Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (8 page)

“Soul in need of sorting. She was the one killed at the Thames Theater yesterday.”

Calliope paused her weeping. “The Thames? What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.” She was freshly dead. Her memory wasn’t going to get any better than this.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember. I was on a date with Julius. We danced … made love.”

I tried to remain stoic but inside I gagged a little.

Calliope noticed my reaction. “Julius is a magnificent lover,” she said, widening her eyes. “The best I’ve ever had.”

“Okay,” I said. It sounded dismissive despite my best efforts. “What happened after you made love?”

“He fed on me, like he always does.” She rubbed her neck as she said this as if remembering the bite. “And then I fell asleep.”

I waited a beat. “That’s it? You fell asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“When did the other woman arrive?”

“What other woman?”

“Are you saying you were alone all night?”

Calliope grinned. “Uh, yeah. The evening was … intimate, if you know what I mean. No one else was invited. I am not into group sex.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“She might not remember,” Poe said.

“Nightshade will sort out the truth,” I murmured. Marching to my trunk, I removed my silver bowl and placed it in front of the ghost. Then I drew my blade.

“What the fuck?” Calliope said.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t going to hurt a bit.” I threw my power into her and sifted her soul through it, straining out a series of memories.

Flash.

A platinum-haired ball of energy, six-year-old Calliope runs into a living room constructed of nothing more than a filthy couch and beer bottles. Her father, passed out on the couch, stirs, and she stops in her tracks, heart pounding with fear.

Flash.

She’s twelve and the gym teacher is drilling her about the scars on her back. Burns. Her father put them there, but she doesn’t want to tell.

Flash.

Calliope turns fifteen, now living in a foster home. Her foster father gives her a guitar for her birthday. She plays it until her fingers bleed.

Flash.

She’s eighteen, on her own, and singing her first set in a hole-in-the-wall bar. Her stomach growls and she’s afraid the audience can hear it through the mic. She’ll need to finish if she wants to eat tonight.

Flash.

Julius introduces himself. Asks her to dinner. She eats until she’s full for the first time in forever. He buys her a drink even though she’s only twenty. Then he tells her what he is and proposes a deal. At first she’s shocked, until they have sex. Then she’s smitten. There’s a new apartment, food in the fridge, and the wound on the inside of her thigh doesn’t hurt a bit.

Flash.

She’s holding a glass of Scotch, standing next to Julius’s bed at the Thames, and sporting an ear-to-ear grin. He licks a bit of her blood from his lip then presses a kiss to her mouth. There’s a knock at the door. “Who’s that?” she asks. Julius looks her in the eye and says, “Relax.” His pupils dilate. Blackness.

I tumbled out of her head, panting. Calliope’s ghost blinked at me in confusion.

“Calliope North,” I said in a clear, strong voice, “I release you to heaven.” I sliced my arm. A drop of blood splashed into the silver bowl. Calliope broke apart into a column of light and disappeared through my ceiling.

“That wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” Poe said. “She might have had information you could have used to find her killer.”

I shook my head. “Julius had compelled her. She doesn’t remember dying at all, let alone who killed her.”

“You might have been able to undo the compulsion. Maybe unravel a subconscious memory,” Poe said.

“Calliope North has been used enough in her short life.” I darted a glance in Poe’s direction. “Now she is finally at peace. The end.” I shivered remembering the girl’s life. Sadly, being a blood bag for Julius was the highlight.

“Understood.”

“I did confirm one thing.”

“What?”

“Julius didn’t kill Calliope. Gary was telling the truth about that.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

A yawn forced itself out of me, and I stretched in reaction. “I better try to get a nap in before tonight.”

The feathers of one of Poe’s eyes arched higher. “You need more than a nap, Witchy Woman. You need a visit to the caretaker to recharge your magical battery.”

“Rick and I are not exactly seeing eye to eye these days. I’m not sure I want to rattle that cage right now.”

“Your undies are in a bunch over Tabetha and the candle.” Poe pointed a talon in my direction.

“My undies are not in a bunch. I just have my reservations concerning what brought about the misunderstanding. Seems like Rick must have been stirring her cauldron to make her believe he’d become her caretaker.”

“You think he had an affair while you were between lifetimes?”

I paused, rubbing my palms together. “I don’t think he had intercourse with her. He told me he’s only been with me, and I believe him. I can tell when he’s lying or when he’s blocking me mentally.”

“But?”

“But I wonder if it was an emotional affair. Late-night dinners. Days prancing through fields of daisies, hand in hand, searching for eye of newt.”

Poe cackled. “Fields of daisies?”

I spread my hands and shrugged.

“Well, if it is any consolation, Tabetha’s reputation precedes her.”

“You mentioned that before. What exactly is her reputation?”

“Let’s just say, if anyone was acting the predator, it was Tabetha, not Rick.”

I rubbed my chin. “Enjoys the boys, does she? A man-eater?”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Poe said. “I think Tabetha gets what Tabetha wants.”

“Maybe Rick wasn’t underestimating their relationship after all.”

“You can read his mind, dear witch. What do you think?”

Admittedly, Rick’s thoughts were fairly clear on the subject of wanting me and regretting the entire candle fiasco. That wasn’t the point. The point was … The point was … I had a right to be angry. Rick’s hasty and jealous actions had put us at risk.

Tempted as I was to pursue this line of reasoning with Poe, I needed to focus on a spell to offer Tabetha. It had to be something exceptional. Exhausted, I started randomly flipping pages in
The Book of Light
.

“What would she want in place of Rick?” I asked Poe.

He looked at me blankly. “Who am I to get inside the mind of a witch?”

“You practically read my mind on a daily basis.”

“That’s different. I am your familiar, and you are nothing like Tabetha.”

“Tabetha, Tabetha, Tabetha.” I drummed my fingers on the desk and rolled my neck. “What do you want most in the deep recesses of your psycho head?” I straightened. “Wait. She’s a psycho. I happen to know a great analyzer of psychos.” I reached for my phone and poked a few buttons. Michelle’s face popped up on the screen after the third ring.

“You were right to come to me with this,” Michelle said once I’d brought her up to speed. “I know exactly what you should offer Tabetha.”

I laughed. Of course my non-magical friend would have the answer. “Don’t keep me in suspense.

“True love.”

I glanced at Poe, then narrowed my eyes at Michelle’s FaceTime image on my phone. “Are you saying I should find her another man to replace Rick?”

“Not exactly. What I’m saying is that if she was looking for love when she decided to help Rick, which makes sense since you say she appeared scorned by his rejection, then what she really wants is not him or blood, but true love. Also, Poe says she has a reputation for burning through men. A classic example of someone desperate for true intimacy and trying to fill the gaping hole in her soul with sex. Is there a spell to find true love? Love potion number nine?” She snickered.

“Let’s find out,” I said to Michelle. Approaching
The Book of Light
, I spoke directly to the grimoire. “Show me the spell to find true love.” The pages lifted from the binding, light pouring out between them, and flipped forward and back repeatedly before coming to rest on the book’s suggestion.

Turning my phone so that Michelle could see, I leaned over the book and read what was on the page. “The positivity potion. This concoction will change the drinker’s chemistry to send out positively charged love energy that will attract his or her perfect balance with magnetic precision. Use sparingly. Works best in well-populated areas.”

“Look at the footnote!” Michelle clapped her hands excitedly.

“Caution: the positivity potion cannot be concocted for oneself, as doing so could result in terminal narcissism. An extrinsic magical element is necessary for proper composition.” I grinned. “She can’t make it for herself.”

Poe ruffled his feathers. “How long does it take to brew?”

“I can make it in an hour but it has to ferment for forty-eight. Should be ready in plenty of time.”

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Michelle asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s the best idea I’ve got.” I read through the ingredients. “It’s fairly straightforward. I’ll get started right away.”

Poe squawked in approval. “May I suggest you visit Rick when you are done? If you are going to face Tabetha in a few days, you’ll need your strength.”

I ignored Poe and was about to say goodbye to Michelle when she yelled, “Wait.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Bridesmaids’ dresses,” Michelle said.

I groaned and closed my eyes.

“I know this is horrible timing, but if Soleil and I don’t get sized and order them now, they won’t be ready by the wedding.”

“I can’t go back to Gertrude’s,” I said.

She grimaced. “A hat and dark glasses?” she suggested.

“No.”

“Grateful, woman up and meet me at the emporium. I guarantee, after spending six thousand dollars on a wedding dress, she will not kick you out.” Michelle followed up with a string of pleading and a threat to walk down the aisle in something off the rack.

“Fine,” I huffed. “Make an appointment and I’ll be there.”

Michelle squealed and promised to call Soleil for me. We said our goodbyes, and I got to work.

T
hree days later, I found myself in Evenrose Bridal, this time in the viewing chair. Thankfully, Gertrude didn’t say a word to me, although that included any kind of a greeting. As long as the dresses were in on time, I’d get over the rudeness.

Soleil stepped on the box wearing a bright coral-colored sheath dress that made me shade my eyes.

“Too bright,” I said.

Michelle agreed. “Way too bright.”

Not to mention, on Michelle’s squat frame, the dress completely lost its shape. I registered the disappointment on lanky Soleil’s face and wondered if any dress was up to the task.

“I will try the violet option,” Soleil said and disappeared into the changing room.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s with the matching luggage?” Michelle asked, referring to the dark circles under my eyes.

I shrugged. “Stressed about the Tabetha dinner,” I whispered. “Drained from work.”

“Don’t you have a supernatural fountain of youth across the street who you happen to be engaged to?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Go take a hit of the good stuff.”

“Yeah.” I pressed my lips together. “We’re sort of fighting.”

“About what?”

“This whole situation. How he jumped to conclusions about our relationship and almost died because of it.”

Michelle’s jaw dropped open. “Oh, come on, Grateful. You know as well as I do that things weren’t nearly as cut-and-dried as all that. I mean, you and Logan …”

“There was nothing going on between Logan and me.”

She narrowed her eyes and held up one hand. “I am not even going to step on this landmine. Let me just say, mistakes were made all around, honey, and if you are too hardheaded to forgive his, you don’t deserve him.”

I frowned. “That’s harsh.”

“Not really.” She placed her hands on her ample hips and shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re asking me, I have a feeling your anger is more about self-protection than disappointment. You have an excuse to keep him at an arm’s length, and the reward is you stay emotionally safe. It’s becoming your M.O., Grateful, and it isn’t pretty.”

“Go try on the violet halter dress,” I snapped. Who asked her anyway?

Still, my mind dwelled on Rick. All through deciding the violet halter dress was the one, Gertrude’s measurements, and the entire ordering process, he was all I could think about. Part of me wanted to grip my anger to my cheek like a security blanket. Only problem was, Michelle was right. I didn’t actually feel angry anymore. I just missed him.

On the drive back to Red Grove, I decided, quite formally and in conversation with myself, to get over it.

“I forgive you,” I said when Rick opened his door. He was naked except for a pair of gray cotton pants that hung low, exposing the top of the raised muscle vee that hooked over his hips and blended into his back. When he looked at me, his eyes were heather gray, the beast within far from the surface, and his expression soft.

“Thank you. I
am
sorry,
mi cielo
. For everything. For doubting you, for disappointing you, and for the burden we now face to undo it.” He shifted toward me, resting his arm on the doorframe. His bicep flexed to support his weight, and I had to swallow against the lick of desire that swept over me.

“Whatever it is, we will do what we have to. We’ll move beyond this.” I stepped into his body, the front of my coat brushing his chest. “Tabetha can’t have you.”

“Why?” He smirked, waiting for the words he desperately wanted to hear. His desire for my affection poured down our metaphysical connection like warm honey.

“Because I love you,” I said. The words were barely over my lips before he was pulling me into his cottage and shutting out the cold and any lingering doubts with the slam of the door.

His fingers dug into the back of my hair, cradling the base of my neck. Lips brushed mine. He hovered over my mouth, teasing me with his breath. I thrust myself up on my tiptoes, kissing him gently at first and than in a more demanding way. Heat bloomed in my core. I needed this. I needed him.