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

though it wasn’t a direct connection to her, I could sense through them that nothing untoward had happened in the immediate area.

Which didn’t mean nastiness hadn’t happened in the wider area. Not even the wild magic could cover the entire reservation.

I hoped that wasn’t the case, though. The reservation—and certainly its witches—could really do with a break from the supernatural nastiness.

And of course, now that I’d put that thought out there in the wilder world, fate would no doubt take it as a challenge.

I turned and followed Aiden through the trees. He moved with the lithe grace of a predator; I was more like an uncoordinated elephant. While my merges with Katie had resulted in an odd sort of bleed over of her wolf abilities, resulting in a sharpening of my senses and even added strength, I doubted I’d ever be able to step werewolf-light through the scrub.

Tala had obviously heard me coming, because she appeared at the top of the ridge. Like most werewolves, she was on the slender side but whip strong. She was around the same height as me, with the dark skin and black hair of the Sinclair pack. She was also a lot older than either Aiden or me, having become a ranger only after trying several other careers first.

“Anything?” Aiden asked, stopping beside her.

She shook her head. “I tried contacting Patrick, but he’s not answering.”

Aiden grunted. “They’ve been having reception issues out his way of late.”

“Tell me about it,” Tala muttered. She gave me a nod of greeting. “Sorry to drag you out in the cold like this, but it may be our only shot of finding this damn kid.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll have any better luck, especially if that bit of cloth you found is hours old.” I stopped beside Aiden, my breath condensing lightly on the air. It was going to be a bitter night.

“It’s still worth a shot. This way.”

She turned and led us along a path that was little more than a rough kangaroo track. Even with the deep shadows of night now falling, I could clearly see where I was going—an unexpected consequence of my merges with Katie.

Another figure appeared on the trail ahead—Mac. He had the typical rangy build of a werewolf, with brown skin and hair. “Still no luck getting hold of Patrick. Mari says he hasn’t come home yet.”

“Meaning he’s probably still out here.” Aiden scanned the bush with a frown. “Odd that he’s made no move to contact either of you.”

“He might have just made the report and not stayed,” Tala said.

Aiden shook his head. “Patrick’s not the type to leave a kid out here alone. He’ll be out there trying to find him. Where’s the material remnant?”

“This way.”

Mac spun on a heel and led the way off the roo track into the deeper scrub. About thirty feet in, we came across the scrap of material—and it really was just a scrap. It was only a few inches long, and half that in width, and had been snagged by the thorns of a rather nasty-looking bush. It also was at hip height, which suggested we weren’t dealing with a littlie, but rather someone older. Relief stirred; an older kid might be just as afraid as a toddler, but they’d be a little more capable of survival. Or, at least, I hoped they were.

Aiden stepped to one side and motioned me forward. I squatted in front of the piece of material and studied it through narrowed eyes. If there was one thing I’d learned over the last few months, it was to never take anything at face value—not when it came to dealing with the machinations of supernatural entities, at any rate.

There was no immediate indication that’s what we were dealing with here—no caress of magic or supernatural foulness immediately evident on the blue scrap—but unease nevertheless stirred.

As usual, the psychic part of my soul had no answers as to why.

I tentatively reached out and touched the strip of material. Nothing. I drew in a deep breath, then opened the psychometry “gates.” On a surface level, the talent let me trace misplaced items and sense emotions via touch. On a deeper level, I could track missing people or slip into the mind of whoever owned the item I was holding, allowing me to see and experience whatever was happening to them at the time. The latter was not something I did very often—I’d discovered the hard way just how dangerous being locked into the mind of