Hunter Hunted

by Arthur, Keri

  I know, I know. But it still didn’t stop the deep down niggle—the one that already knew I was going to be a mess when he finally did leave.

  He finished demolishing the rest of his food and then leaned back with a happy sigh.

  “There’s plenty more if you want it,” I said, amused.

  “Maybe once I’ve taken your statement.” He took out his phone, hit record, and started asking me questions as I tucked into my meal.

  Once he’d finally stopped recording, I said, “How are the investigations going?”

  “You do know I technically shouldn’t be talking to either of you about them now that we have a reservation witch.”

  “He’s temporary. And I’m prettier.”

  “And you also happen to have a friend who has absolutely no qualms about dragging the information out of my brain.”

  Belle grinned and raised her glass in acknowledgment.

  He snorted. “The blood we found in that burned-out protection circle doesn’t match the blood group of our dead witch.”

  “Meaning he’s used something or someone else to create his spell,” I said.

  “The blood was human, not animal.”

  “Then I guess the question needing to be answered,” Belle said, “is, was that person a willing apprentice or unwilling random stranger snatched off the street?”

  “And if the latter,” I added, “why haven’t we got a body?”

  “He might not have killed the source,” Belle said.

  “Maybe, but the blood stain in the middle of that circle was a large one. He’s at least lost a lot of blood even if he isn’t dead, and that probably means he’d need a transfusion.” I glanced at Aiden. “I’m guessing you’ve already checked the hospitals?”

  “Yes. No one with a serious knife wound has fronted up at the emergency departments in either of the reservation hospitals.”

  “What about the nearest one outside the reservation?”

  “Them neither.” Aiden picked up a slab of bread and threw some turkey on it. “And Chester is not being overly helpful—his answer to just about any question ranges between vague and noncommittal.”

  Which didn’t surprise me if he was, as I suspected, protecting his own butt. “Has Ciara received a reply on the DNA and bloods she sent up to Canberra?”

  He nodded. “The body in the morgue is indeed Jonathan Ashworth.”

  I frowned. “If my math is correct, Jonathan was only fifty-four. The body we found looked at least thirty years older than that.”

  “He did. Chester said it’s due to the use of blood magic—the more you use it, the greater the speed of aging.”

  “Meaning our witch has used it a hell of a lot,” Belle commented. “Maybe that explains how he ended up having half his head blown off. Maybe his thinking and reactions had come down to the level of an eighty-year-old.”

  “I know plenty of eighty-year-olds who could beat the crap out of me when it comes to strength and brain power,” Aiden commented, amused.

  “Okay, a decrepit eighty-year-old then.”

  “It still doesn’t explain what happened to the second person, though.” I followed Aiden’s lead and made myself a turkey, cranberry, and gravy sandwich. “If he was an unwilling blood source, why wouldn’t he have fronted up to report the crime? Or gone to a hospital?”

  “Maybe he just went to a doctor’s surgery,” Belle said.

  “Which is why Maggie is currently contacting all medical providers both within the reservation or on our boundaries,” Aiden said.

  “That could take ages,” Belle said. “Maybe we should take her over some eggnog to help her get through the task.”

  Aiden smiled. “She is our ranger in training. All the shitty jobs are hers, just as they were mine when I was in the same position.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Were you in diapers when you started training?”

  He laughed. “I was eighteen.”

  “Which means you zoomed up the ladder in—how long have you been head ranger?”

  “Going on two years, and I was lucky. Jenny Wright—the previous head—was heading interstate in an exchange program, and we had two other retirements in the same year. I was the most senior ranger left; Tala, who was one year behind me, became my second.”

  “Tala’s older than you though,” I commented.

  He nodded. “She joined our ranks when she was twenty-five. She worked as a customer service rep at the local bank before that, but it didn’t pan out.”

  “Having witnessed her warm, caring, and extremely helpful attitude,” Belle murmured, “color me shocked.”

  “She is all that once you get to know her. It just takes a while.” He finished his sandwich and made another, this time with ham.

  I finished my eggnog and then grabbed his. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good alcoholic beverage. “What about the skinning case—any movement on that?”

  He grimaced. “We found the truck you mentioned. It’d been abandoned and burned out up on Adam’s Track in the Dundoogal Nature Conservation reserve. We’re pretty damn lucky the fire brigade got there as quickly as they did, because it could have resulted in the whole area going up.”

  “I guess it’s too early to tell yet whether it was stolen or not.”

  “The number plates were charred but we were able to grab an impression from them—the truck was stolen.”

  “And the murdered wolf?” Belle asked softly.

  He grimaced. “It was Angus Sinclair. He was fifty, and a good friend of my father’s.”

  I briefly touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Dad took the news pretty hard.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw, the sound like sandpaper. “First indications are that he died of a heart attack, even though there were no indications of heart problems beforehand.”

  I hesitated, and then said, “That necklace I used to track him—he was very fearful, Aiden, and I could feel the tightness in his chest.”

  “Fear doesn’t match the nature of the man I knew.”

  “Yes, but he was being forced into actions against his will,” I said, “and he had no idea why.”

  “Did you see anything else? A hint of the hunters, perhaps?”

  “No.” I hesitated again. “But when I touched that chain, I got the impression that he wasn’t only being forced to run, but also that he’d been brought down by something other than a gunshot. We certainly didn’t hear a shot and, given how close we were by then, we would have unless they were using a silencer.”

  “They weren’t. That dart in his shoulder was tipped with some sort of poison—”

  “Why would they do that,” I cut in, “when silver itself is poisonous to werewolves?”

  He shrugged. “When Ciara pins down the type of poison they used, we might have a clearer idea. But it’s possible it attributed to his heart attack.”

  “Don’t discount the power of fear,” Belle said quietly. “While fear might power the flight or fight response, it is possible for someone to be so afraid—so terrified for their life—that it causes a heart attack.”

  “I guess I just find it hard to believe that such a big, powerful wolf in the prime of his life could be so easily taken.” He grimaced. “But I guess he’d at least lived a good portion of his life. Jamison had only just started.”

  Just as my sister had only just started hers. I blinked back the sudden sting of tears and thrust upright. “Anyone for tea or coffee?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Aiden said. His gaze followed me as I walked behind the counter, and I very much suspected he’d caught that brief glimmer. “I actually came here to ask if you were busy this afternoon.”

  I glanced over my shoulder as I filled up the kettle. “Why?”

  “Ashworth said you’d asked him about witch stores whose name had something to do with either black or dancing teapots.”

  “Yeah—I’ve seen them twice now. Once when I was reading that thread on the first victim, and once in my dreams the other
night.” I leaned back against the counter as I waited for the kettle to boil. “Did he find some?”

  Aiden nodded. “He got bored when he was waiting for them to operate on his arm, so he nabbed a computer from who knows where and logged into the witch business register to see what he could find.”

  “And he found something?” Belle asked.

  “Four somethings—all of them outside the reservation.”

  “Then why isn’t Ashworth accompanying you?” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d want to be left behind, especially after being cooped up in the hospital for the last couple of days.”

  “You mean aside from the fact I’d rather be with you than him?”

  I smiled. “Yes, aside from that.”

  “He only had the surgery yesterday. He’s going to be in for a few more days yet, no matter how loud he protests.”

  “Remind me to stay out of his way when he does get out,” Belle muttered. “I can just imagine the mood he’s going to be in.”

  “What about Chester?” I asked. “What’s he doing?”

  “I actually don’t know. As I said, he’s rather closed-mouthed.” Aiden glanced at Belle. “Maybe you should try invading his mind for a change.”

  “I did. He’s protected.”

  “Can you get past it?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Will you try?”

  “Possibly.”

  Amusement twitched his lips. “Please?”

  “Well, seeing you asked so nicely, I’ll give it a go next time he’s here. But I make no promises.”

  I made his coffee and our tea, then placed them all on a tray and carried them over. Our conversation rolled on to other topics, and by the time our hot drinks and a good portion of the remaining food had been consumed, it was time for him to go.

  He rose and kissed my cheek. “I’ll be back at one to pick you up.”

  “I’ll be waiting out front.”

  “Good.” He gave Belle a nod and left.

  I poured the remaining eggnog into our two glasses then leaned back and said, “Don’t expect me back tonight. I intend to have my wicked way with that man.”

  She grinned. “I think you’ll find that intention mutual.”

  “I would hope so.” I twirled the eggnog around in my glass for a second. “Chester worries me. He’s obviously hiding something and I think it’s going to cause us problems.”

  “Is that a personal ‘us’ or a more general one?”

  “More general.” I frowned. “Jonathan Ashworth may be dead, but I don’t think we’ve seen the end of whatever it is he was up to. That circle he created was huge—it was meant to contain extremely powerful and dangerous magic.”

  Belle frowned. “What were Ashworth’s thoughts about it?”

  “Ashworth thinks Chester is an arrogant idiot who almost got them both killed.”

  Belle laughed. “I’m liking that old man more and more.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to be sorry to see him go.”

  “We may be the only ones. I’m betting the council will throw a party once he steps off the reservation.”

  “Possibly, although there’s no saying the new witch will be any better.”

  “He’s much younger—”

  “Which only means he could be all that much more full of himself.”

  “All too true.” Her quick smile faded. “Did you ever make that full protection charm for Aiden?”

  “I did indeed.” It was, in fact, his Christmas present.

  “Good.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me the spirits are whispering sweet nothings in your ear again.”

  She hesitated and then shrugged. “They remain uneasy. There’s evil afoot, but they can’t track it down. And yes, before you say it, they know that’s not helpful.”

  I grinned. “I’ll have to do better with my replies if they’re now guessing what I’m about to say.”

  “They have been hanging about the pair of us for a very long time now.” Her gaze narrowed slightly, then a grin split her lips. “They said it only sometimes feels like a very long time.”

  There was nothing much I could say to that, so I got up, retrieved the two small Christmas puds Belle had put on earlier, smothered them in custard and cream, and served them up.

  By the time one had rolled around, I was filled to the brim and ready for a nap. I headed upstairs to change, and then grabbed another bag—the one I’d used last time was still sitting in Aiden’s bedroom—shoved in fresh clothes and his present, and then said goodbye to Belle and headed outside to wait.

  His truck pulled up a few minutes later, and his look was appreciative as I climbed in. “I’m rather liking all these short dresses you’re wearing of late.”

  “Not that I’m doing it specifically for your pleasure, but it’s nice you’ve noticed.” I pulled the small, gift-wrapped box from my bag and handed it to him. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Thanks.” He leaned across and kissed me, his lips warm and passionate against mine. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until we get back to my place for yours. In my rush to leave enough time to see you this morning, I left it sitting on the kitchen counter.”

  “Oh, very smooth, Ranger.”

  “But true.”

  He unwrapped the present and then picked up the plaited leather charm inside. It had been made of three different colored leathers and copper, and basically looked no different to the leather neck-cords I’d seen many of the younger wolves wearing.

  “Do you like it?” I asked.

  “I do, but I’m gathering it’s no ordinary neck-cord.”

  “No, it has every protection spell I know woven into it. It’ll protect you from ill-intent, evil spirits, and most curses except for those created by blood witches. And you can shower in it.”

  He quickly slipped it on and then kissed me again, this time taking his time. By the time we’d come up for air, my pulse was racing and desire pounded through my veins. This evening suddenly seemed a very long way away.

  “I need to stop kissing you like that—”

  “No,” I quickly cut in, “you don’t.”

  He grinned. “When I’m working and can’t rush you off somewhere to complete what we just started.”

  “There, there.” I leaned across to pat his thigh comfortingly. His muscles twitched at the contact, and I couldn’t help noticing his baggy jeans suddenly weren’t—at least around the crotch area. “As the saying goes, anything worth having is worth waiting for.”

  “I’ve a more apt saying for you—waiting is the rust of the soul. Or, in this case, the loins.”

  I laughed. “If you waited over a damn year, you can wait six hours.”

  He shoved the car into gear and pulled out of the parking spot. “To be precise, five hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds. Not that I’m counting or anything.”

  I was, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “So, where are we going?”

  He shifted slightly and pulled a piece of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Here’s the list Ashworth gave me.”

  I did my best to ignore the warmth lingering on the paper as I unfolded it. “Tea and Tinctures, A Pot of Magic, The Tea Cauldron, and The Black Samovar.” I frowned. “What the hell is a samovar?”

  “It’s a traditional metal container—basically, an urn—that’s used in Russia to heat water.”

  “And how do you know this random fact?”

  His grin flashed. “I googled it. Some of them were quite fancy—and more than a few actually had a traditional-looking teapot sitting on the top of them.”

  I was tempted to ask why, but I rather suspected it was simply a decoration thing. “Where are we heading first?”

  “I thought we’d start distant and work our way back in.”

  Which meant A Pot of Magic was our first stop while the last one would be The Black Samovar, as it was in Ballan and was the closest to his place in Argyle.

  We made our way across
to Woodend. A Pot of Magic was situated between a florist and a real estate agent, and was rich with all the usual paraphernalia low-powered witches used to lure in unsuspecting clients. This particular witch had gray hair, blue eyes, a happy smile, and an aura that glowed with a vivid mix of pink and green, the two colors most associated with healing—which in many respects was the more valuable gift for a witch running a shop that sold healing potions and magic. She certainly wasn’t the creator of either of the charms being used on the wolves.

  We moved on to the next one—Tea and Tinctures. Although the witch running this shop was far stronger—and was certainly wary about my presence in her establishment—the feel of her magic also didn’t match the stuff emanating from the charms.

  We got exactly the same result in The Tea Cauldron.

  “This is very much looking like a dead end,” Aiden said, as he opened the truck door and ushered me inside.

  “But it’s still a nice way to waste a couple of hours.”

  His smile flashed. “It’s certainly better than sitting in the office catching up on paperwork.”

  He climbed into the driver side and we headed to Ballan. It was a pretty typical small country town, with a small main shopping strip filled with a mix of century-old buildings and quite ugly newer ones. The Black Samovar was near the end of the strip, right next to the old Mechanics Hall. It was a tiny place with a wide wooden veranda that was painted silver but decorated with an assortment of black teapots—some of which had legs and looked to be dancing.

  “This is it,” I said, as Aiden parked a couple of spaces up from the shop.

  He glanced at me sharply. “How do you know?”

  I pointed to the images painted onto the beam. “They’re the images I saw in my dream. It’ll also mean she’ll know I’m a witch the moment I step into her premises.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “That depends on whether she has anything to hide or not.”

  He studied the building for a second, and then said, “I might make a call to the RWA and get them to send someone out. If this witch is responsible for the bracelets that we found on our two victims, then she is, at the very least, an accessory to murder. That makes her their responsibility, not ours.”