Hunter Hunted

by Arthur, Keri

  “The idiot missed the plane,” Chester said. “Got caught in traffic or some such rot.”

  “Which is not likely to make a good impression,” Ashworth added. “The council here is hard to please under the best circumstances.”

  Despite my uneasiness, I couldn’t help smiling. “Oh, I don't know about that. I heard you impressed them enough to be offered the position.”

  “And we all know they only did it because I forced them to confront their stupidity. It was a matter of expediency rather than common sense.”

  “Have you two been over to the circle yet?”

  “No.” Ashworth pulled out a chair and sat down. I had to bite my tongue against the urge to tell him not to get too comfortable. “We’re actually waiting for Tala to get back here—she’s going to take us across.”

  I frowned. “You can’t remember where it is?”

  “It’s dark, lassie, and my night sight isn’t what it once was.” A smile briefly twisted his lips. “What’s this I hear about another murder?”

  “It’s a skinning, and I don’t think it’s got anything to do with our dark witch.”

  Chester raised an eyebrow as he sat down opposite. It was a position that brought the force of his magic way too close and had sweat breaking out across my body again. “What makes you say that?”

  “The magic didn’t feel the same.” And his magic was stirring—probing—again. Not me, but rather the spells that protected this place. Which was why Ashworth had brought him here, I realized. Despite accepting my statement that I was running from abuse, he’d wanted to see this man’s reaction to my spellcraft—and that meant it was more important than ever Chester didn’t see Belle and me together. “Would either of you like something to drink?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t mind a piece of that cake you’re eating.” Ashworth glanced at the older man. “She and her partner make the best cakes and slices you’ve ever tasted.”

  “A claim I’m more than willing to investigate,” Chester said, amusement evident. “And a black coffee would be good.”

  “As long as you don’t mind instant—we’ve cleaned the machine for the night.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “In what way was the magic different?”

  I rose, snagged Belle’s book from the spare chair, and headed behind the counter. “It was clean, not dark.”

  “And you sensed it how?”

  I tucked the book safely away and then glanced at him. “I didn’t. Not initially. I found the body via my psychometry skills.”

  I made the coffee and plated up two slices of cake, then put everything on a tray and carried it over. As the two men picked up their plates, I grabbed my mug and leaned a shoulder against the nearby wall. I did not want to get closer to the wash of Chester’s magic. Why the hell he wasn’t controlling his output, I had no idea. Had he been in Canberra, he would have been quickly reprimanded, if not fined.

  “And the magic?” he asked.

  “Came from a cotton thread that was left on the body. I believe it was part of some sort of tracking charm. The rangers have it, if you want to examine it.”

  He grunted. “If it’s not the same magic then there’s no need. I’m here to track a heretic, not chase a minor practitioner with blood on his or her hands.”

  Which meant our paths probably shouldn’t cross too often, and I couldn’t be sad about that.

  I took a sip of tea and wished it were something stronger. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who our practitioner might be?”

  “Not without seeing the body, no,” Chester said. “Even then, we’ll have to confirm with blood and DNA tests, as most erase more identifiable marks such as fingerprints.”

  I frowned and glanced at Ashworth. “I didn’t think the council kept fingerprint records of heretics.”

  “They don’t,” he said evenly. “But blood and DNA samples are taken from every full-blooded witch at birth. It’s the easiest way to keep track of the bloodlines to avoid inbreeding mishaps.”

  Which meant all anyone unconvinced by my story would have to do was somehow grab a sample of my DNA—even something as simple as a few strands of hair—and they’d uncover the truth of who I was quickly enough. It was a somewhat scary thought—and one that made me want to race upstairs and hide my hairbrush.

  I downed the rest of my tea, but it didn’t do a whole lot to ease the dryness in my throat. “Even without that sort of confirmation, you must still have some idea as to who it might be. I mean, how many blueblood heretics are there?”

  “At last count?” he mused. “Fifteen, I believe.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. But given the overall number of blueblood witches in Canberra, that’s actually a very low percentage—the lowest it’s been for decades, in fact.”

  Maybe it was, but it was still fourteen too many for my liking—especially when he was only talking about the bluebloods gone rogue. I daresay there were a whole lot more malcontents running loose from the lower witch houses.

  “But given the description Ira has given us,” Chester continued, “there are three possibilities. All are rather nasty individuals, but there’s one we’ve been hunting for a very long time. I seriously hope he’s not the person behind the live spell.”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Let’s worry about that when and if we identify the body.”

  In other words, it was none of my damn business. Which it wasn’t, but that didn't assuage the need to know. “Which leads me to a question that’s been bugging me—spells generally don’t last long past their creator’s death, so why aren’t the protection circle and the spell within it fading?”

  “That is a jolly good question, and one I can’t answer until I see the circle and the spell.” Chester scooped up a big chunk of cake on his spoon and ate it; bliss immediately crossed his features. “Damn, you’re right. This is good.”

  “But there is a precedence for spells lasting beyond their creator?” I said.

  “Under certain circumstances, yes.” Chester glanced up at me. “Why don’t you know any of this? It’s basic study at the university.”

  I smiled, but it felt thin. False. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, I never went to witch university. Underpowered half-breeds rarely do.”

  “Indeed, but there’s nothing underpowered about the spells that protect this place, even if the witch that produced them is less than impressive.”

  “Almost as impressive as a statement that’s both a compliment and an insult, perhaps?”

  He waved his spoon. “Which is not what I intended.”

  I put my mug down on the nearby table and crossed my arms. They’d undoubtedly see it as a defensive gesture, which was perfectly fine given it damn well was.

  “As I’ve already told Ashworth, I have no idea how the wild magic got entangled within the protection spells. But it came to the aid of the head ranger and me out in the cemetery when we were attacked by a magic-bearing vampire, and I think threads of it must have been lingering when I boosted the spells here afterward.”

  Chester grunted. “A logical explanation, though it is rare for the wild magic to interfere in such a manner.”

  “It’s also rare for a major wellspring to be left unprotected for well over a year,” I bit back. “Given that—from everything I’ve ever read—it’s something that’s never happened before, maybe it’s forced the wild magic to gain some sort of cognizance in order to protect itself.”

  “Wild magic is an energy that develops deep in the heart of the earth. There is no way it could ever develop the sort of awareness to self-protect—”

  “Except this place has,” Ashworth said.

  “So you said in your earlier memo,” Chester said. “I’d have to see proof of such before I—or anyone else in Canberra—could dare to believe.”

  I glanced sharply at Ashworth. He grimaced and shrugged. The memo had obviously been sent before our discussion about why I didn’t want Canberra inve
stigating this place—and us—too deeply.

  It also suggested that perhaps I’d been wrong earlier—perhaps Ashworth had been given no choice about bringing Chester here. It might, in fact, have been a directive from Canberra—a means of figuratively killing two birds and discovering whether this reservation and the magic within it, be it wild or witch, deserved deeper investigation.

  The doorbell chimed again, and I glanced around to see Tala enter. She didn’t look impressed, but I guess that was to be expected given they had two dead bodies in as many days to contend with.

  She gave me a nod and then said, “Right, gentlemen, let’s go. The council doesn’t appreciate too much overtime—it does all manner of nasty things to their budgets.”

  Her voice was as curt as ever, but there was a slight glimmer in her eyes that suggested amusement.

  Chester hastily gulped down his coffee and then rose. “I don’t suppose you’ve a bag…?”

  “No cake in the car, I’m afraid,” Tala said. “Come along, gentlemen.”

  Hence her amusement, I thought. I pushed away from the wall, followed the two men across to the door, and locked it behind them.

  And sighed in relief, even though I knew full well the danger Canberra represented wasn’t really over yet.

  I listened to the sound of Tala’s SUV pulling away then turned and headed back to the table. After clearing the plates, mugs, and teapot then washing them, I headed upstairs to grab toiletries and fresh clothes for tomorrow. Then I called a cab and headed across to Aiden’s.

  The key was in a magnetic tin under the base of the outside aircon unit. I grabbed it, opened the door, and then tucked it back in position. Once I’d dumped my bag in his bedroom, I headed back downstairs to investigate his fridge. It was very obvious that a bachelor who ate out a lot lived in this place, because there was damn little in the way of food. Thankfully, there was some cheese that wasn’t green despite it being past its “best by” date and a loaf of sliced bread in the freezer. After making myself a toasted cheese and Vegemite sandwich and another cup of tea, I headed across the room to the sofa and settled in to watch TV and wait.

  By the time eleven rolled around, I was barely keeping awake. I dumped my dishes in the sink then trundled upstairs, stripped off, and climbed into his crisp, fresh-smelling sheets. Within minutes, I was asleep.

  Only to be woken several hours later not by the softly snoring warm body pressed against my spine, but rather an explosive rush of magic.

  Blood magic.

  Chapter Five

  I swore and scrambled out of bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Aiden immediately said, even as he threw the covers aside and began pulling on his jeans.

  I hauled on panties then grabbed jeans and a T-shirt out of my overnight bag. “There’s been some sort of explosion.”

  “Magical?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you need to go back to the café to get any equipment?”

  “I don’t think we have the time.” I grabbed a sweater then shoved my feet into my runners, thanking the stars I’d packed additional clothes and shoes to cater for the weather turn they were predicting for Christmas Eve. I reached mentally for Belle, but there was no response. That meant she was back home, sleeping in her own bedroom rather than the hotel room we’d rented. And while I could probably break through all the shields that surrounded her room—shields that not only protected her from a magic attack, but also from the constant barrage of my thoughts—it wasn’t worth either the time or the energy. Not when there was a much easier method. I grabbed my phone out of my purse and followed Aiden down the stairs. He grabbed his keys and ushered me into his truck.

  As he drove out of the complex, I called Belle.

  “What the fuck?” came her somewhat groggy answer a few rings later. “Why are you using the damn phone?”

  “Because you’re in your own bed rather than Zak’s or the hotel’s.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. What’s the problem?”

  “There’s been an explosion of blood magic, and I suspect it might have come from that protective circle we found.”

  “And you need the backpack?” she said, suddenly sounding less sleepy.

  “Yeah, and given I have no idea what we might be dealing with, pack everything.”

  “Will do.” Her voice was grim. “It’ll take me a good twenty to twenty-five minutes to get there though, given I have to load the pack.”

  “It’ll probably take us that long,” Aiden said, voice grim.

  I glanced at him. “You know where we’re going?”

  “I’m guessing it’s where Tala took Ashworth and the new witch to deconstruct the active protective circle.” He hesitated, his expression becoming even grimier. “Please don’t tell me we’ve a second—and different—wave of dark magic happening.”

  “I don’t think we do, but I can’t entirely be sure as yet.” I wound down the window and stuck my hand out. The night air ran across my fingers, its force increasing as Aiden accelerated away from the apartment complex. The dark magic ran through it, but its fierceness was fading.

  Aiden turned on the siren once we were on the main road and we screamed through the night, the red and blue lights washing across the darkness.

  The waves of magic continued to diminish, but it was definitely coming from the same area where we’d found the protective circle.

  Aiden pulled up beside Tala’s truck, and then scrambled out. “Tala! You out there?”

  There was no response. Aiden swore, ran around to the back of his truck, and grabbed out his gear and a flashlight. As he slammed the back closed, headlights pinned us. Belle.

  She stopped on the other side of the road and then got out and ran toward us. “Here,” she said, shoving the pack at me. “I put in everything I can think of, including a small first aid kit. You want me with you?”

  I shook my head. “Better if you remain here, and safe, just in case I need to call on your strength.”

  While the main task of any familiar was to monitor and protect their witch, they were also a lifeline—a last avenue of strength to draw on if all else had failed. Though it was extremely rare, there had been cases where familiars were so completely drained by their witch that death had claimed them. And in the case of spirit familiars, that meant becoming a shade and never being able to either operate in—or communicate with—anyone in the spirit or the living realms again for all eternity. Rather weirdly, that didn’t seem to apply to cat familiars, who simply moved on. We had no idea if that would also apply in Belle’s case, and I had no intention of ever discovering if it did.

  She nodded and crossed her arms. “Be careful. The force of the spell has almost faded, but I wouldn’t put it past this bastard to have a second line of defense.”

  I grabbed Belle’s silver knife out of the backpack and then slung the pack over my shoulder. Blue fire flickered briefly down the blade, evidence enough that the lingering spell remnants were indeed dark in origin.

  Aiden switched on the flashlight. The sudden brightness had me blinking. “Do you want me to lead the way?”

  I hesitated and then shook my head. “Just in case there is a secondary line of defense.”

  He nodded and motioned me on. I took a deep breath and then headed for the trees, carefully following the flashlight-lit path that Ashworth and I had created yesterday. Aiden kept close, his tension so fierce I could almost smell it.

  Then, from deeper into the trees, a groggy voice said, “Boss, that you?”

  Tala. Aiden’s relief was so fierce it washed over me in a wave.

  “Yeah. You okay?”

  “Think so.” She paused briefly then grunted. Getting up, I suspected, even though I couldn’t yet see her. “I was standing back in the trees, so only copped the backwash. It was still strong enough to throw me back into a tree though, and knock me unconscious.”

  “What about our two Ashworths?”

  A longer pause this time. “In the clearing, unmovin
g but whole.”

  “Dead?”

  “Can’t tell.” She paused. “I can’t smell death, though, so that’s a good sign.”

  Up ahead, low-hanging tree branches moved, and then Tala appeared, one hand raised against the brightness of the flashlight. Other than a torn left sleeve and a slight trickle of blood rolling down the right side of her face, she appeared to be okay.

  Aiden immediately lowered the flashlight’s beam. “Head back to the truck and treat that wound. I’ll update you once we know what happened.”

  She nodded and moved past us. Aiden’s gaze came to mine. “Is it safe to continue?”

  I nodded. “I haven’t felt a secondary line of magic as yet.”

  “Good.”

  We pressed on until we got to the clearing’s edge. This time, there were two unmoving bodies rather than one, but at least neither was missing half their head and brain.

  Ashworth was the closest. Though his clothes were singed and there was what looked like a scorch mark across his right cheek, he didn’t otherwise look hurt. He was also breathing, which meant he was simply knocked unconscious.

  Chester had been thrown clear across the other side of the clearing, and was lying in a crumpled mess at the base of an old eucalyptus.

  I studied the clearing for a few seconds longer. Though there were some spell remnants drifting lazily on the soft breeze, they weren’t even strong enough to make the protective magic on the knife react. Even so, I asked Aiden to remain where he was and carefully stepped into the clearing. The knife remained inert and the spell remnants didn’t react in any way.

  I walked across to Ashworth and squatted down beside him. The blade flickered but it was only a faint pulse. I suspected it was reacting to the lingering echoes of the spell that lay on his skin and clothes rather than a secondary line of magic. I switched the knife from my right to my left hand and then carefully felt Ashworth’s pulse. It was strong and steady.

  “Is he alive?” Aiden asked.