Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,51
sliding door. Someone was trying to get in.
I quickly—but quietly—went up the remaining steps, but stopped on the landing and cautiously peered around the corner.
And saw the shadow on the balcony.
Chapter Eight
He had the build of a weightlifter and silver hair that glowed brightly in the streetlights. He was dressed in black, appeared to be wearing gloves, and had a large backpack slung over one shoulder.
If I wasn’t mistaken, he was the shorter of the two men who’d reversed a truck into our storage unit.
I dragged out my phone, leaned back so that the glow of the screen wasn’t immediately visible, then switched off the camera’s flash and took a few quick photos. I debated whether to call it in or not, then decided to see what happened. I shoved the phone away and waited, my heart thumping so loud it seemed to fill the silence. The door rattled a few more times, then, with a soft click, slid open.
The thief stepped in, flashlight in one hand. I stepped out.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He swore, threw the flashlight at me, then turned and ran back out onto the balcony. As the flashlight landed near my feet and slid into the wall, I tossed the spell, then ran after him.
The tumbling threads of magic spun quickly through the air and hit his spine just as he was clambering over the railing. He made an odd gargling sort of sound, his arms flailing in an obvious attempt to gain balance, and then dropped out of sight.
I cursed, darted out the door, and leaned over the top rail. The thief hadn’t disappeared down the street, as I’d half expected. He lay unmoving directly below.
I swore again, then grabbed my phone, calling an ambulance and then the ranger station.
“Ranger Jaz Marin here. How may I help you?”
“Jaz, it’s Lizzie. Someone just tried to break into the apartment above the café and, unfortunately, fell over the railing when he was attempting to escape.”
“Alive or dead?” she said calmly.
“Don’t know, as I’m not down there yet. I’ve called an ambulance.”
“Good. Don’t touch anything—I’ll be there in a minute.”
She hung up. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and headed downstairs. The thief hadn’t moved at all, and my heart beat a whole lot harder. I really hoped he wasn’t dead, and that certainly hadn’t been my intention when I’d thrown the spell. It had obviously packed quite a punch, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the wild magic had something to do with that. Was it becoming a physical force as much as a magical? If it was, then it would certainly restrict what spells I could and couldn’t do, especially when I was dealing with customers who came to the café for magical help.
I knelt beside the stranger and lightly pressed two fingers against his neck. His pulse was a little thready, but nevertheless strong, and relief stirred. Of course, whether he was simply unconscious or I’d done deeper damage, only time—and a thorough examination at the hospital—would tell.
I pulled my fingers back, but as they brushed the chain around his neck, heat rose, whispering secrets. I glanced around, but the immediate area was empty. That wasn’t really unusual—it might be a Friday night, but most of the businesses around us only opened during the day.
As the sound of an approaching siren bit through the night, I wrapped my fingers around the chain then opened the psychometry gates and reached. The images hit so fast and hard they tore a gasp from my throat. I pulled back mentally and tried to control the speed and direction. I didn’t want his whole history. I just needed to know what he’d been doing and who he’d been talking to over the course of the day.
The images pitched so violently that my stomach flip-flopped, before they abruptly settled into a watchable sequence. A car. A hotel. A text saying “they’re having dinner, you’re clear to go. Grab whatever old books you see and we’ll sort them later.” My pulse leapt into overdrive. Not only were they after Belle’s books, but they were also obviously following Belle and Ava. I swore and tried to catch a number or name of the person who’d sent the text, but freezing specific images during a psychometry reading wasn’t something I’d ever been able to do that successfully. Not that it mattered—the rangers should be able to grab that information easily enough.