Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (21 page)

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” I said, as the carriage jolted to a roll. “Nothing has felt this easy for so long.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Michelle said softly. Her eyes darted to Soleil’s and then back to me. No one needed to say her name. We were all thinking of Tabetha. When would she strike? How would she exact her revenge now that Logan was out of her clutches?

Nightshade shivered against my spine. I brushed the curtains aside to see why she was humming. We’d crossed through the gate to the cemetery—my cemetery—the source of my power. Nightshade was saying, “Hello again.” Tabetha wouldn’t dare cross me here. She’d be stupid to try.

“Relax, Michelle,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m the queen of Monk’s Hill, and nobody messes with the queen.”

She laughed and raised her eyebrows. “No one with half a brain in his or her head.”

The carriage pulled to a stop and the driver hopped down to help us all out. Dad opened the door to the chapel for me. I entered to the sound of a solo violin playing at the front of the church.

Michelle took my purse. “I’ll store this in the bride’s room for you.” Soleil fluffed my short train.

The pews were filled with friends and their families, most of them human, except for Silas who stood at the front in the best man’s position. Michelle’s husband, Manny, stood behind him, looking equally dapper in a tuxedo with a violet cummerbund.

And then from a door to the right, Rick emerged. His dark waves were slightly more tamed than usual above his collar, although the line of his jaw and slope of his nose were just as sharp. The way the material of his tuxedo jacket stretched across his shoulders made me inhale deeply. I couldn’t wait to unwrap him after all was said and done, to pull the end of his bow tie like I was untying the ribbon on a present. His eyes met mine. I smiled.

Rick didn’t smile back. Oddly, he looked nervous.

“Ready?” Dad asked. Michelle was back, and she and Soleil took their places ahead of me.

“Yes,” I said enthusiastically. I positioned my bouquet. The song came to a conclusion, and the violinist gave Soleil a small nod. She began again, Vivaldi’s Spring, and Soleil processed forward, meeting Silas near the front before moving to their position off to the side. Michelle was next. At the front, Manny took her hand, and she joined him behind Silas and Soleil. Then it was my turn.

Everyone stood up. I kept my eyes on Rick as I stepped forward. Step, together. Step, together. With a beaming smile, I endured the flash of novice photographers as I moved in step with Dad toward my destiny. But as I grew closer, I could see something was wrong. Rick was slightly pale and … sweating. I’d never seen him sweat, not ever. His eyes were gray but vacant, and the closer I got, the more his expression looked
tortured
.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dad and I reached the front, the point where Rick was supposed to come forward to take my hand from my father, but Rick didn’t move. The pastor cleared his throat. Rick still didn’t move. The music came to an end, and still Rick did not move. I reached out to him through our metaphysical connection, but I couldn’t get inside his head. He was blocking me. That’s when I knew something was wrong, really wrong.

“Rick?” I said.

With a deep breath, he shook his head. “I need to talk to you.”

I glanced at my father, who had a murderous expression on his face, squarely directed at Rick, and then at Michelle and Soleil who looked more confused than angry. Turning toward the now murmuring guests, I said, “Please excuse us for one moment.”

The pastor looked concerned as Rick led the way into a small room behind the altar. A plate of communion wafers and a goblet of wine rested on a small table with shallow drawers. The rest of the room was plain, aside from a few crosses on stands in the corner and an uncomfortable-looking chair. This was the sacristy.

“I’m not sure we’re supposed to be in here,” I said reverently.

“The room will be sufficient.” He coupled his hands behind his back and stared at a water stain on the wall.

“What’s going on, Rick?” My voice shook more than I wanted it to. I couldn’t help it. A crushing weight settled over my heart, growing heavier with every second he didn’t look at me.

“I can’t do this,” he said toward the wall.

“Can’t do what?”

“Marry you.”

I laughed, although there was nothing funny about his words. It was my body’s way of dealing with the pressure and pain that threatened to eviscerate my heart. “You’ve wanted to marry me since the day we met.”

“Not anymore.”

I swayed on my feet. “What changed since last night?” I asked, my words thready and barely audible. Concentrating, I focused on our connection, forcing my way into his head. Was it Tabetha? A vampire mind trick? Had he made a deal with someone to protect me? I forced my way into his consciousness, and what I saw inside his head turned my blood to ice. As far as I could tell, his thoughts were his own.

He licked his lips and faced me. “I just now realized how you’ve used me. I’m a tool to you. A means to an end.”

“That’s not true.”

“I need time. I need to prove to myself that you don’t own me.”

“Time. You’re asking for time now, on our wedding day.” Okay, now I was angry. I was the president of the asking-for-time club. I would have been happy to indulge his sincere desire to wait. But this was not the time for doubts. This was the I-am-totally-ready-for-this part.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Better now than after.”

My mouth dropped open. His expression was frigid. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Did something happen? Are you trying to protect me?” I’d seen his thoughts. He meant every word he said. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“But you love me. How could you do this to me?” My words were sharp, meant to hurt.

Again he shook his head, and this time he walked away.

“Don’t walk away from me. You owe me more of an explanation than this. Rick?” I tried to follow him, but he exited through the back door and slammed it in my face.

“Rick? Rick!” I glanced down at the bouquet I was still holding and caught sight of my mother’s pearl bracelet. What a waste of a good gift. What would she think of me now? I dropped my bouquet. Watched the fresh flowers bounce and roll on the wood floor. The head of a white rose broke from its stem and separated, decapitated, from the arrangement.

My father approached from behind. Good thing, because I collapsed. My tears swelled and spilled, and my body went lax. To the sound of Soleil asking for the attention of the guests in the pews, my father and a swearing Michelle ushered me out of the church and took me home.

T
ime slipped through my fingers. I was in the carriage and then being undressed and helped into bed. Sleep was an escape my mind dove toward, and I embraced the darkness. I willed myself deeper into the abyss. Who would want to wake up? Who would want to live after an experience like that? The surface of consciousness was a painful place. No, I fought to stay asleep, wrapped in darkness and blissful unconsciousness. Was this what death would feel like? To be swept away into the depths of a dark and endless ocean?

Unfortunately, time and light forced me to the surface. As well as Poe, who stood on my chest with his hooked beak pressed into the bridge of my nose. Michelle sat by my bedside, no longer in her bridesmaid’s dress but in jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Grateful?” she asked uncertainly.

I opened my mouth to say something and nothing came out but a sob. She brushed Poe aside and pulled me into her arms. I cried on her shoulder until I couldn’t cry anymore.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Michelle said, stroking my hair.

“He left me,” I gasped. My throat felt bone dry, my whole body drained of every ounce of energy. “How could he leave me?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said.

Poe found his voice. “I, for one, didn’t think it was possible for a caretaker to leave his witch.”

This only made me cry harder.

Michelle stroked the back of my head. “Grateful, we can talk about this more, but first you need to eat something. You’ve been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care, hon. You need to eat.” Michelle’s voice changed from pleading to commanding. She pulled back the covers and helped me out of bed. A bathroom visit later, I was sitting at the kitchen island while she made me Cream of Wheat. Poe stared at me sympathetically, which was as annoying as it was worrisome. If the situation wasn’t dire, he’d be his regular snarky self.

“Did Rick give you any indication he didn’t want to be married?”

“No,” I said. A sob erupted from my throat, but no tears fell. Was it possible to run out of tears? “We were together last ni—” I caught myself. I’d been in bed an entire night and day. “I mean, the night before we were supposed to get married. Everything seemed fine.”

“What exactly did he say before he left the church?”

“He said I was using him. That he felt like he was my tool. He needs time to figure out if he loves me outside of our magical relationship.”

Poe straightened his neck. “That does not sound like our caretaker.” His beady eyes narrowed.

Michelle poured the hot Cream of Wheat into a bowl from the cupboard and added butter and brown sugar. She skimmed the meal across the counter to me.

“Thanks. Where’d you get butter and brown sugar?”

“The same place I got the Cream of Wheat. My house. You seriously need to go grocery shopping.”

My stomach growled in anticipation, and I spooned a heap into my mouth.

“Something is wrong about this situation,” Poe said.

“I was just left at the altar by my own caretaker. Everything is wrong with this situation.” I tipped forward and slammed my forehead into the counter, banging it repeatedly. Michelle took me by the shoulders and sat me back up.

“You. Eat,” she said, pointing at me, then at the bowl. “You.” She pointed at Poe. “Be more helpful.”

Poe swayed his neck. “I don’t mean to hurt you, dear witch, but I must ask the question. Why would Rick choose the worst possible time to announce his change of heart? Why would he break things off with you in the most painful way?”

“I don’t know. Wedding jitters.” I shrugged and shoveled in another bite of Cream of Wheat. I was hungrier than I thought I was and made short work of it.

Poe shook his head. “The magic that makes him your caretaker forces him to protect you. He saved you from Julius in the fall despite thinking you were leaving him for Logan. What he did and how he did it was … uncharacteristic, for lack of a better word.”

My spoon hit the bottom of the empty bowl with a loud clank. “But he did it, Poe. I was there. He was right in front of me, in the middle of our cemetery. I didn’t think it was possible either, but he stood not two feet away from me and said he didn’t want to marry me. He’s not sure he loves me.”

“Where is he now?” Poe asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been asleep for the last twenty-four hours, remember?”

“Your dad, Soleil, and I went to his house after the wedding,” Michelle said. “Your dad wanted to give him a piece of his mind. I wanted to show him a close-up of my fist. He was already gone by the time we got there. He hasn’t been back since.”

“Use your connection,” Poe said. “Call for him.” I’d never seen Poe so resolute.

Closing my eyes, I reached out, grasping at the magical ribbon that linked Rick and me. But the stretch extended into a misty fog within my mind. “He’s blocking me,” I said.

“
Someone’s
blocking you,” Poe muttered.

“We could check his cottage again? Or call Silas. He’s a detective,” Michelle said.

I lifted an eyebrow. “No. I have a better way.” I looked right, then left. “Did you bring my purse when you helped me home?”

“Not initially, but I went back to get it.” She moved across the foyer to the hall closet and emerged with a large shopping bag full of stuff. I saw my bouquet peeking from the top and dug through some decorative items that probably belonged to the florist to reach my white beaded bag. Inside was my phone.

I poked the Find-a-Buddy app, entered my password, and clicked on Rick’s number while I slowly walked back toward the kitchen island. A map of the United States appeared on the screen while a glowing bar circled a bull’s-eye, narrowing Rick’s location to east of the Mississippi, then to the Northeast, and then finally to New Hampshire and the surrounding states.

A white flag appeared over Rick’s location. I dropped the phone. My knees gave out, and my ass slammed into the hardwood.

“Jesus, Grateful!” Michelle rushed to my side, cradling my shoulders and placing a palm over my forehead. “What is it? Are you faint?” she asked.

I swallowed and licked my lips. With a shaking hand, I swept my bangs from my eyes before answering in an infirm voice. “Rick’s in Salem, Massachusetts.”

“Tabetha,” Poe hissed. “He was taken, abducted as payment for the damned candle.”

“He was not taken!” I spread my hands in frustration. “I watched him walk out of the church. I had a lucid conversation with him in Monk’s Hill Chapel. I saw inside his head!”

“Then some kind of mind control,” Poe said.

Michelle agreed. “He’d never go to her willingly. I had a hard enough time believing he left you. This is too much. Tabetha did this.” She helped me from the floor.

I frowned. “How? We were in the middle of Monk’s Hill Cemetery. Even presuming I was too distracted to sense her power, I knew every face in that church. She wasn’t there.”

Poe sighed. “Perhaps she hexed him before the ceremony.”

“Or he left me for her.” A part of me yelled that it couldn’t be true, but another part, a large, defeated part, wondered if this was karma calling. Maybe I didn’t deserve Rick. Maybe my long history of failed relationships was repeating itself.

I squatted to retrieve my phone from the floor, thankful the screen was still intact. The red bubble next to my messages icon displayed a number in the double digits. I tapped it absently and scrolled through the names of wedding attendees expressing their condolences and offering encouragement.