Demon's Dance

by Keri Arthur

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I hobbled on down to the truck. Once I’d found the first aid kit, I carefully washed away the worst of the muck and grime from both the scrapes on my arms and the one on my thigh. It was the worse by far—a long, deep wound that probably needed stitches. But I found some antiseptic and some butterfly Band-Aids inside the kit, so applied all that instead and then wrapped a crepe bandage around the thigh wound for additional support.

  With all that done, I climbed into the truck and leaned back against the headrest, drawing in deep breaths in a vague attempt to ease the weariness and lingering wisps of pain. It didn’t really help. Nothing but a mountain of food and a solid ten hours of sleep would do that.

  After a few more minutes, I opened my eyes and reached down for the backpack. Belle had said she’d packed everything, so hopefully that also meant some snack bars. It did.

  I spent the next fifteen minutes munching on a variety of nuts, chocolate, and protein bars, and washed it all down with some painkillers and water. While it didn’t in any way mute either the stiff soreness or the overall tide of weariness, it did at least boost the energy reserves.

  Tala’s SUV was briefly spotlighted as another truck pulled up beside it. I glanced across and saw it was Aiden and Monty.

  I climbed out but kept my grip on the door handle. Despite the painkillers and all the food, my head remained a little spacy.

  Monty jumped out of the truck. “How come you get all the fun?”

  “Born unlucky, I guess.” My voice was dry. “Believe me, I’d much rather have stayed at the café and avoided this bitch, but that really wasn’t an option once my psychic radar went off.”

  “And did you manage to avoid getting hurt this time?” Aiden came around the back of the truck, his gaze sweeping me. “No, you did not.”

  I grimaced. “It’s only a few more cuts and—”

  “It’s more than that.” His voice was edged with anger and concern. “You’re holding on to that door for grim death.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because I’ve been spelling. It’s not from the scrapes.” I tossed Monty the small bottle. “Found this for you.”

  He caught it easily, and his expression went from curious to fascinated. “It feels like a piece of the soucouyant—how did you get this? And where the hell did you learn this spell? It’s something they teach in uni, and one you shouldn’t have known.”

  Let alone have the power to construct. He didn’t add that last bit, but he didn’t need to. It was very evident in the look he gave me.

  “I tried caging the soucouyant in the demon snare, but missed, so I flicked one of the spell threads out after her. It obviously got close enough to slice an ember off.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You skipped out of school before they taught that particular spell—which, by the way, normally doesn’t have a tendril variation.”

  “Yes, but I did read the basics of that spell at school, and I saw you perform it.” I shrugged. “The variation came out of desperation.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to create new spells on the fly?”

  “Obviously not.”

  He shook his head and raised the thread-wrapped bottle. “And the spell around this? Where did that come from?”

  “It’s one Eli did not so long ago. Thankfully, I remembered it.”

  “Your witch powers might not be up to scratch, but your memory sure as hell is.” He glanced down at the bottle again. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to work a spell through this to track her, though.”

  I frowned. “Why not? The essence is still active—”

  “Yes, but to weave a tracking spell into it, I’ll first have to dismantle your spell, and that might just extinguish the ember.”

  I swore softly and shoved a hand through my hair, catching tangles and bits of leaf matter. “So it’s all been a wasted effort?”

  “No, because I can certainly walk you through the tracking spell. It just depends entirely on whether you’ve got the energy to do it all again.”

  “Does it have to be done tonight?” Aiden asked. “I’m all for catching this bitch ASAP, but not at the cost of putting Liz in hospital.”

  A smile touched my lips. “I’m fine—really, I am.”

  “You’d say that if you had a leg cut off and were spurting blood everywhere,” he grumbled.

  His concern was so very evident in both his eyes and his expression, and my heart did a dangerous sort of flip-flop. The sort that said I was getting in far deeper than was wise with this man. No matter how much he cared for me, no matter how much he wanted to explore where this relationship of ours might go, the fact was, it would only ever have one outcome. Heartbreak.

  He’d already said he would never marry someone like me, and there would never be enough magic in the world to change me from a witch to a wolf. Of course, that hadn’t stopped people from trying in the past, and that was generally where the myths of wolfmen—beings who were neither human nor wolf, but a deranged and thankfully short-lived version of both—came from.

  If I were the sensible type, I’d stop this thing in its tracks. Maybe not right here and now, because this was neither the right time nor place. But certainly in the next day or so. It would hurt, of that I had no doubt, but not as much as it might six months, or a year, or even more down the track.

  Unfortunately, I’d never really been the sensible type. Not when it came to matters of the heart.

  “The sooner we catch the soucouyant,” I said, somewhat surprised my voice came out so even given the errant direction of my thoughts, “the better everyone is going to be.”

  His gaze had narrowed, and I had a vague suspicion he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. Which was stupid. Werewolves might have heightened senses, but they weren’t telepathic. I returned my gaze to Monty. “What do I need to do?”

  “Right now? Relax. I’ll set up a protection circle and then guide you through the process.” He grabbed his pack from Aiden’s truck and then walked down the track for a few meters.

  Aiden caught my hand and tugged me into his arms. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling far safer than I ever had in my entire life.

  Which was a rather sad statement about my life.

  He didn’t say anything, not for several minutes. Then he kissed the top of my head and said, “You need to stop worrying about the future and just enjoy the present.”

  He may not be telepathic, but he had guessed my thoughts. I obviously needed to work some more on containing my emotions. “Easier said than done, Aiden.”

  “I know. But the future you fear may never happen.”

  Part of me wondered which future he was referring to, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. Both were equally troubling. Both would lead to heartbreak of one kind or another.

  “As much as I’m enjoying this moment,” I said, “haven’t you got a job to do? I’d hate for you to be accused of dereliction of duty because of me.”

  He laughed, the sound vibrating delightfully through his chest. “I don’t think anyone would dare accuse us of that after the last few days.”

  “Tonight especially—it’s been rather eventful.”

  He snorted. “For you, maybe. Not so much for us.”

  “Being called to another skinning is hardly uneventful.”

  “The victim had been dead for several hours and we didn’t come under attack. So yeah, compared to this, it was.”

  I frowned and pulled back from his embrace. “Several hours? So he’d been killed during the day rather than at night, like the other victims?”

  “Technically, Alice wasn’t killed at night.” He frowned. “Why?”

  I hesitated. “It just seems out of character.”

  “Give how little we know about either skin walkers or soucouyants, isn’t it a little early to be saying what is and isn’t out of character?”

  “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”r />
  “I’m not saying you are, but Monty didn’t appear to think there was a problem—”

  “Monty’s a witch, not a psychic, and neither of us actually know what we’re dealing with—especially when it comes to the skinning victims.” I hesitated. “If I’m being honest, I’m still not convinced we’re dealing with a skin walker. But until we can get confirmation from Canberra, we’re both just guessing.”

  A smile tugged at his lips but didn’t fully bloom. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few months, it’s to trust your guesses. What do you want to do?”

  I hesitated again. “Right now? Nothing. But I wouldn’t mind going back to Greenhill and having a look over the murder scene.”

  “Monty’s going to think we don’t trust him.”

  “Monty doesn’t have to know about it.”

  “I feel the need to point out that, whether I like it or not, Monty is the reservation witch, and should be included in any investigation involving magic and the supernatural.”

  “Words I bet you never thought you’d utter.”

  “That is a fact.” He brushed a few stray strands of hair out of my eyes, his fingertips warm against my skin. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry—you’re bone weary, Liz. I can see and smell it. You will end up in hospital again if you’re not careful.”

  I rose on my toes and said, my lips so close to his that I could almost taste them, “Then you’d better ensure I’m kept warm and well fed, hadn’t you?”

  Someone cleared their throat. Loudly. “Folks, there’s a time and a place for that sort of muck.”

  I laughed, dropped a quick kiss on Aiden’s lips, and then glanced at Monty. “I take it the protection circle is constructed?”

  “Yes, and given the ad hoc nature of the spell around the ember and the fact neither of us know how long it’ll last, I think we’d better get a move on.”

  Aiden released me. “You’ll let us know if this works or not?”

  “Ranger, if this works, I’ll be as surprised as hell, but yes.”

  “The lack of belief.” I clapped a hand to my chest. “It hurts.”

  Monty didn’t reply. He just rolled his eyes, then spun on his heel and walked away.

  I followed. He’d constructed his circle at the base of the slope, on a flat bit of ground. His spell stones gleamed in the cold light of the moon, and the threads of his magic swirled lazily above them, ready to be activated. I stepped over them, then carefully sat down.

  Monty sat opposite then shuffled closer. Energy stirred and meshed where our knees met, and it was oddly comforting—but also rather alarming—that the pulse of mine was in no way inferior to his.

  He raised the protection circle around us and then gave me the small glass bottle containing the ember.

  “I think it’s better if we keep your spell completely active, and just attempt to weave the tracking rider through it,” he said. “That way, the core remains intact and will hopefully continue to keep the ember viable.”

  I nodded and tried to quell the rising tide of tension. Though what I was so nervous about, I couldn’t say.

  “Ready?” he added.

  I nodded again.

  “Right. Unpick the outer layers of your spell, and then I’ll guide you through the rest of it.”

  “And if, for any reason, my magic isn’t up to the task?”

  “I’ll risk stepping in. But you’ll be fine, Liz.”

  I gave him a quick, tense smile, and then centered my energy and glanced down at the small bottle. After a moment’s hesitation, I carefully picked up the first thread of magic and disengaged it, then repeated the process until the bottle was uncorked and the tangled mass of filaments that surrounded and protected the ember once again floated free.

  “Good,” Monty said, his voice so soft it could have been coming from a great distance. “Now we get into the real work.”

  He carefully guided me through the process, teaching me how to weave the threads of the tracking spell through the sphere’s filaments and then how to connect it to the core protection spell and the ember itself without in any way disturbing either. It required utter precision, and it left me physically and mentally drained. By the time I guided the sphere back into the bottle and spelled it closed, sweat was dribbling down my face. But the ember remained active, and was also now connected to a tiny filament of silver.

  Monty carefully plucked the bottle from my hands. “It worked. It goddamn worked.”

  I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, smearing sweat. “You sound awfully surprised.”

  His gaze jumped to mine. “That’s because I didn't actually think it would.”

  I would have laughed if I’d had more energy. “Not the impression I received at all.”

  His grin flashed. “It’s always better to fake it until you make it, trust me on that.”

  “I’ll remember that when you start rabbiting on about spells in the future.” I nodded toward the bottle. “How long do we have to use it?”

  “That I don’t know, as everything depends on the stability of your original spell.” He quickly dismantled the protection circle and then thrust upward. “To be completely safe, I think we’d better go after it tonight.”

  I nodded and watched as he collected his spell stones and then strode off. He must have realized I wasn’t following, because he stopped several yards away and spun around. “Are you coming?”

  “Nope. Not unless you help me up.”

  “Ah. Sorry.”

  He shoved the bottle into his pocket and then walked back and offered me his hands. I gripped them tightly and was pulled up so quickly my head spun.

  “Are you okay?” He didn’t immediately release me, and his expression was concerned. “I have to say, you look like shit.”

  “Theme of the night, it seems.” I took a deep breath and gathered determination. “I’m fine. You go get Aiden—I’ll wait in his truck.”

  “Are you sure you can make it that far?”

  “Yes. Go.”

  He hesitated, and then walked off. I slowly made my way up the hill, grabbed my pack out of Tala’s truck, and then climbed into the front of Aiden’s. And discovered he’d added energy drinks to the stash of chocolate he now kept in the glove compartment for me. I downed both in quick succession and then started in on the chocolate. Tonight was not my waistline’s friend—not that I’d ever really given a damn about that sort of thing.

  The two men came back. Monty handed me the spell-wrapped bottle and almost instantly I felt the directional tug. It was faint, suggesting the soucouyant was some distance away, but at least it was working.

  Aiden turned the truck around and drove back to the main road.

  “Turn right,” I said, as he slowed down.

  He immediately did so and then accelerated up the hill. We sped through the sweeping curves and then on into Louton. The locational pull got stronger as we neared the outskirts of Castle Rock, and the tiny filaments started untwining, until what was formed was a tiny map.

  “Go left at the next street,” I said, and then turned around in the seat and showed Monty the bottle. “Is it supposed to do that?”

  “In theory, yes.”

  “In theory? I thought you’d performed the location spell before?”

  His grin flashed. “I have, but this particular one had to be layered in and that’s not something done too often.”

  “Surely the uni would have ensured everyone practiced spell alterations.”

  “They did, but you’re forgetting I’ve been a cataloger of spells for nigh on five years now, so while plenty of new and unusual spells crossed my desk, I haven’t actually done much spell work since I left uni.”

  “I suspect that is not something you mentioned to the council when you were interviewed for the position,” Aiden said, voice dry.

  Monty chuckled softly. “Actually, I said I’d probably forgotten more spells than the other applicants had ever performed, which is nothing other than the u
tter truth.”

  I glanced down as the filaments stirred. One pulsed brighter than the others, giving me a direction. “Swing left. I think we’re getting close.”

  Aiden obeyed, then slowed down and studied the street ahead. “This entire area is filled with families and kids—why would a soucouyant hide here?”

  “If its daytime skin is that of an old woman,” Monty said, “what better area is there? Families these days are generally too busy to be worrying about what their elderly neighbors might or might not be doing.”

  “Not sure what type of neighborhood you grew up in,” Aiden said, “but we tend to look after our old folks here.”

  “Werewolves might, but I’m betting the human residents don’t.”

  Aiden didn’t bother disputing that statement, though his expression suggested he didn’t exactly agree with it, either.

  As the filaments in the bottle drew tightly around each other again, and the tracking pulse grew stronger, I leaned forward and studied the houses up ahead. My gaze swept past a house with a large old gum out the front of it and then snapped back.

  That was it.

  That was the soucouyant’s hiding place.

  “It’s the brown brick place.” I tucked the bottle into my pocket and then dragged my backpack onto my lap.

  Aiden stopped two houses down. As the headlights went out and darkness closed in once again, he said, “How do we play this?”

  “We need to know if the soucouyant is there before we can actually do anything,” Monty said. “I know the spell led us here, but this thing is obviously smart, and it’s possible it left that ember behind deliberately.”

  I twisted around again. “And why didn’t you mention this possibility before?”

  “Because it only just occurred to me.” His grin appeared, but just as quickly faded. “What are your psychic senses telling you?”

  “Right now, absolutely jack squat. I think our best option is to just suss the situation out.”

  I opened the door and climbed out. Various bits of my body had stiffened up over the short journey, but I studiously ignored the aches and kept my gaze on the house ahead. There was no light coming from inside the house, no sound, and absolutely no indication from my psychic self that there was anything to fear, either inside that house or out.