Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,71

can I do for you, Duke?”

Though I couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, the urgent note and Monty’s expression both suggested it was pretty bad.

“I’ll need to change, but I’ll be there in roughly ten minutes.”

“We’ll be there,” I corrected as he hung up. “You’re not going after this thing alone, Monty. It’s not only dangerous, it’s damn fast—and I have the scars to prove it.”

“Liz, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Belle said. “And if either of you think you’re escaping without me, you can think again. Besides, me talking to the dead might be the only way we’ll uncover any real information.”

Monty blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. I’m not arguing because we haven’t the time. But neither of you can go dressed like that. Follow me.”

He turned and stalked toward his bedroom. We hurried after him.

“What are we dealing with this time?” I asked.

“It’s not a simple murder.” His voice was grim. “Not this time.”

“Then what?” I asked with more than a little trepidation.

“This time, it’s a fucking massacre.”

Chapter Eleven

“Oh God, no,” Belle murmured.

“Yeah.” Monty threw open his wardrobe door and tossed us sweatpants and sweaters. “You can change in the spare room. Shoe wise, mine will probably fit you, Belle, but you’ll have to stuff them with socks, Liz.”

“That’s fine.” I gathered everything up then hurried into the other room. I didn’t bother stripping off my dress but instead pulled everything over the top of it, then tucked the swaths of silky material into the waist and tied the drawstrings up tight. As predicted, I swam in the shoes, but shoving socks into the toe area and then lashing the laces around my ankles certainly helped.

We were back on the road—this time in Monty’s old Ford—in record time.

“Where did the attack happen?” I asked. “Not that far, I take it, given you said we’d be there in ten.”

“It happened over at the old scout hall.”

Dread clutched at my throat, making it difficult to speak. “Not kids. Please don’t tell me she’s killed kids.”

“No, thankfully. But that doesn’t make it any better, given six kids have probably lost a parent.”

“How on earth did she kill six people?” Belle said. “We’re in a goddamn werewolf reservation—surely one of them would have had time to react and defend?”

“Unless they’re all human or she used magic.” He hesitated. “Apparently, it’s pretty bad.”

Mass murders generally were. But I kept that thought to myself. It was pointless saying what we were all no doubt thinking.

The scout hall was a long, tin-roofed weatherboard building with two old metal water tanks sitting at the rear. The front section facing the parking area was obviously a new addition, as it had been built using those horrible gray concrete bricks. Three ranger vehicles were parked close to the entrance, one bearing a Coroner’s Office sticker. Given Ciara was at the celebration, it meant Luke was here.

Monty stopped beside the coroner’s vehicle, and we all climbed out. I wrapped my borrowed coat closer and tried to ignore the thick scent of blood and death drifting from within the hall. Werewolf senses—especially in a case like this—sucked.

Jaz appeared, her face pale and expression haunted. “I’m not sure there’s a lot either of you can—” She stopped when her gaze fell on Belle. “Oh.”

Belle grimaced. “Yeah. It’s not something I’m looking forward to, though.”

“And with good reason. This way.”

She led us into the building. The thick scent of death grew stronger, and the air crawled with confusion and fear—emotions that emanated not only from the violence of these deaths, but also the souls who now haunted this space. Their deaths had not been ordained.

“Fuck, it’s going to take some strength to move all of them on,” Belle muttered uneasily.

I gripped her arm and squeezed it lightly. “Between the two of us, we should be alright.”

It was confidently said, though in truth, moving these souls on to their next life very much depended on their lucidity, their willingness to accept what had happened, and their being able to understand that their only other option was forever lingering in this hall.

We strode through a short hallway that had smaller rooms on either side, then into the main room. It was a big space with metal roof trusses and wood-clad walls. Two further rooms lay at the far end, one obviously a kitchen, the other bathroom facilities.

The destruction of life had happened in the middle of the main area around several long wooden tables. My gaze swept the