Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (7 page)

I grasped for Nightshade, jumped over Rick’s dragon-like tail, and with a swipe of my blade, sent the shrieking thing to hell. The smell of sulfur filled the alley. I brought the back of my hand to my nose.

Shifting back to his human form, Rick turned to face me, now completely naked. “Poltergeist,” he said.

“You shredded your clothes.”

“I had to. You were distracted.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you need the night off?” he asked.

I considered it. He was right. It had taken me way too long to draw Nightshade. I needed to get my head in the game. For tonight, I would save the Tabetha analysis for a safer time and place.

“No. I’m fine.” I helped him pick up the pieces of his shredded apparel. None was salvageable.

“Good. I will go to the car for a change of clothes.”

“Wait! Your cell phone!” I held up the pocket from his torn pants. “The screen’s not even cracked.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thank the goddess for small favors.” He plucked the phone from my hand, and then dissolved into a mist and blew from the alley.

I
wasn’t naive. Eventually, Rick and I would have to talk out the Tabetha situation. Keeping it bottled up was toxic. But even after a good long sleep and a few more nights of putting him off, I wasn’t ready.

Three days later, a tree sprite arrived at my door with a rolled up parchment made of birch bark. How did I know she was a tree sprite? Picture a female Peter Pan wearing a dress of dead leaves and looking like she might pass out from fatigue at any moment.

“Her Highness Tabetha, Queen of the territories of Salem and Smugglers’ Notch, requests the presence of Grateful Knight, Queen of Monk’s Hill, to dine in her presence at six o’clock in the evening, the last day of January.” She lowered her head in a deep bow and extended the parchment with both hands.

“Thank you,” I said. As soon as I backed away from the threshold, the sprite limped slowly to the dormant oak tree in my yard and slipped inside. What a bitch Tabetha was. She could have sent a pine or fir sprite. Coming out of hibernation like that had to hurt.

I unrolled the parchment. Poe landed on my shoulder and read the invitation along with me.

“Six o’clock. After sundown,” Poe said.

“Of course it’s after sundown. It’s a dinner party and we aren’t over eighty.”

“The cover of darkness is her advantage. You’ve never been to her residence. Taking away your ability to see clearly is a ploy meant for her benefit.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Rick the details. “We need a plan, something to offer her in lieu of Rick.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure, but it has to be something Tabetha can’t do herself, something worth the value of Rick to her.”

“May I suggest you move up the retrieval of your grimoire on your to-do list?” Poe asked.

I squeezed my eyes closed, kicking myself for waiting so long to force the issue with Logan. “You’re right. I will.”

I showed up at Logan’s penthouse later that day, hoping his sunny disposition would pull me out of my funk. Things weren’t exactly going my way. I had a date with a homicidal witch at the end of the month, and I was still holding Rick at arm’s length.

“Hey, stranger,” I said when he opened his door. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” I strolled inside, beaming with anticipatory gossip. I hadn’t seen Logan in weeks, and our communication during that time had consisted of a handful of texts. I had so much to tell him, I was bursting at the seams.

“Uh, sorry about that. I’ve been busy at the restaurant. I bet you’re here for your book.” Logan closed the door behind me. Something was wrong. He wasn’t making eye contact. I’d stored
The Book of Light
, my powerful magical grimoire, in his penthouse condominium to keep it safe during Bathory’s attack on my home. At one point, I’d even had a key to his place until Rick squashed it in a jealous rage. I did need the book back if I wanted any hope of finding Bathory and Julius. But that wasn’t the only reason I was here. Not by a long shot.

“It’s okay. Lucky for me, I’ve been able to get by without it until now.”

“Right. You have some of the spells on your phone,” he said impassively.

“And Nightshade. She’s handy with the supernaturals.” Damn. This was like having a conversation with a block of ice. What happened to the former ghost who had haunted my house and made me hot chocolate? Shit, he hadn’t even offered me a drink.

“What’s going on, Logan?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You avoid me for weeks, and now you’re barely talking to me. You haven’t even looked me in the eye since I got here.”

He leaned one hip against an armchair in his great room. “Just tired.”

“Are you angry about Rick?” I needed to understand the change. I was already feeling fragile due to the Rick/Tabetha situation. One thing I considered a constant in my life was Logan’s friendship. Yes, he’d had feelings for me at one point, and I suspected he might take my engagement hard, but I thought he’d be over it by now.

He huffed and shook his head. “No. That’s not it.”

The answer came with ego-crushing speed and sincerity. It was completely unfair for me to miss being the focus of his affection, but it would have been nice to feel wanted. I smiled for his benefit. “Good. Then what’s going on? You seem totally distracted.”

A grin spread across his face, and his eyes took on the far-off look of daydreaming. “I met someone.”

“You did?” My eyebrows shot up. “Tell me about her.” Wow, he really had moved on.

He bit his lip and glanced at the floor. “I think I want to keep this one to myself for a while.” He grinned like a child. “It’ll jinx it. This is too perfect. I don’t want to screw it up.”

He was serious. The vibe he was putting off screamed “totally whipped.” A weird emptiness expanded in my gut, a totally unfair feeling considering I was getting married in a couple months. Still, it stung. Logan had a secret I wasn’t a part of. I was officially outside looking in the window of his life.

“I’m happy for you,” I forced myself to say. “You look really, um, happy. Just … blissful.”

“I am, thanks. So, ah, you should get your book. I’ll help you.” He grinned that lopsided, boy-next-door grin.

“Yeah, the thing weighs a ton.” I swung my arms awkwardly. Why did this conversation feel forced? “Hey, before I go, I need to ask you a question.”

“Sure.” He led the way toward his home office where I’d sealed the book behind a protective enchantment.

“Will you cater my wedding? I’d like to have the reception at Valentine’s. It’s March twentieth.”

Logan’s face fell, and his hands moved to his hips to support a defeated shrug. “I can’t. The restaurant is booked.”

“What?” Of all the things that could go wrong, I never thought this would be one of them. Logan always came through for me, always.

“We’re booked for a private party. The entire restaurant and bar.”

“Can you move it?”

He furrowed his brow. “No, I can’t move it,” he said incredulously. “The couple booked months ago. Why don’t you move your date?”

“I can’t. Spring equinox. New beginnings.”

“Well, I can’t do it.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I popped my hip out, my tongue poking into my cheek. “I got it. What if I rented another venue and you catered it? Then you could have your staff cater the one at the restaurant. Win-win.”

Mouth dropping open, he looked at me as if I’d sprouted two heads. “You are not getting this, Grateful. The answer is no. I’m busy. I will not be catering your wedding. You will have to find someone else.” He snapped the words at me like he was chastising a child.

I squinted in his direction. “Logan, I’m not some diva demanding my way, okay? I just wanted you to be part of my wedding. I thought we were friends. Good friends. I spent months nursing you back to health after I resurrected you. I stored one of the most powerful books of magic in the world in your home. Excuse me for expecting that you might want to be part of a major life event for me.”

He sighed, head lolling forward on his shoulders. “Look,” he said, spreading his hands. “We’ve grown apart, okay? You made it clear the last time we were together that you chose Rick over me. I’ve moved on. Yes, we’re friends. But business is business. I can’t do it. You need to find someone else.”

I could understand the restaurant being booked. I could even understand him not wanting to be involved. But he was so cold about it, like he enjoyed telling me no. That wasn’t Logan. Not my Logan. But then again, he wasn’t mine, was he? The illusion that our friendship was indestructible shattered. Even when he thought he was in love with me, he wasn’t really mine.

“Are you even planning to come to my wedding?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“Are you inviting me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will try to stop by.” His eyes softened slightly, but they didn’t warm to the twinkling green I was used to.

“Okay. I understand. Enough said.” I didn’t understand. After all we’d been through together, I expected more than “I will try to stop by.”

“Cool.” He opened the door for me.

I continued into the room where my giant leather-bound grimoire waited for me. The purple haze of my protective enchantment still surrounded the desk it rested on. No one could
see
my magic but me, of course. The purple was my own magical signature.

As I approached the barrier, I paused. “Hey, Logan.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you try to look at my book?”

“No, why?”

“There’s some damage to my protective ward.” I ran my hand through the magic. “More than a little, actually. Have you had any supernaturals up here?”

There was a pause while he walked to the door and leaned against the doorframe. “No one’s been in here since you. I keep this door closed.”

“Huh.” I waded into the magic, feeling the buzz of it against my skin. Whoever had tested it hadn’t succeeded in getting through. The ward was still functional. But there was damage, which meant someone had attempted to reach my book. With the enchantments I had around his place, it was either Logan, another human, or a supernatural he invited inside.

I glanced back at Logan in the doorway. I wanted to ask him again if he’d had any supernatural guests, but his expression dissuaded me—a cross between impatience and annoyance, his jaw was tight and his lips a flat line. I needed to take a different tack.

“Has your mom stopped by lately?” Since I put Logan back in his body, he’d been in communication with his deceased mother. She’d helped me out a couple times.

“Actually, no. I’m not having the weird dreams anymore either. I guess my life is back to normal. Well, as soon as you get that thing out of my house.” He smiled stiffly.

Jeez. The empty feeling in my stomach expanded to my chest. With a heavy heart, I drew Nightshade and cut through the space around me, breaking my enchantment. Then I placed my hands on
The Book of Light
. At least this was what I expected. My grimoire hummed to me. She was ready to go home.

Grudgingly, Logan stepped forward to help, but I shook my head. “Its okay. I can tell you’re busy. I got this.”

He tipped his head to the side. “That thing has to weigh a hundred pounds, Grateful. Let me help.”

Rounding my lips, I blew out a deep breath. Wind circled and lifted the book. I placed my hands under it, but with my magic at work, it weighed almost nothing. Logan reached for it anyway.

“Stop,’ I said, nudging him back with my power. We locked eyes for a second. I wasn’t sure what Logan was trying to prove, forcing his help on me, but I didn’t like it. “Maybe you can get the door.”

Cracking his jaw, he led the way out. He opened the front door for me and tapped the button for the elevator. I stepped inside the compartment. With a hasty goodbye, he disappeared inside his condo. When the doors closed, something inside me broke, as if the heavy steel had severed the last frail spiderweb of connection I’d had to Logan.

I
lowered
The Book of Light
onto the desk in my attic and ran the back of my hand across my forehead. Out of principle, I had refused Logan’s help, but that momentary pride had taken its toll. The magic I’d used to move the gargantuan tome had drained me.

“Who are you?” A trembling voice came from behind me. “Where am I?”

I spun around to find the blurry outline of the murdered girl—Calliope—staring at me with wide green eyes. Her bleached-blonde head looked markedly different attached to her body.

“Holy fucking crow!” I scrambled to the other side of the desk.

Her face crumpled and her molecules broke apart and came back together.

“I’m sorry, Calliope. You just startled me.”

“You know my name?”

I pressed a finger into my chin. “Yeah…” How did I put this in the gentlest possible way? Better to rip off the Band-Aid. “You were murdered, and you’re here because your soul needs to be sorted. It happens sometimes when a soul is cut off before its time.”

“Murdered?” She pressed a translucent hand into her chest. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

She stared at the floor absently and then began to weep. “There was so much I wanted to do,” she blubbered. Her frail shoulders bobbed with her sobbing. Her remains hadn’t given me a full appreciation of how thin she was.

“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you about your death, but you’re in the right place. I can help you get to the other side.”

Her weeping intensified. Poor thing.

The sound of plastic on plastic heralded Poe’s arrival. He barreled through the pet door Rick had installed along with a cascade of icy air that cut off quickly when the door sealed itself behind him.

“That’s cool,” I said, walking to the window and pressing on the flap. “It only opens for you?”

Poe stared with concern at Calliope weeping in the corner while he lifted a foot to show me a tiny metal band. “Chip in the bracelet unlocks the flap. Rick thought you would prefer this version as a fail-safe. Who’s the dead girl?”