Wicked Wings

by Keri Arthur

  “Oh, that’s not good.”

  “What?” I frowned at the tank but couldn’t immediately see anything untoward.

  “There’s magic lingering along the top of the tank.”

  My gaze jumped up. After a second, a vague, almost otherworldly energy caressed my skin—one that didn’t feel foul. Then the shimmering threads of a fading spell came into view. I couldn’t immediately guess what type of spell it was, as the threads continued to move, weaving in and out of the tank’s metal roof.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s connected to our shifter. It hasn’t got the same feel.”

  “No.” His gaze narrowed. “It’s recent, though, and quite intricate.”

  “Any guess as to what its purpose is?”

  “Not a one.” He hesitated. “There are some thread similarities to a demon containment spell.”

  I swallowed heavily. “You don’t think—?”

  “If the demon’s in there—dead or alive—we’d surely know.” Monty’s voice was grim. “I think you’d better climb up and have a look.”

  “Not without checking out the rest of the area first,” I snapped, and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “If anything jumps out of that thing, make sure you’re ready to knock it into the next time zone.”

  “That’s hardly going to get us any answers.”

  “When we’re dealing with a flesh stripper, I don’t care.”

  He laughed. “If a flesh stripper jumps out of that thing, I’ll swear off chasing Belle for the next month.”

  A smile tugged my lips. “A statement that would have placed Belle in quite a quandary if she’d been here.”

  He laughed again and motioned toward the tank. “Go check. If anything moves, I’ll hit it first and ask questions later.”

  “Good.”

  Fortunately for me, the tank’s perimeter held nothing more dangerous than several pretty but thorny roses. I stopped beside Monty again and studied the still-moving spell threads. “Are you able to disengage them? We need to look inside, but I’m not about to risk triggering that spell.”

  The words were barely out of my mouth when the threads stopped moving and the spell simply disappeared. A cold prickle ran up my spine, and my gaze went to the distant energy that was our watcher.

  It had been her spell.

  “Oh, fuck,” Monty said, in an exact echo of my thoughts. “Our White Lady is not only capable of magic, but able to use it to affect things within this world.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  He shrugged. “There are ghosts capable of interacting with physical objects within this world, so it’s more than possible that a strong enough witch could not only interact, but also spell.”

  My gaze returned to the tank, and goose bumps prickled my skin. “Which begs the question, what exactly was her magic interacting with in that tank?”

  “I guess there’s only one way we’re going to find out—and, given I can’t climb a ladder, that delightful task falls to you.”

  “Fabulous.” Not.

  I spun around and went in search of a ladder. I found one in the first shed and set it up next to the tank’s inlet strainer, which was caked with dirt and old grass. It took a few minutes to clear it before I could pry it off. Nothing jumped out. No sense of evil stirred through the air. Relief swept through me, though my pulse rate remained high. There’d obviously been something here; why else would our specter have bothered spelling the tank?

  “Anything?” Monty said.

  I peered in. The water was dark and very close to the top, making it difficult to see anything beyond the first few feet of the opening. “Lean up against the tank and hand me one of your crutches.”

  “I’m not sure I’m enthused about you using it to stir up whatever evil lies inside.”

  “I could throw you bodily in instead, if you’d prefer.”

  He snorted and handed me the crutch. “I’d like to see you try. An Amazonian you are not.”

  “No, but I do know a levitation spell that might do the trick.” I actually didn’t, but he wasn’t to know that.

  I flipped the crutch around and then shoved the wider end into the water and swished it around in a vague attempt to move whatever might lie beyond my line of sight. The water became choppier, and the prickly energy that was the specter drew nearer. Then something pale drifted briefly toward the surface. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought we’d discovered another body, but quickly realized there was nothing human about it. I stirred the water some more, trying to get a clearer glimpse.

  What appeared was a largish bird.

  A bird whose feathers were alternating stripes of dark brown and lighter gray.

  “You found something?” Monty said.

  “Yeah—the body of our shifter.”

  He immediately straightened. “What?”

  “You heard.” I shoved the end of the crutch under the bird’s body to pull it closer. It was then I noticed the thin strip of metal around its body and legs. It had been closely bound and tossed into the tank with no means of keeping itself afloat.

  I looked across to the watching specter. Felt a vague sense of her rage and satisfaction. Whatever our White Lady was up to, it hadn’t ended with the death of this shifter.

  This was only the beginning.

  Trepidation stirred—not because her vengeance was aimed at me, but rather the fact she appeared to want me to witness it.

  I pulled the bird free of the tank and then carefully climbed down and placed the body on the ground near Monty.

  “It’s an owl.” Monty accepted the wet crutch with a nod. “And bound with silver, from the look of it.”

  “Yes.” I squatted next to the bird and held out a hand. Energy caressed my skin. “There’s a spell attached to it.”

  “It’s not one I’ve seen before, though it once again has some similarities to demon snare.”

  I glanced up sharply. “Why would our specter bother using something like that on a shifter? It’s overkill, isn’t it?”

  “Yes—unless, of course, our earlier guess was right, and the shifters are working with our demon.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” I glanced over to the White Lady. “Can you remove the final spell?”

  Energy immediately stirred, brief but potent. The vague thread lines wrapped around the silver wire faded, but nothing immediately happened.

  “The silver could be constraining its form,” Monty muttered. “You’ll need to remove it first.”

  “Not without a protective circle and a spell ready to send its spirit back to the depths of hell if we are dealing with a demon.”

  “Excellent point. I’ll do the circle, you go find some wire cutters.”

  By the time I returned with the wire cutter, Monty had not only laid his spell stones around the bird’s body but also activated them. I silently watched while he created a spell that would shoot the demon back to whatever hell it had come from, once again taking mental notes on the process even as I hoped I’d never have to use such a spell.

  With the force of his spell humming around us, he said, “I layered exceptions for your hands, arms, and the cutters into the protection spell, so you should have no problems removing the wire. If the bird so much as twitches, I’ll unleash the second spell.”

  I nodded and squatted down. The threads tracking around the stones shimmered as my hands went through them, their power caressing my skin but holding no threat.

  I shifted the owl to get better access then carefully positioned the cutter between the wire and her body and snipped. Or tried to. Either the blades weren’t that sharp or our specter had somehow boosted the metal’s strength, because it took two hands and a fair bit of effort to cut through it. I flipped the owl over, tried to ignore the cold emptiness of her body, and cut the wire on the other side. Then I pulled the bits free, dropping them on the ground next to her rather than taking any of them outside the protective circle.

&nbs
p; As I removed the final bit of metal, feathers stirred. I squeaked in fright and pushed back, landing on my butt well clear of the shifter and the circle.

  Monty raised his hand but didn’t unleash his weapon. There was no need to. This shifter presented no danger—the movement had simply been her body disintegrating. Her soul was long gone.

  If she’d had a soul, that was. Its loss was quite often the price paid for working with a demon.

  We silently watched feathers, flesh, and bone become foul yellow air that then faded away. Soon there was nothing left except the bits of wire I’d cut and a thin, long needle. And if it was made of pure silver, it would explain why the shifter hadn’t tried reverting form—it simply couldn’t while the needle was embedded in its flesh.

  I reached in to pick it up, but energy skittered across my fingertips. Like the shifter herself, the magic was fading, but I had no intention of touching something that had been spelled when I had no idea what that spell did.

  I raised my gaze toward the White Lady. The fact she was still here meant she’d obviously wanted us to find the shifter’s remains. But why? What was she trying to tell us? I suspected it was something more than the fact the shifters were working with a demon—if not the demon—but it was damn frustrating that she seemed determined to avoid direct contact.

  That frustration only increased when the sense of her energy faded away.

  Monty dismissed both of his spells and then moved the end of one crutch, placing it next to the needle. “That has the remnants of a boomerang spell on it.”

  “A what?”

  He screwed up his nose. “Seriously, your knowledge—or lack thereof—is astounding sometimes.”

  “Something that can be easily fixed if you start teaching me,” I snapped back. “It’s a far better option than constantly bemoaning my lack.”

  “A good point.” His grin flashed. “And it has the benefit of placing me in Belle’s general vicinity more often.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Proximity will not endear you to her.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, dear Lizzie. It’s written in the stars—we’re meant to be.” He grinned as I snorted loudly. “A boomerang is the slang term for a spell that can shoot the life force of the demon back to wherever they came from. It’s the spell I was holding in reserve.”

  “Except the spell on that needle didn’t feel anything like the one you conjured.”

  “Because there are variations, though I have no idea what the ones on the needle did.” He motioned toward the needle. “It’s safe enough to pick up now.”

  I handed it to him. “How common are pure silver sewing needles?”

  “Not very, I’d imagine, but I’ll contact Canberra and see if there’s a record of suppliers.”

  I pushed upright again. “Are we still going to place the camera?”

  He hesitated. “The other shifters would have felt her death, so it’s unlikely they’ll return. But I still think it’s worth a shot.”

  “And what about Ms. Vaughn?”

  He frowned. “What about her? I doubt she’s involved, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I meant the fact she’s not currently here so she’s either away or dead. If the former, we’ll have to contact her. We can’t risk her coming back here in case the shifters do return.”

  “Oh, good point. I’ll get Aiden onto that.”

  Aiden would no doubt love taking orders from Monty. “I also hope they don’t decide to come after us. I’ve really had enough of being attacked by supernatural beasties for the moment.”

  “It wasn’t our magic that destroyed the shifter, so I think we’re relatively safe.”

  “I like the confident way in which you proclaim these things, even though we both know you’re talking through your butt.”

  He smiled. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  I guess it didn’t. I returned the ladder and wire cutter to the shed, then held open the SUV’s door so Monty could climb in. Once I’d dropped him back at his place, I headed home. Belle had already left for Kash’s, so I finished the prep for the next day, then headed upstairs to do some reading. I found several more references to the Empusa, and jotted down the reference numbers so Belle could grab them when she went to get the next lot of books for Kash to transcribe. I was yawning by the time ten o’clock came around, so I called it quits and got an early night for a change. If I dreamed, I didn’t remember it.

  My phone rang just as I was cooking breakfast the next morning, the ringtone telling me it was Aiden.

  “I take it there’s a problem and you’re not coming for breakfast,” I said by way of answering.

  “Yes, because the council wants an immediate update.”

  He sounded grumpy, and I couldn’t help smiling. “That’s rather inconvenient timing on their part.”

  “I thought about mentioning that, but under the current circumstances, they wouldn’t have been amused. We still on for our date tonight?”

  “Barring intervention by flesh-stripping demons or White Ladies, definitely.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six, then.”

  He hung up. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, then finished making breakfast for Belle and me. Business was brisk all morning, but it slowed down in the afternoon, which allowed us to do some more baking. Aiden had obviously spread the news about the goodness of our brownies, because we could barely keep up with demand.

  I dithered over what to wear for our date for a good half hour before deciding on a formfitting dark green sheath dress whose only embellishment was a chunky golden zip that ran the full length of the dress’s back, and paired it with gold shoes and handbag to provide a bit of extra bling.

  Aiden—who now had his own key—appeared just as I was clattering down the stairs. His gaze traveled slowly down my length, and desire burned in his eyes. “Well, don’t you look good enough to eat?”

  I smiled and sashayed toward him. He wore black dress pants that hugged his hips, then skimmed the long, lean length of his legs, and a soft blue-gray shirt that emphasized his shoulders and sharpened the blue of his eyes. “So do you.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and claimed his lips. He tasted of coffee, passion, and desire, and all I wanted to do was remain in his arms for as long as I could, while I could.

  A thought I didn’t want to examine. Not right now.

  “You have no idea just how badly I want you at the moment,” he murmured, his breath a hot caress against my lips.

  I laughed softly and pressed a little closer. “Oh, I think I do.”

  “Vixen.” He kissed my nose and then pulled back. “I can also state that I’m going to take great delight in unzipping that dress of yours all the way down your spine and then slowly tasting every single naked inch of you.”

  Desire shimmered. “We could always skip dinner and go back to your place.”

  “Unfortunately, we can’t.” He held out his hand. “And we’d better get going, otherwise we’ll be late.”

  “Why are you being so cagey about this date? What’s going on?”

  He opened the door and ushered me out, then caught my hand again and led me down the street. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “And now you’re making me worried.”

  “There’s no reason to be.”

  “I’m not convinced.” Especially when his aura was a riot of color that betrayed his outward sense of calm.

  He opened the door of his truck and helped me onto the seat. “I’m under orders to keep things secret, so secret they will be.”

  “That’s not helping, you know.”

  “I know, but it is what it is.” He slammed the door once I was seated, then climbed in on the other side and started the engine. “It’ll take us about half an hour to get there.”

  “Define ‘there.’”

  “Bendigo.”

  “We’re going out of the reservation?”

  “Indeed.”

  Curiouser and cu
riouser, as Alice was wont to say. But it was pointless questioning him any further; it was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to give anything away. “How did the council take the news that we’ve a flesh-stripping demon on the reservation?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. They’re seriously worried tourism is going to be affected if this run of murders continues. And yes, they’re well aware that the fault is their own.”

  “There hasn’t been much in the local newspapers about them yet.”

  “No, but that’s never stopped the news from spreading.”

  Thanks in part to the gossip brigade. Nothing seemed to escape their notice. Maybe I should have asked them what the hell Aiden was up to.

  “Were you able to glean anything from last night’s murder?”

  He grimaced. “Not really. Ashworth is of the opinion that something must have gone wrong, as it lacked the finesse evident in the previous two.”

  Which was putting it mildly. “What about the victims? Any progress on identifying them?”

  “The buried victim was Joseph Banker, who went missing four days ago. His parents confirmed the watch was his today.”

  “I take it they didn’t view the remains?”

  “Gerard did, against our advice.” Aiden grimaced again. “That went as well as might be expected, too.”

  “What about the others?”

  “No progress as yet, although last night’s victim did at least have teeth, which should help. Ciara’s completed the facial reconstruction image of the victim found at the crossroad, and Maggie’s going through our missing persons files to see if we can find a match.”

  “That sounds like you have quite a number of people who go missing.”

  “We get two or three a week, on average. Most of them have simply gotten lost, but there’s always one or two a month we never find. I suspect most of those have deliberately disappeared.”

  “One or two a month is a scarily high number over a year—I’m surprised it hasn’t made the news.”

  “It’s not that high—not when you consider that, on average, over ten thousand people in Victoria go missing each year.” He glanced at me. “Did you and Monty manage to track down that shifter?”