Hunter Hunted

by Arthur, Keri

  “Right now, I just want to track down everyone who has been given one of those things. I’ll worry about finding the bastards behind the killings later.”

  Later might well be too late given the first thing any logical person would do on discovering the game was up was run. But he knew that as much as I did.

  “If we’re lucky, they might not have handed all the bracelets out yet.”

  He frowned. “Why would you think that?”

  I glanced down at the bracelet in my hand and again let the muted but not erased energy run briefly across my senses.

  “Because any sensible witch creating spells such as this would ensure that, once activated, they had a limited lifespan.” My mouth twisted. “It’s one way of getting repeat customers.”

  “And the magic on those things has that feel?”

  “Yes. But even so, I can’t imagine the hunters would hand them out wholesale, if only because she said the control charm was basic. Receiving multiple signals is generally beyond the capability of such a device.”

  “Then we need to find the rest of the bracelets before they get the chance to release any more.”

  I nodded. “It’ll take about half an hour to do the groundwork and create the spell, so if you’ve anything else to do, you might as well go do that.”

  “That sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “Well, no, but you said you were working and I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hang around here doing nothing.”

  “I’m not doing nothing—I’m sitting here talking to two lovely ladies about a current case.”

  “A comment that suggests he’s angling for a brownie as well as a free coffee,” Belle said, as she placed a basic white mug down in front of him.

  While we had all manner of cups and mugs in the place—many of which held resonances of those who had owned and used them in the past, and which could often be used to brighten someone’s day by bringing back memories of happier times or events—we’d learned very early on that most werewolves, Aiden included, had no sensitivity when it came to such things. We now gave them the cheap white ones and reserved the others for those who needed them.

  Aiden’s smile broke loose. “Well, if you’re going to insist, I’d love one.”

  Belle shook her head and headed back to the counter. I picked up my hot chocolate and rose. “I’ll go do the spell. I’m sure Belle can keep you entertained while I’m gone.”

  “No, she can’t, because she’s heading to Émigré tonight to do some dancing.” Belle placed the brownie in front of him. “But I’ll bring down the book on dark witches—that will keep you out of trouble, I’m sure.”

  “More than happy to read it,” he replied. “But I’m not likely to pick up much given my knowledge about magic and witches in general is pretty basic.”

  “I’ll just get you to tag anything you think is crucial,” Belle said. “We can check it out later.”

  “Sure,” he said, but his gaze was on me as I walked toward the reading room rather than Belle—something I knew by the heat burning into my spine.

  My awareness of the man seemed to be developing into an almost psychic-like link.

  No, it’s just your sex-starved hormones kicking into a higher gear, Belle said, amusement evident. I daresay it’ll all die down once you’ve spent a few more weeks in the man’s bed.

  I’ve three years to make up for, I replied blandly. That’s going to take more than a few weeks given we both have jobs and do need to sleep.

  Stamina, she said, a sorrowful note in her mental tones. My witch has none of it.

  I snorted mentally and felt her wince down through the line.

  Tart. She paused. Do you want me to stay behind tonight, just in case something goes wrong yet again?

  Hell no. We can’t remain in this reservation if we’re going to start putting our lives on hold on the off chance something goes wrong.

  I know, but—

  No buts. Well, not that kind, at any rate. I’m sure you’ll find more than a few of the other kind ready to share a little caress or two while dancing.

  Amen to that, sister.

  I grinned but didn’t reply as I stepped into the reading room and closed the door. The energy here was warm and calming, and the tension that had been riding me since the first skinning once again fled. It would undoubtedly settle on my shoulders anew once I walked out, but for the moment, it was nice to be without burden.

  I pushed the table and chairs to one side and then rolled up the carpet square. The spell work we’d painted onto the floor gleamed softly in the pale glow of the single globe that lit this room, and the intricacy of the patterns was something I was very proud of. Neither of us was university trained, but we did have two advantages over those who were—the books from Belle’s gran, and a willingness to explore and experiment. At the very least, not following conventions when it came to spell work gave us time to either react to an attack or flee.

  And that would save us. Save me.

  I frowned at the thought and the trepidation that came with it. But as usual, when it came to those sorts of premonitions, there was little in the way of explanation or follow-up.

  I gathered all the things I needed and then, once I’d created my protection circle—an extra layer that I didn’t really need in this room but did out of habit—I sat cross-legged on the floor and studied the bracelet with my “other” senses. After several minutes, I began to see the pattern with the magic. While the spell wasn’t one I’d ever come across before, it wasn’t all that complicated.

  I took a deep breath to center my energy, and then slowly began my counterspell, weaving the threads of it through and around the other witch’s spell until it was securely wrapped. Then, carefully, I began the reversal procedure. It wouldn’t prevent the bracelets still in the hands of the hunters from being used, but we would at least be able to use this bracelet to track the other seven—or maybe even eight, depending on whether the thread we’d found from that first tracker had disabled it—down.

  I completed the spell and activated it. The magic now wrapped around the bracelet pulsed across my fingertips and whispered secrets to my mind.

  It had worked.

  I took another deep breath, deactivated my protection circle, and then slipped the bracelet into a small silk bag to protect it in my pocket. I finished the final dregs of my hot chocolate and then climbed to my feet. Once I’d replaced the carpet, chairs, and table, I picked up my mug and headed out. Aiden was reading an old, red, leather-bound book, his feet resting on the chair Belle had vacated and a half-eaten brownie slice sitting on the plate next to him. Either we’d finally managed to fill the man or the book had killed his appetite.

  His expression, when he glanced up at me, was less than impressed.

  “Seriously, why are these bastards allowed to run about?” He snapped the book closed and waved it slightly. “Surely the high witch council must have some idea who will turn and who won’t—why don’t they just kill them before they can?”

  “Maybe they believe in trying an intervention before death.” I walked around the counter to drop my empty mug into the small sink and then grabbed four slices from the cake fridge. While the toll on my strength from spell work wasn’t anywhere near that of reading the minds of the dead, it was close to dinnertime and I needed something to stop my stomach grumbling.

  “They’re obviously not too successful at it if you have a whole division dedicated to tracking the bastards down.”

  “Maybe, but when you consider how many witches there are in the world, the fail rate isn’t really that bad.” I shoved the slices into a bag and then walked back around.

  Aiden rose. “Were you able to reverse the spell on the bracelet?”

  “Yes.” I exchanged the paper bag for the book. “I’ll just go put this away.”

  “I’ll be out in the truck.”

  I nodded and raced up the stairs, carefully tucking the book—complete with the Post-it Notes stuc
k to pages Aiden had thought interesting—back into its well-protected spot on the bookshelf.

  Belle came out of the shower, her long hair wrapped in a towel. “All good?”

  I nodded. “The reversal spell seems to have worked, so we’re heading straight out. Have fun tonight.”

  She grinned. “Hoping you have the chance for the same.”

  “Amen to that.”

  I clattered back down the stairs, grabbed my purse and my keys, and then headed out, making sure I locked up on the way out.

  Aiden had parked several spaces up from our café, and handed me the paper bag once I’d climbed into his truck and buckled up. Once he’d driven out of the parking spot, he said, “Where to?”

  I pulled the silk bag out of my pocket and gripped it tightly for several seconds. “Right onto Barker Street.”

  He made the turn and then accelerated away. I handed him one of the slices and munched on the others in between giving directions. All too quickly we were on the Calder Freeway and speeding away from the reservation’s boundaries.

  He immediately made a call to notify the Bendigo Police that he was seeking suspects in their area. He must have sensed my surprise, because once he’d hung up, he said, “We haven’t the authority to investigate outside the reservation.”

  “But didn’t you tell Francesca Waverley you could?”

  A smile touched his lips. “That was something of a white lie.”

  “Then you’re a damn good liar, because I had no idea.”

  “The best lies are always the ones wrapped in partial truths.” His gaze met mine. “We actually can investigate beyond our boundaries, but only in the company of a cop from whatever area we’re in. We’ve a good relationship with the Bendigo boys, and I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize that.”

  I glanced down at the silk bag as the magic within whispered its secrets. “Keep to the right up ahead, and then slow down. We’re close.”

  He didn’t reply, but the tension emanating from him jumped several notches.

  The connection between the bracelet I held and the others had strengthened to the point where the invisible leash that was my spell was practically burning my hand. I scanned the area ahead and then said, “Turn left into that holiday park.”

  He slowed down and did so. The park entrance was pretty, filled with an assortment of native flowering trees and shrubs. The manager’s cottage and reception area was a three-story A-line house surrounded by graceful old willows, with parking to the right and a concrete driveway that swept around to the left. “Keep left.”

  He dropped the speed to the park’s limit and continued on. We crawled past several more A-line houses, then a row of on-site caravans. At the far end of the park was a row of old-fashioned log cabins that had a porch and a carport at one end, and three windows along the rest of the building. As we neared the cabin at the very end of the row, the bracelet grew so hot that I had to grip the silk bag by its ties.

  “They’re here,” I said. “How we going to play this?”

  “By the book.”

  “Meaning, I’m gathering, we’re not going to break and enter?”

  A smile touched his lips. “Definitely not, if only because we don’t know if the place is empty or not. The last thing I need or want is to get into a shooting match with these bastards.”

  “You getting shot would certainly put a dent in future seduction plans.”

  “Which is one hell of a reason not to get shot.” He directed the truck around a rather tight curve and headed back to the park’s entrance. “Of course, I would advise against making any plans for tonight. If our hunters aren’t here, we’ll have to stake the place out.”

  He obviously wasn’t including me in that “we.” “I wish the bad guys would give us a break. Surely a month or two without their sort of drama wouldn’t be too much to ask?”

  His grin flashed. “Maybe when we get a proper reservation witch and the wellspring is shored up tight, that’ll happen.”

  “Maybe.” But more than likely not. “I gather the stakeout will be a joint operation?”

  He nodded. “I’ll send the address to the Bendigo crew once we park, and then we’ll go talk to the manager and see if he or she can tell us anything about the three men.”

  He pulled into one of the parking spots near the manager’s house and, once he’d sent the text, climbed out and walked across to reception. I followed. I might not be a ranger, but I was nosy.

  A small bell chimed as the door opened, and a few seconds later, a middle-aged woman with a bright smile and merry blue eyes stepped into the room and walked behind the desk.

  “What can I do for you folks?”

  “We’re after some help.” Aiden got his ID out and showed it to her. “We’ve had a couple of men illegally hunting within the reservation, and we believe they might be staying here in Cabin 10C. Do you know if they’re currently in the park, Mrs.—?”

  “Allan. Lucy Allan.” The cheerfulness left her expression. “I’m afraid the men in that cabin left fairly early this morning, and I haven’t seen them return as yet.” She hesitated. “Don’t you need permission from the local cops to be active outside the reservation?”

  “Yes,” Aiden replied evenly, “and they’re on their way as we speak. I just thought I’d do the prelim investigation while we’re waiting.”

  Relief ran through her expression. Maybe she had images of getting into trouble with the local force for helping us out. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Would we be able to get a copy of their registration paperwork?”

  “I’m not sure I can legally—”

  “The Bendigo boys will have a search warrant with them, so you’ll be in the clear.”

  “Ah, good. Just a minute, then.” She disappeared into the small office behind the desk; after a few minutes, she reappeared with several sheets of papers.

  “I’ve photocopied their papers for you and the cops,” she said, “but you can check them against the originals. Hope that’s all right.”

  She placed the three sheets down on the counter. Aiden checked them both and then slid the original back across to her. “Thanks.”

  As she disappeared into the office again, I murmured, “Charles Randall? Are we taking bets on whether that’s his real name or not?”

  “The odds would be far too short to bet on, but I can check the car registration, as it’s a reservation plate.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t realize the reservation had its own number plates.”

  “It’s basically only officialdom that does—rangers and council vehicles, mainly.”

  “Does that mean this Charles Randall lives and works within the reservation? Or that the plates are stolen?”

  “Possibly the latter, but at this stage, I’m not discounting anything.” He glanced up as the woman returned. “What can you tell me about the three men who’ve been staying in the cabin?”

  “Nothing much,” she replied. “They’ve been keeping to themselves, don’t make any noise, leave in the morning and come back at night.”

  “Would you be able to give us a description of them?”

  “None of them are remarkable,” she said. “They’re all around six foot, with long brown hair and dark eyes. They could be brothers, they look so alike.”

  “Did any of them have a beard?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not unless you consider a five o’clock shadow a beard. One did have an ear stud, though, and the one who looked the youngest had a tat of a wolf up his arm.”

  “What sort of car were they driving?” Aiden said.

  She hesitated. “A dark blue pickup until a day or so ago, but I noticed there was a red vehicle parked in the carport this morning.”

  “Same number plate or different?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the same, would it?” she said. “But if I’m honest, I didn’t really take much notice. Thought it might have belonged to one of the other two.”

 
“Thanks for your help, Mrs. Allan,” Aiden said. “We’ll just head out and wait for the Bendigo division to arrive.”

  She nodded, and watched us walk out the door. Aiden climbed into his truck and punched the number plate into truck’s computer. After a few seconds, the result flashed up onto the screen.

  “Not unexpectedly, the plate was stolen two weeks ago.”

  I frowned. “Isn’t it rather dangerous to be driving around with stolen plates—especially one as rare as I presume a reservation plate would be?”

  “Depends,” he replied. “If they’re only using them outside the reservation, then probably not given how big an area the Bendigo cops have to look after.”

  “Why steal reservation plates at all then? Why not pick a regular Victorian number plate that’s less likely to stand out?”

  He shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person that question.”

  “So you share that sort of information with the regional forces?”

  “Yes, but in the case of reservation plates, most are taken to sell rather than use. Believe it or not, they’re something of a collector’s item.” He glanced around as a blue Commodore pulled into the park. “And that will be Jack.”

  He climbed out and went over to the other vehicle. I walked around the back of the truck then stopped, watching the two men greet each other. Jack was perhaps five or so years older than Aiden, several inches shorter, and built like the proverbial brick wall. Even his muscles appeared to have muscles.

  “Liz, meet Jack Byrnes, senior detective from the Bendigo station,” Aiden said, as the two walked toward me. “Lizzie’s one of our acting reservation witches.”

  Jack held out his hand, his smile warm. “If Aiden had mentioned the new witch was so pretty, I might have visited more often.”

  I smiled and placed my hand in his. His grip was firm and friendly. “Pleasure to meet you, Jack.”

  He nodded and returned his gaze to Aiden. “So, are our culprits here?”

  “No, but the bracelets they’re using to track and kill werewolves are. If nothing else, we need to get into their accommodation and find them. Did you get the warrant?”