by Arthur, Keri
He nodded. “And from Belle, more than you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “If you decide to kiss her like you just kissed me, there will be words said. Unpleasant words.”
He laughed. “I have no intentions of ever kissing Belle—”
“And why not, Ranger?” she asked as she clattered down the stairs. “I’m a stunning piece of womanhood.”
“Indeed,” he agreed sagely. “And one who scares the crap out of me.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I can see those boots of yours shaking. What favor do you want?”
“I was wondering if it might be possible to contact the spirits of either Kenny Sinclair, Jamison O’Connor, or Jeni Marin.”
“The werewolf victims?” Belle asked. When Aiden nodded, she added, “I can certainly try, but those who have only recently crossed over are sometimes the most difficult to converse with. I’m guessing you want to know where they got those bracelets from?”
Surprise ran through his expression. “Yes—how did you know? Or shouldn’t I bother asking?”
She smiled. “Never fear, Ranger, your lascivious thoughts are safe from me. Liz and I were discussing those bracelets this morning.”
He glanced down at me. “And?”
“There’s a possibility we could use one to at least track down the other seven recipients.”
“That would be—”
“Difficult,” I cut in, “so don’t get your hopes up. In fact, it might be better if you ask Ashworth to do it. He’s the stronger witch.”
“I’ll talk to him this afternoon, after I grab some sleep.” His gaze went back to Belle. “I’d still like to contact the victims and see if we can find out where they got those bracelets. I can understand the two younger victims wearing them, but I just can’t see why Kenny would. The only jewelry he ever wore was that gold chain.”
“Have you asked their families?”
“Yes, and they can’t remember seeing the bracelets or any mention of buying them.”
“I can try to spirit talk tonight, if you’d like,” Belle said. “If you can get something personal from at least one of them, it’ll help the contact process.”
“Let me check what I can do.” He kissed my forehead, his lips so warm against my skin. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
“You will.” I crossed my arms to curb the instinctive desire to reach for him and watched as he strode down to his truck.
“Oh dear,” Belle said, “you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”
“Lust? Hell yeah.” I closed the door and met her gaze evenly. “I might go add some additional layers around the café and the reading room before you attempt to contact any spirits, either today or tonight.”
She frowned. “Why? I can’t see any of the three being a threat, but even if they were, there’s little hope of them getting through the multiple levels of protections we’ve layered around both areas.”
“I’m not worried about something getting in, but rather, something leaking out.”
Her frown deepened. “Magic? But spirit talking—”
“Doesn’t involve magic, I know.” I pulled a hairband out of my pocket and swept my hair into a ponytail. “But the various layers will react, if only faintly, when a spirit answers. Given it’s very possible the dark witch is not only alive, but actively taking out all the competition, I’d rather we not come to his attention.”
“But a muting spell is still a spell—”
“Yes, but it’s a very low-level one—at least externally. He’d have to be driving past to even sense it, and even then—given the unconventional nature of our magic—he’ll hopefully think it’s nothing more than a very minor barrier spell from a couple of fairground witches.”
And that was certainly something we’d been called more than once growing up in Canberra, even if it was obvious that—while I might not live up to the family name and expectations—I did at least have a greater capacity of magic than the fortune tellers and tricksters who usually worked at such places.
“And remember,” I continued, “both Ashworth and Anna commented on not only the unusual construction of our network of spells, but also the fact there’s wild magic woven through it. If this witch is after control of the main wellspring, then—”
“Any indication there’s already a witch on the reservation capable of using the wild magic is dangerous,” she finished. “But there’s still one major flaw in your thinking—anything you and I might create isn’t going to fool him for long.”
“We don’t need long. We just need to keep him from sensing our magic from either a distance or even as he’s driving past, and coming to investigate.”
“Good point. You go do that, and I’ll do the prep.”
It took me a couple of hours to weave the muting spell through all the threads we’d placed not only around the reading room, but the café itself. I wrapped the strongest dampening around the layers that contained the wild magic—because there was, rather surprisingly, more than one, even if Ashworth and Anna hadn’t been aware of it. While the wild magic might have only recently “outed” its attachment to Belle and me, it had very obviously been with us since the beginning. There was no other reasonable explanation for the very base layer spells—the ones we’d created when we’d first moved into this place—to be touched and strengthened by its presence.
Belle handed me a vitality-boosting potion the minute I came out of the room, and for a change, it didn’t smell like a swamp—consideration for the customers who were eating their breakfasts rather than my stomach, I suspected.
We were surprisingly busy that day. Belle and I alternated between helping Mike and Frank—our chef and kitchen hand—out in the kitchen, and Penny—our waitress—in the café. It made the day pass a whole lot quicker, although things were never boring when a good portion of the gossip brigade descended. Mrs. Potts wasn’t there, but she was the topic of much conversation. I was rather pleased to hear that she and her husband had talked things out, and that Henry’s possessions had not only escaped rain damage but had in fact been accepted back into the house. But not, Gina had noted in a rather superior voice, into the main bedroom, as was proper considering the secrets he’d kept.
Once we’d closed and done the next day’s prep, Belle made us both a hot chocolate while I made ham and salad sandwiches.
But just as I pulled out a chair to sit down, wild magic whisked in, its touch urgent as it pulled at my clothes, my hands, my fingers.
A heartbeat later, I heard the sirens. Whether they were ambulance or ranger, I couldn’t say, but fear nevertheless seeped into my heart.
Something had happened. Something bad.
“Go,” Belle said. “Don’t worry about the pack—the wild magic is with you so use it if you have to.”
I grabbed my purse and keys and bolted for the rear of the café. The car lights flashed as I pressed the remote but as I climbed in, the wild magic wrapped around me, its energy so thick and heated that sweat immediately broke out across my skin and fear struck my heart.
That fear wasn’t mine. It was Katie’s.
Her force rolled through me—a swift but intense moment that left my whole body feeling stretched and shaky. But it also left me with the impression of where I had to go.
Ashworth’s apartment.
I swore, threw the car into gear, and roared out of the parking lot, barely missing one of our customers as I did a quick left onto the main road. Five minutes later, I was pulling onto the road where Ashworth lived.
To be greeted by a sea of ambulances and ranger trucks.
And, in Ashworth’s driveway, Aiden’s truck.
Chapter Nine
Which explained Katie’s urgency. This wasn’t about any old werewolf—it was about her brother.
I parked in the first available spot then ran toward the apartment. Jaz swung around and held up her hands. “Whoa, Liz, this is a crime scene. You can’t go in there.”
“Are they…is he?” I somehow managed to
get out as I slid to a stop.
“No one’s dead except the shooter, so you can relax.”
I didn’t. Not immediately. “Then why are there so many ambulances here?”
“Because Aiden made a code nine call—”
“And that is?” I cut in.
“Officer requiring urgent assistance,” she replied. “We had no idea what we were facing, so we called up the entire team and sent two ambulances. Better to be safe than sorry, especially with all the shit that’s been going down lately.”
“Are either of them hurt?”
“I think Aiden might have broke Ashworth’s other arm when he pushed him down, but aside from a few cuts and bruises, they’re both okay.”
The tension that had been twisting my guts into knots slithered away, and my legs suddenly felt like water. I groped for the nearby fence and took several deep breaths.
“What about the shooter?” I said eventually. “Where is he?”
“Behind the screens. There’re three other apartments in the building, including one with kiddies.”
Anger touched her tone and I could understand why. All it would have taken was one or more rounds to go astray, and they would have been dealing with something far worse.
“Aiden and Ashworth weren’t caught unawares then?”
“No, thankfully. Apparently the shooter tripped some sort of magical alarm Ashworth had set up last night, and it gave them just enough time to get under cover.”
I shifted my gaze to the apartment and, for the first time, noticed the shattered windows and the holes blasted into the door.
“What kind of gun did he use?” It obviously wasn’t the same type that had been used on Chester.
“He had both a handgun and a semi-auto shotgun on him. He wasn’t pussyfooting around this time.”
“No.” I crossed my arms and tried not to imagine what a shotgun blast would have done to either man—not a difficult task when the apartment door provided ample enough evidence. “I wonder why he was ultra-careful killing Chester, and the opposite here?”
“I guess that’s something we’ll never know given he’s dead.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, “and maybe not.”
Jaz raised an eyebrow. “I can assure you—”
“That’s not what I meant. Belle’s a spirit talker, so she can have a chat with his ghost if it lingers here, or his soul if it doesn’t.”
Whether it would be worth it or not was another matter entirely—not all ghosts were fully sentient. For some, the confusion over their sudden death lingered in their afterlife, and it made dealing with them very difficult. Aside from that, he might not actually know all that much about the heretic witch.
If he was working for him, then he must have had some means of contacting him, Belle said, even if it’s something as simple as a phone number.
The rangers will undoubtedly track down anyone he’s been in contact with as a matter of course, I replied. But I rather suspect our witch will be too canny to leave such an easy trail.
Meaning maybe the shooter was being contacted face-to-face, she said. After all, someone has to be looking after this heretic bastard if the ceremony drained him as badly as Chester suggested. Maybe that same someone has been contacting the hit man and giving him directions
Maybe.
Jaz’s gaze had widened at the mention of ghosts. “Is he lingering here? Can you sense it?”
My gaze swept the front yard and the screens hiding the body. “Not immediately, and certainly not from here. Belle’s the stronger witch when it comes to sensing the otherworld elements.”
Depends on the element, Belle said, amused. You’re far more attuned to the nasty ones.
Which makes me wonder what I did in a past life to deserve it.
I glanced back to the door as it opened. Aiden stepped out and scanned the area, and didn’t look surprised when he spotted me.
“Jaz, you can let her in.”
Jaz immediately raised the crime scene tape and waved me on. I ducked under the tape and hurried toward the door, making no attempt to look past the screens to see the hit man’s body but nevertheless feeling a wisp of energy. It wasn’t the wild magic, but rather a ghost.
And one that was very pissed off.
Obviously our hit man didn’t expect to encounter any resistance, Belle said. Makes you wonder just what he’d been told about Ashworth. You want me to wander over?
I hesitated. I’ll clear it with Aiden first, but get the pack ready. I can’t see him refusing given we have no real information about the heretic as yet.
I stopped one step below Aiden and studied him critically. There was a bloody tear in his shirt just above his right elbow, a couple of minor scratches across his face, and several glittery spots in his dark blond hair I suspected were glass shards rather than silver strands.
“I’m very happy to see you’re okay.”
“And I’m happy to be okay.”
“Do you know who the shooter was as yet?”
“No—he wasn’t carrying a wallet or anything else that would have provided an ID.” He paused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”
I smiled. “Do you really think your sister was going to sit by and let her big brother be attacked?”
“Ah.” His gaze went past me, seeking the magic he couldn’t see but was nevertheless nearby. “Thanks, Katie.”
The wild magic stirred and warmth pulsed briefly through me. “She says you’re welcome.”
A bittersweet smile touched his lips, but he didn’t say anything. He just stepped to one side and motioned me inside. The place was a mess. Glass was everywhere, holes had been blasted into the walls, and the sofa was oozing stuffing and springs. Ashworth was sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge and his left arm being tended to by one of the paramedics. He glanced around as I entered, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“It seems you were right, lass.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And this annoys you?”
“I’m honest enough to admit it does.” He grimaced. “I’m also honest enough to admit that if you hadn’t nagged last night, I might not have set that trap and we both might now be dead.”
“Then I’m extremely glad I nagged. How’s the arm?”
“Not broken,” the paramedic said, before Ashworth could answer. “He’s just sprained the elbow. I don’t think he’s done too much damage to the ligaments, but we’ll take him to the hospital for a scan—”
“No, you fucking won’t,” Ashworth cut in.
The medic gave him the look; the sort of look medics the world over used when their patient was being daft. “We need to ensure—”
“I can move my arm without undue pain. I’ll keep it in a sling when and where possible to help it heal, but I’m not going back to the hospital.”
The paramedic didn’t look happy, but all he said was, “Avoid using it then, and if the pain gets too bad, get to the hospital.”
Ashworth grunted. I was well enough acquainted with the man now to know that was as far from an agreement as you could get.
Once the paramedic had finished up and walked out, I said, “The shooter’s ghost is hovering outside. Do you want Belle—”
“Yes,” Aiden said, before I could finish. “We have no answers and no clues as to who this bastard is, so if there’s a chance the shooter can tell us something, it’s worth a shot.”
“It would be better, however,” Ashworth said, “if I created the protection circle.”
I quickly passed the news to Belle that she was wanted, then said, “That’s hardly practical given you’ve two arms—”
“Arms,” he cut in irritably, “have nothing to do with my ability to raise magic. You can place the spell stones for me, lass, but beyond that, I don’t need my limbs.”
My smile was echoed in Aiden’s bright eyes. “Given I don’t know a whole lot about magic, can I asked why you’d rather do it than Liz?”
“Because of what’s going on,” Ashworth said. “Because the heretic witch seems intent on erasing the competition. If he is here for the wellspring, then it’s not going to take him too long to figure out I’m alive given my magic still protects it. I’d rather he not figure out Chester and I aren’t the only witches he has to worry about.”
“Except my magic lies underneath yours at the wellspring,” I stated. “He’ll sense it the minute he starts to unravel your spells.”
Ashworth glanced at me. “No, he won’t. The first thing I did was weave a concealment spell around yours. He won’t sense it until he gets through both my protection and concealment spells, and even then—given the amount of wild magic you either intentionally or unintentionally wove into that spell—he may not suspect the originator is another witch, but rather a last line of defense spell from me that has been warped by the presence of the wellspring.”
I hadn’t actually intended to weave the wild magic through my spell, but given what I’d discovered at the café this morning, it also wasn’t surprising.
“If he’s as powerful as Chester suggested, then he’s surely not going to be fooled long-term by anything you or I could produce. I mean, no offense, but you’re an RWA investigator for a reason.”
“That reason being underpowered.” Ashworth smiled as he echoed my usual claim. “And by the standards of some in Canberra, I most certainly am. But I’m also a canny bastard who knows a thing or two about concealment—just ask some of the bluebloods who were in my year at uni.”
“I sense a story in that statement.”
“One that is better told over alcohol once this mess is tidied up and I can actually lift a pint or two,” Ashworth said. “For the moment, just believe me when I say he’s not going to know anything about your magic until he breaks through all mine.”
Aiden glanced at me, his expression concerned. “That still doesn’t put you out of danger, though, does it? Not when you’ve all sorts of protection spells around that café of yours.”
“Yes, but I wove a dampening spell around them this morning. Unless he actually walks into the place, he’s not going to sense anything other than what might normally be expected from a couple of fairground charlatans.”