Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,13

stop casual intrusion, a determined effort by a strong enough telepath could still get through.

Belle had since released the restrictions she’d placed on his thoughts, but only because he now knew the truth of why we’d run and had sworn not to mention our presence to anyone up in Canberra—particularly anyone who knew either my parents or the bastard I’d been forced to marry. I wasn’t entirely sure Monty believed my father—who was one of the government’s most sought-after advisors—was capable of such treachery, but that didn’t really bother me. The longer I could keep my presence here secret, the better—even if I knew in the end it wouldn’t matter. My father and Clayton would eventually arrive here, forcing the confrontation I’d been running from since I was sixteen years old.

“I doubt he’ll go to the trouble of buying another band,” Belle said. “Especially after I broke through the first one relatively quickly. Besides, he may just surprise us and be the model of decorum.”

I almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. “This is Monty we’re talking about. You know, the man who paired a Kermit the Frog tie with an Armani suit at our Year Ten formal, and who then spent most of the evening trying to convince you to dance with him.”

A smile tugged her lips. “I know, but hey, stranger things have happened, especially in this reservation.”

Stranger things might have, but I doubted even this reservation could work that particular miracle. “How is he, besides chatty?”

“Good. He can certainly scoot around on his crutches easily enough, although he’s not going to be able to drive the Mustang for a few weeks yet.”

No surprise there given his pride and joy was a manual. The last thing he’d want was to scratch or—heaven forbid—dent the thing. “Did you dump him at home or at the ranger station?”

“Neither. He wanted to go straight to the morgue to examine the remains.”

I grimaced. “Whatever’s responsible for these murders didn’t leave a whole lot behind to examine.”

“I think he wanted to do some sort of magical examination. I don’t think he trusted Ashworth’s declaration there were no detectable spells or magic layered onto the remains.”

“I’m gathering he had the good sense not to say that to Ashworth.”

My voice was dry, and her lips twitched. “It appears the slap over the ear he received the last time he said something about our favorite witch’s abilities did do the trick.” She rested a hip against the bench. “I get the feeling those remains are not the reason for the vague uneasiness I was sporadically receiving before you went to sleep last night.”

“No. Sorry, I thought I had everything locked down.”

“You did—if it had been anything more substantial, I would have contacted you. So, give.”

I quickly told her about the woman in white and the unsettling visions I’d had before Aiden had so delightfully woken me. “There was no threat in her presence, but those images suggest that might not remain the case.”

Belle frowned. “A ghostly woman in white is a common occurrence throughout many cultures, but they’re usually associated with some sort of tragic event—such as the loss of a husband or child. They’re known for seeking vengeance.”

“She carried the body of what I think was her child in the vision.”

“But not when she was following you, which is odd. It suggests there’s some other reason for her presence here.”

“Could she be the mother of one of the victims?”

“The current victims? Unlikely, as her appearance happened too soon after the deaths.”

“We haven’t got a time of death for the first victim, though.”

“It’s still unlikely.” She took a sip of coffee, her expression thoughtful. “But I guess it’s possible there are more victims out there than the two we’ve found. Maybe you should mention it to Aiden and see if there’ve been any recent suicides.”

“I actually don’t think it was recent—she felt far older than that.”

“It’s still worth asking, especially if the suicide happened soon after a child had been killed.”

I nodded. “In the meantime, we can hit your gran’s books and see if she has anything on white ladies or flesh-stripping, bone-stacking demons.”

“She likely has—it’s just finding which books they’re in that’ll be the problem.”

Her grandmother’s handwritten indexing system tended to be somewhat haphazard, which made it hard to find anything quickly. But recent events had made us realize we needed an easier means of quickly accessing the information within the vast number of books—most of which were secured off-site, as we simply didn’t have