Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,33
the rocks to see what else was here. There had to be something—I doubted Katie would have led me so far off the track just to show me rabbit and rat remains.
And I was right; the rock on the opposite side of the mound was not only stained with blood, but had feathers lying at its base. Those feathers looked exactly like the ones we’d found earlier this evening.
A fox wasn’t the only one who’d been using these rocks for a lair.
My gaze jerked toward the trees—a ridiculous reaction, given that even if the shifter was watching me, I wasn’t likely to spot her. But the evil I’d felt earlier no longer stained the air, and while that was no guarantee I was alone, it nevertheless released some of the tension.
I returned my gaze to the rock. The blood had to belong to the shifter, because surely there would have been at least some scraps of skin and bone if it had come from her prey. But if she’d been seriously injured when the magical blow had thrown her so badly off course, why hadn’t she shifted to human form and healed herself? Why had she moved from there to here in order to bleed and shed more feathers? That made no sense.
Unless the magic that blew her off course also somehow restricted her ability to shift out of bird form, came Belle’s thought.
My gaze rose to the trees I’d come out of. You feel close.
That’s because we are. I told Monty the wild magic had come to fetch you, and he immediately wanted to see what you’d found.
He’s on crutches.
He is indeed, and tripping over every tree root and rock there is to find. A mix of amusement and annoyance ran through her mental tone.
If he’s not careful, he’ll break his other leg.
I did mention that. He scoffed at my lack of faith in his balance.
I snorted. I’m surprised he hasn’t used some sort of transport spell to make things easier.
He said they’re physically draining and aren’t good over long distances. He didn’t want to risk exerting himself too much when he might need all his strength later.
He’s not exactly conserving strength crutching his way through scrub.
I also mentioned that. He gave me a disapproving look and told me to get a move on.
I chuckled softly and held a hand above the pile of feathers. The magic emanating from them didn’t quite have the same feel as the other feathers we’d found, suggesting my initial guess was wrong and that these feathers actually belonged to one of the other shifters. The caress of magic was also much stronger, but only, I suspected, because it was fresher. That meant we might have better luck using them to track the shifter down.
The sound of twigs snapping had me looking up again. A violent curse and then a laugh that was only half swallowed followed.
Monty appeared a few seconds later. He had a multitude of twigs in his hair and scratches on his arms. Belle followed him, her grin unrestrained.
“What have we got, Liz?” He hobbled over surprisingly fast.
“Well hello to you, too,” I said, voice dry.
He had the grace to look chastened, if only momentarily. “Sorry, just eager to get back into the action. Been going a bit stir-crazy after all the inactivity and hospital stays.”
“You worked in spell cataloguing for most of your working life. You should be used to inaction.”
He stopped beside me. His face was flushed with heat, and sweat dribbled down his cheeks and stained the underarms of his shirt. “It seems I’ve gained a taste for action, despite being in the reservation for only a short time. What do we have?”
“Feathers.”
He gave me the look. “I can see that much.”
I grinned. “Did Belle tell you about the ones we found earlier?”
“Yes, and Ashworth should have waited for me. I am the stronger witch.”
“Dare you to say that to Ashworth,” Belle commented.
He grinned. “I’m not actually that silly. I take it these are from the same shifter?”
I hesitated. “There’s some very minor differences, so I don’t think so. But the output is stronger.”
“Yeah, I can feel it from here.” He hesitated. “There’re two threads of magic running through the wave though.”
I glanced up sharply. “There are?”
His smile was smug. “More powerful witch, remember?”
I snorted. “I wonder if the second thread is the residue of whatever magic flung the shifter off course.”
“More than likely,” he said. “But that begs the question, why attack them and not follow up?”