Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,4
may I remind you that you’re in Melbourne and won’t be hunting down anything in the immediate future.”
“And may I remind you that rehabilitation doesn’t stop me from participating in at least the research side of things.” His tone remained decidedly upbeat. Obviously, being attacked by a soucouyant hadn’t in any way dulled his initial excitement over finally getting some magical action. “Besides, I’ve already been cleared to continue rehabilitation in Castle Rock, so I can be the control center while you and Ashworth do all the legwork.”
Amusement bubbled through me; Ashworth would be mighty pleased to hear he’d been reduced to legwork. “This is all presuming that the bones were buried recently. My senses might be wrong—”
“Since when has that happened?”
“Well, not in recent months, but still—”
“Exactly,” he cut in. “So stop with all the doubt bullshit and get the rangers in so we—”
I tuned out the rest of his sentence as a faint and yet agonized scream ran across the night—the scream of a man rather than a woman. The sort of scream that only happened in those final few seconds between the realization of death and death actually hitting.
The sound died as abruptly as it had started, but an ominous pulse of power now ran through the darkness. Its origin was not of this world, but rather the supernatural.
Demon.
The word whispered through my brain, and fear chased after it. A sane person would have run in the opposite direction, but self-preservation was something that had become somewhat spotty since I’d stepped into this reservation. Perhaps it was the connection to the wild magic; perhaps it was simply the growing certainty that there was to be no more running for Belle and me. That this place was home, and unless we did our utmost to take care of it, it would become hell on earth for everyone within—whether or not Monty or Ashworth or any other witch was here.
Which was a rather weird thought and not one I had time to examine.
I scrambled upright, grabbed my phone, and ran after Eamon.
“Monty, call the rangers for me. Tell them where we are and what’s happening. Then call Ashworth, just in case.”
“Will do. Be careful.”
He hung up before I could reply. For a change, Eamon remained in sight, keeping close enough to guide me, although I didn’t need it with the pull of evil.
I silently wove the threads of a containment spell around the fingers of my free hand, though I had no idea if it would be strong enough to stop whatever lay ahead. But it was better than running into an unknown situation unarmed. I did have a couple of small bottles of holy water tucked inside my purse, but I had to be far closer to evil for them to be of any use.
The pulse of demonic power began to fade. I swore and dredged up more speed, crashing through the underbrush, hoping against hope that we got there in time to save the man who’d screamed, even though the psychic part of me knew it was already too late.
I stumbled through a thick strand of shrubs, snagging my T-shirt and tearing more skin. I swore, but caught my balance and ran on, winding my way through the trees as the glow of lights from the houses ahead grew ever warmer.
Part of me hoped I was reading this wrong—that whatever fate had befallen the stranger wasn’t supernatural in origin… but even as that thought hit, I dismissed it. As Monty had said, my senses hadn’t been wrong much of late. It was time I truly started trusting them, rather than always second-guessing or doubting—a habit I’d fallen into long ago. One that came from a childhood of having my gifts and magic constantly derided.
I leaped over a log and stumbled over a couple of rocks, my fingers brushing the ground as I fought to maintain balance and keep moving. Up ahead, the cat paused and looked around, its eyes gleaming like jewels in the phone’s light. Checking on me, seeing if I was still close.
Meaning it didn’t want to face whatever lay ahead alone—and that only ratcheted up my tension a whole lot more.
I ran on desperately, well aware the caress of evil was growing ever fainter. If we didn’t get there soon, we wouldn’t be able to stop it. I flexed my fingers, and the threads of the containment spell stirred uneasily. I hoped it would be enough, but that fading force was damnably strong.