Blood Kissed Page 7

  “No, it does not,” I snapped. “Haven’t you got other business to attend to, Ranger? Like discovering the man who murdered the teenager? You’re hardly going to find him following me about.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “And maybe not.”

  If I’d been a wolf, I would have growled in frustration—which probably would have either amused him or made him even more convinced I was hiding something. Which, as far as the case went, wasn’t really true. Not when the only thing I was hiding were truths he didn’t want to hear.

  I bit back my annoyance and continued down the road, the condition of which got worse the deeper we moved into the scrub. And even though I was watching every step carefully, my awareness of the man walking beside me was painfully acute.

  “Why is this road so bad if it leads up to your compound?” I asked, more in an effort to break the growing tension—mine, not his.

  “Because it’s a back entrance rather than the main one.” His gaze remained on me. Obviously, he wasn’t overly concerned about the possibility of breaking an ankle on this pitiful excuse of a road. “Tell me about the wild magic, and why you feel it’s so important.”

  Surprise had me briefly glancing up at him. “Why? It’s not like you actually believe it exists, is it?”

  “What I believe isn’t relevant right now,” he said. “I’m merely trying to understand what wild magic is and why you think it’s connected to Karen’s murder.”

  “I didn’t say it was connected. I just said it being unprotected is a problem.”

  “Which is what I’m trying to understand.” He caught my elbow and guided me around a rather large hole. “Honesty in all matters is advisable. It will help whatever action the council decides to take when the news of your being a witch reaches their ears.”

  I snorted and pulled my arm away from his touch—and tried to ignore the fact that the heat of it lingered. “I’m surprised they haven’t already, given your hatred.”

  “Despite what you seem to think, emotion neither blinds me nor guides all my actions.” He hesitated. “I admit my behavior in that clearing was perhaps a little less than professional, and you are more than welcome to file a complaint—”

  I snorted again. “As if filing a complaint against an O’Connor will get me anywhere in a reservation run by O’Connors.”

  “We only hold three seats on the council, which is no more, and no less, than the Marin and Sinclair packs.”

  Surprise ran through me. “But this is your traditional land—”

  “Which is why we hold the area around Mount Alexander in its entirety,” he said. “But there was never any question of us ruling this place over the other packs. It would have been unworkable.”

  As had been proven in some of the older reservations. Obviously by the time this reservation had come into being, lessons had been learned.

  “And,” he continued, “you’re once again avoiding the question.”

  “Wild magic,” I said, as the road began to climb and the scrub gave way to the soldier-like lines of pines. “Is not really magic, but rather a force, or an energy, that comes from not only the earth itself, but everything that lives in the soil or flies in the skies. It is the ground we walk on and the air we breathe; it is the rivers and trees and life itself, right down to the micro-organisms that are to be found everywhere.”

  “All wolves are aware that in life there is power,” he said. “But what separates wild magic from the power witches draw on every day? That also comes from the world around us, does it not?”

  “Yes, but only a surface level. Wild magic comes from deep within the earth—there are some who suggest its source is the tumultuous outer layers of the earth’s core—and that’s the reason it so dangerous and unpredictable.”

  “So these wellsprings are also dangerous?”

  “In and of themselves, no. They’re simply collection points, and no one really understands why they develop. But, like any source of power, be it magic or man-made, if they are placed under the wrong influence, then they can be deadly.”

  “How?”

  “Have you heard of the High Ridge Massacre?”

  He snorted. “It’d be a rare person in Australia who hasn’t. It’s not often an entire town is all but wiped out in one brutal and bloody night.”

  “Ah, but that one night was merely the ultimate culmination.” My replies were coming out in an increasingly breathless manner, thanks to the steadily rising incline. “What went unsaid in the news reports was the fact that the murder rate kept increasing over a period of months. The final mass slaughter was simply the pinnacle.”

  I could feel his gaze on me. “And you know this how?”

  “Because even a low-class witch like myself hears whispers.” I stopped and eyed the road ahead. It showed no sign of flattening out, and my legs were seriously beginning to burn. “How much further until we reach the boundary of your pack’s land?”

  “Another couple of kilometers.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not far.”

  “For the fit, maybe.” But if I waited for the burn to ease, I’d be here all day. I swung the pack around and opened it up. Thankfully, amongst all the other paraphernalia, Belle had included a bottle of drinking water.

  I took a long swig then offered it to the ranger. He shook his head and said, “I’m gathering you believe the wild magic was responsible for both this upswing and the murders?”

  “Yes. As I said, the energy that gathers at wellsprings is neither good nor bad, but it can be stained—influenced, if you like—by either. The wellspring in High Ridge was newly formed and rather small, but the darker forces became aware of its existence before a witch could be assigned to its protection. The wellspring was irrevocably stained, which is why life in that town remains untenable for all who follow the light.”

  “And this is what you think will happen here?”

  “For everyone’s sake, I hope not.” I stoppered the water bottle and shoved it back in the pack. “But whether you like it or not, Karen’s murder might just be the first play in evil’s takeover of this place.”

  “Which is an overly dramatic statement, I’m thinking.”

  “Perhaps.” I shouldered my pack and continued on. “But it might be wise to go read the police reports from that time. As a ranger, you should have access to them.”

  “I very much doubt those reports will even mention your wild magic.”

  “No. It’ll just show the sudden and dramatic upswing in offenses.”

  He didn’t immediately reply, and for several minutes the only sound to be heard was the rasp of my breathing. His, I noted with annoyance, had barely altered.

  I studied the tree-lined road ahead. The caress of wild magic was definitely stronger, but there was nothing yet in that sensation that suggested I was close to the source. Knowing my damn luck, it would be on O’Connor land.

  “There hasn’t been a witch on this reservation for over a year now,” he said. “Surely if our wellspring was going to draw evil, it would have done so.”

  “It would depend entirely on what protections the last witch placed on it before you ran him out of town.”

  “We didn’t run him out of town,” he bit back. “We may have revoked his residency, but he disappeared before we could serve notice. There’s still a warrant out for his arrest.”

  “Have you contacted the Regional Witch Association for assistance? If he’s wanted, they would surely—”

  Aiden’s snort was loud and disdainful. “What? Give away one of their own?”

  “If he’s suspected of a crime, they would have to.”

  “And yet they have been spectacularly unhelpful in the past.” He shook his head. “We’ll take our chances and let the law do its job without the interference of any damn witches.”

  “We’re not all bad, you know.”

  “I never said you were. I merely said I don’t want to associate with any of you.”

  “And yet, here you are, associati
ng.”

  Once again his smile held very little in the way of humor. “I’m doing my job. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  I harrumphed and continued to plod up the final bit of the incline. By the time I reached the top, it felt like I’d run a damn marathon. Any impression that I might have been in okay shape had been well and truly shattered.

  The road plunged downward again and was quickly consumed by the regimental lines of green. The mountain that rose on the other side of the valley was rugged and stone-filled, a place of shadows and old, old power.

  Mount Alexander, I presumed, and home to not only the O’Connor pack but also the wild magic. It could be nowhere else, of that I was certain.

  Which meant it was basically impossible for me to access the area without first getting permission from the pack’s leaders. As Aiden had already noted, I was a far from silent walker, and while I did know invisibility and scent containment spells, werewolves were capable of picking up the distortion shimmer that was one of the few telltale signs of both.

  The flip side, of course, was the fact that it would be just as difficult for anyone else to access it. And that at least gave me some time to come up with a way to convince the councilors that the wild magic’s source needed some protection—and that it would be better if it came from a more powerful witch than me.

  A sharp ring broke the silence and made me jump. Aiden dug his phone out of his pocket and walked down the hill several yards.

  I spotted a largish rock on the other side of the road and walked over to sit down and catch my breath. The only sound that broke the silence was the melodious tune of a magpie. Aiden wasn’t talking, but it was rather obvious that whatever he was hearing, he didn’t like.

  After several more minutes, he hung up and met my gaze. His annoyance spun around me, as fierce as it might have been had he been standing right next to me.

  “What?” I immediately said.

  “It appears you were right.”

  Amusement stirred through me. “And is that why you’re so annoyed, or is it something else?”

  The faintest hint of curiosity glimmered through the annoyance as he said, “Do you always try to make light of a situation?”

  “When I can, yes.” I paused. “What was I right about?”

  He thrust his hands on his hips and spun around to study the valley below us. Getting his emotions under control, I suspected, and felt like telling him that it didn’t really matter because—for who only knows what reason—I was sensing them anyway.

  “That was my sister—”

  “Ciara?” I cut in. “The one who’s also the coroner?”

  He nodded. “She’s got the prelim results on cause of death.”

  Trepidation stepped into my heart. “And?”

  The waves of emotion rolling off him got fiercer, making my breath catch in my throat.

  “Cause of death was catastrophic blood loss.”

  “From what?” I knew, God help me, I knew, but something within had to hear it confirmed.

  He turned around and his gaze finally met mine again. The blue depths were dark, and spoke of fear and fury combined. “The two wounds on her neck have been identified. We have a vampire on the reservation.”

  Chapter Four

  There was little point in wasting air on an I-told-you-so—not when this was one situation where I wished I hadn’t been correct. “What are you going to tell Marjorie?”

  “Nothing,” he said, voice sharp. “And neither will you. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.” I paused, and then added, “Unfortunately, a vampire may not be all you’re dealing with.”

  “Cryptic statements are not something I want or need right now, Ms. Grace,” he all but growled, “so whatever it is, just spit it out.”

  “Ms. Grace was my grandmother’s name. I prefer Lizzie.” I hesitated. “The reason I couldn’t give you much of a description of the vampire is because I think he was using magic to conceal his presence.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t think vampires were capable of magic.”

  “Most aren’t. Those who are were generally capable of such before they turned, and the magic they use is the blood kind. Which,” I added, forestalling his next question, “is magic whose source comes from sacrifices rather than the purer energy of the world. Have there been any recent reports of chickens or other small animals going missing?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but that’s the province of the animal management section. I’ll check with them.” He frowned. “There also haven’t been any reports of people being attacked, either.”

  “He might be moving outside the reservation to feed.”

  “Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending ripples of brighter silver through the dark blond. “The council is not going to be pleased.”

  No one ever was when it came to discovering there was a vampire in their neck of the woods. “I suggest you contact the IIT and ask them to bring in a vampire specialist.”

  “Indeed.”

  He grimaced as he strode toward me. “I need to get back to headquarters, so I’m afraid you’re on your own from here on in. The boundary into our compound is the river that lies at the bottom of this valley. Don’t cross it unless you wish to land in serious trouble.”

  “I’ve gone as far as I intend to today, Ranger.”

  “Really?” Surprise ran briefly across his expression. “I hadn’t pegged you as someone who’d give up so easily.”

  “It’s hardly giving up when there’s no point in going on. The wellspring is on your mountain.”

  “You can tell that from here?”

  “Yes. And when you’re informing the council about the vampire, then perhaps you can also mention—”

  “No. Not without proof.”

  “So you’d rather risk this place becoming untenable than trust the word of a witch, however tenuous her link to magic?” I shook my head. “I hadn’t pegged you as someone who was so closed-minded.”

  His gaze narrowed dangerously but he didn’t say anything. He simply strode past me and headed down the hill. About halfway down, energy stirred and the air shimmered as the internal magic of the wolf—a magic that didn’t cause the change, but merely hid the transformation that came from evolutionary DNA adaptions, as well as neatly taking care of everything he was wearing or carrying—swept him effortlessly from one form to another. His wolf was as lean and powerful as his human, and his coat rippled with silver at every movement.

  Even in animal form, the damn man was attractive.

  He leaped off the road and disappeared into the trees. I pushed upright and began the long journey back to town. It was close to one by the time I arrived back at the café and the sunshine that had been out until that point disappeared behind a gathering bank of dark clouds. I couldn’t help hoping it wasn’t an omen of some kind.

  The bell above the door rang as I entered the café, but the merry sound was almost lost to the babble of conversation. All but three of our tables were full, and the air held a happy resonance that spoke well for our future. I greeted the couple who’d come in for coffee yesterday, and nodded at the rest as I headed toward the back of the room. Belle glanced up and gave me a cheerful grin, even though she’d been aware of my arrival well before I’d even stepped through the door.

  “Do you need a hand here?” I asked

  “Not immediately.” Go secure things and then have a shower first.

  I raised my eyebrows. Are you saying I stink?

  Eau de sweat is strong on you.

  I snorted and continued toward the reading room. The air sparked briefly as I entered, a clear indication the spells encircling and protecting the room were active. Incense burned in each corner of the shadowed room, filling the space with the warm scents of cinnamon, clove, lemon, and sandalwood—all of which provided either protection or enhanced focus and concentration. There was a simple wooden table in the center of the room, along with four mismatched but comfortable chairs. A large rug
covered the floor and bright lengths of material were draped from the ceiling, not only providing the otherwise drab room with some color, but also hiding the spellwork engraved into the wood. The spell stones we’d placed in each corner backed these up; only an entity of extreme power was going to get into this room.

  I walked across to the full-height bookcase that had been built along the right wall. Once I’d moved a decorative candle and a couple of pottery dragons, I placed my hand against the bookcase’s wooden back. Energy immediately crawled across my fingers, and after a slight pause, there was a soft click and the wooden panel slipped to one side, revealing an eight-inch-deep empty compartment. The entire bookshelf was actually little more than a cover for thirty-six of these storage compartments, each one matching the size of bookshelf that fronted it. They could only be accessed via Belle’s hands or mine. Fingerprint scanners might be the latest evolution in physical locks, but witches had been using a magical version for decades.

  I swung the backpack around and placed the foul-feeling necklace into the compartment. Once it was securely locked away, I quickly stored the rest of the pack’s items and then headed upstairs to clean up.

  The rest of the afternoon passed by relatively quickly. While we weren’t inundated with customers, there was a steady enough stream to keep everyone busy. Once the café was closed, I sent Belle upstairs to relax while I finished cleaning up and made us dinner—steak, eggs, and vegetables. While a lot of false witches tended to be vegetarians or even vegans, those of us who dealt with real stuff had to be carnivores. A spell could only be as strong as the practitioner, and that meant getting the full range of minerals and vitamins from all available sources, be it from fat, dairy, vegetable, or animal.

  I carried our meals upstairs. The day had gotten colder as the afternoon had progressed, so instead of eating on the balcony as usual, Belle had dragged the table and chairs inside, squashing them into the small space between the sofa and the TV.

  “I,” she said, as she grabbed her cutlery, “am famished.”

  “You’re in a café surrounded by food. If you don’t take the time to eat, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.”