The Ghost and The Graveyard (The Monk's Hill Witch) (21 page)

Paralysis. We needed to cause paralysis. The answer hit me. I snapped my fingers. “Propofol. We put her to sleep with medicine not magic!”

Rick stared at me blankly.

“Trust me.” I conjured a bottle of propofol, aka milk of amnesia, and some IV supplies. I put her under on the couch in her apartment-styled attic room. I didn’t think the medication would have any effect on the vampire, but he’d be trapped within an uncooperative body.

Logan returned just in time and handed me the balm and the large container of salt from the kitchen. Once we were sure she was heavily sedated, Rick untied Michelle and removed the gag. I checked the drop rate on her IV. Once Rick and Logan were out of the way, I sprinkled the salt in a large circle around Michelle and me. The balm felt sticky and thick when I stuck my hand in, but I layered it as evenly across her body as possible. Afterward, I wished I could wash my hands, but I couldn’t leave the circle.

The power came when I called it, like an ocean wave crashing to shore. Only, I was the shore, and the force of it almost knocked me over. It’s hard to explain what it was I did to call the power or where it came from. I just know that when I made love to Rick, some part of me connected to it and afterward it was there, waiting for me as if I had grown another appendage. But like a new appendage, it felt awkward wielding it, and I didn’t have the benefit of a team of physical therapists to help me. All I had was Rick and Prudence trying to coach me from outside the circle.

“You have it,
mi cielo
. I can see it pulsing around you. Throw it into her chest, and your magic will drive the vampire out.”

“How do I throw it?” I asked.

Prudence answered. “I’ve seen you do it before. You bring your hands to your chest, focus on the object and then thrust them toward your target.”

I folded my hands in, concentrating on Michelle, and then pointed them at her. Nothing happened.

“The power is around you, not a part of you. You must collect it with your arms. Gather your aura, then throw it in her direction,” Rick said.

I tried again. I closed my eyes and reached out my hands to the power. It circled me in a thick cloud like cream soup. With my eyes closed, I could sense a pulse collecting in my hands. When I brought them to my chest this time, the magic came with them. A great, glowing ball of energy formed in front of me. I opened my eyes, focused fully on Michelle, and pushed with everything I had.

No way was I prepared for how quickly Marcus would emerge from Michelle’s body. He leaped on me in a flurry of slashing teeth and claws. As planned, I stepped out of the circle just in time for his face to slam into the magic barricade I’d created with the salt. Only I hadn’t thought it through. Michelle was still sedated within the circle with Marcus. She couldn’t step out because she was unconscious. Sure, he couldn’t reenter her body because of the balm, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her. A couple of minutes of ricocheting around my magic ring, and he turned his attention on her.

“No! Leave her alone!” I yelled.

“I’m sorry, witchy poo. I can’t hear you from within this circle. Let me out and then maybe we can communicate.” He bit down on the last word, turning it into a threat.

Rick paced the edge of the salt ring, a low growl bubbling up his throat.

“Oh, please. Caretaker, you are so out of your league. Even now the vampires are growing in number. Soon our army will be large enough to circumvent your defenses. You’ll never be able to keep us in the underworld.” He walked over to Michelle’s IV and placed his hand on the clamp controlling the rate of administration.

“Leave that alone,” I said, but he began to turn the dial. The propofol flowed too quickly. If I didn’t do something she could go into cardiac arrest.

“Rick, what do I do? It could kill her.”

“You control its existence. Take it away.”

I willed the remaining drug to vanish, but it was too late. Marcus had opened the valve and allowed the anesthesia to flow into her vein as fast as her body would take it in. Her breathing slowed. She was in dangerous territory.

“I need to get to her.”

“Very well,
mi cielo
. Break the circle and I will fight Marcus.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I wiped away a section of salt, and the vamp blew by me, a black wind that smelled of sulfur. I ran to Michelle’s side and took her pulse. Slow but steady.

“I need to stay with her,” I called, but Rick and Marcus were already circling each other. It was obvious Rick had this covered. I removed Michelle’s IV and put pressure on the site, trying to watch what was happening in the room behind me.

Rick dove for Marcus in fast-forward. Marcus dodged, equally fast, sending Rick somersaulting across the floor. Marcus hustled toward Rick, positioning himself to deliver a kick to his gut. I willed a concrete wall between the two and watched Marcus’ foot crash through it as if it were paper. Rick had already moved to the side, grabbed Marcus’ foot and lifted. I willed a row of wooden stakes behind Marcus, hoping he would fall backward, but he cartwheeled to the side and delivered a punch to Rick’s ribs. I winced, but Rick barely flinched. Instead, he thrashed a half-shifted hand and shredded the front of Marcus’ chest.

I was sure if he’d had the time and space to shift into his beast, Marcus would be history, but the vamp was strong, quick, and more intelligent than I had given him credit for. While I was thinking of ways to distract him to give Rick time to change, he spotted the attic window. Marcus dove through headfirst, sending a shower of glass into my front yard. Rick lunged after him.

I ran to the window and watched the chase continue toward the bridge. I thought Rick had him, but Marcus turned into fog and melted into the night. Rick followed, dematerializing. Deep inside, I knew we’d lost him. Marcus was free from the cemetery.

He’d escaped, and with him any hope of me ever taking my safety for granted.

The End of a Rough Night

“T
he sun is rising. He’ll have to go to ground,” Rick said. He’d returned to the attic, furious he couldn’t catch Marcus. “Our best chance is to wait and find him during the day. Once he rises, he’ll try to find a free coven to protect him.”

“Free coven?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Vampires you haven’t sentenced to the underworld,” Rick clarified.

“What? Living among us?”

“You didn’t think they were all behind the gate?”

I scowled. “Yes, actually I did.”

Rick laughed.

“So how do we find him? Can you hunt him down?”

“We can do it together. If you can cast a spell to determine his general vicinity, I’ll be able to track him once we’re close.”

“Damn, I don’t feel good about him being out there.”

Rick gave a sideways nod, like any husband in America might give his wife. “I am sorry,
mi cielo
, that I failed to kill Marcus. This is twice he has evaded me.”

“It’s my fault. I should have thought of a way to keep Michelle safe.
Holy crow
! Michelle!” I raced back to the room I’d disguised as her apartment, where I’d left her with Prudence. She was sitting up on my replication of her Pottery Barn sofa, sipping ice water and looking extremely confused.

“What is going on?” Michelle asked, her head tilted.

“What do you mean?” I squeaked nervously.

“Well, unless I’ve had the worst nightmare of my life, your house is haunted, your boyfriend is a shape-shifter, and I just survived being possessed by a vampire.”

“A horrible dream?” I offered.

“Hmmm, I don’t think so. I’m covered in something gooey that smells like turkey stuffing, and I’m sitting in a room that looks exactly like my apartment did six months ago.”

Oh, crap. Michelle had decorated her apartment the same way since college, in neutral tones. But now I remembered that six months ago she’d broken down and redecorated. She’d kept the couch but thrown in some sari print pillows and a jute rug. She’d draped some gauzy stuff over the windows. I’d been to her home. I’d seen the changes. But in the stress of the situation, my brain simply reverted back to the apartment I’d spent most of my college years living in.

“How’s this?” I closed my eyes, and the new items appeared in their places.

“Holy shit!” Michelle cried. Her mouth opened and closed several times. “It’s really disturbing, like one of those ‘find what’s different’ games. I know this isn’t my apartment but I can’t tell you exactly what’s different. Tell me what’s going on while I try to get my head around what you just did.”

I told her. I spilled my guts about everything—Rick, Logan, Prudence, my history and Monk’s Cemetery. I told her because she was my best friend, and I trusted her more than anyone. Plus she already knew most of it and, for her own safety, needed to understand the rest. When I was done, she sighed deeply and took my hand in hers.

“So Rick and Logan are the two guys you were talking about at work yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. You know, if I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes I would have thought you were crazy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I suppose that’s why you weren’t completely truthful?”

“Yep.”

“I forgive you.” She gave me a tight hug. “But no more lies, okay? I believe you now so there’s no reason to keep this from me anymore.”

“Absolutely. But Michelle, I think we should keep this between us. Don’t tell Manny. It’s too weird.” Not telling her husband would be hard for Michelle, but I needed this to stay between us.

“Of course,” she said. “Anyone else would either think we were insane or plot some way to use this to their financial advantage. And Manny doesn’t need the stress. I love you, Grateful. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Good,” I said.

Our conversation was interrupted when Prudence walked in. “Excuse me, but the sun is about to rise, and I was hoping you could name me before it breaks the horizon. I’m not excited about spending another day in this attic.”

“Of course. What do I need to do?”

She brought me a silver bowl. “Concentrate on me, and who I was will come to you. When you know where I belong, say ‘Prudence Clearwater, I release you’ and where you release me to.” The last part she said in a whisper. “Then you provide a sacrifice of blood and I will go.”

“What do I sacrifice?”

Prudence looked down at her feet. “The bowl needs blood. You used to use your own in your past life.”

“Oh, I see.”

I picked up my sword and positioned it on a small table that I conjured. Prudence bowed her head. I took her in. When I say I took her in, I don’t mean the normal way, when you see someone on the street and scan the person from head to toe. My magic seemed to bloom and envelope her. Her life played out before my eyes, from her simple beginnings on a farm to her death in this house. Prudence had lived a good life. She’d always been there for others and becoming a nurse was simply an extension of the altruism inherent in her character.

“Prudence Clearwater,” I said in a strong, clear voice, “I release you to heaven.” I sliced my forearm with as small and gentle a cut as possible and watched a drop of blood drip into the silver bowl.

Prudence’s head shot up. With a smile as bright and warm as the sunrise that pressed against the horizon, she broke apart into pieces of light that swirled toward the ceiling. In a funnel cloud of positive energy, she ascended and disappeared beyond my attic to a place I knew somehow was everything she’d wanted it to be.

“Logan,” I called. “It’s your turn.”

He appeared in front of me, looking less excited about the process than Prudence had. “Are you sure there’s enough time? We could wait until tomorrow.”

“Now, Logan,” I said. “Don’t put this off.”

I concentrated on him. I saw his life in a series of images. He was running through bright green grass in a yard as large as a park. A woman I understood was his mother ran after him, swooped him up and planted a kiss on his cheek. I saw him as a teenager swinging a bat on a baseball field. He was in high school and a girl, maybe seventeen, was under him.

Pictures flashed one after the other, but it was the feelings that came with them that told me about him as a person. I wasn’t surprised when I saw him in culinary school and then cooking in a restaurant. A string of relationships flashed through my brain. As thoughtful as Logan had seemed with me, he’d been a selfish lover in the past. But there was another side to him. He could be exceedingly generous with his time and money.

I took Logan in and what my magic told me was that he was balanced—some good, some not so good. But he wasn’t evil. He didn’t belong in the underworld. If I had to say anything about his soul, it would be that he was unfinished. He was in-between.

But I was the witch, and I needed to send him home. I’d named him Logan but I sent my magic into him to find his real name. I’d decided. I would send him to heaven, not because it was clear to me that he belonged there but because it was clear he didn’t belong anywhere else.