The Ghost and The Graveyard (The Monk's Hill Witch) (23 page)

Move Over, Buffy

A
fter a shower and throwing on the most comfortable sweats that I owned, I returned to the attic and copied down the recipe for the spell to find Paranormal Entities: Vampires from my spell book. Next to my legs, the antique trunk, the only other furniture to remain in the daylight, seemed to hum to me. I lifted the lid and there was my sword, all ivory bone wickedness. Rummaging around the other contents, I saw the silver bowl and then the sheath for the sword near the back. The crisscross of the straps reminded me of my death. I’d worn this down my back that night.

I yanked off my t-shirt and slipped into the harness. It took me several minutes to sheath the blade while it was on my back. Donning my shirt again, the hilt poked out at the neck. I practiced withdrawing the sword a couple of times and rotating it, clumsily, through the empty attic.

If I had to use this, I was doomed.

Stiff and awkward, I walked to Rick’s cottage.

“You found the sheath,” he said, grinning.

“How did I ever fight with this thing on? It feels like I have a steel beam strapped to my spine.”

The corner of his mouth lifted impishly. “Give her a name.”

“Excuse me?” I flashed him my most confused look and paused under the wind chimes.

“You always name her. She responds better to a name.” He shrugged.

“Of course
she
does. What magical sword made from the femur of a dead saint doesn’t?” I stepped backward into the yard and pulled the sword from its sheath. The bone reflected the sun, its white blade taking on an almost blue glint. Memory or raw emotion flooded me with awe for her, so magnificent, so powerful. But what would I name her? “Nightshade,” I said and a twang of singing metal rang out around me.

“Same thing you called her before,” Rick said, stepping from the porch.

I resheathed Nightshade and immediately noticed the difference. She seemed smaller and lighter on my back, almost as if she was an extension of me. An extra limb.

“You mentioned you had the ingredients for this spell,” I said.

He nodded. “The herbs that grow around the house are yours. You planted them in your last life. Everything from goldenseal to lungwort on this property and in the wooded acres to the back.”

I gazed at the wild field to the side of the cottage. “How do I know what’s what?”

He slid his hand into my back pocket, temporarily rendering me mute with desire. I rolled into him and landed a kiss on his mouth, but he pulled back.

“There’s an app for that,” he said, grinning just a little too widely.

“Yeah, we have work to do,” I said. “Keep your hands off me.”

He laughed and we got busy gathering the ingredients I needed, using my phone to verify I had the right plants. By the time we had everything, it was already 1 p.m. and the sun was due to set at 6:45. I followed him through his front door, anxious to get started.

The skulls were back, as were the candles and the creepy paintings.

“That first night, when I ran to your door, I wasn’t just seeing things.”

“No,” he said. “This is caretaker magic. Not as strong as yours, but it will help strengthen the spell. We’ll need all the help we can get, considering the time of day.” He placed a cauldron on the floor between the skulls. I started mixing the herbs I’d collected with the wet ingredients from the pantry, which Rick brought to me as I asked for them. When it was done, I’d made a salve that smelled like eucalyptus.

“It says I’m supposed to spread it on the closed eyes of the searcher and that when I wipe it away, the spell will reveal the path to the vampire. It doesn’t say specifically how it works. Should I wipe it on me or on you?”

“You’d better use it,
mi cielo
. That way I can protect you as you follow the path. Some of these spells are rather compelling, incapacitating the user to anything but the chase until the object or person is found.”

“Sounds logical,” I said. I smeared each eyelid with the stuff, thankful that I hadn’t worn makeup that day. I waited a minute or two and then wiped it off. At first I didn’t notice anything different but as I stood up and turned in place, a red dot appeared in the northwest corner of the room, as if someone was shining a pointer in that direction.

“He’s that way,” I said, pointing at the wall.

“Let’s move outdoors and see where it takes us.”

I followed Rick out the door and toward the rear of the house. The red dot hovered in the trees, beckoning me to follow it into the woods. “He went through the forest,” I said.

We picked our way through the brush and trees, the thick forest floor tripping me more than once.

“Marcus was wise to come this way. The forest provides shelter from the sun. He may have been able to continue after the sun came up, if he wasn’t exposed directly.”

“How far do you think he could’ve gotten?”

“I’m not sure. Marcus seems to get stronger every day. The way he fought last night…” He shook his head. “I won’t underestimate him again. Perhaps you should ride on my back so we can navigate the forest more quickly.”

I wasn’t excited about the idea, but I climbed onto him piggyback-style anyway. It would be faster this way, and I was all for killing Marcus well before the sun went down. With my legs tucked under his arms, Rick jogged in the direction I pointed, accelerating to the point where the trees blurred. When it was time to change course, I tightened my grip around his neck and signaled with my hand. After an hour of running hard, my thighs ached and I begged him to stop so I could rest.

“Damn. Did you ever think he’d make it this far?” I asked Rick.

“No. I confess I didn’t.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “I believe we’re close, though. I smell something coming from there.” He pointed to a place where the trees parted. The red dot glowed.

“The spell agrees. Let’s move.” I forced my sore legs to run toward the clearing. Rick followed at a walk, which must have seemed painfully slow to him. The trees split, growing farther apart until I was certain we were on a man-made path, and then we emerged from the shade of the trees into a clearing. At the center was a shack made from roughly hewn logs and branches that looked like they were broken manually from their source and crudely cemented with mud.

“He’s here. I can smell him.” Rick pointed at the shack.

“Do you think he built that last night?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve seen hunters build these to hide in during deer season. I think Marcus was lucky to come by this.”

“So he’s inside, then?” The thought of being so close to my killer made my blood run cold.

“Yes.”

“What’s the plan? How do we kill him? Stake through the heart?”

“That only works in movies. There are three ways to kill Marcus—your blade, my teeth, and the sun.”

I pulled Nightshade from the sheath on my back and started toward the shack. “Are you going to shift, or am I going to have to do this alone?”

“If I shift, I won’t be able to fit inside. As crude as it is, this is someone’s property. I don’t wish to destroy it if I don’t have to.” He touched my shoulder and smiled like he had a brilliant idea. “I will pull him out of his grave and you cut off his head.”

I swallowed hard. The head cutting off part didn’t thrill me. Even if it was a vampire I hated, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

Clearly Rick picked up on my thoughts because he frowned and narrowed his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Smart man.

I thought back to last week, before I’d moved into the new house, before I was expected to know how to sort the dead or kill vampires. My how things had changed.

Repositioning my blade, I reached for the door.

The darkness of the shanty made me temporarily blind, but I was not deaf, which was why I could hear a shotgun cock. The back of Rick’s arm slid in front of my waist, pushing me behind him before the room came into view. Curled on the dirt floor, a man rocked cross-legged, staring at us through the site of his rifle.

“Get out,” he rasped. His left side was covered in blood. A bite mark on his neck still oozed onto his shirt. Hmm. Marcus had a snack before going to sleep for the day. A bead of sweat dripped down the hunter’s forehead onto his shoulders. Shaking. Sweaty. Pale. He was hypovolemic from the blood loss and close enough to going into shock to make me wonder how he was still sitting up.

“What’s your name?” Rick asked.

“Shut up,” the man said.

Rick held out a hand. “You’ve been infected. The thing that bit you has poisoned your blood. We can cure you but you need to come with us, and we have to kill the one who’s buried beneath you.”

The man shook so hard I thought for sure the gun would go off in his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Just go away,” he pleaded.

Marcus is controlling his mind
, Rick thought into my head, a new trick I wasn’t completely comfortable with.
The man may be as good as dead. If Marcus forced him to drink some of his blood, he might be a changeling, a servant of the damned soon to become a vampire himself
.

How do we know if we can fix him or need to kill him
? I asked.

Check if his heart is still beating.

And just how am I supposed to get past the gun to take his pulse?

I’ll take care of the gun
. Rick shot forward, lightning-fast.

Crack.
The gun went off, and Rick curled over.

Something About Myself

T
he shell blew through Rick’s chest. In the spray of blood and thicker things, I didn’t stop to check if any of it was mine. After all, the bullet that passed through Rick could have struck me, standing behind him. I didn’t think about myself at all or reach for the man’s neck to check if his heart was still beating. None of those things crossed my mind until after the sight of Rick with a hole in his torso elicited a reflex in me. Nightshade came around and decapitated the man before Rick could hit the floor.

I stared, heart pounding as his head rolled to the side of the hunting shack. His body collapsed to the earth in a pool of his own blood.

“I wasn’t sure you had it in you,” Rick said.

I snapped my head toward the Rick I’d thought was dead, only to see the hole in his chest stitch itself. The wound, once clear through his torso, was now a shiny pink spot on the skin behind his mutilated shirt.

“I thought you were dead,” I yelled.

Rick’s heady laugh filled the room. “I’m immortal, Grateful. You know that.” He reached for me. His hands ran down my body, checking for injuries.

“Ow,” I said as he brushed over my left shoulder. The shell had clipped me. Blood soaked my shirtsleeve.

Rick stepped in close to me, his eyes locked on mine, eyebrows knit together in concern. He pulled the neck of his shirt to the side. “Your knife, Grateful,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“My blood will heal you,” he whispered. The grave look on his face made me think he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I unsheathed my blade and sliced the skin over his collarbone. I sealed my mouth over the blood that bubbled there, and the hot fluid ran down my throat. The raw taste of him reminded me of the night before, and my pulse raced. My hands found his body, my fingers dancing over his newly healed chest. The world around me melted.

He pushed me away, breaking the connection. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice cracking. “Marcus.”

I nodded, my face hot.

I turned toward the hunter’s body. His blood had puddled over the dirt floor and a thought came to me. “Do you think that blood is getting to Mar—”

An explosion of earth blew through the shack, stripping my skin where it made contact. I was lucky Rick was slightly in front of me. I’d been shielded from the worst of it. But I choked on the cloud of dust that followed, closing my eyes tight against the abrasive grit. It was more than the little shack could withstand; the roof collapsed and then the walls fell in. Rick tried to shelter me with his body.