Wicked Wings

by Keri Arthur

  I plastered a smile onto my face and kept my hands well clear of her. “Please, continue on down to the reading room.”

  She swallowed heavily and wound through the tables, her fear and worry trailing behind her like a long, dark cloud. I drew in another breath that did little to ease the desire not to follow her into that room, and then shut the front door and did exactly that.

  “Right,” I said, once we were both seated. “Before we proceed, I need you to be aware there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to find your son. Psychometry can be a fickle talent at the best of times, and if your son’s vibes don’t linger on whatever item you’ve brought here, then there’s not much I can do.”

  She nodded, opened her purse, and placed what looked to be a couple of hundred dollars on the table. “I’m told that’s how much something like this costs.”

  “There’s actually too much there, but we can worry about that later—”

  “No.” Her voice was surprisingly firm. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll be in no fit state to deal with such matters afterward. Besides, I know I’m taking up your time on your day off. The money on the table is fair payment for what you’re attempting.”

  I didn’t bother arguing. “Can you place whatever item you’ve brought onto the table?”

  She nodded and immediately produced a paint-speckled silver watch. “He wears it when he’s working—he’s an apprentice painter.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Joseph, though he prefers Joe.”

  I waited until she’d removed her hand and then carefully picked up the watch. Almost instantly, my psychic senses came to life. Joe was very definitely alive, but there was a thick haze of pain emanating from the watch that suggested he was in some sort of trouble.

  I opened the psychic gates a little wider to deepen the connection and uncover what might be happening to him. The sensation of pain became a deep throbbing whose epicenter seemed centered on the lower part of my leg.

  I frowned, but made no attempt to go any further. It was too damn risky without Belle here to pull me out if something happened. Besides, the connection between the watch and its owner was deep enough that I didn’t need to.

  I returned my gaze to Mrs. Hardwick. “The good news is, he’s alive.”

  Tears flooded over her eyelashes. “Oh, thank God. Where is he? What’s happened to him?”

  I hesitated. Although I was pretty sure he’d shattered his leg, I couldn’t tell her that, especially given I had no true idea if that was all he’d done. “I’m not sure of either yet, but if you’ll lend me his watch, I can use it to find him.”

  She immediately thrust to her feet. “Can we go now, then?”

  I took another of those deep breaths and said, as gently as I could, “I’ll go, but it’s better if you return home—”

  “I can’t. I won’t. Not until he’s been found and I know—”

  “Mrs. Hardwick,” I cut in, “as I’ve already said, psychometry is a fickle beast. I’m afraid fierce emotions can block my receptors, and your presence will make it very difficult to follow the connective trail to your son.”

  “Oh.” She wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand, then dug into her purse and handed me a business card. She was the manager of The Red Door, a very posh restaurant two streets over. “You’ll ring me the minute you find him?”

  “Of course I will.”

  She nodded, gave me a fleeting smile, and then left. I got my phone out and rang Aiden back.

  “Dead or alive?” he said without preamble.

  “Alive, but injured, if what I’m getting from the watch is anything to go by.”

  “Do you need a driver?”

  “I do indeed.”

  “Be there in five.”

  He hung up. I carefully placed the watch in a small silk bag to dull some of the sensations rolling from its surface, then—after grabbing my phone, purse, and keys—headed out to the street to wait for Aiden. He pulled up two minutes later and leaned across the front seat to open the door.

  “I canceled dinner,” he said as I climbed in. “Better to be safe than sorry. Where to?”

  “Swing left onto Hargraves.” I put on my seat belt and then twisted to face him. “Why all the secrecy about the dinner location?”

  “It’s a surprise.” His voice was mild. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “Nothing beyond the fact that curiosity will now kill me.”

  He grinned. “Curiosity only ever kills cats, so I think you’re pretty safe. Ciara finished her prelim examination on the two sets of bones, by the way.”

  “A not-so-subtle redirect, but I’ll let you get away with it this time. Did she manage to identify either victim?”

  “No, not at the moment.” He glanced at me, the amusement leaving his expression. “It appears your intuition was right—the teeth were missing.”

  I shuddered. “I’m guessing that means identifying them will now be difficult.”

  “Maybe not. They’re going to use a forensic facial reconstruction program to get a workable image of both victims. Thankfully, the current list of missing persons isn’t a large one.”

  “That’s presuming both victims are from the reservation. They may not be.”

  “True, but once we have an image to work with, we can access the database used by the state cops if they’re not listed in ours.”

  “Was she able to get an idea of approximate age from the bones of either victim?”

  “The length of their tibias suggests they’d both reached maturity and stopped growing, which means they were at least eighteen or nineteen. But there was also little in the way of the degenerative changes that start happening in the late twenties, and that means they were probably in their early twenties.” He swung the truck left and then sped up. “How far away do you think Joe is?”

  I briefly tightened my grip on the silk-covered watch and then screwed up my nose. “Hard to say, but not far. Where does Mrs. Hardwick live?”

  “Over near Campbell’s Creek.”

  “And the mate who had the party?”

  “Preshaw Street.”

  I frowned. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “Because it leads onto Stephenson’s Track.”

  An area that was riddled with disused mineshafts, including the one we’d fallen into. What was the betting that Joe’s trail would lead us into that area again? “How likely is it that he walked home that way?”

  “Very. And before you ask, we did search the immediate area either side of the track, but couldn’t find his scent.”

  “Given they were partying, maybe he took a shortcut through the scrub rather than remaining on the track.”

  “It’s possible, although most of the kids who live in that area are well aware how dangerous it can be.”

  “We’re talking about a teenage boy here; they believe they’re invincible at the best of times, let alone when they’ve been drinking.” I motioned to the upcoming street. “Left here.”

  The truck’s tires squealed as he obeyed and then accelerated toward the end of the street. Which was, I noted as I motioned him right, Preshaw Street. The houses soon gave way to wilderness, and the track narrowed and became gravel, forcing Aiden to slow down. As the scrubby trees became more numerous, the pulse from the watch got stronger and stronger—and then, abruptly, started to fade again. We’d passed him.

  “Stop,” I said, and then scrambled out when he had. I walked around to the rear of his truck and held the watch out in my hand. The pulse was strongest to my left. I motioned toward it with my free hand. “He’s in there.”

  Aiden’s gaze swept the area, then returned to mine. He didn’t look happy. “There’s a lot of old shafts in there—I really hope he hasn’t fallen down one.”

  “It might explain why he wasn’t scented.” It might also explain why his mom couldn’t get him on the phone—maybe he’d broken or lost it in the fall. But if his phone and his leg were all that he’
d broken, then he was one lucky kid.

  Aiden opened the rear of his truck and pulled out a couple of ropes and some climbing gear. He must have seen my surprise, because he said, “I added this lot after our fall. I wasn’t about to rely on chance or someone passing by next time.”

  A smile twisted my lips. “First off, let’s hope there’s not a next time, and secondly, unless you’re intending to carry that gear around with you whenever we head into the bush, it won’t do us any good.”

  His smile flashed. “Maybe, but it will at least be in the truck for others to retrieve if we ever do get caught again. You give directions, but I’ll lead the way.”

  I nodded and followed him off the road. Almost instantly, the scent of eucalyptus became more noticeable, and the soft crunch of stones underfoot echoed across the silence. This area wasn’t overly hilly, but there were plenty of old tailing mounds visible through the trees, all indicators of just how heavily the area had once been mined.

  We continued on, guided by the strengthening pulse of the watch. Eventually, the beats within it drew so close they were almost indistinguishable from each other.

  “Aiden, stop. He’s close.” I swung the watch around and detected a slightly stronger signal from the left. “I think he’s somewhere between those two piles of stone.”

  Aiden raised his head, his nostrils flaring as he dragged in a deeper breath. After a moment, he shouted Joe’s name. I couldn’t hear a response, but Aiden grunted, satisfaction evident. “He’s alert enough to answer, so that’s one good thing.”

  He pulled the ropes over his shoulder and handed them to me while he put on one of the harnesses. Then he attached one end of a rope to a sturdy tree and hooked himself up. “You stay here and call Tala. Tell her we’ll need an ambulance and the rescue boys with their gear.”

  I did so as he disappeared behind the two rubble piles, then crossed my arms and tried to ignore the desire to follow him in; that would be nothing short of stupid, given I didn’t have the keen sight of a werewolf and had no idea how to spot the difference between solid ground and ground that had simply been thrown over a hastily boarded-up mine shaft.

  The minutes ticked by; I shifted from one foot to the other, tension growing.

  Then the rope went taut—an indication, perhaps, that he’d found the right mine shaft and was now climbing down.

  A few more minutes went by. The sharp wail of approaching sirens shattered the silence, growing closer fast. Then Aiden reappeared, still wearing the harness but no longer attached to the rope.

  “How is he?”

  “Damn lucky.” His voice was grim. “He landed on some boarding about twenty feet down. Had he fallen one foot either side, he’d be dead.”

  Relief swam through me. “And his injuries?”

  “Aside from the shattered leg and a few deep scrapes and bruises, he’s okay.” He unbuckled the harness. “I put the spare harness on him and made sure he’s roped on, but with the state of his leg, we can’t risk moving him. Not until it’s braced and he’s got a truckload of painkillers on board.”

  “Is the shaft wide enough to get a backboard down there?”

  He grimaced. “Maybe. It’ll be a slow process, no matter how we decide to extricate him.”

  Because most of these old mines were decidedly unstable—something we’d learned the hard way. Just thinking about our close call had my pulse rate rising. “Do you want me to ring Mrs. Hardwick?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll do that once we’ve got him free of the shaft. She’ll want to come out here, and it’s far better for him and the rescue if she simply meets us at the hospital.”

  I nodded. “Then I might head back to the café. Do you want to come back for coffee and cake once you’re finished here?”

  “When have I ever refused the offer of cake?” He glanced past me. Tala and Jaz—another ranger—appeared, accompanied by a couple of men from the reservation’s search and rescue team. “Jaz, can you take Liz home?”

  “There’s no need—it’s not that far. I can walk back.” After being cooped up in the café all day, it would be nice to get some fresh air.

  He gave me the look—the one that said ‘don’t be daft’. “The last thing I need is you falling down another mine shaft, so humor me and at least let her guide you through the scrub.”

  “That I can agree to.” My gaze dropped to his mouth. I desperately wanted to kiss him but he’d already stated his preference for keeping work and private life separate, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to keep blurring that—especially when we weren’t alone. “Call me later.”

  He nodded, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He’d known what I’d been thinking, damn him. I spun around and walked over to Jaz. Aside from Aiden, she was the only other ranger I’d call a friend. We caught up on a fairly regular basis—sometimes for dinner, sometimes for a movie, and sometimes simply for a coffee and a chat. I suspected part of the reason for her ease with me was the fact that she’d only recently married into the Marin pack, and therefore didn’t have the same level of distrust when it came to witches that the reservation’s three packs initially had.

  “How’s that hubby of yours doing?” I said as I followed her through the scrub.

  She flashed a grin over her shoulder. “He opens his café next week, so he’s something of a stress head at the moment.”

  A statement I could totally understand, given we’d gone through the exact same thing the first time we’d ever set up our own place. But then, we’d also been a whole lot younger and had had little in the way of training other than the few years we’d worked as kitchen hands and short-order cooks in various venues. At least Levi was a barista who’d worked at some of the top cafés in Melbourne before moving back to Castle Rock.

  “Tell him it does get better. Eventually.”

  “I hope so, because I’m getting very little action at the moment, and that’s a sad state of affairs when we’ve only been married a few months.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure things will improve once the café is open and running smoothly.”

  “I damn well hope so.” She skirted a large pile of rubble and then continued on. “Have you any idea who or what was behind the deaths last night?”

  “I’m afraid it takes a little longer than that to track down these things.”

  Her grin flashed again. “Maybe I’m just used to you having all the answers.”

  I snorted. “And maybe you’re just forgetting how often I don’t.” I paused. “Have there been any recent missing person reports that match the suspected age of the bones?”

  “No recent ones, but Maggie’s going through the records to see what she can find.”

  “What about juvenile disappearances? Have there been any that resulted in the mother’s suicide?”

  She swung around. “That’s a very specific question—did your psychic mojo show you something we need to know about?”

  I hesitated. “I saw a ghost in my dreams last night, and she was carrying the body of her child.”

  “And you think it’s connected to the current case?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea—but the body was whole rather than stripped of flesh, so there’s the chance it isn’t.”

  “Which doesn’t omit the possibility that it is.” She walked on. “I’ll do a search through the database and see if there’s anything like that listed.”

  “She felt old, so it may not be a recent event.”

  She glanced at me again, curiosity stirring across her sharp but pretty features. “How does a ghost feel old?”

  I hesitated. “It’s their metaphysical output—the older they are, the stronger they tend to be.”

  “Huh. You learn something every day.” She stepped out onto the road and then stopped. “Are you sure you don’t want a lift home?”

  “No, I’m fine. And if I don’t see you before, we’ll see you next week for dinner. About sixish?”

  Her cheeks dimpled. “If the man hasn’t had some sort
of coronary by then, most definitely.”

  I grinned. “He’ll be fine—and so will the café. He’s got a great location and his hot chocolates are the best.”

  “Yes, but as he keeps saying to me, there’s more to a café’s survival than good hot chocolate.” She gave me a lopsided smile. “But nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the old saying goes.”

  “That’s a good motto to live by, I think.” Even though it was one I hadn’t really followed until recently. And even then, I still tended toward caution rather than adventurousness.

  Except when it comes to Aiden, Belle commented, amusement in her mental tone. Your inner adventurer has definitely blossomed in his presence.

  I wasn’t referring to the whole sex thing.

  Jaz handed me a flashlight, then headed back into the forest. I spun around and strode back toward Castle Rock, the crunch of the stones under my feet lost to the rowdy song of the cicadas.

  Tell that to someone who can’t read your mind. Where are you?

  On Stephenson’s Track, walking home.

  What the hell are you doing out there?

  I gave her a quick update and then added, Did you get much cataloging done?

  Surprisingly, yes. I think he’s rather fascinated by all the old legends and spells.

  Did you find anything related to flesh strippers or White Lady ghosts?

  Only a couple of minor mentions, but I grabbed some books on the way home. Do you want me to come pick you up? Or shall I just shove the Chinese food in the warmer for you?

  I hesitated but the call of Chinese was just too strong. A pickup would be good. I’m starving.

  That’s probably because you had nothing more than a huge chunk of caramel shortbread for lunch.

  I grinned. And I don’t regret a single calorie of it.

  She snorted. Be there in five.

  Thanks.

  Her mind left mine, and I trudged on. The trees on either side of the road began to thin out, allowing the moonlight to filter through, but the noise of cicadas didn’t abate. There had to be hundreds of them in the trees, if not thousands—which made me glad I was following the road rather than walking through the scrub. The horrid insects had a habit of peeing on passersby.