Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,88

on her cheek?”

“I really have no idea, but it’s certainly worth a shot.”

“At least something good appears to come out of losing her. How do we go about contacting them?”

“They’re not a hidden society, but I’ll talk to Ashworth—he might have a contact we could use.”

She nodded. “Let’s get back to Butterworth’s and check what she’s left behind.”

I followed her back through the maze of buildings. While our quarry was long gone, I nevertheless took the lead again once we were inside. There had been several spell surges, and only one would have been for invisibility. Strangely, the only other spell I found was an alarm, and it was easily disconnected.

So what had the other spells been for, if not a trap?

I frowned and stopped in front of a small, partially walled alcove that had obviously been built as an additional storage area in the plant room. The right side of the small area was lined with metal shelving and held the various bits and pieces that were no doubt necessary to keep the machines running properly. To the left were a couple of lockers and a makeshift bed consisting of two old wooden pallets as the base and flattened cardboard boxes as the mattress. A sleeping bag provided warmth.

I waited while Jaz took photos to catalogue the entire area. Once that was done, she handed me a pair of gloves, snapped on a pair herself, and walked across to the bedding. “This safe to touch?”

I nodded and moved across to the lockers; the first one held an army-green carryall. I pulled it out, then knelt and carefully unzipped it. Inside was a small selection of soiled clothes and undergarments, but little else. I zipped it back up in an effort to contain the stale, acidic scent and moved to the next locker, discovering boots, a coat, and a toiletries bag. A quick look inside the latter revealed soap, a pack of disposable razors, a toothbrush, and a somewhat mangled tube of toothpaste.

“Is it possible to pull DNA from toothbrushes?”

She snapped a photo, then carefully bagged some hair. “Sometimes, though a buccal cell test is considered the gold standard for DNA profiling.”

“Somehow, I can’t see her agreeing to us doing a mouth swab.”

Jaz laughed. “No.”

As she probed the sleeping bag, I noticed a phone charging cable at the back of the locker. I took a photo, then carefully bagged it and moved onto the next locker. There was a jacket in this one, so I took it off the hook and checked the pockets. One was empty, but the other held a ticket stub. “Looks like she got here via the train.”

“That would take some gumption, given what we know of her face. What date?”

I glanced at the stub. “A couple of days before the first murder.”

“She didn’t take much time to settle in and scout the area, then.”

“Maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe she was born in the reservation.”

“Surely if she’d spent any amount of time here, we’d know of her. It wouldn’t be easy to hide the deformities she has.”

“Unless that’s what the bulk of her magic does—it presents a more ‘acceptable’ appearance.”

“She wouldn’t have that ability from a very young age, though, would she?”

“Probably not.” Some witches certainly could call on and control major magics from a very young age, but they were rare. Even my sister—who’d been one of the most promising and powerful witches in Canberra before she’d been murdered—hadn’t truly stepped into her full strength until she was in her teens.

But concealing magic could explain the other energy surges. Mrs. Grantham might have mentioned the tattoo on our rogue’s cheek, but she hadn’t noted either her half-formed facial features or claws for hands.

Jaz glanced at me. “I know we’ve had demons and the like capable of altering their forms, but she appears to be a wolf, even if a mutated one. She shouldn’t be able to perform magic.”

“And yet she can.” I shrugged. “For every rule there is a rule breaker.”

Jaz’s expression suggested she didn’t think that was the case, but her phone rang, interrupting any reply she might have made.

As she answered the call, I checked the remaining lockers. There was another carryall in the last one; this one contained a pair of clean jeans, several pairs of fresh undies, a couple of bras, and an oversized sweater. Which wasn’t a whole lot and obviously meant she hadn’t planned to dally, but rather to track down and murder her targets as quickly as