by Keri Arthur
Except this spell was cast in the presence of wild magic, came Belle’s thought. It’s also possible Gabe always intended her to be able to command both wellsprings. He did foresee she was meant to be this reservation’s guardian, remember.
It would have taken one hell of a spell to do something like that.
The spell did blow him apart, she said. And very few are capable of that.
The wisp of Katie’s energy released me and spun back toward the trees. I flexed my fingers and then followed as bid. Leaves crunched under every step, and nearby shrubs rustled as small animals skittered away. I hoped like hell none of them were snakes; they weren’t generally active at night, but the weather had been warm enough lately to stir them. I kept half an eye on the ground, just in case.
After several more minutes, we came into a small clearing. A semicircular mound of rocks and dirt taller than me dominated the area to my left; on the top of this a number of large tree branches had fallen, and in such a way that they formed a roof over the rocks to create a cave.
I had no sense of anything untoward, so why on earth had I been led here?
A little confused, I walked across to the cave—and almost immediately gagged. The emanating stench was one of dead meat combined with the sickly sweetness that sometimes came with cheap perfume. I shoved a hand over my nose and stuck to breathing through my mouth. Then, fearing what I was about to find, I squatted down and shone the flashlight’s beam in.
The cave was deeper than it looked and would have fit at least several kneeling people inside. The dry grass had been flattened, suggesting something—or someone—had been using it as a den, but the ground was too dry to hold any prints. There were a few bones scattered about, but the puffs of gray fur and dried bits of leathery-looking tail ends suggested they belonged to either rabbits or bush rats. A fox must have set up home here; it certainly wouldn’t have been a werewolf, as they didn’t hunt within the reservation—not in wolf form anyway. According to Aiden, it simply wasn’t worth the risk, given the reservation depended on tourism to survive. Rumors of wolves on hunting sprees would be the quickest way known to kill that. They might have become an accepted part of the world’s fabric a very long time ago, but old fears still ran deep in many sections of society.
And yet, despite all that, I did have to wonder if his statement was the absolute truth, given how fiercely the three packs here guarded their compound boundaries. No humans were allowed within them—not without permission from the pack’s alphas, anyway—and even then, there had to be a major crisis for ingress to be allowed.
Despite the fact I was going out with Aiden, I’d only gone inside the O’Connor compound twice—once to help Ashworth protect the wellspring, and once to save him from the dark witch who’d been determined to claim the wellspring for his own. We had crossed the boundary edges over the course of other investigations, but that was it. I’d never met Aiden’s parents or—Ciara aside—any of his siblings. I wasn’t ever likely to, either; I was a fun time, not a long time, as far as Aiden and his kin were concerned.
I ignored the ache that rose and studied the cave for a few seconds longer, looking for but not finding the source of the putrid scent.
In the end, I gave up and instead walked around the rocks to see what else was here. There had to be something—I doubted Katie would have led me so far off the track just to show me rabbit and rat remains.
And I was right; the rock on the opposite side of the mound was not only stained with blood, but had feathers lying at its base. Those feathers looked exactly like the ones we’d found earlier this evening.
A fox wasn’t the only one who’d been using these rocks for a lair.
My gaze jerked toward the trees—a ridiculous reaction, given that even if the shifter was watching me, I wasn’t likely to spot her. But the evil I’d felt earlier no longer stained the air, and while that was no guarantee I was alone, it nevertheless released some of the tension.
I returned my gaze to the rock. The blood had to belong to the shifter, because surely there would have been at least some scraps of skin and bone if it had come from her prey. But if she’d been seriously injured when the magical blow had thrown her so badly off course, why hadn’t she shifted to human form and healed herself? Why had she moved from there to here in order to bleed and shed more feathers? That made no sense.
Unless the magic that blew her off course also somehow restricted her ability to shift out of bird form, came Belle’s thought.
My gaze rose to the trees I’d come out of. You feel close.
That’s because we are. I told Monty the wild magic had come to fetch you, and he immediately wanted to see what you’d found.
He’s on crutches.
He is indeed, and tripping over every tree root and rock there is to find. A mix of amusement and annoyance ran through her mental tone.
If he’s not careful, he’ll break his other leg.
I did mention that. He scoffed at my lack of faith in his balance.
I snorted. I’m surprised he hasn’t used some sort of transport spell to make things easier.
He said they’re physically draining and aren’t good over long distances. He didn’t want to risk exerting himself too much when he might need all his strength later.
He’s not exactly conserving strength crutching his way through scrub.
I also mentioned that. He gave me a disapproving look and told me to get a move on.
I chuckled softly and held a hand above the pile of feathers. The magic emanating from them didn’t quite have the same feel as the other feathers we’d found, suggesting my initial guess was wrong and that these feathers actually belonged to one of the other shifters. The caress of magic was also much stronger, but only, I suspected, because it was fresher. That meant we might have better luck using them to track the shifter down.
The sound of twigs snapping had me looking up again. A violent curse and then a laugh that was only half swallowed followed.
Monty appeared a few seconds later. He had a multitude of twigs in his hair and scratches on his arms. Belle followed him, her grin unrestrained.
“What have we got, Liz?” He hobbled over surprisingly fast.
“Well hello to you, too,” I said, voice dry.
He had the grace to look chastened, if only momentarily. “Sorry, just eager to get back into the action. Been going a bit stir-crazy after all the inactivity and hospital stays.”
“You worked in spell cataloguing for most of your working life. You should be used to inaction.”
He stopped beside me. His face was flushed with heat, and sweat dribbled down his cheeks and stained the underarms of his shirt. “It seems I’ve gained a taste for action, despite being in the reservation for only a short time. What do we have?”
“Feathers.”
He gave me the look. “I can see that much.”
I grinned. “Did Belle tell you about the ones we found earlier?”
“Yes, and Ashworth should have waited for me. I am the stronger witch.”
“Dare you to say that to Ashworth,” Belle commented.
He grinned. “I’m not actually that silly. I take it these are from the same shifter?”
I hesitated. “There’s some very minor differences, so I don’t think so. But the output is stronger.”
“Yeah, I can feel it from here.” He hesitated. “There’re two threads of magic running through the wave though.”
I glanced up sharply. “There are?”
His smile was smug. “More powerful witch, remember?”
I snorted. “I wonder if the second thread is the residue of whatever magic flung the shifter off course.”
“More than likely,” he said. “But that begs the question, why attack them and not follow up?”
“Maybe he or she simply intended to stop the shifters taking their prey,” Belle said.
“At least two of them were fairly badly hurt,” I said. “That suggests the attacker’s intent was dee
per than just interfering with their hunt.”
“I agree.” Monty glanced at me. “Have you got any containers in that backpack?”
“I have Ziploc bags.” And disposable gloves. Aiden might have a seemingly endless supply in his pockets, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have additional ones on hand. “Why?”
“To scrape some of the dried blood into. Might be worth seeing if it’s the same blood on both rocks.”
I got out one of the bags and my blessed silver knife and began scraping. Light rippled down the edge that touched the blood, an indication that it still held the taint of either darkness or magic. “What about the feathers? Do you want to try tracking their owner tonight?”
He hesitated and then motioned toward them. “Let me feel one of them.”
I picked out the one with the strongest vibe and handed it up. He studied it for several moments, testing and probing it magically, then grimaced. “We won’t get very far—the magic we’re feeling is actually some sort of tracking barrier.”
“Why would she magically protect the feathers rather than simply picking them up and taking them away?” Belle said.
He shrugged. “She might have been dazed, either from blood loss or the remnants of whatever spell sent her flying.”
“If she was lucid enough to spell,” I said, “she was lucid enough to simply pick them up. Why leave a magic marker like that?”
“Maybe she doesn’t think we can trace her via her magic.”
“Can you?” Belle asked.
Monty gave her the ‘of course I can’ look. “But those sorts of spells have a very limited range.”
“Then what good is it?” she said. “We can’t exactly drive around the entire reservation in the vague hope the spell will activate.”
“No, but if I unpick her spell and study its structure, I might be able to cast a spell that will have a greater range.” He shrugged. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work—especially if she continues to hide out in uninhabited areas—but it’s worth a shot.”
And it was better than what we currently had—nothing. I carefully gathered the feathers, placed them in the plastic bag, and then handed it up to him.
He briefly caught my wrist. “What in the hell is that?”
“Wild magic—”
“Obviously, but why is it around your wrist like that?”
I hesitated. “Remember how I mentioned Aiden’s sister was now part of the wild magic? Well, apparently this makes it easier for her to communicate with me.”
Which was only a slight variation of the truth. Monty hadn’t yet discovered the second wellspring, and I damn well intended to keep it that way for as long as I could. Neither Gabe nor Katie deserved to have their clearing disturbed by another witch, even a well-meaning one.
Given the strength of the shielding around that clearing, Belle commented silently, it’s doubtful if he’d ever find it. There’s probably a redirect spell entwined through the layers somewhere.
If there is, it didn’t work on me.
No, but you were meant to find it. He’s not.
Monty shook his head. “This shouldn’t be happening. Nothing I’ve read about the wild magic has ever mentioned the connection you seem to be forming with it. I really, really think we need—”
“No,” I cut in curtly. “Don’t even bother finishing that sentence, Monty.”
He hesitated, his expression troubled. “I understand why, but I really think this could be dangerous.”
“Maybe, but I fear Clayton a whole lot more than I fear the wild magic. You know him, Monty. You know how strong he is. Do you honestly think that if he did come here, you’d be able to keep me safe? That you could counter any spell he placed on me.”
“No, but the risk—”
“Is worth it, at least for me. I’m not being dragged back to Canberra, Monty. Not to be prodded and probed, and certainly not to take up the position of that bastard’s wife.”
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It makes it damn difficult to find journals relating to human interaction with wild magic without explaining why, you know.”
I gripped his arm. “I know, and I’m sorry, but I just can’t risk him ever finding me.”
Monty grunted. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Then at least tell me why you’ve formed the connection. I think you know that, at the very least.”
I hesitated, and then did so. “It’s only a theory, but it’s also the only thing that makes sense.”
He scraped a hand through his unruly hair, sending broken bits of leaves and twigs flying. “I agree. But, holy fuck—your mother almost died, so by all accounts you certainly should have.”
I shrugged. “The wellspring was brand-new. So was I. Maybe that’s why I survived what would kill most.”
“History is littered with tales of strong witches trying—and failing—to embrace the wild magic. You were little more than an embryo; it should have simply fried you.”
“Perhaps that’s the very reason she did survive,” Belle said. “Her cells were so new they were able to adapt.”
“Maybe.” He shook his head and smiled. “I guess if nothing else, it’s going to be interesting to see where all this ends. But if it does happen to kill you, can I submit my observations to the council?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, but I hope you understand my fervent wish that never happens.”
His grin flashed. “Well, of course, but hey, one has to ask these things, just in case.”
“One really doesn’t,” Belle said dryly. “What’s the plan, then? Are we dropping you off at Aiden’s car, or are you going home?”
“I notice you didn’t give the option of going back to the café.” His hurt expression was somewhat spoiled by the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “One would think you didn’t want me around or something.”
“One could also remember that it’s damn late. I need my beauty sleep.”
“Anyone who says that is a liar. You’re perfect, eye bags or not.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Monty?”
He simply grinned. “You can drop me back at my place. It’s too early for me to sleep, so I’ll fiddle with the feathers and see if I can create a tracker.”
“Done. Let’s go, Hopalong.”
He snorted, but nevertheless followed. I hesitated, then quickly created a simple alert spell—adding an exception for small animals—and wove it around the perimeter of the rocks.
“If the shifter is at all sensitive to magic, that’s not going to work,” Monty commented.
“I know, but it’s still worth trying.” I wove a couple of strands of wild magic through the spell to ensure it fed off that rather than me, and then tied it off and followed Monty and Belle out of the clearing.
As we neared the main road, the wild magic encircling my wrist released and drifted away. It once again left me feeling oddly bereft.
We drove Monty to his place and watched until he was safely inside, before driving off. Once we were home, I made us both a cup of hot chocolate and then headed upstairs to do some more reading. Aiden hadn’t rung by the time I’d finished my drink, so I went to bed. While no dreams hit, I remained restless, unable to escape the feeling that trouble was coming our way—fast.
I woke up earlier than usual and went downstairs to make myself a revitalization potion and do the few final bits of prep for the café. We were busy all day, and Aiden, Ashworth, and Monty were all conspicuous by their absence. Which was frustrating, because I really wanted to know what—if anything—had been uncovered last night.
My phone finally rang just as we were finishing for the day, the ringtone telling me it was Aiden.
“Busy day, I’m gathering,” I said by way of hello.
“Yeah.” Tiredness was etched into his voice. “Do you mind if I call it a night and go home?”
Disappointment slithered through me, but I kept my voice light. “No sex for two nights in a row—are you sure you’ll survive, Ranger?”
<
br /> He laughed softly. “Even a werewolf has to sleep sometimes.”
“I’ve seen little enough evidence of that so far.”
“Says the witch who wakes me at all hours.”
“I told you, I have many years of abstinence to catch up on.”
“And I’m more than happy to meet that demand. Just not tonight.”
I chuckled softly. “Come over for breakfast tomorrow, then, if you want.”
“I will, thanks. Oh, and while I think about it, you up for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Is this a regular dinner date or the mysterious one?”
“The latter.”
“Sure. We going anywhere fancy?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t tell me where?”
“No. It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“So I’m discovering. Night, gorgeous. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
I harrumphed. “I only ever let certain werewolves bite me.”
He chuckled and hung up. Almost immediately, the phone rang again. It was Monty.
“What’s up?”
“I need transport.”
“Then call a cab. Or an Uber.”
“Not that sort of transport.” His tone was annoyed. “I think I can track our shifter, but I can’t drive and follow the directional spell at the same time.”
He wasn’t supposed to drive at all, but I restrained the urge to point that out. “I’ll be around in ten.”
“Good.” He paused. “Is Belle coming along as well?”
“No, she is not,” came Belle’s response from the kitchen.
“I heard that,” Monty said. “Anyone would think she’s avoiding me.”
“She has a date,” I said.
“Really? Who?”
“That’s none of your damn business, cuz.”
“How am I supposed to beat the competition when I have no idea who the competition is?” he grumbled.