Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,46
necessary.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “Were there any unusual incidents before the initial break-in, then?”
“No.”
“Fine. Let’s go check the records. Ladies, if you’re confident nothing was stolen, you’re free to go.”
“I’ll get the door replaced ASAP,” Harry added. “At my cost, of course.”
Suggesting he doesn’t want to lose his best customers, I said.
Ain’t that a fact. Belle pushed upright. I didn’t mention this to Mac, but the would-be thief didn’t just use a car. They also used magic.
My gaze snapped to hers. What kind?
The spell breaker kind.
Did you manage to snare a thread or two?
I didn’t, but Mom did. Told you she’d come in handy.
She led the way into the unit via the new gap between the runner and the door. I studied the pulsing network of spells as I followed her across to the inner building. For the most part they were untouched, but there was a slight blot—little more than a smudge—along the lines of the new alarm spell I’d installed. They’d tried to disarm it; the fact they hadn’t succeeded suggested we weren’t dealing with professionals. Any witch with a good degree of training could have dismantled it easily enough.
I headed up the steps and followed Belle into the smaller unit. Ava turned and held up a small glass jar. Inside were two small spell threads. “These things won’t last all that long—I haven’t the skill to enhance their lifespan.”
“We don’t need to,” I said. “We just need them to last long enough for me to try and get some sense of their creator.”
Ava’s gaze widened. “You can do that?”
I smiled at the surprise in her voice. She obviously knew it was possible to track threads back to their originator via magic, given it was a common process in Canberra when it came to rogue spells or spellers. She just hadn’t—despite everything we’d told her—realized how much of a power jump I’d had since she last saw us. Or that it wasn’t just my spell casting capabilities that had increased.
“In theory.”
“So you’ve not tried it before?”
“Not with something this fragile,” I said. “But we’ve certainly had success doing this with various other objects, including the bloody feather of a Empusa we were trying to stop.”
Her eyes went wide again. “Dear God, an Empusa? You didn’t tell me about that one, Belle.”
Belle grinned. “There are some things a mother should never know.”
“Meaning the Empusa wasn’t the worse thing you’ve confronted?”
“Hell no.” Belle patted her mother’s arm. “Best you not ask, though, because you’ll only get all worried and fretful.”
“And a comment like that isn’t going to have the same effect at all.”
Ava’s voice was dry, and Belle laughed. “We survived Clayton. Dealing with the supernatural world is a breeze by comparison.”
“I wish the same could be said about Maelle.” It was absently said. I plucked the jar from Ava’s hand, then moved across to the desk.
Belle groaned. “You’ve had a dream? Or is it simply a very sensible fear of a very scary bitch?”
A smile twitched my lips. “No dream. Just a feeling.”
“They’re almost as goddamn bad.”
“But nowhere near as accurate.” I sat cross-legged on the table and placed the jar in front of me. The two threads inside the jar were pulsing, suggesting they were very close to the end of their active life. If I wanted to get any information out of them, I needed to be quick.
“Do you need us to do anything?” Ava asked.
I began unscrewing the lid. “Just keep an eye out for Harry and Mac. The latter will be annoyed Belle didn’t mention a possible lead.”
“It’s not like they could have accessed it,” she replied. “Not without our help.”
“That, as Aiden would say, is not the point.”
I placed the lid onto the table and then carefully shook the threads down into my palm. The caress of their power was faint, but it held no hint of shadows or darkness. The spell’s construction appeared formulaic; the witch who created it had at least been trained at a base level.
None of which was all that helpful.
I took a deep breath to center my energy, then opened the psychic gates and reached. Nothing happened. I closed my hand around the threads and let the faint pulse of their energy beat against my skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, the image of a woman who looked vaguely familiar formed. She had gray hair, blue eyes, a happy smile, and an aura that glowed with a vivid mix of pink and green, the two colors most associated with healing.