Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,41

the crutch around and then shoved the wider end into the water and swished it around in a vague attempt to move whatever might lie beyond my line of sight. The water became choppier, and the prickly energy that was the specter drew nearer. Then something pale drifted briefly toward the surface. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought we’d discovered another body, but quickly realized there was nothing human about it. I stirred the water some more, trying to get a clearer glimpse.

What appeared was a largish bird.

A bird whose feathers were alternating stripes of dark brown and lighter gray.

“You found something?” Monty said.

“Yeah—the body of our shifter.”

He immediately straightened. “What?”

“You heard.” I shoved the end of the crutch under the bird’s body to pull it closer. It was then I noticed the thin strip of metal around its body and legs. It had been closely bound and tossed into the tank with no means of keeping itself afloat.

I looked across to the watching specter. Felt a vague sense of her rage and satisfaction. Whatever our White Lady was up to, it hadn’t ended with the death of this shifter.

This was only the beginning.

Trepidation stirred—not because her vengeance was aimed at me, but rather the fact she appeared to want me to witness it.

I pulled the bird free of the tank and then carefully climbed down and placed the body on the ground near Monty.

“It’s an owl.” Monty accepted the wet crutch with a nod. “And bound with silver, from the look of it.”

“Yes.” I squatted next to the bird and held out a hand. Energy caressed my skin. “There’s a spell attached to it.”

“It’s not one I’ve seen before, though it once again has some similarities to demon snare.”

I glanced up sharply. “Why would our specter bother using something like that on a shifter? It’s overkill, isn’t it?”

“Yes—unless, of course, our earlier guess was right, and the shifters are working with our demon.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” I glanced over to the White Lady. “Can you remove the final spell?”

Energy immediately stirred, brief but potent. The vague thread lines wrapped around the silver wire faded, but nothing immediately happened.

“The silver could be constraining its form,” Monty muttered. “You’ll need to remove it first.”

“Not without a protective circle and a spell ready to send its spirit back to the depths of hell if we are dealing with a demon.”

“Excellent point. I’ll do the circle, you go find some wire cutters.”

By the time I returned with the wire cutter, Monty had not only laid his spell stones around the bird’s body but also activated them. I silently watched while he created a spell that would shoot the demon back to whatever hell it had come from, once again taking mental notes on the process even as I hoped I’d never have to use such a spell.

With the force of his spell humming around us, he said, “I layered exceptions for your hands, arms, and the cutters into the protection spell, so you should have no problems removing the wire. If the bird so much as twitches, I’ll unleash the second spell.”

I nodded and squatted down. The threads tracking around the stones shimmered as my hands went through them, their power caressing my skin but holding no threat.

I shifted the owl to get better access then carefully positioned the cutter between the wire and her body and snipped. Or tried to. Either the blades weren’t that sharp or our specter had somehow boosted the metal’s strength, because it took two hands and a fair bit of effort to cut through it. I flipped the owl over, tried to ignore the cold emptiness of her body, and cut the wire on the other side. Then I pulled the bits free, dropping them on the ground next to her rather than taking any of them outside the protective circle.

As I removed the final bit of metal, feathers stirred. I squeaked in fright and pushed back, landing on my butt well clear of the shifter and the circle.

Monty raised his hand but didn’t unleash his weapon. There was no need to. This shifter presented no danger—the movement had simply been her body disintegrating. Her soul was long gone.

If she’d had a soul, that was. Its loss was quite often the price paid for working with a demon.

We silently watched feathers, flesh, and bone become foul yellow air that then faded away. Soon there was nothing left except the bits of wire