Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (26 page)

No response.

Eventually, I slipped into an anxious and troubled sleep.

Tap, tap, tappity-tap.
I woke to banging on the window. Poe. I got out of bed to slide the glass pane open for him. He swooped in along with a rush of cold night air.

“Why didn’t you use your door in the attic?” I asked him.

“Because I wanted to talk to you, and you were on the other side of the window.”

“But you could have entered through the attic and then flown down here to talk to me without waking me up.”

“How could I talk to you without waking you up?” His beady black eyes bore into me.

I sighed. “Never mind. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Logan is on his way here, and he looks pissed.”

“What?”

“Just passed into Red Grove. He’s alone.”

The doorbell rang. I looked down at my shirt, still crusty with blood. “How do I look?”

Poe snorted. “I think you have intestines in your hair.”

I scowled. “I didn’t even encounter intestines tonight.”

He shrugged his bird shoulders.

After a quick jog down the steps, I tentatively opened the door to an enraged Logan.

“Grateful, how could you?” he accused, storming toward me, then got a good look at me. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks. Battling evil bitches—I mean, witches—will do that to you.” I navigated around him to close the door and then retreated into the house. “You may not believe me, but I told you the truth. Tabetha was drugging you. She targeted you to get to me, and she intended to kill you.”

He nodded his head. “So you had a vampire abduct me and hide me in … God knows where—I still don’t … to protect me from her.”

“Yeah. To be honest, it would have been easier to just let her kill you, but you’ve kind of grown on me.”

“How could you do that after how I treated you? Your wedding was ruined because of me. You could have lost your territory.”

“Huh?”

“When the fruit wore off, I remembered how I treated you, Grateful. You should have let her kill me.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

He moved in closer, his green eyes blazing. “You saved my life. Again.”
Bam
. His lips landed on mine like a fist punch, hard and quick, with a minor head grab to hold me in place. The kiss was there and gone before I could register much more than pressure and presence. When he pulled back, my mouth was hanging open.

“Thank you,” Logan said insistently.

It took a few tries to find my voice again. I licked my lips and furrowed my brow. “How did you get out? I never gave the okay to Gary.”

“Julius. When he came back, Gary stepped down as leader of the free coven. He told Julius what you’d done for him. Julius was impressed you’d helped Gary maintain control. Once he’d explained to me what had happened and made sure I didn’t have the fruit in my system, he let me go.”

“How did he check if you had fruit in your system?” I suspected how but had to ask.

Logan extended his wrist to show me two puncture wounds. “The vampire way.”

We both wrinkled our noses.

“Actually, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Julius has a thing for you, Grateful. The way he told the story of how you rescued him and slayed Tabetha, it was like one of those Pepe Le Pew cartoons where you could see his heart beat through his chest.”

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re his hero.” Logan grinned and raised both eyebrows. “You are a vampire
legend
.”

I snorted. He laughed. And then the humor slowly drained from the room. “I’m sorry, Logan, that this happened to you. Your life has been nothing but crazy since you met me.” I glanced down at the toes of my socks.

“As I recall, I was a ghost in your attic when you met me. I don’t think you started the crazy.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted.

“Are we friends again?” he asked seriously.

I smiled. “The best there is.” I held out my fist, and he bumped it with his own. “Who else would sign up for this?” I gestured toward myself.

He moved for the door. “I need to check in at the restaurant, and you …” His gaze flicked over me. “Need a shower.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for coming to see me. I’m relieved things are okay between us again.”

He nodded. “For sure. When you reschedule your wedding, Valentine’s will do the catering. Just let me know the date.”

I shifted my eyes from him to the wall and bit my lip.

He paused. “You are going to reschedule, aren’t you?”

I swallowed. Needles pricked the insides of my eyes, the pain of tears held back too long, denied their proper course. “I’m sure we will,” I lied. “Maybe a longer engagement this time. The whole event was kind of rushed.”

There was a long pause, and then Logan said, “Who could blame you for taking your time?” His eyes met mine, and he flashed me a crooked smile.

Who could blame me?

With a nod and a wave, he slipped out the door and went back to his life.

A
fter Logan left, I checked on Rick. He’d changed positions and was curled on his side. I glanced at Poe to ask if there was any other change, but my familiar was asleep on my dresser with his head under his wing.

“Rick?” I asked. “Are you back?”

His eyelashes fluttered.

I moved to his side and squeezed his hand. He did not squeeze mine. I passed a hand in front of his face. His eyes glazed over again.

Frustrated, I decided Logan’s suggestion of a shower would be a great way to wait this out. I started the water to heat it up, then in a stroke of genius, stepped back out to striptease in front of him. Nothing. He was definitely drugged. Healthy and conscious, I’d be under Rick before I could say
go
, blood or no blood.

The spell would have to break soon, wouldn’t it?

I stepped into the shower, filled my palm with my tea tree-and-mint shampoo and started washing the blood, sap, and purple fruit from my hair. As I massaged my scalp, I repeated this mantra:
Rick will wake up soon. Rick will wake up soon
. I pictured him stepping into the shower with me, grabbing me from behind, and promising he’d never leave me again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

The water turned cold. I stepped out and dried myself off. I checked Rick. No change. I dressed and dried my hair. I put on makeup and cologne.

No change.

“Poe.” I shook his raven body until he was awake.

“Oh, how mature. Are you retaliating because I woke you earlier? If you are looking for an apology …” He rolled his eyes at me.

“No. No. Nothing like that. Rick still hasn’t snapped out of it. I think something’s wrong. The spell isn’t wearing off.”

The feathers over Poe’s eyes dipped down into a sharp vee over his beak. He flapped his wings and flew to Rick’s side. After nudging him repeatedly, Poe bit down on his ear.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I yelled, seeing blood bubble up from the bite.

“Trying to snap him out of it,” Poe said. “He didn’t even flinch.”

I wiped away the blood and licked it off my thumb. Thankfully, the wound had already healed. “His caretaker power is still working. His injury healed.”

“Have you fed him your blood?”

“I tried. He won’t bite.”

“It’s been more than fourteen hours,” Poe said. “Maybe longer. We don’t know what she gave him or even when she fed him the last dose.”

I straightened and inhaled sharply. “She’d meant to bury him and feed off his power. She might’ve given him anything. What did she care if she fried his brain?”

Poe huffed through his nostrils. “Try feeding him your blood. See if that wakes him up.”

I drew Nightshade and scored my wrist. Blood bubbled to the surface. I lunged onto the bed and pulled Rick’s head into my lap. Tipping his head back, his lips parted CPR style, and I pressed my wrist to his open mouth. Blood dribbled over his tongue. Eventually, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed reflexively.

“That’s it. Come on, Rick. Drink,” I said, running my fingers along his hairline.

He sputtered against my wrist. “He’s choking,” Poe said.

I pulled my arm away. His body struggled for air, coughing and wheezing.

“Poe, what’s happening?”

The raven shook his head.

Rick’s body trembled violently. “He’s having a seizure.” I tipped him on his side while the muscle spasms rocked through him. When they finally stopped, he heaved vomit across my bed and onto the floor.

“He’s throwing up my blood!” I looked to Poe in panic. “What’s going on? What do we do?”

Poe shook his head again.

I helplessly rubbed Rick’s back and shoulder. After some time, I risked running to the bathroom for some towels to clean up. He was done being sick, but was no less vacant. Expressionless. Zombie-like.

My blood was not the answer.

“How do you get blood out of carpet?” I asked absently, scrubbing the floor.

“Carpet cleaner,” Poe said just as absently.

I sat back on my heels. “What if he stays like this?”

“Don’t think that way.”

Poe and I stared at each other. We were both thinking it. What he really meant was not to say it out loud.

The sound of the doorbell made me jump. “Who could that be?” A glance at my watch told me it was almost midnight.

“Only one way to find out,” Poe said.

I dropped the towel I was holding and descended the stairs. A peek through the side window had me double-checking that Nightshade was on my back. Tree sprites. Were they here to exact their revenge on me for killing their queen? Carefully, I opened the door, trusting the protective ward around my house and the hum of my power in the air around me.

The sprite at my door had birch-bark hair and wore a green strapless moss dress reminiscent of Tinker Bell’s. Her delicate features had an unmistakably carved quality. She blinked her eyes at me, then sank to her knees. Behind her, a dozen more of her kind did the same in my yard.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

The sprite at my feet extended her hands, a tightly rolled scroll resting in her palms similar to the invitation Tabetha had sent for dinner. I didn’t immediately accept it.

“Grateful Knight, daughter of Hecate, sorceress of the dead, and queen of Monk’s Hill, we are here today to pay you homage and ask your just and generous hand to rule the once great territory of Salem.” Her voice had the reedy quality of a woodwind and the clarity of silver bells.

“Wha—huh?” I said dumbly.

She cleared her throat and spoke again. “As the emancipator of Salem’s realm from Tabetha the Great and Terrible, you are now the rightful Witch of Salem.” She extended her arms another inch. “To accept your right and proper duty, simply read and sign the scroll and all that was Tabetha’s shall be yours.”

Poe landed on my shoulder as my hand slowly reached for the scroll.

“Don’t do it. You will anger the goddess,” Poe whispered. “She wasn’t happy when Tabetha acquired two of the five elements of magic. What if you end up on Hecate’s hit list?”

I unrolled the scroll. A quill fell out into my hand. Tucking it between my thumb and forefinger, I began to read. Poe was right. I’d promised Rick I would not accept the territory for exactly the reason that it might put me on Hecate’s hit list. Of course, that was assuming I’d inherit two elements. With Polina back in power, there was just one in question.

“I get her grimoire, Poe,” I said. “If I have her book of magic, maybe I can reverse the spell on Rick. It’s our best hope.”

“Your mother might kill you,” Poe warned.

“She gave me permission to kill Tabetha. The goddess would know the consequences of that blessing.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s a hell of a lot of responsibility.”

I looked into his beady black eyes. “I don’t want to do it. I have to do it.”

Poe said nothing but leaned his soft feathers into my ear. It was the raven equivalent of a hand on my shoulder. I rested the scroll against the wall and lifted the quill. It scratched the parchment without leaving a mark.

“Do you have ink?” I asked the sprite.

She folded her tiny hands in front of her hips and in that childlike voice said, “It must be done with blood.”

Blood. Of course. It was always blood. The point of the quill was sharp, and I stabbed it into my left hand, hard enough to break the skin. Then in sweeping red letters, I signed at the bottom of the parchment. No sooner had I crossed the T in Knight, than the parchment dissolved between my fingers, leaving me only with the quill, which transformed into a crooked branch … no, a
wand.

I turned back toward the sprite, thinking her knees must hurt by now from kneeling. She lowered her face to the concrete. Her entire willowy body trembled with fear.

“It’s okay. Stand up. I won’t hurt you,” I said.

Slowly, she raised her head and met my eyes. I tried to make my face soft. The sprites had been treated like slaves by Tabetha. Who could blame them for believing their new master would be the same sort of devil?

“I won’t hurt you, but I need my new grimoire. Where is Tabetha’s book of magic?”

She motioned toward the lawn where the rows of sprites parted and four male tree sprites moved forward, carrying the great book like pallbearers. This book was as large as
The Book of Light
but covered in tree bark with rough-hewn letters that said
Copse Magicum
.

“Forest magic,” Poe translated. “In the old language.”

The procession stopped at my threshold, the knees of the fae buckling under the giant tome’s weight. I blew across the cover and then wrapped my magic around it to levitate the book inside. A collective “Ooooh” came from the gathering. They’d all seen wood magic but maybe never air.

Once the book was safely on my dining room table, I turned back to the waiting sprites.

“Thank you for coming. You can all go now. Rest assured, I will rule you and your territory with the same tender loving care I do my own.” I gave them all a small wave and promptly shut the door.

I peeked out the side window and watched their confused faces turn toward the trees.