by Keri Arthur
“No,” Belle said gently. “That wasn't your mom on the floor, and it wasn’t your mom who danced with you.”
It wasn't surprising she hadn't realized the body on the living room floor was hers, but it was rare for a ghost to so quickly realize the truth about her murder in this sort of situation. Most of them were either too confused or too angry to connect the dots.
Then who was it? And why did she look so much like Mom?
“We haven't got much time if you want to move on, Alice, so you need to stop worrying about the body and tell me anything else you remember.”
Alice frowned, her form fragmenting slightly as the strengthening wind swirled around her. I don't remember all that much more. Just the heat and... the hunger.
“Whose hunger?”
Mom's.
“Did she kiss you?” This time the question was mine rather than Belle's. “Or even bite you?”
Confusion ran through her expression. Why would Mom bite me? That makes no sense.
It would if the fire spirit was the same spirit was also responsible for the murder of Kyle Jacobson.
“You can't remember anything else?” Belle asked.
Not really. Alice hesitated. What happens now?
“That depends on whether you're ready to move on or not,” Belle said.
I am. Alice shivered and crossed her arms. I don't want to stay here. It feels strange. Cold.
“Then I can help you,” Belle said. “May fate bless you with happiness and old age in your next life, Alice.”
Even as Alice's thank-you rolled around us, Belle silently whispered the words that would set Alice on the path to rebirth.
As Alice's form faded away, a shudder ran through my body and tiredness beat through my soul. While this wasn't the first time Belle and I had merged to share senses, it was the first time we'd done anything this deep. The toll was far greater than I'd been expecting.
I'd better go, Belle said, her mental tones weary. I'll see you when you get home.
As the connection between us broke, I took a deep breath and then glanced around. Monty was watching me closely; Jaz had returned with her kit and was in the process of taking photos.
“Did you get anything useful?” Monty asked.
“Not really.” I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and repeated everything Alice had said.
“A dancing demon?” Monty frowned. “That definitely seems rather odd.”
“Unless what she was actually describing was being caught up in some sort of vortex of fire, and in her confusion, she's described it as a dance.”
“Possibly.” His lips pursed. “The bit about the dizziness was interesting—I wonder if it means the fire spirit was feeding off her energy or whether Alice was feeling the spirit's state of being as it invaded her body and killed her?”
“A question neither Alice nor I can answer.”
“Indeed.” He drew in a breath, his expression somewhat frustrated. “But at least it gives me a starting point. You ready to come out?”
I nodded and watched as he deactivated the protection circle; the golden threads of his spell quickly and silently faded into the sunshine. Once he'd picked up his spell stones and tucked them carefully back into the silk bag, he stepped closer and offered me a hand. I clasped it gratefully and let him pull me upright. Just for an instant, the world spun around me, and it was only his grip that kept me standing.
“You're looking rather pale,” he commented. “I wasn't aware that psi powers took such a great toll.”
“Any power, psi or magic, has a cost, Monty. They taught us that in school, remember?”
“Must have been in one of the many lessons I missed.” Amusement glimmered in his bright eyes. “Does this ability to share psi abilities come from the fact you're witch and familiar? Can you two also draw on each other's magical strength?”
“Yes, and yes,” I said. “But the latter isn't unusual—you've a familiar, so you must know that.”
“Mine's a cat, and a goddamn grouchy one at that. Not quite the same as having another witch as a familiar.”
“No one ever saw it as an advantage, Monty. Not even you.”
“I guess not.” He hesitated. “But now I can't help wondering why.”
I shrugged. The only reasons I could ever come up with was the fact it went against all tradition. Of course, if my sister had been gifted with a human familiar rather than me, it might have been a different story.
“Right,” Jaz said, as she slapped the lid down on her kit. “You two finished here? If so, we'll head back.”
My gaze automatically went to the spot where the skin had been dumped. Jaz must have seen it, because she added, “I was ordered to record positioning and collect all relevant evidence. There's really little point in doing anything else, because the actual crime didn't happen here.”
“You’re not going to collect the skin?”
“Ciara’s second—”
“Wait—when did Ciara get an assistant?”
“He arrived about a week ago,” Jaz replied. “He hails from the Raine pack up in the Northern Territory. His name is Luke.”
I grunted. “You were saying before I sidetracked?”
“There aren’t any scavengers around this immediate area, so the skin should be safe enough until he can get up here.”
I hoped she was right. Even though Alice had moved on, she deserved a proper burial—one where her body and her skin were present.
We followed Jaz down the hill. By the time we got back to her car, my head was thumping, weariness had settled into my limbs, and all the scrapes and bruises I'd gotten when I was pushed out of the car were hurting like a bitch. What I needed was several large buckets of coffee, a good dozen chocolate bars, and maybe even a painkiller or two. And while I didn't have the first or third of those, I did at least have three of the middle option stashed in the side pocket of my backpack. I offered one to Monty and Jaz, and was totally relieved when both said no.
Ciara’s second—who was a tall and rangy man with carrot-red hair, pale skin, and lovely dark brown eyes—appeared as I was finishing my second chocolate. Jaz gave him directions and then jumped into her car and drove us out of there. By the time we got back to Castle Rock, the headache had at least eased slightly even if the weariness remained. Jaz dropped Monty home first and then ran me around to the café.
I opened the door once she'd stopped and then said, “Do you want to come in for a coffee?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got to go write up a report, but thanks.”
I nodded and headed inside. Though it was close to lunchtime, there were only half a dozen people inside. Penny—a middle-aged woman with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail and a lined, interesting face—stood behind the counter making coffees and either Frank or Mike—our kitchen hand and chef—was whistling softly in the kitchen. I couldn't hear the rattle of pots and the dishwasher wasn't going, so obviously there wasn't much to do as yet.
Penny glanced up as I neared the counter and gave me a wide smile. “Everything's under control here. Belle's upstairs doing some research if you want her.”
I nodded. “Has the brigade come in?”
“Not as yet, but Mrs. Potts rang twenty minutes ago, asking if we could shove some tables together, as there was twenty of them.”
“What time?”
“Around two.”
“That shouldn't be a problem.” I pushed away from the counter. “Give me a shout if things start getting busy.”
She nodded. I headed upstairs to find Belle sitting in the middle of our two-seater, her feet up on the coffee table and an old, rather large leather-bound book resting on her lap.
“There's an energy drink in the fridge,” she said, without looking up.
“Thanks. I'll grab it after a shower.”
Once I'd cleaned up and slathered the various scrapes with a potion that would not only numb them, but also help accelerate healing, I dragged on jeans and a top then went back out to
grab the drink.
“What are you reading?”
“I went through the index to see if Gran had anything on skin walkers, and found a book on different types of fire demons instead.”
“Is ours in there?”
“There's a couple of possibilities, but it'd be handy to know if we were dealing with one entity or two.”
“Even Monty isn't sure of that as yet.”
“Monty hasn't been here long, and didn't see the first victim,” she commented. “What are your instincts telling you?”
I half smiled. “They flip-flop between one being and two.”
“Which is absolutely no help.”
“I know.” I walked over to the sofa and plonked down beside her. “Why? What have you found?”
She turned the book so that I could see it more clearly and then pointed to a picture. It was a hand drawn but beautifully detailed depiction of a bite wound—one that looked almost identical to the wounds that had decorated Kyle Jacobson’s body.
“And the demon responsible?”
“A soucouyant, apparently.” She turned the book around to read the text. “According to this, it's a demon who takes on the form of an old woman by day but who sheds her skin at night and takes on a fire form to hunt and kill her victims.”
“By draining their blood, I take it?”
She nodded. “It can apparently enter victims’ homes through any hole, including cracks and keyholes.”
“Which is what happened at Kyle Jacobson’s place but not any of the others.” I studied the picture for a little bit longer. “Is that all it does? It's not a shape shifter of any kind?”
“There’s a side note that says she found some references in a couple of medieval manuscripts that stated a soucouyant can also transform herself into to a gorgeous-looking young woman at night. She then seduces her victims with her looks and her dance, and once fully enthralled, she drains them of blood.”
“I'm gathering 'dance' is a metaphor for sex in this case.”
“I suspect so. Scholars of old were pretty cagey when it came to that sort of stuff.”
“Does it say how to kill it?” I warily took a sip of the energy drink, but it was surprisingly free of its usual muddy taste.
Belle grinned. “That's because I wasn't about to drink something that tasted like boiled socks.”
“So the secret to getting decent-tasting potions is to ensure you also need a dose?”
“It depends on how drained we are but generally, yes. But you're well aware of why most of them taste like shit.”
“Because sugar interferes with the efficiency of the brew,” I intoned, imitating her voice. “I know, but a little bit of honey—”
“Is still a sugar. Stop whining and just drink the muck.”
I grinned, gulped it down, then pushed up and walked over to the kitchen counter. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She flipped the page of the old book. “According to this, the best way to kill a soucouyant is to find its skin and salt it. That prevents it from returning to its own form.”
“But still leaves it in fire form, which—if today's events were any demonstration—is decidedly more dangerous.”
“That's if it's the same demon responsible for both the attack on you and all the other deaths. There are some inconsistencies.”
I made the coffees and walked back, handing her one before sitting down again. “Like why, if it had its own skin, was it stealing others?”
“Precisely.”
“I don't suppose any of the other fire spirits mentioned strip their victims of their skin and then steal their identities?”
“No—or, at least, they're not mentioned in this book.”
Of course not. When were things ever that easy? “Hopefully Monty will be able to find something in the witch archives.”
“You'd think so,” she said. “After all, it is the major collection center for any and all information on the supernatural in Australia.”
“And yet it was still your gran—and her books—that bluebloods came to when they wanted information on all things magic and the occult.”
“That's because she was awesome, Sarr witch or not.”
She wasn't going to get an argument about that from me. Nell might have died before either Belle and I had been born, but Belle's mom had told us so many stories about her that she felt very real to the both of us. And now her legacy—the vast majority of her books—was Belle's. Not all of the books were here, though—we simply didn't have the room. Most were carefully stored in a humidity controlled off-site storage unit that was surrounded by multiple layers of both protection and repellent spells. Nothing was getting into that unit without our consent—not even smallest of bugs.
“So if we are dealing with two separate demons,” I said, “how do we kill a fire spirit?”
She wrinkled her nose. “There's a couple of options, and no guarantee any of them will work. I think Gran was just compiling information rather than speaking from experience when it came to these sorts of entities.”
“Anything would be better than what we've currently got.”
“Which is nothing.” Her grin flashed. “A containment spell, holy water, and silver are all suggested. No guarantees, as I said.”
“Maybe not, but it at least gives us a starting point.” And yet another reason for me to keep carrying the small bottle of holy water around with me.
A babble of noise drifted up from below and, a second later, Penny's face appeared at the top of the stairs. “The brigade just arrived.”
“On my way.” I pushed upright, gulped down my coffee, and headed downstairs. Belle followed me a few minutes later.
The twenty ladies kept us busy for the next couple of hours, but none of us minded because it certainly balanced the books for the day. We closed just after four, but by the time we'd done the till and cleaned up, it was well after five. I made us both a coffee, then walked across to the table.
Belle accepted her mug with a nod of thanks and then said, “Don't sit. Aiden's about to knock on the door.”
Happiness shot through me. I placed my coffee down then walked over, opening it just as he raised his hand to knock.
“About damn time, Ranger,” I grumbled, and then threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him very, very thoroughly.
“I missed you too,” he said eventually, his breath warm against my lips and his eyes bright with desire. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from my eyes, his fingers so warm and tender against my skin. “And I am totally glad to see you are indeed unhurt.”
“I wouldn't say unhurt. There are a few new scrapes and bruises, but all in all, we were lucky.”
“I've seen your car,” he said. “Trust me, I'm well aware of just how lucky you both were.”
“I'm gathering the car's a write-off then?” Belle said.
Aiden looked past me. “I'm afraid so. It's insured though, isn't it?”
“Yes, but I'm doubting being firebombed by a supernatural entity would be covered in the policy.”
Belle's voice was dry and Aiden grinned. “Given the current situation, you might want to look into that when it comes to insuring the next one.”
I stepped back to allow him inside the café. His fingers lightly squeezed mine and then he walked across to the table where Belle was sitting.
I relocked the door then headed over to make him a cup of coffee. Once I’d placed the steaming drink in front of him, I pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.
“What's been happening since we last saw each other?”
He snorted softly. “Too fucking much. We're going to need more rangers if this pace keeps up. We're stretching both ourselves and our capabilities to the limits. Especially Ciara. She's got an assistant now, but I really think the council will have to employ a third coroner—and urgently.”
“It would make sense,” I commented. “And given we're in this situation because of the committee's actions, it's als
o only fair.”
A smiled tugged his lips. “That's something they're now more than aware of, thanks to both Ashworth and Monty.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Monty has said something?”
Aiden's smile grew. “Let's just say he more than amplified what Ashworth had already said.”
That surprised me, as Monty had never been one to rock the boat. But I guessed it had been a long time since we'd been at school together—things could change in a few minutes let alone over twelve years. I certainly had.
“Was the murder you and Tala were called to this morning another skinning?”
“No, thankfully. It was a fencing dispute that escalated rather abruptly, and wasn't actually a murder. One neighbor hit the other over the head with a star picket, split his head open, and knocked him out. The victim is currently in hospital under observation, but he's certainly not dead.”
“At least that's one bit of good news,” Belle commented.
“This time,” Aiden said. “But the pair of them have been at each other for years, and one day it will end badly.”
“Have you identified either of the first two skinning victims?” I asked.
“The body in the dumpster was Mrs. Dale, but the skin we found in there wasn't a match for her DNA.”
“Have you got a time of death as yet?”
“Sunday night. The accelerated rate of decomposition thanks to the heat has made it hard to pin down an exact time, but Ciara thinks it happened around eight.”
So just after dusk, then. “And the body in the forest clearing?”
“Belonged to a Marilyn Jones, who went missing a few days before Mrs. Dale. We haven’t yet got the DNA of the skin that was with her, but if it’s not a match for either woman, it means we have another body somewhere within the reservation.”
I grunted and glanced at Belle. “All of which are just more pointers to the fact that we're dealing with two entities rather than one.”
