by Arthur, Keri
Which was a sad but true statement, thanks to the fact the reservation’s largest wellspring had been left unguarded for entirely too long. While wellsprings—and the wild magic that emanated from them—were neither good nor bad, an unprotected one would always draw evil. The larger wellspring might now be fully protected, but the waves of its power would still be echoing through the darker places of this world. It could be years before the reservation stopped being the spirit world’s number-one vacation spot.
I followed Monty into the kitchen and dumped my cup in the sink. “I’d better get going so you can get spruced up for your date.”
“You’re not going?” he said, surprise evident in his voice. “I thought Aiden, as head ranger, would be invited for sure. Most of the local dignitaries are going to be there.”
“He was, but he’s working the late shift tonight.”
Monty grinned. “In other words, he didn’t want to go hobnobbing. He just wanted alone time with his girl.”
“A truth I cannot deny.” I rose on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nodded. “I might even bring Bree with me—she has yet to taste the delights that are your cakes.”
I raised my eyebrows. “This wouldn’t be another ploy, would it?”
He slapped a hand against his chest. “I am once again mortified that you think me capable of such deviousness.”
“This from the man who readily admitted to such deviousness only a few minutes ago.”
“Ah, damn, so I did.” Amusement danced through his expression. “Belle might be my foretold future wife, but I can’t see the point of moping about until she comes around. A man has wants and needs, you know.”
“And I do not want or need to know about them, thank you very much.”
I spun around and headed down the hall to grab my coat. It hadn’t been raining when I’d left the café, so I’d grabbed the shorter, less waterproof one, meaning I’d no doubt be soaked by the time I got to our new SUV—a replacement for the one an Empusae had blown up, which itself had been a replacement for the wagon destroyed by a soucouyant. Demons seemed to have something of a vendetta against our vehicles.
Monty opened the front door and peered out into the stormy afternoon. “I’d offer the use of an umbrella, but it’d be pretty useless against that wind. I do have a Driza-Bone, if you want to borrow that.”
I hesitated, and then shook my head. “You’ll need it for tonight.”
“I do have more than one coat in my wardrobe.” His tone was dry. “And if you go out there and catch a cold, Belle would not be pleased with me.”
“Fine,” I said, amused. “I’ll borrow the coat.”
He disappeared briefly into the other room to get it. Once I’d put the thing on and rolled up the sleeves, I grabbed my keys, slung my bag over my shoulder, and then dashed out. The wind hit like a sledgehammer, throwing me sideways for several steps before I caught my balance. The rain sheeted down so heavily that it was almost impossible to see the SUV—which, given it was bright orange, was something of a feat. I staggered toward it, one arm raised in a vague effort to stop at least some of the rain hitting my face.
Just for an instant, a shadow moved near the SUV—a shadow that was big and powerful. I stopped, my heart leaping into my throat, and my fear so fierce I had to clench my hands against the instinctive need to create a repelling spell.
It wasn’t Clayton. It couldn’t be.
He wouldn’t be out here in the storm—discomfort was not his thing.
For several seconds, neither of us moved. Me because fear had all but frozen me, and the stranger because he was peering into the SUV through the passenger window.
I licked my lips, pushed away the gathering panic, and somehow said, “Oi—what are you doing?”
The stranger’s gaze jerked toward me; his features were a little blurred thanks to the sheer force of the rain, but that was enough. The build might be the same, but that blur confirmed it wasn’t Clayton. The face was too angular, and his nose too long and sharp. It might have been more than twelve years since I’d last seen him, but the overall structure of his face wouldn’t have changed that much.
The relief that surged was so damn strong that for an instant, my knees went to water. The stranger took advantage of my brief inability to move and bolted down the street.
I took a deep, shuddery breath and forced my feet on. But as I clicked the SUV’s remote and the lights flashed in response, unease prickled up my spine. I paused, one hand on the door handle as I studied the rain-swept street. There was nothing to see aside from a few cars parked further down. Lights were on in several of the nearby houses, but there was no one else crazy enough to be out in weather this bad. The air was crisp and cool, and held nothing other than the scent of rain—not that I’d smell anything or anyone else if they were far enough away or downwind of me.
So why did it suddenly feel like I was no longer alone? Why did it feel like I was being watched, and that my watcher was decidedly unfriendly?
Nerves? Or a premonition?
I scanned the street again, then tugged the door open and clambered into the SUV’s relatively warm confines. After locking all the doors, I started the vehicle, my hands shaking as I shoved it into gear and spun away from the curb.
The feeling of being watched persisted, but there were no other cars on the road, and no one following me.
It was nerves. Just nerves.
A result of seeing the stranger checking out my car, perhaps.
Or perhaps not, an inner voice whispered.
I shivered and, after picking up our alcohol supplies, drove home. I hung Monty’s dripping coat on a hook to dry, then pushed open the door that divided the store and laundry areas from the café and headed upstairs to our flat.
Belle stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her hair. “Are you okay? I’ve been getting the weirdest vibes from you for the last twenty minutes or so.”
I grimaced. “I think all the preparations we’re taking to combat Clayton are finally getting to me—I saw a stranger checking out the SUV and basically had a panic attack.”
She frowned. “Why was he checking out the SUV?”
I shrugged and placed the whiskey on the counter of what passed as the kitchen up here. Like the living area beyond it, it was tiny, holding little more than a microwave, a kettle, and a coffee machine. We didn’t really care, given the two bedrooms and the bathroom were large for a flat this size. Besides, if we had more than two guests—all that would fit on the sofa—we simply migrated downstairs to the café.
“I suspect he was looking for sellable items. Aiden did mention a few days ago that there’d been a rash of car break-ins lately.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “And did he break in?”
“He didn’t get the chance—and he bolted the minute I called out.”
“All of which doesn’t really explain the uneasy vibes.”
I wrinkled my nose. “As I said, it was just nerves. Nothing to worry about.”
She snorted. “Yeah, trusting that statement. You want me to make you a loaded coffee to calm said nerves?”
I smiled. “If I have too many more of those, I’ll be well on my way to becoming a lush. What time is Kash picking you up?”
She glanced at her watch. “In twenty minutes.”
“Then you’d better get ready. I’ll head downstairs and finish the prep for tomorrow.”
She nodded and continued on into her bedroom. Once I’d changed out of my wet jeans and shoes, I went downstairs and spent the next couple of hours baking slices and finishing off the veg and salad prep. By the time I’d finished, it was close to eight and my stomach was rumbling a loud reminder that it hadn’t yet been fed. I made myself a steak sandwich, grabbed a piece of the freshly made chocolate-and-salted-caramel brownie for dessert, and then headed upstairs to catch up on the news.
My phone rang around nine; the tone told m
e it was Aiden. I hit the answer button and said, “Hey handsome, how’s your night going?”
“It was perfectly fine until a few minutes ago.”
“What’s happened?” I asked, even though it wasn’t exactly hard to guess.
“It would appear the vamp with a taste for the newly married has struck again.” His voice was heavy. “And this time, he’s killed them both.”
Chapter Two
“Shit.” I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. “Do you want me there to attempt a reading?”
“Yes. I know it takes a toll on you, but it might be the fastest way to track down the thing doing this.” He hesitated. “Belle’s at that restaurant opening in Argyle—will that be a problem?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve done a long-distance connection, but there’s little point in worrying about it until we know if it’s worth trying. Where are you?”
“I’m at the station—the call has only just come in. I’ll pick you up in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay.”
I hung up and ran downstairs to the reading room. The spells protecting the room shimmered briefly as I entered, a visible indication that they were active and working. Though relatively small, this room was probably one of the safest places in Victoria when it came to dealing with any sort of magic or occult entities. While the building as a whole was surrounded by spells that guarded us against all manner of things—from preventing anyone intending us harm entering the café, to protecting us against a wide variety of supernatural nasties—there were a whole range of additional measures within this room. No spirit or demon was getting in here, even if it somehow broke through the main spells.
I opened one of the storage compartments hidden behind the bookcase and grabbed the backpack we now held ‘at the ready’ for situations like this. It not only contained my silver knife—fully sheathed and tied securely into the pack so there was no chance of Aiden or any other werewolf touching it—but also a selection of potions, amulets, and holy water, which gave us basic coverage for all manner of nasties. Combined with the multi-twined copper and leather charm around my neck—which was probably the most powerful item I’d ever created, and one I’d duplicated for both Aiden and Belle—I should be well protected.
I only wished it were that easy to protect myself from Clayton.
I shoved the thought back into its box, grabbed my coat and keys, and then headed out into the rain-swept night, huddling under the overhanging veranda for protection as I waited for Aiden.
Once again, the feeling of being watched stirred.
I clenched my fingers against the repelling spell that pressed against my fingertips, a little alarmed by the automatic nature of it. Though it was personal magic rather than wild, it nevertheless shouldn’t have happened. Spells had to be spoken—they didn’t just appear as and when needed. But maybe this was another example of the wild magic changing the rules when it came to what I could and couldn’t do.
I studied the street warily. While chatter and music came from Subway down the road, there was no one on the street and few cars driving by. I had no sense of anyone hiding in the shadows, and there was no caress of magic to indicate a witch might be near. Which, if they were shielding, was not unexpected.
And yet…
My gaze rose to the rooftops of the buildings opposite. It wouldn’t be the first time a foe had hidden up there, waiting for the right moment to strike. But I still couldn’t imagine Clayton doing so—not on a night as hideous as this. Besides, he wasn’t the type to stalk his prey. He’d strike fast and hard, as he had with the whole marriage thing—there’d been no more than a week between my father and Clayton agreeing on ‘the deal’ and the marriage contracts being signed. Aside from the priest who’d performed the ceremony, the only witnesses had been my parents. It was little wonder that few in Canberra even knew about it—the documents had been sealed, and Clayton had apparently been carrying on as any single man would—well, aside from his apparent inability to get an erection, that was.
Lights swept around the corner, and I once again thrust the worry from my mind. There was nothing else I could do until either my watcher showed his or her hand or they got close enough for Belle to raid their minds. Although given how thoroughly she’d stormed into Clayton’s, making him utterly incapable of any movement or even thought the night she’d rescued me from his clutches, it’s possible my watcher would wearing the latest electronic protection against telepathic intrusion. Clayton certainly would be.
Aiden’s blue truck pulled up next to the curb. As I walked over, he leaned across the front seat and opened the door. The cabin’s pale light silvered his dark blond hair and deepened the shadows in his blue eyes. While most Australian wolf packs were amber-eyed and either brown, red, or black in color, the O’Connors were the more rare gray wolves.
I shoved the backpack into the foot well and then climbed in. His warm, musky scent teased the air, and I flared my nostrils, drawing the delightful aroma in as I leaned across and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Where did the murders happen?”
“At a small B&B on Hunter Street.”
Which wasn’t a street I knew. I grabbed my seat belt and clipped it on as he accelerated away from the curb. “Who reported them?”
“The owner.” There was something in his expression that had wariness rising. “Her name is Lacy Marin, and she’s a good friend of my mother’s.”
I couldn’t help my snort. “Meaning I should expect a mix of attitude and frostiness being flung my way.”
His mother—Karleen Jayne O’Connor—had certainly made no secret of her disapproval of me, nor her determination to end our relationship. I was both human and a witch, and as such would never be a suitable match for her son. The longer Aiden and I were together, the more likely it became she’d do something more concrete to split us up. She’d already threatened to place a wolf embargo on our café, but if she’d been paying any real attention to our business of late, she’d know that wouldn’t actually close us. It would severely dent our profit margin, however.
“She’ll be polite.” His voice was flat. “She won’t dare be anything else in my presence.”
Which was the exact tactic his mother had taken, and oh boy, the minute he’d stepped away, the alpha bitch had come to the fore. Still, in this particular case, it was unlikely Lacy would throw too much attitude my way; not when there were two dead bodies in her B&B.
It turned out Hunter Street was only six streets away, so it didn’t take us long to get there. Aiden cut the siren and stopped in front of a white weatherboard miner’s cottage. As the red-and-blue lights swept across the shadows of the night, a small woman wearing a bright red raincoat and matching gumboots came out of the more palatial house on the opposite side of the road and strode toward us.
“Wait here.” Aiden climbed out and met Lacy Marin at the front of his truck.
She took a set of keys out of her pocket and handed them to him. “I locked the doors once I’d reported the murders.”
Her voice carried easily, despite the heavy drumming of rain on the truck’s roof. Either she was shouting or my hearing was, for some weird reason, suddenly sharper.
Aiden nodded. “Jaz should be here in fifteen minutes to get your statement. In the meantime, you’d better get out of this rain.”
She nodded and turned around, her gaze briefly meeting mine. Though her expression gave little away, contempt was very evident in the glint of her golden eyes.
My sight, I noted somewhat uneasily, had also sharpened. Either that, or my imagination was running away with me yet again.
As Lacy Marin strode away, Aiden moved around to grab his kit out of the back of his truck, then opened the passenger door and helped me out. Rain blasted into my face and ran down the back of my neck; I shivered, shoved my hands into my pockets in a vague effort to keep them warm, and quickly followed him through the picket gate and down the stone stairs. The old cottage was well-kept and pretty typical in style
for its era: a red tin roof, sash windows on either side of the red front door, and a wide veranda that did at least offer some protection from the worst of the weather.
I ran a hand down my face to get rid of the moisture and studied the building with my ‘other’ senses. There was no immediate sensation of evil and nothing to suggest that souls lingered inside, which meant these deaths were ordained.
“Anything?” Aiden asked softly.
I shook my head. “If we are dealing with some sort of supernatural entity, then they didn’t come through this door—there’s no resonance.”
“It didn’t. Lacy said the main bedroom is an extension at the rear, with double doors leading out to the hot tub and patio. They were open when she arrived.”
He handed me a set of gloves and shoe protectors; I leaned against the wall to put them on. “They weren’t murdered in the tub, were they?”
I’d seen plenty of brutal murders in this reservation, but for some reason, the thought of it occurring in water had my skin crawling.
He shook his head and opened the door. “They’re in the bedroom. Lacy said it smelled as if they’d been dead for at least a few hours.”
“I wouldn’t have thought putrefaction would have started that quickly, given how cold it’s been these last few days.”
“It depends on the situation. It can start as early as six hours after death, but it’s usually somewhere between twenty-four and thirty-six hours. Speaking of which—” He dug back into his kit and then tossed me a small jar. “Use this.”
“Vicks VapoRub?” I said, surprised.
“Dab it under your nose. It’ll help.”
“Meaning you can smell them from out here?”
“Werewolves have a keen sense of smell, remember? But in this case, there appears to have been major bowel leakage after death.”
“Great,” I muttered, and wondered why that seemed so much worse than the many other gruesome things I’d seen over recent months.
