Mother May I (Knight Games Book 4) (2 page)

“Sit across from me and rest your fingers on the edge, like this.” I demonstrated our regular procedure, although usually we were naked. I didn’t share that particular detail. He wasn’t ready.

“What now?”

“Now, we open our connection and concentrate on where we need to patrol tonight.”

I closed my eyes and focused, not on the mirror but on that gossamer thread that tethered us to each other. Our connection was strong, and I could read Rick’s effort in the hum between us. But when I tried to draw on his power, to channel it into the mirror, all I got was a static throb in tempo with his heart. It wasn’t that he was blocking me; I was in his head. The problem was, there was something missing. I could sense his trepidation, his desire to please me, but his power—the heart of what I used to draw on for this magic—was an empty pit. I blocked this thought from him, a hard task considering I was deep inside his head, and passed my hand over the mirror in front of me.

“Reveal.” Power or no, the silver bubbled up before me. It stretched and morphed to form a quaint cobblestone street lined with historic buildings. “Looks like Salem,” I said.

Rick remained silent, his eyes widening at the display between us.

“It’s okay. This is supposed to happen,” I said. The form of a human woman materialized in the alley. I memorized the landmarks as she walked the street, waiting for my target to appear, but the supernatural being I was supposed to capture and judge never came. Without warning, the woman collapsed dead in a pool of her own blood.

“What just happened?”

“The woman died,” Rick offered.

“Did you see what attacked her?”

“Nothing attacked her. She just died,” Rick said.

I looked over the mirror at him. Was Rick messing up my reading? It had never worked like this. I could always see the supernatural bad guy I was supposed to thwart. Was Rick’s presence helping or hurting?

I forced a smile. “That’s it. I’ve got my assignment. Thank you. You did great.”

“Would you like me to come with you tonight?”

I chewed my lip. “Not yet. You need to learn to shift first or it could be dangerous.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the bruise to his ego down our connection. “With how fast you’re recovering, I’m sure it will be a matter of days before you get it.”

In fact, Rick had attempted to shift without success almost every day since I’d rescued him from Tabetha, but nothing either I or my familiar, Poe, tried brought the beast to the surface. Rick’s loss of memory seemed to run deep and include his magic. I was certain it was in there somewhere. I needed to find a way to draw it out.

“I’d better get to work,” I said. I uncrossed my legs and began to rise from the floor, but Rick’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

“I’m sorry I’m not what you need me to be.” His gaze met mine, and my heart melted.

I shook my head. “Rick, you are and always will be exactly what I need. Give it time. The evil witch who did this to you meant for it to be confusing. Tabetha didn’t throw softballs. The spell she put on you was meant to break you. To break us. We just need to figure out how to put you back together.”

He startled at my words and I instantly regretted my bluntness.

“And what if you can’t ‘put me back together’?” he asked, his tone as bitter as his glare.

I looked him in the eye and opened our connection as wide as it would go. If he had any thought-reading capability at all, he would sense what I was about to say was true. From the very heart of me, I promised, “If we can’t get your memory back, then I’ll take you just as you are.”

Chapter 2

Familiarity

P
ower is a pain in the ass. People think they want it, they’ll kill themselves to get it, but in the end, it’s nothing but trouble. Take Tabetha’s power; I was ringing with it. As I patrolled the street in Salem I’d seen in the mirror, the geraniums in the window boxes overhead stretched their necks in my direction. Don’t get me started on the roses in my living room. I’d become the freaking Jolly Green Giant of witchdom. The summer night veritably buzzed around me as the elements of wind and wood tuned in to my presence.

So much power and so much responsibility. I hadn’t asked for it, and I sure as hell didn’t want it. But here I was.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Poe asked from my shoulder.

“Not sure. I couldn’t tell from the mirror.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t tell? And, more importantly, why on earth are we here if you don’t know what we are looking for?”

“There’s an evil presence here. We saw a woman die. She fell twitching to the street. I couldn’t see the perpetrator for some reason. Maybe she was poisoned, or it’s some sort of poltergeist or invisible demon. All I know for sure is a supernatural being means to do a human harm, and it’s our job to stop them.” Again I wondered if the deficiency of vision was due to Rick’s presence. I shook my head, not wanting it to be true. For all I knew, the enchanted mirror might be on the fritz.

“Mmm. It’s
not
the mirror, and I doubt it’s Rick,” Poe said, doing that intuitive thing he did that made me feel like he was in my head. “If you ask me, without Rick’s blood and, er, affections, your magic is weakening.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m more powerful than ever. I can feel every blade of grass from here to Vermont.”

“Yes, you have more power, but a more sizable engine requires a more sizable battery. You, Witcherella, are running on empty. The mirror knows and is answering in kind.”

“Hmph.” I hadn’t considered this possibility, but Poe was probably right. It wasn’t Rick’s presence making the mirror go wonky; it was his absence. Three weeks had passed since I last enjoyed Rick’s blood and as far as physical contact, that enjoyment ended at handholding. Every time I tried to get close to him, it was the fishing pole all over again. A distraction. An evasion. “I want Rick to come around on his terms. This is all new to him. He doesn’t remember anything, especially not me. I was there, not so long ago, when I first met Rick and I didn’t remember who
I
was. I need to be gentle with him.”

“Sex can be gentle. Have I mentioned you’re weakening?”

I groaned at his lack of subtlety. “It’s not just about blood and sex,” I murmured. “He either can’t or won’t shift or do magic of any kind. The answer is to jog his memory. I bought him a laptop today and showed him some cat videos.”

“Cat videos?” Poe forced a gag.

I spread my hands. “I want him to learn about the modern world. LOL cats are the gateway drug. Oh, and that panda that sneezes. I love that one.”

“Is he still hunting?”

“And fishing. Sometimes he stares blankly out the window,” I said honestly. “Have you ever seen squirrel stew, Poe? It ain’t pretty.”

“Sounds delicious.” Poe smacked his beak.

“I try to be charming, but it feels forced.” I pressed a finger into my chin. “It is forced. We are two strangers, and I’m trying to force him to fall in love with me like a creeper. He probably wishes the entire thing was a bad dream. Plus, I think he might be depressed.”

“Ya think? He falls asleep in 1698 and wakes up in 2015, having witnessed his fiancé burned at the stake and his entire community, including his parents, struck down by the cursed spellbook used to bind her. Of all the things Rick could be, depressed is the most logical.”

“I don’t know how to help him remember. I need him, Poe. If you’re right about the mirror and my magic is waning, things are going to go downhill fast.”

“Perhaps if you dressed a bit more comely?”

I looked down at my black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. My outfit was enchanted to remain comfortable in any weather and to bend and stretch to the demands of my job. I loved it. “What’s wrong with this?”

“You have a skull and crossbones on your chest.”

“It’s fun. It says
dangerous, yet fashionably casual
.”

“It says
weird goth girl
with emotional problems
.”

“You’d have emotional problems too if your fiancé left you at the altar and then forgot who you were. This is who I am.” I stretched my arms to the sides. “Grateful Knight. Love me or leave me.”

Poe cleared his throat. “Only problem is, if Rick doesn’t love you and leaves you, it could mean your death. This is serious. If you can’t bring back Rick’s memories, at least try to make him want you. Tell him you need blood and sex, pronto. Love can happen at its own pace.”

Love. I hoped it could happen at all. Sometimes Rick treated me like his captor, like he didn’t quite trust me. I still loved him, even after he left me at the altar and ended up drugged in Tabetha’s bed. Those are hard things to forgive, but I’d let them go. I loved Rick from a deep, forever place in my soul. A place that couldn’t be reached by all the nastiness Tabetha had doled out before I tore her apart.

I rolled my eyes. Poe’s concern for my well-being had as much to do with his existence being tied to mine as for my safety. I got it. I did. I couldn’t go on much longer without Rick. But I also couldn’t lose him. If I pushed him too hard, I might drive him away.

“What was that?” I said, perking my ears.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear that? It was a twanging sound. Very faint. Like a guitar string being strung.”

“Crap, Grateful. Move!” Poe took off from my shoulder, and I hit the pavement just in time. A silver arrow passed between us, where my head had been seconds ago. I leaped to my feet and drew Nightshade, searching the alley for the source of the shot. Platinum and black streaked behind an open window. I rushed toward the building, ducking inside the door.

Large blue eyes flashed from behind a six-foot stack of beer cases. A liquor store, although closed by the looks of things. A thick layer of dust covered the shelves and bottles.

“Come out and face your judgment.” Nightshade’s blue glow filled the room. “I’ll be merciful if you make this easy.”

A metallic laugh echoed through the store, bouncing off the glass bottles around me. My face tightened. Only one person laughed like that. Soleil. It was a fae laugh. I cursed under my breath. Fecking fae. The creatures were infinitely diverse and harder than hell to kill.

The twang of his bow rang through the room, and I shifted, putting a shelf of bourbon between us. The effort was futile. The arrow sliced through the metal shelf like butter and shattered a bottle of Jack Daniels beside my ducking head. Whatever kind of fae this was, he was playing for keeps.

I went possum, flopping to the floor and rolling to my back. With a painful moan, I grabbed the fallen arrow. Silver shaft and tip. Hawk feather fletching branded with a circular symbol. Wait. I’d seen this symbol before somewhere.

Nightshade hummed to me in warning. I tucked the arrow under my neck and closed my eyes to the narrowest of slits. I didn’t hear him coming until he was standing over me. Definitely fae.

It was hard to concentrate on anything beyond the arrow pointed at my head, but I forced myself as he drew near. Platinum silver hair fell blade straight from a widow’s peak, framing a pale complexion that housed oversized blue eyes and full red lips. Despite the white hair, his skin was taut and wrinkle free, and he carried the vibrancy of youth. He wore a black suit with the same familiar circular symbol bronzed and pinned to his lapel. Some fae, like sprites and pixies, were smaller in stature, but he was human-sized, at least six foot, with a lanky but muscular build. I could never mistake him for human though because he approached me fluidly, like his feet never touched the floor, his bones and joints flexible things, lithe and supple. He lowered the point of his arrow toward my nose.

With superhuman speed, I sprang up and rotated sideways, the night air lifting me. Nightshade circled, slicing through the drawn arrow. The silver arrowhead rattled to the floor. My target didn’t hesitate for a moment. The bottom of his bow flipped up, catching me under the chin and knocking my head back. Through swirling stars, I saw him draw another arrow, lightning fast, and take a step back to aim.

I pushed through the lights dancing in my vision, ducked under his releasing arrow, and tackled him into the bourbon. The shelf toppled, liquor and glass spraying around our crashing bodies. I scrambled to get the upper hand, but I hadn’t counted on the bottles. Broken glass shredded me. Blood rushed in crimson rivulets down the outside of my arms and from a particularly large gash in my leg. The more I struggled, the more I bled. With one hand braced on a metal shelf near my ear, I fought to get my feet under me, wedging them between two of the lower projections. The fae’s gloved fist pounded into my ribcage, knocking me back into the glass and metal.

His opposite fist hammered toward my throat. I blocked, grunting as my forearm took the force of it. I jammed my foot between us and kicked as I called on the wind to lift me out of the rubble. My magic answered me but weakly. Just enough to get me out of the mess, but not enough to get away. A fizzle instead of a boom. I scrambled to the front of the store, angling between the stack of beer cases and a big picture window.

“Give yourself up. You’re going to the hellmouth,” I called.

There was a slap and the beer toppled. I dodged the heavy cases, the glass and suds spraying from the impact with the floor. The fae rushed me, his face in mine in no time. I had the advantage. His bow was gone, thrown from us in the scuffle. Nightshade, on the other hand, was still in my grip. I kicked as hard as I could into his stomach to put space between us.

He yelped in pain and bared his teeth. Stepping back, I placed Nightshade’s glowing tip to his neck. “I sentence you—”

Usually, the glow would wrap around my target and transport them to the hellmouth at my condemnation, but my judgment stuck in my throat as Nightshade petered out, and her blade became normal bone. “What the hellmouth?” I cursed.

A punch landed in my side, folding me in half. Nightshade didn’t fail me this time. Enchanted or not, she sliced, skimming my side and severing the wrist of my attacker. Silver blood sprayed as the fae recoiled, a tinny scraped-metal shriek breaking his full red lips. I backed away, shaking Nightshade to try to get her to work. How was I supposed to send this baddie on if she wouldn’t enforce my judgment?