she’s run you off.
Let her. Her victory will be short-lived.
We jumped into Monty’s classic 1967 V8 Mustang, with me—being the smallest of the three of us—inelegantly squeezing into the rear seat of a car that was never really designed to carry backseat passengers. The big engine rumbled as he started her up and then eased her gently down the old stone driveway. Once out on the main road, he unleashed her full power. In the wet conditions, it was a hair-raising experience.
The café remained wrapped in darkness when we arrived, and there was no immediate indication that anything—or anyone—had tried to enter.
But as I clambered out of the back seat and looked up at the first floor, I spotted a few faint wisps of broken spell threads. Something had at least tested the magic.
“Doesn’t look as though they got in.” Monty stood in the middle of the road gazing up at the first floor balcony. He didn’t seem to care about the pelting rain or the fact he was getting soaked. “I’m not sure it was our book thief, though.”
Belle pulled the keys out of her small purse and opened up. “Only one way to tell.”
She opened the door and then motioned me to precede her. I hitched my dress up, running quickly through the tables and then up the stairs, my heels clattering on the wooden steps.
The gentle glow of the streetlights washed through the glass doors at the far end of the room, highlighting more tiny threads of shattered magic; this time, the edge of darkness that still crawled around them was plain to see. Monty was right—our book thief hadn’t done this. Our magic-capable DNA-broken werewolf had been here.
I strode across to the room, unlocked the sliding door, and then stepped through. A tiny sliver of thread drifted past me and I gently captured it in one hand. A pulse of evil briefly caressed my skin—confirmation of our culprit. Thankfully, the spell she’d destroyed belonged to the tracking layer I’d recently added. That she hadn’t succeeded in breaking the rest was no doubt thanks—at least in part—to how integral the wild magic was to the spells that now protected this place. She certainly wouldn’t be the first witch who’d looked at our deeper protections and decided not to risk them.
But the fact she’d been able to pluck a particular line of magic free from the other threads and then destroy it spoke of her knowledge and strength. Whatever she was—however her body had become so twisted—her magic was decidedly strong.
But how was that possible, if she was a werewolf? Magic might be an inherent part of their souls, but they’d never been capable of any sort of spell work.
Monty stepped out onto the balcony and stopped beside me. “If she’s here for revenge, why is she coming after you? Why not me? And how did she even find you?”
“She saw me clearly at the farm and in the forest. She might also have used the blood that was no doubt on her claw when she sliced open my back to do a tracking spell.”
“I very much doubt there would have been enough to develop a decent tracking spell,” Monty said.
“And it would have led her to either the party or Aiden’s rather than here, surely,” Belle said from the doorway.
I opened my hand and let the tiny broken thread drift away. “Except my resonance is stronger here than it would be at Aiden’s—especially with the weight of all the spells.”
Monty frowned. “That still doesn’t explain why she came after you rather than me.”
“She may not be aware you’re the reservation witch.”
“I doubt that, given it was my magic that attacked her at the farm.”
“Maybe she’s after you both.” Belle crossed her arms. “That would make more sense, especially given you’re both the reason she’s out two victims.”
My gaze shot to Monty’s. “Have your spells been tested tonight?”
“How would I know? I’m not there.”
“You didn’t weave an alarm in?” I said, surprised.
“Didn’t see the need. I’d feel any attack if I’m there and don’t really care what they do to the place if I’m not.”
Belle snorted. “There speaks a man who not only has a ton of money, but also cares so much about the safety of his familiar.”
“Eamon is canny enough to get the hell out of there at the first hint of an assault,” Monty said. “Besides, he’s a cat. He has nine lives.”
“And how many has he used to date?”
“Thanks to the fact my life