this is my girlfriend, Seraphina. Seraphina, my daughter, Grateful.”

Girlfriend?
“How old are you?” I sputtered. “Oh, hell, that was rude. I’m sorry.” I pressed my thumb and forefinger into my temple.

My father held up his hands. “I should have told you…” His voice trailed off and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling.

Seraphina gave my father a harsh look and handed him the casserole.

“Sorry about that. Let’s start again,” I offered. “I’m Grateful.”

“Seraphina.” She extended her perfectly manicured hand.

I waited for a “nice to meet you” or some sort of greeting that would indicate she accepted my apology but all I got was a retraction of her hand and a regal movement of her fingers, like she was waving our greeting out of the air before the smell could hit her. We all stood staring at each other. Dad made a sound like a cough. Seraphina rubbed the palms of her hands together. My lips parted. I was staring, definitely staring. She had no pores. Was she
my
age? She couldn’t be much older.

“Can I take your coat?” Dad finally said. Seraphina nodded and shrugged it off into his hands, exposing a red wrap dress that showed off her ridiculously svelte figure.

I forced my lips to form words. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Don’t you want to take off your coat, too?” Dad asked.

Crap
. I unbuttoned and handed the heavy wool to my dad, flashing him a confused and accusatory look.

“Dad, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Of course, honey. Seraphina, wine?”

“Please.”

Dad led the way through the dining room and the swinging white door into the kitchen. I waited until there was a polite amount of space between us and the complete stranger he’d invited to our family gathering before I raised eyebrows and pointed at the closed door.

He answered without me having to ask. “She was a client. We hit it off. We’ve been dating a couple of months.”

“And it’s already serious enough to bring her home to meet the family?”

From a cabinet behind me, he retrieved a wine glass. “Wine?”

“Ooooh yeah.”

He pulled down two more and retrieved a bottle of red wine from a rack on the counter. “I’ve been lonely, Grateful. Your mom’s been gone a long time. She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman. Give her a chance.”

All of my annoyance drained out of me, replaced by guilt for not putting my father’s happiness above my own. He had
never
introduced me to a woman before. Did I expect him to play the monk forever? It was one afternoon and it was
his
house. Was it too much for him to ask for me to put on my happy face and deal for one afternoon? No. And I was a complete bitch to even suggest it. “Oh…ah…I want you to be happy, Dad. Of course she’s welcome. I just wish you had warned me. I’m shocked, that’s all. I’ve never seen you with a woman before.”

Popping the cork, he filled the glasses one by one. “Overdue, then. Wouldn’t you say?” He shot me an accusatory glance, took a swig of his wine.

Okay. I deserved that. I hadn’t reacted to Seraphina fairly.

“You’re right. I’m so sorry. I should have handled that better. I was just caught off guard.” I concentrated on the best way to make it up to him. “Hey, why don’t you go out there and smooth things over while I start dinner? Make her feel at home. Once she’s settled in, I’ll come out and get to know her better.”

“You can’t cook.” Dad stared at me blankly. It wasn’t an insult. I’d admitted the truth of my inability to cook enough times that Dad was simply repeating the undeniable fact.

“I’m a grown woman with a smart phone. I’ll figure it out.”

Dad wrapped me in a too firm hug and kissed me on the forehead. “Excellent idea. She’s wonderful. You’ll see.” He grabbed two glasses of the wine and shouldered his way into the dining room.

I lifted my glass from the pristine counter and paused. So, Dad had a girlfriend. An incredibly young, shamelessly beautiful girlfriend.
Wrap your head around it, Grateful
! I mentally shook my own shoulders. Well, one good thing, I’d be too busy cooking to have much time to visit.

I yanked open the door to the refrigerator, resigned to get started. No turkey. In horror, I opened the freezer. Yep. There it was: one, frozen, twelve-pound turkey. I pulled the ball of ice from the freezer and plopped it on the counter with a foreboding
thunk
. The icy sheen on the shrink-wrap frosted from the heat of the kitchen.

Wine in hand, I returned to the dining room to break the bad news. It was empty. I proceeded to the living room. Dad and Seraphina were shoulder to shoulder on the couch, carrying on an animated discussion. After a few moments, I cleared my throat to get their attention.

“Dad, the turkey is…” I trailed off when I saw his face fall. For some reason, this was really important to him. He must have strong feelings for Seraphina to introduce her to me and I could see he wanted tonight to be special. I hated the thought of disappointing him.