No wonder I paid not the slightest bit of attention in statistics the next morning (required core, four units), spending the entire class looking for other mentions of the Curse of the Dead on the Web (there were plenty, but only in reference to movies with mummies in them), then was such a mess when I finally rolled into the mission.

What had I done?

My horror at myself is probably why it took me a few moments to notice the huge vase of white roses waiting for me on my desk. That, and the fact that the custodial staff had obviously been in to clean since I’d left the night before. The blinds had been screwed back into place—though as usual, they’d been pulled open to let in the sun that had burned off the morning marine layer—and Sister Ernestine must have had some student helpers come in to give a hand with the filing.

That’s how I finally noticed the roses. There had to be at least two dozen of them, along with some white lilies and a few other blooms so exotic I had no idea what they were, sitting in an enormous—and undoubtedly expensive—crystal vase on my desk.

No one else was around—no tourists to be seen outside the windows overlooking the courtyard, no student aides, everyone’s office doors shut, meaning they’d already left for lunch (I was running even more late than usual, due to having stopped by the hardware store after class to purchase salt. They hadn’t had very much. I was going to have to hit up the grocery stores, as well).

Stunned, I leaned forward to inhale the flowers’ fragrant scent, something I definitely wouldn’t have done at work if anyone was looking. I didn’t want people thinking I was a big softie who went around sniffing flowers.

I couldn’t believe Jesse had done something so unbelievably sweet and extravagant, especially after I’d told him last night I didn’t need material things.

But sending me roses the morning after an attack on my life?

That was exactly the kind of thing he would do. No wonder I was marrying him. How could anyone think there was an evil bone in his body?

There was a card tucked inside the waxen petals. I plucked it out and peeled open the stiff, expensive envelope, eager to read whatever amazing, romantic message Jesse had written.

But when I saw the message on the card, I realized it wasn’t amazing, much less romantic. The flowers weren’t even from Jesse. All my excitement drained away, and I was filled with cold, hard dread instead.

Counting the hours until tomorrow night.

Thanks for saying yes.

You won’t regret it.

Paul

I dropped the card as if it had burst into flames in my fingers. “What the hell?”

I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until the door to Father Dominic’s office was thrown open and he came hurrying out.

“Susannah, is that you? Oh, good, you’re here at last. I thought I heard your voice.”

I jumped nearly out of my skin.

“Oh, hi, Father D.” I scrambled to find the card I’d dropped where it had fallen upon the floor. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Yes, of course. I wanted to wait to leave for lunch until after I’d spoken to you. Oh, I see you got the flowers.”

“Yes, I did.” I swallowed. “When did these arrive?”

“First thing this morning,” Father Dominic said. “They caused quite a stir. I assured everyone that they were most likely from your fiancé, and not a grateful parent. People around here get jealous so easily.”

A muscle in my face must have twitched, since Father Dominic raised a snowy eyebrow and asked, “They are from Jesse, are they not, Susannah?”

“Yes, of course, they are.” I crumpled the card into a ball, then threw the ball into the trash can beneath my desk. “Wasn’t that sweet of him? He shouldn’t have.”

“After what happened last night? Of course he should have.” Father Dominic must have noticed my dumbfounded expression, since he said, “I just hung up the phone with him. He told me what happened at your apartment. What a frightening experience. Thank goodness you’re all right.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” Thanks, Jesse. “Did you, uh, mention the flowers to him?”

“No, why would I? You know I dislike involving myself in your personal affairs, Susannah.”

When I couldn’t resist a snort at this, he added, “Any more than I already am, of course. Susannah, what on earth are you wearing?”

I looked down at myself. “What, this? It’s a skirt.”

“The length is very immodest.”

“Are you kidding me? This length is not immodest. And these are leggings I’ve got on underneath. You might be familiar with them, they’ve been around since you were born, also known as medieval times.”

“Nevertheless, you’re probably going to have to change. Sister Ernestine isn’t going to like it one bit.”

“Change? Into what, Father D? I barely made it out of my apartment alive last night as it is. I don’t have anything to change into. Plus, when Jesse sees me in this, there’s a chance he might change his mind about that whole abstinence-until-marriage thing of his.”

Father Dominic rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you stop bedeviling that poor boy, Susannah? He’s suffered enough for one lifetime, let alone the two he’s been granted.”

Me, bedeviling him? Yeah, right.

“So that’s why you skipped lunch today, Father D, so you could not get involved in my personal affairs?” I headed over to the chair behind my desk so I could sit down and hide my too-revealing skirt. “You’re doing a heck of a job of it already.”

“You know perfectly well why I skipped lunch today. We need to talk about this spirit that attacked you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, first things first. Did you get my message about the—”

“Susannah, I want to apologize to you.”

That got my attention.

“Apologize? What for?” I couldn’t remember the last time Father Dominic had apologized to me. Possibly never. “About not returning my message?”

“About what happened last night.” Father Dominic lowered himself into the same mission-style chair across from my desk in which Becca had sat the day before, while I’d bandaged her arm. He had to lean at an odd tilt to see me behind the enormous bouquet. “Jesse gave me quite the earful about it, and I can’t say I blame him. Sister Ernestine gave me her version, too, earlier this morning, but as you know, Sister Ernestine doesn’t know the full story. I simply don’t know how I could have missed it. I gave a welcome speech a few months ago to the entire student population. I stood in front of each grade and addressed them personally. How I could not have seen that Becca Walters was being victimized by a—”