by Arthur, Keri
“Yeah. Just knocked out. Have you called the paramedics?”
“Yes—though I’m doubting Ashworth will actually appreciate it.”
I grinned. Ashworth could be missing a limb and he’d still no doubt tell them he was okay and to stop damn well fussing. I rose and moved around him. The area where the dark witch’s protection circle had been was scorched, the black stones in shattered shards that lay in forlorn pieces all around the clearing. While the magic clinging to them was only faint, I carefully avoided stepping on any of the bits that lay between me and Chester; though I doubted they’d hold anything that would harm me, I had no idea what was and wasn’t possible when it came to blood magic, and there was no way known I was going to take any sort of chance.
The scorching on Chester’s clothes and skin was far worse, and there were bits of stone embedded also, but he was breathing and I couldn’t immediately see any sign of deeper injury. I swept the knife over his body; as had been the case with Ashworth, the blade’s reaction was weak. If there was magic here, then it was on a much deeper level than either Belle’s or my magic was capable of sensing. I touched his neck; his pulse was a little more erratic than Ashworth’s but still very strong.
“Chester’s also alive.” I pushed upright. “And I can’t sense much in the way of secondary magic on either of them.”
Aiden walked into the clearing. “I’m gathering Chester is the heretic hunter that’s been called in?”
“Yes—and this isn’t exactly an auspicious start to his investigation.”
“No.” Aiden stopped a few feet short of the scorched circle and studied it. “But I guess if the body we have in the morgue is confirmed to be our dark witch, no one else is dead, and whatever spell was here has now been countermanded, we should consider it a win.”
“Let’s just hope his spell has been countermanded.”
Aiden glanced at me sharply. “Meaning what?”
“I don’t know.” I swung the pack off and tucked the knife safely away. “Something about all this just isn’t making sense.”
“Like what?”
I waved a hand toward the blackened earth. “Like why would a spell live beyond the life of its creator? As far as I’m aware, it shouldn’t. And then there’s the whole question of why a dark witch would even leave his circle in the first place.”
“Maybe he trusted whoever he was with.”
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“I don’t know what to think. I just know we’re missing something.”
He grunted. “Given how often those instincts of yours have proven to be right of late, I’m not about to discount them.” He waved a hand toward the scorched ground. “What actually happened here?”
“Either the deconstruction didn’t go well or, for some weird reason, this explosion is exactly what the dark witch intended.”
“I’m thinking it’s probably both,” Ashworth said.
I spun around. He’d pushed into a sitting position and was rubbing a grimy hand across even grimier features. “Damn if it doesn’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“You shouldn’t move too much—”
“I’m fine,” he said sharply. “Stop your fussing.”
I hid my smile. Aside from the fact he’d reacted exactly as I’d figured, he sounded exactly like my grandfather in that moment.
Aiden walked over and offered the other man a hand. Ashworth gripped it and was easily hauled up. He brushed away the grit and grime from his clothes and then glanced across at Chester. “He alive?”
“Yes. Just knocked unconscious, same as you,” Aiden said. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“The bloody protection circle exploded, that’s what happened.”
“Yes,” Aiden said, very obviously containing his annoyance. “But how?”
Ashworth took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m not exactly sure. Everything seemed to be going fine and then boom.”
“Did Chester say what sort of spell it was?”
“A multilayered one reinforced with blood.” He glanced at the burned earth and grimaced. “Whose blood is a question that needed answering, but I’m guessing it won’t be easy to get a sample now.”
“That depends on how deeply the blood soaked into the ground and how far down the earth was burned,” Aiden replied. “Did you uncover anything about the witch behind the magic?”
“Some,” Chester said, voice hoarse and edged with pain. He started sitting up but grabbed at the arm he’d been lying on and cursed loudly. The arm wasn’t broken. There was a knife-like shard of quartz embedded in it.
As he reached across, obviously intending to rip it out, I yelled, “Don’t!”
I swung my pack off my shoulder and hurried over.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why on earth not?”
I snorted. “Don’t they teach you first aid up in Canberra?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing.” I dug the first aid kit out of the pack and quickly unzipped it. “Until the paramedics get here and can assure you there’s been no major blood vessels sliced by that thing, we keep that shard immobilized and in your arm. It might just be the only thing standing between you and bleeding to death.”
“And all the other little bits?” His voice was dry. “Surely I can take them out?”
I hesitated, and then nodded. There might have been plenty of those other bits embedded into his clothes but very few of them seemed to be digging into his skin.
As I began to wrap a bandage around the quartz to hold it in place, Aiden said, “Are you able to explain what happened here?”
Chester snorted. “Yeah, the bastard who made the protection circle was cannier than I expected.”
“Meaning what?” Aiden asked.
“Meaning that while the protection spell placed on the stones initially seemed simple enough—strong, but simple—there were several sub-layers woven into it that got more and more complicated. I caught three. I saw the last one too late.”
“What sorts of spells were layered in?” I finished tying up the bandage and then repacked the kit in the pack.
He shrugged. “They were basically trip-spells of growing complexity, and are usually meant to test rather than hurt.”
“Except for the last one,” Ashworth said. “If you hadn’t have sensed it at the last moment, both of us might well be dead.”
“I’m not so sure on that,” Chester said. “If it had truly been meant to kill, I think we’d both now be dead.”
I sat back on my heels. “Then what do you think was intended?”
“That is a damn good question, and probably one I won’t be able to answer until I see the body of our practitioner in the morgue.”
Meaning he did have a theory but wasn’t willing to share it just yet.
“Were you able to tell anything at all about the witch from his magic?” Aiden asked.
“His magic is strong and dark, and it’s not one I’ve encountered before. It at least means it’s not Frankel Kang, who’s the number-one most wanted on our heretic hit list.”
“Which sounds like a good thing, but probably isn’t,” I muttered.
He glanced at me. “And you’d be right. Two and three are also pretty nasty pieces of work.”
“They’re dark witches,” Ashworth commented. “That comes with the territory.”
“Indeed it does.” Chester held out his hand. “Help me up, young woman.”
“I don’t really think you should—”
“Hogwash,” he said. “Besides, I’m no fool. If I thought for a second there was any internal damage, I’d be waiting for the paramedics as you were no doubt about to suggest.”
It wasn’t like he’d actually know if there was internal damage, as sometimes these things simply didn’t give you any sign. But I didn’t bother arguing, just rose and clasped Chester’s hand. His magic curled around my fingers as easily as his hand, but it was little more tha
n a faint splutter of energy. Deconstructing the spell really had weakened him and that had unease treading lightly through my soul. If this witch was stronger than Chester, we were in deep trouble….
I frowned at the thought. The witch was dead, so why the hell were my instincts twitching?
I didn’t know.
And to be honest, I really, really didn’t want to know.
“So how strong was our dead witch?” Aiden asked.
“He was fairly high up on the power scale,” Chester said heavily. “Which means it’s probably just as well he was betrayed by those who’d employed him. The stronger the witch, the deeper his connection to the dark energies and spirits of this world, and the harder it is to track and kill them.”
“Is that why Frankel Kang is still on the loose?” I asked mildly. “Because he escaped your noose?”
Chester glanced at me sharply. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
I half smiled. “I’m a psychic who’s very good at reading people.”
“Oh, I think you’re a hell of a lot more than that.” He released my hand and walked across to the scorched circle. “Whatever the actual intent of the magic here, it’s been fragmented and destroyed. The area is quite safe if you wish to bring people in.”
Aiden nodded. “Do you think it possible he’s left other such traps around the reservation?”
“Right now, anything is possible, given we have no real idea what his intention was.”
The sharp sound of an approaching siren bit across the night—the ambulance and paramedics were arriving. We escorted the two men back through the trees.
Belle was waiting inside our old wagon. Tala leaned against her truck, her arms crossed and weariness evident in both her expression and the way she stood. There was a fresh Band-Aid across her forehead and yellow smears I suspected were antiseptic across several other scratches on her cheek and her arms.
The ambulance pulled to a halt beside the trucks and two paramedics hopped out. Ashworth was cleared, but Chester—despite his protests—was placed in the back of the ambulance and whisked away so that the shard in his arm could be scanned before it was removed.
“I’ll check the hospital for Chester’s condition in the morning,” Ashworth said. “But it’s likely he won’t be released until at least midmorning, and that means we won’t be able to check and ID the body until the afternoon.”
Aiden nodded. “We’re running an outside facial recognition check on the off chance we can find a match.”
Ashworth snorted and moved toward his truck. Despite his claims to the contrary, he was now limping and his aura swirled with a mustardy color, signaling pain. “I wish you luck, Ranger, but I personally doubt you’ll get anything given he’s missing half his face and he’s a dark witch. Concealment is part of the whole game of survival for those bastards, and they’re very damn good at it.”
“It still doesn’t hurt to check,” Aiden said mildly.
“I take it from that the witch’s fingerprints had indeed been removed?” I asked, as Ashworth climbed into his truck then reversed and left.
“Yeah, and some time ago given the skin had healed over.” He glanced past me. “Tala, go home.”
“But what about taping off—”
“I’ll do it. You go home and get some rest.”
She nodded and climbed into her vehicle. Aiden’s gaze returned to mine. “You’re welcome to go back to my place—”
“No,” I said, before he could finish. “I’ll go home. I think we both could use the sleep.”
He smiled then stepped forward and kissed me—gently but passionately. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”
I nodded and walked across to the wagon. By the time I’d climbed in and buckled up, he’d disappeared into the forest.
“So,” Belle said, once we were back on the main road and heading toward Castle Rock. “Do you think this is all over?”
A tired smile touched my lips. “What do you think?”
“I think your trouble antenna is twitching.”
“And you’d be right.” I wrinkled my nose. “This whole thing is stinking higher than sour milk.”
“Did Aiden say anything about the body? Or the motorbike we heard?”
“I really haven’t had a chance to question him.” I shifted to study her. “So, you and Zak? On or off?”
“Officially off. He does indeed fancy one of the newcomers and wants to be free to pursue her during the Christmas celebrations.” She glanced at me. “Apparently, the three packs come together tonight for a two-day celebration that not only involves lots of drinking and sex, but is also a time during which new relationships are started and old ones formalized.”
“Meaning I have to hope Aiden doesn’t find a nice little wolf to play with. Not this Christmas, anyway.”
“You’ve barely even explored that man’s goods, and you’re already worrying about when he’s going to leave?”
I whacked her arm lightly. “You know what I mean. You are, after all, the one who goes on and on about my habit of picking short-term losers.”
“Yeah, but Aiden’s not one of them. I think the fates have finally taken pity on your relationship woes and given you a nice break.”
“Hopefully a longish break given the amount of cobwebs that have gathered.”
“You’re fully capable of self-service, so don’t be whining about no cobwebs.” The glance she cast my way was stern, but it was somewhat spoiled by the amusement dancing in her eyes. “Besides, given the fact half the town was betting on when you two would finally get together, it’s pretty safe to say he didn’t indulge last Christmas.”
“Which doesn’t mean he can’t and won’t this year.”
“True.” She pursed her lips. “I can’t see it though.”
I hoped she was right, but I wasn’t betting my heart on it.
It didn’t take us long to get back to the café. Belle parked the car around the back and we entered via the rarely used back door. The Christmas lights twinkled brightly, washing color through the dark room, and the air was thick with the scent of apple and cinnamon. Belle had obviously been baking again before she’d gone to bed—a sign that, despite her fortitude, she was going to miss Zak.
We ducked under the plastic and headed upstairs to our separate bedrooms. The builders had worked their butts off and the roof was once again intact. There was still a heap of plastering and painting to do, but at least we were weatherproof and could once again start sleeping here.
I stripped off, climbed into bed, and was pretty much asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But it wasn’t dreamless; instead, it was filled with portents of doom—of power seeking power, fancy black teapots with legs dancing to the tune of magic, and wolves running through forests, shedding blood and skin as they howled in pain to the moon.
I woke with a start, a soft cry of denial dying on my lips. My heart was racing and my limbs twitched as if trying to run with those wolves. To help them, even though that wasn’t possible.
I threw off the sheet and swung my feet out of bed. Magpies were chorusing outside and the hall was filled with light, so dawn had obviously come and gone. I grabbed my phone to check the time: six forty-five. Which, despite the fuzzy need for more sleep, was in reality only fifteen minutes earlier than my usual wake-up time.
I grabbed a T-shirt long enough to cover my butt and hauled it on as I headed down the stairs to make breakfast. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, warming the room and holding the promise of another hot day. I flicked on the coffee machine and aircon, and then walked over and lowered all the blinds. The Christmas lights we’d left on last night instantly brightened, sending flashes of color spinning throughout the room. Which was just as well, because I doubted our customers were going to get much in the way brightness out of me today.
Belle stumbled down the stairs just as I was plating up bacon and eggs for our breakfast. “I’d say good morning, but given the bags under your eyes and the un
happy vibes I’m getting, I’m gathering you didn’t have a good night.”
“No.”
I grabbed knives and forks and then carried our plates over to a table. Belle made us each a cappuccino and then joined me.
“Did you dream about anything in particular, or was it just the usual nonsensical mess?”
I gave her a brief rundown as I started in on my food.
“That whole power thing suggests that even if the dark witch is dead, he hasn’t finished with this reservation yet.”
“Chester did say last night that it was possible he’s set other traps.” I swished some bacon around in the yolk and added, “Except that really doesn’t make much sense given my dreams suggest it’s power seeking power.”
“But maybe it simply means that power is seeking to kill power rather than control it—that explosion almost took out both of them, remember.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess that’s possible.”
“But you don’t think so?”
I hesitated. “I really can’t say.”
She snorted softly. “And you bitch about my spirit guides being obtuse.”
I grinned. “Well they are.”
“Twenty-four hours,” she said mildly. “That’s how long you managed without taking a swipe at them.”
“If I went any longer they’d keel over in shock.”
She paused, obviously listening to the incoming comments from the other side. “They said while that might well be the case, they are more than prepared to risk such an event.”
I snorted. “It’s good to see they remain in such fine form.”
“They like this place. They’re hoping we don’t have to move.”
“They could put in a good word to the fates for us. You know, do a little wrangling and divert any possibility of us having to leave happening.”
Belle gave me the look—the one that said, “don’t be daft.” “That sort of stuff happens in kids’ books, not real life.”
“It still can’t hurt putting it out there. Maybe someone will actually listen.” I finished my breakfast then picked up my coffee and nursed the mug between my hands. “The dancing teapots obviously have something to do with the witch who gave our skinned shifter the charm, given I saw the same sort of thing when I was doing the reading on that bloody thread.”
