Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,40

pale, round face.

I had no immediate sense of danger, but the night was unusually quiet. Granted, it was winter and as cold as hell, but that didn’t usually stop the night scavengers from moving around.

Monty moved to the front of the SUV. “I sent Aiden a text with our location. It’ll be twenty before he gets here, apparently.”

“Which will be seventeen minutes too late.”

His gaze shot to mine. “It’s close?”

“Yes, but I’m not getting any more feedback than that and I’m not sensing anything.”

“Me either.” He scanned the night for a second. “We might need to split up to have any hope of finding it.”

I hesitated. Splitting up was dangerous, but given we had no idea what direction this thing was coming from, it was also the fastest way of finding it. “You go left, I’ll go right. If you find anything, shout.”

“If I find anything, shouting won’t be my first option.”

He strode off, the threads of a cage spell appearing around his fingers. As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the front door opened, and the man I’d glimpsed through the window appeared. “What’s going on out here?”

“We’ve reports of a possible intruder in the area,” I said. “Go inside; keep your doors locked.”

“You rangers?”

“No. Witches, working with the rangers.”

“Lizzie?” Samuel stepped past the owner. “What’s going on?”

“Remember that niggle I mentioned this afternoon?”

“It’s proving true?”

“Yes. Lock everything down and keep the house owner safe.”

Thankfully, he didn’t argue; he just hustled the older man back inside.

I ran toward the end of the house, the threads of a repelling spell stirring around my fingertips; as the light from the spots faded behind me, the darkness closed in. Several large shapes loomed ahead, and I instinctively slowed before I realized it was a shed and a large water tank. I continued on cautiously. The near gale force wind that had plagued much of the day had fallen away, but it was still strong enough to stir through branches of the nearby trees, causing a rustling that sounded like the whisperings of the dead. I shivered and hoped it wasn’t a portent of what was to come.

The wild magic chose that moment to untwine from my wrist and drift away. I’d either reached the limit of Katie’s control or whatever she and the wild magic had sensed was no longer a threat.

I hoped it was the latter. I suspected the former was more likely.

I walked on, my heart racing so fast it felt like one long scream. I had no sense of anything untoward nearby, and there was no sound other than the whispering trees.

Then, from up ahead, between the shadowy outline of the tank and the larger structure that was the shed, something moved. I stopped, my fingers clenched against the instinct to unleash the repelling spell. The last thing I needed was to send some poor farm animal tumbling.

More movement, but it was gone almost as fast as it had appeared.

But that very brief glimpse was enough to have Jackson’s words echoing through my mind.

I scanned the darkness, looking for something that resembled tumbling rubbish even if what I’d seen hadn’t been tumbling—though it certainly had moved peculiarly.

Nothing.

I took a deep breath in a somewhat useless effort to calm the nerves and walked toward the tank. As I neared it, fading scents teased my nostrils—hints of magic.

Dark magic.

A twig snapped somewhere behind me. I spun around, the repelling spell buzzing brightly around my fingers, ready to be unleashed.

Another flash of white, this time moving away from the house and deeper into the trees. It definitely wasn’t a scrap of rubbish drawn along on the breeze. It was moving with far too much intent.

It also held a human shape, even if small and misshapen.

“Monty,” I yelled. “It’s over here and on the move.”

“Wait for me” came his response.

I hesitated, not wanting to lose the trail of whatever this thing was, but also knowing it would be nothing short of utter stupidity to go after it alone. I could protect myself—and had multiple times against all sorts of supernatural nasties—but, small or not, this thing had taken down a werewolf in his prime, and hadn’t, if Jackson was to be believed, used magic to do so.

I swore and quickly flung a tracking spell after the fleeing form. But just as the spell was about to hit, the malformed figure darted sideways and disappeared.

Which left me wondering if it had sensed the spell. If it had, then definitely it couldn’t be a