Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,17

never repay you for this.

“I don’t need repayment, Belle,” he answered softly. “I just wanted to see you happy.”

I am. Though how the hell you managed to keep this from me—

“Trade secret,” he said. “Now, stop speaking to me and start catching up with your mom. Lizzie, you coming?”

“Absolutely.”

I kissed both women, then followed him out the door. He’d parked directly out the front, in the no-standing zone, and must have seen my expression because he grinned unrepentantly. “It says ‘no standing except for deliveries.’ I was delivering.”

I laughed and climbed into his old Ford. “When on earth are you going to start using your Mustang rather than this old rattletrap?”

“Considering the condition of many roads in this reservation, absolutely never. She’s a cruiser; a dirt road and her tires will never meet.”

“The rattletrap isn’t going to be great on a lot of those roads either.”

“True.” He did a U-turn and headed toward the hospital, where the morgue was situated. “But given the record this place has of destroying cars, the rattletrap is a mighty good move—especially given you’ve already destroyed two SUVs, and both Aiden and Ashworth lost their trucks. It’s doubtful there’ll be an endless supply of cash for new cars coming from the council’s coffers, even in a reservation as rich as this one.”

He did have a point. I crossed mental fingers that we didn’t lose another SUV, let alone my little Suzi. I might not have had her for very long, but I was already attached.

It didn’t take us long to get across to the hospital. Monty parked out the front of the morgue—which had only recently reopened after a spell bomb had torn it apart—and then led the way inside.

The blonde receptionist looked up with a smile. “They’re waiting for you in morgue one.”

“Thanks, Betty.” Monty immediately headed left.

We were buzzed through the door and then walked down a corridor to a door at the far end. Monty opened it and ushered me inside. The smell of antiseptic and death hit so strongly, it felt like it was coating the back of my throat. I blinked and did my best to ignore it.

Aiden and Ciara were examining a body on the middle table of the three in the room, but glanced up as we walked over.

“Lizzie,” Ciara said. “It’s lovely to see you, but it’s also somewhat surprising.”

“She’s now officially my deputy, on a part-time basis, so expect her presence more often.”

Aiden raised his eyebrows. “When did this happen?”

“Agreement came through yesterday—”

“I wasn’t informed—”

“Because it’s not a ranger decision.” Monty stopped beside Ciara. “We got a cause of death yet?”

“Initial blood and tox results only, but there are no indications that he’d been drugged or drunk.”

“Which is what we expected,” Aiden added.

He did not look happy, which no doubt meant he and I would be having a “discussion” later about my new position. I loved the damn man, but there were times when his protective tendencies got tedious.

I did my best to ignore the radiating annoyance and studied Patrick’s body. He lay in three pieces, his left arm and the opposite leg having been torn from his body. “The teeth marks and bruising would seem to indicate he was still alive when he was torn apart.”

Amusement touched Ciara’s expression. “Are you now gunning for the position of coroner’s assistant?”

“Hardly, especially given the smell in this place. I’m not entirely sure how you stand it all the time.”

“You get used to it.” She studied me speculatively. “And it shouldn’t be all that noticeable to a human nose.”

“I’m not human, per se. I’m a wild-magic-enhanced witch.”

“True.” She motioned to several bite marks on the upper portion of his attached thigh. “I’ve sent images to a forensic odontologist for a second opinion, but I believe these are caused by human teeth rather than wolf or anything else.”

“So, does that mean we’re not dealing with a rogue werewolf?” Monty asked.

“Not necessarily,” Aiden said. “It would depend on what stage of degradation he or she is at. It’s possible the body has mutated but not yet the facial structure.”

“Which, aside from being an unpleasant situation,” Ciara said, “would tip the rogue further into madness. Human teeth are not designed to rip fresh flesh, and his morphing state wouldn’t make it viable to interact or even remain with his pack.”

“So he or she is from one of our packs?” Monty said.

Aiden shook his head. “We’d have been informed at the first sign of it happening. The reservation relies too heavily on