Kick The Candle (Knight Games) (6 page)

The raven tilted his head and closed one eye as if to say the idea was pathetic. “How about if I transform into a rat and scurry down into your kitchen?”

“You can do that?”

“Honestly, woman, read the damn book.” Promptly, he fluttered down to the floor, transformed into a huge black sewer rat, and scurried out the door. A few moments later I heard Dad scream like a girl and then the sound of the broom being smacked against the floor.

“Sorry, Poe,” I whispered under my breath.

“Robert, do not worry. Where I come from, a rat in the kitchen is a sign of good fortune.”

“Oh? Is that a Japanese thing?”

“No, a Nekomata family thing. Rat in the kitchen means there must be food in the kitchen.” The men laughed. I heard my father lead the way into the basement.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to Poe as he returned, transforming into his feathered self.

“Gave it my best shot,” he said, returning to the spot next to the
Book of Light
where I’d found him sleeping.

“Noooo, we are not giving up that easily.” I opened the book, forcing him to move from his perch to make room. “What can I do during the day?” I asked Poe. But it was the book that answered. Frantically, its pages flipped until they settled open near the middle.

“Damn! Did you know it could do that?”

The raven gave a rhythmic caw that sounded a lot like a laugh.

I peeked at the open page. “
Connecting to the Earth
,” I read. Poe stretched his neck to see the spell. “
Although Hecate draws her power from the night air, it can be useful for her to connect to the Earth during the day. This is possible by drawing on her connection to her caretaker and his earthly bond. To do so, she need only concentrate on the bond and direct the resulting energy into the form she requires
.”

Poe fluffed his wings. “Sounds easy enough, even for you.”

“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be more supportive?”

He shrugged.

I plopped down on the floor, opening my connection with Rick. Poe flapped down from his perch and crawled into my lap. “What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“I’m your familiar; I’m amplifying your power,” he drawled.

I sank my fingers into his feathers, reflexively massaging the muscles around his neck. Eyes closed, I pictured Rick and took a deep breath. Our connection opened. I saw him in the shower, rinsing his hair. He paused and looked directly at me, as if he could actually see me. Was my mind creating this or was it real? Mentally, I shifted my attention to the house. I needed something to happen to scare my father and Mr. Nekomata out. Focusing on the basement where they were, I channeled my will.

With a violent start, the house began to shake, foundation rumbling until the windows rattled. Three floors below, my dad cursed. Uh oh. I forgot about the wine cellar. My eyes popped open. I hoped I hadn’t cracked a bottle of Shiraz with the earthquake I caused.

The house gradually stopped shaking. “That should do it,” I said to Poe.

He bobbed his head. “Well done, Spell-Casting Queen. My pleasure to have assisted you.” His words carried more than a tinge of sarcasm. He flew up to his perch next to the book and tucked his head back under his wing.

That was all the help I was getting from Poe. “Thanks,” I said impassively. I jogged down two flights of stairs and met the two men as they came up from the basement. Dad was whiter than the ghosts that used to live in my attic, but Mr. Nekomata seemed even more elated with the place.

“I guess you noticed the rumbling. It’s been happening sporadically since I moved in. The residents of Red Grove tell me the house is built over a sinkhole. Could go at any time.” There, that should do it.

Mr. Nekomata nodded and walked toward the door. Good, he was going. Only, he didn’t. He turned at the stairs. “Show me upstairs, Mr. Knight,” he said.

“But…but, aren’t you worried about the sinkhole?” I stammered.

“No. My company plans to demolish the place anyway. This town needs a modern bed and breakfast.” He started up the stairs.

Holy mother of all clients who would not leave! This guy was killing me. I chased after my father who still looked like he might vomit but was forcing himself up the stairs. I still had one ace up my sleeve, and I was about to play it. I rushed past them to the curtains I kept drawn on the second floor landing.

“I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Nekomata, but this property is all wrong for a bed and breakfast. No one would ever pay money to stay here.”

My father gave me stink-eye, but I didn’t quit.

“Why do you think so, young lady?” Mr. Nekomata asked.

Dramatically, I threw back the curtains and pointed at the backyard. “The house backs right up to a graveyard. It will scare away the customers.”

The old man approached the window, wrinkled hands moving gracefully to couple behind his back, gaze falling softly across the rows of snow-covered headstones. Seconds ticked by. Dad looked like his head might explode, he was so mad at me. His face was bright red, and he kept doing this clenching thing with his jaw. The bottom eyelid of his right eye twitched.

“I don’t think so,” client from hell said. “No backyard neighbors means no noise. Plus, paranormal investigations are very popular these days. We might be able to capitalize on the trend.”

My jaw hinged open. Dad’s face split into a told-you-he-was-serious smile. He raised eyebrows in my direction. I was speechless and completely out of magic.

“Robert, I will be in touch with my offer. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”

“You’re welcome!” my dad said. “No problem whatsoever.”

He didn’t even bother with the bedrooms. The two men descended and Dad opened the door for his client. They exchanged a firm handshake and then Mr. Nekomata was gone.

With a slow thud, Dad closed the door and pivoted toward me. The look he gave me was one I hadn’t seen since my teen years, a quiet anger that told me I was in big trouble.

“Don’t you have to drive him back to your office?” I mumbled.

“Nope. He met me here.”

“You promised me you’d let me buy this place.”

He blinked slowly and shook his head. “Grateful…”

“You
promised
me.”

He shook a finger at me. “There is no way you are going to raise $250,000! I said I’d give you six weeks; I gave you eight. Now, get over it.”

“All I have to do is qualify for a loan. I’m making good money now. If I pay off my debt, it could happen.”

Dad put his hands on his hips and lowered his head. After a few moments, he gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, Grateful, but if Nekomata offers me above market price for this house, I’m selling.”

“But—”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and rubbed. With a sigh, he met my eyes. I thought he’d cave, give me a month or something. But I was wrong. “You’ll thank me someday. Your attachment to this place is unnatural. You belong in the city where you can have fun, meet people. We never intended this to be permanent, and frankly, with the way this house shook today, I’m not comfortable with you staying here much longer. It might not even be safe.”

“But, Dad…”
Crap
. In hindsight, the earthquake was a bad idea.

Before I could say another word he pulled me into his embrace. “You’ll see. It’ll be for the best.”

At this point, what could I say? Yes, I want to live in a house that will soon be swallowed by a sinkhole? I was so stupid. My ruse had been a double-edged sword. After the rat and the earthquake, there was no way Dad was going to do anything to help me stay here. I was lucky he hadn’t insisted I move out immediately.

For the second time since I’d moved in, I thought about telling Dad the truth. Coming clean about the nature of the house and my role as the witch might solve the problem. But just like before, my conscience wouldn’t let me. For me, learning about the supernatural was like waking up to find myself living in a nightmare. Before I’d accepted my role as witch, I’d been overwhelmed with helplessness. At least now, I could defend myself. Dad would have no such luxury. In this case, ignorance truly was bliss.

I reassured myself that I could fix this without ruining my dad’s life with the truth. Nekomata was only a man after all, and I had a book of magic on my side. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, anyway. Mr. Nekomata might change his mind and not make an offer. Even if he did, buying a house took time. Likely, I’d have months before the closing to do what I needed to botch the sale. Perhaps his financing wouldn’t go through or some other misfortunate event would render the sale impossible.

With a deep sigh, I took a step back. “What do you want to do about Thanksgiving?”

He glanced around my foyer as if he expected it to crumble around us at any moment. “I don’t think we should have it here.”

Stupid. Stupid
. Why had I made this house seem dangerous? I offered an olive branch. “Your place?”

“One o’clock?”

“Sure. A late lunch would be fine with me.”

He shook his head. “Oh no. We’ll be having dinner. I need you there at one to help me cook the bird. We’re not ordering out this year. We’re going to do this the traditional way or not at all.”

I tried to remember the last time my father and I cooked together. Nothing. The part of my brain compartmentalized for cooking was empty and cobweb filled. “It’s your stomach,” I said cynically.

A
fter an uneventful day at the hospital, I caught up on some badly needed sleep. Good thing because I had to get up early to help Logan through physical therapy. For the last six weeks, I’d been assisting with his outpatient recovery. My involvement was more than simply cheering him on. Every Tuesday and Thursday I met him at the rehab center, my special energy shake in hand.

Of course, the drink was actually a healing potion from the
Book of Light
. I hadn’t exactly mentioned its magical properties to him, afraid he might forgo the benefits, but in this case the ends justified the means. I’d noticed a marked improvement over the last several weeks.

I filled a sports bottle with the elixir from a pitcher I kept in the refrigerator. The stuff was foul—hunter green and smelled like feet. I’d told Logan it was wheat grass. If he suspected anything, he’d never let on.

Warily, I backed down my driveway. There was only one way to get to Logan’s physical therapy, and it required passing Rick’s place. As expected, my caretaker was brooding in the middle of the road.

“You’re going to see him,” Rick accused. His breath fogged the glass of my window. I pressed the button to roll it down.

“We’ve been over this. I’m a nurse, and Logan’s my friend. I’m helping with his recovery. That’s all. I promised him I would, and I intend to see it through.”

The line of Rick’s jaw hardened and his eyes bled to black. “I don’t like it. He wants you Grateful. He always has.”

I popped my chin into the air. Jeez. Rick’s jealousy hadn’t dulled at all over the last six weeks. Tough cookies. I wouldn’t go back on my word. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

“It’s him I don’t trust. I take care of what’s mine.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned away from him. “You don’t own me.” I wanted to add that we weren’t even exclusive, but I was afraid it would start an argument that would make me late. As it was Rick looked like he wanted to punch something.

I rolled the window back up.

* * * * *

S
t. John’s Rehabilitation Center is attached to the hospital, a state of the art facility with physical therapy, massage, and acupuncture. When I walked in the front door, Logan was already in the waiting area, his cane propped against his leg. Thinner than he had been as a ghost, his physique had come a long way over the last six weeks. The outline of long, lean muscle was visible under his clingy athletic shirt. He’d shaved the beard he’d grown while in the coma, but left his hair a little longer than it had been in his spectral state.

His smile was the same as always. “Grateful, you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” I handed him the drink. When he took it from me, he grabbed the bottle right above my hand, engulfing my fingers in his. He didn’t immediately pull the goods away. I retracted my hand and placed it safely on my hip. “How are you feeling today, anyway?”

“Good. Right hip is still giving out on me occasionally. I think another couple of months of this, and I’ll be able to resume some normal activities.”

“Another couple of months?”

“Yeah.” He tipped back the sports bottle, and I watched green liquid slosh into his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut against the taste and chugged.

I popped out a hip, my bottom jaw jutting forward in an exaggerated pout. “That’s funny because I heard you’re going back to work at Valentine’s this weekend.”

He choked on a swallow. In a fit of coughing, his hand lashed out to cover his mouth and knocked over his cane. Face red, he set the sports bottle down on the side table and really poured on the steam, hacking like a machinegun.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and I also heard there’s a welcome back party next Saturday night, that I wasn’t invited to.”