Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

I MMY

It was very disconcerting to have a ghost in the house while getting ready for bed. Was he watching me? Was he being a gentleman? He was the ghost of a pirate, for goddess sake. Did he even know how to be a gentleman?

What was even stranger was Loki's reaction to Edge. Loki wasn't the best with strangers. In fact, he was often better than a guard dog, running off anyone he didn't like, and he didn't like a lot of people. Yet I walked out of my bedroom the next morning to find Loki sitting on the kitchen table, nose to nose with Edge, purring as loud as any diesel engine, trying to rub against Edge's face.

Edge, for his part, had a look of pleasure and a touch of sadness, when he tried to stroke Loki and his hand went through the cat. He looked at me. "I'm sorry that I can't give your pet what he needs. I haven't quite recharged enough yet."

I picked up Loki and snuggled him, burying my face in his soft fur for all of a minute before he struggled to be free. He tolerated affection, but on his terms. He jumped to the ground and went back to sit by Edge, staring up at him with fascination and adoration. I tried not to be jealous.

"He'll survive. I've never seen him take to another person like he's taken to you."

Edge tried another pass with Loki, but his hand passed through the cat. Regret flashed in his eyes, still faded though. "Cats like me. Always have. I took care of the cats on the ship. I had a special bond with them."

"Did you have time to recharge?"

He sighed. "Not enough. Last night took a lot of energy. I'll need more time to recover."

"Is it because your plank isn't here? Could that have affected your energy levels?"

He made a frustrated sound. "Since I don't know how I am bound to you or how this works, I can't answer that. They didn't exactly give us a class on being a ghost, you know."

I could understand his frustration. Being trapped in a world that you didn't understand, where you couldn't relate to anyone, had to be difficult. I grew up in that world with my family. Sometimes I wondered if I had been adopted or switched at birth since I was a polar opposite to everyone in my family. Impulsively, I reached across the table but only grasped cold air.

"I'm sorry, Edge. We'll figure this out. I have a friend in my coven who can speak to spirits. She understands all of this better than I do. She is on her way over here."

He jumped up and stumbled backwards. "You're trying to punish me with more of your witchcraft? Haven't you done enough?"

I stood but didn't walk any closer since he seemed alarmed already. "No, I don't want you punished. I just want you free, or at least to have answers. Nothing will be done without your permission. I promise you that."

"Even if we're bound together forever?" He eyed me suspiciously.

Oh goddess. I hadn't considered that. Being bound to a ghost forever might kill the non-existent dating life I had. But at least I'd have company. I could do far worse than Edge for a lifetime companion. And I liked Edge, once I got past the initial anger over the circumstances.

"Even then," I replied firmly, even as I hoped Darla had some answers. "You're stuck with me, Edge."

" I don't know why he's bound to you. It's a mystery," Darla said, looking thoroughly confused.

She stared at Edge, who was fading in and out in the corner of the kitchen in an attempt to stay corporeal, but was failing. I flexed my hand that had been throbbing since last night. Even my healing salve, that worked on everything, hadn't worked to ease the pain. I wish I could remember how I hurt it, but the events of last night didn't include me hurting my hand.

Darla turned her gaze from Edge and focused on me. "What happened to your hand?"

I held it up, showing the swollen, red area. "I don't know. It started hurting last night. I don't remember doing anything, but I must have hit it or something."

"Let me see that." She pulled my hand to her, and I winced as the pain sliced through me. "Sorry. Did you handle anything belonging to Edge? His plank maybe?"

My face burned with shame. "I broke it. I was so angry at him. I broke it in two pieces and flung it into the bushes."

She peered over my hand, her nose almost brushing my palm. "I think I see the problem. You have a splinter from his plank in here. That's what's tethering him to you. You are his new plank!"

We both stared at Darla. "Say what now? How can I be a plank?"

She huffed. "Not a plank, but his tether. By having a piece of his plank in you, possibly before it was broken, the magic was transferred to you, transferring Edge to you as his new tie to this place."

The ramifications of her statement slowly washed over me and I felt a chill. "So if we remove the splinter, what happens? Does he go with the splinter?"

Darla looked uncertain. "I don't know. It's a small piece of wood. I think it needs you to stay viable. It's feeding off of you and your energy to stay functional. If you remove it, the splinter can't hold enough magic to keep Edge here and he will fade away."

Edge made a sound of distress. "You can't remove me!"

I flexed my hand, feeling the soreness at the movement. "I don't want to harm Edge, but I can't live with a splinter. My hand will become infected. It already is."

Darla waved her hand. "We can cast a containment spell that should help with infection and not harm Edge. But you're right. The ideal solution is to figure out what's really holding him here. Ghosts often hang around, not because they want to, but because there is unfinished business. There has got to be something holding Edge here."

We both turned to Edge, who looked thoroughly confused. "I was a simple pirate, made to walk the plank many years ago. I wasn't a captain or anyone important. What could I have to still do?"

A sound from the narrow lane leading up to the cottage made us turn. I groaned as Darla's eyes widened in panic. She quickly gathered her things.

"Gotta run! Good luck with the wicked witch of the west, I mean your mother. I'll do more research, Edge, to see how I can help you. Mind if I use the back door? Bye!" And Darla raced out the back.

I wished I could follow her. My mother, Bellona Willoughby, stepped out of her pink BMW, one long, elegant leg at a time. She was, as usual, dressed more formally than my jeans and t-shirt, and I would catch hell for it. Her pink cashmere sweater, gray twill pants, and sharp heels cost more than my car, probably, but was considered a casual look for her, nothing that she would ever wear with her friends or father's business partners. She was slumming it to see her daughter.

I turned to Edge. "No matter what, stay quiet and out of sight. With luck, she won't even see it or sense you here. She doesn't have a sense for spirits. Got it?"

His eyes were wide, then his gaze narrowed. "As long as you promise not to remove the splinter."

I could hear the clacking of heels on the stone walkway. "Edge, just hide. Now."

He leaned into my face. "Promise, witch."

"Oh, for goddess sake. I promise!"

He vanished as she knocked on the door.

"Hello, mother. You look lovely."