Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,32
measure that spoke of his newness to the afterlife. I want to go now.
Just one more question and then you’re free.
I don’t know what it was, he instantly said. I never really saw it. I just felt something slice my stomach and then saw the blood.
You said it was eating you. I know it’s terrifying to remember, but as I’ve said, I need to know what you saw in order to stop this happening to someone else.
He hesitated and then reluctantly said, I saw hair. Dark hair. And a face—a small face.
A human face?
He hesitated. I think so. It all happened so fast. One minute I was trying to contain my intestines and the next I was up here, unable to move away from this damn tree. It’s like I’ve been chained here.
You are, because that’s where death actually claimed you. Are you ready to move on, Jackson?
He obviously was, but she had to formally ask the question before she could proceed. The spirit world was very strict when it came to this sort of stuff.
Well, I certainly don’t want to stay in this godforsaken place.
Then you wish me to help you? Yes or no, Jackson.
Yes.
Then may fate bless you with happiness and old age in your next life.
As his thank-you rolled around us, Belle silently whispered the words that would set him on the path to rebirth.
His form faded as his soul moved on.
Not a lot of information in all that, Belle said wearily.
But a little more than what we had. You’d better go.
Yes, if only because there’s a freshly made Irish coffee waiting for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I blew her a mental kiss and broke the connection, then swiped the dripping hair out of my face and climbed stiffly to my feet. My butt was not only freezing but also numb.
“Well, he obviously wasn’t killed here.” Monty glanced at Tala. “Do you know the building he mentioned?”
“He probably meant the remnants of the crusher building, as not much else is standing. We’d better get over there, just in case there’s evidence that needs preserving.”
She strode away. I hastily wove an exception into the circle to allow Monty and me to get out, then followed her around the rest of the ridge. Her movements were quick and fast on the uneven ground—the benefit of being a werewolf, I suppose—but both Monty and I were far more cautious. It no doubt frustrated her, given she had to keep waiting for us.
We eventually reached the end of the ridge and slid carefully down the slope. Dark water lapped at the edge of a path that ran from the ridge to several uneven shapes. The remnants of the gold mine’s buildings, no doubt.
Tala paused and once again waited for us to catch up. “The crusher building is the largest of the three you can see. How far away from it was he hit?”
“He said about twenty feet from the intake, if that makes any sense.”
“He probably meant the section where a conveyer belt transporting the rock into the crusher went into the building. It’s this way.”
She strode off again but didn’t get very far, stopping so abruptly I was forced to jump sideways in order to avoid running into her.
“Here,” she said. “He died here.”
I studied the ground. It was a mass of mud and dark pools of water that might or might not have been blood. “How can you tell?”
“I’m trained to see these things. Plus, I can smell the blood, even if the rain has done a damn fine job of washing most of it away.” Her tone was annoyed. Not at me, but rather the weather. “Monty, can you protect this area the same way you did the body?”
“Yes,” he said, “but you need to move back.”
She immediately did so, then squatted to study the rain-soaked ground. “There looks to be two sets of footprints—one wolf, and the other Jackson’s.”
“He wasn’t a wolf?” Monty asked.
“No, but all three packs tended to keep an eye out for him, given many of the old gold mines run along compound boundaries.” She swept a hand through her dripping hair. “This is not a good development.”
“No death is, surely.”
“Well, yes, but if we are dealing with a wolf gone rogue, we don’t need him or her getting a taste for easy prey—and humans are certainly that.”
It was also the very last thing this reservation needed. “Jackson’s description of his attacker suggests we could be dealing with a kid.”