Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,5
up a steep incline and then through another strand of trees. Ahead, the cat made a sharp turn left, sending debris scattering. I followed, grabbing an overhead branch to steady myself as one foot slipped on rotting leaves. The trees were now thinning out, and the sounds of nearby civilization were growing stronger—the rumble of car engines mingling with the sweet sound of someone singing and the bellows of a frustrated mother yelling at her kids.
Had any of them heard the scream? Surely they should have, given how close they were. And yet, if they had, wouldn’t the rangers already be on the way? Did the fact I couldn’t hear any sirens mean there’d been some sort of magic involved in this death? There were certainly demons capable of hiding their presence from witches, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that they could also restrict sight and sound.
We came out of the trees onto a rough stone road. It was barely wide enough for a car and wasn’t used all that much if the weeds growing up through the stone were anything to go by.
The cat paused; I did the same, looking right and left. That thread of evil was now so faint it was little more than a tremor on the wind. But that was all we needed; we went right.
The broken road began a long curve around to the left. Up ahead, streetlights glowed, a beckoning promise of safety—and a lie. Whatever evil had stalked this area had centered on the crossroad ahead.
But nothing lurked in the warm puddles of light or the shadows that lay beyond them. Whatever had caused the man to utter such a bloodcurdling scream had left; the only question to be answered now was, where was that man? There was no sign of anyone up ahead. No indication of anyone lying on the ground, broken, bleeding, or even dead. Maybe he’d staggered down the road or sought help in one of the nearby houses—but again, surely there’d be a ranger or ambulance response by now if that had been the case.
The gentle singing ceased and, for a brief moment, the night was still. I slowed and scanned the area ahead, looking for something—anything—out of place. There was nothing.
I glanced down at the cat. “I’m not sensing anything—are you?”
The cat studied the street ahead for several seconds, his nose twitching. Then he yowled and stalked on. I followed, the threads of the spell still swirling around my fingers, despite the fact the demon who’d been here doing God knows what to that young screamer had now departed.
We were maybe a dozen feet away from the streetlight on the corner when I was hit by a wave of emotion so fierce my breath snagged in my throat and my heart went into overdrive. And then I saw the dark gleam of moisture on the ground…
There was too much blood for anyone to have survived such a loss. Far too much.
The cat skirted the pool and walked toward the light pole on the right-hand side of the road.
And that’s when I saw them.
Bones.
Bones that had almost been picked clean.
Human bones.
And stacked neatly on top of them, with hair and eyes still attached, was the skull of a young man.
Two
Horror twisted through me, and I briefly closed my eyes. There’d only been five or six minutes—if that—between the scream and our arrival here, but in that short amount of time, the young man had not only lost his life but also his skin, muscles, and organs.
That there was a demon capable of doing such a thing was bad enough, but to do it so damn quickly? I shuddered, and couldn’t help but step back. In part because I didn’t want to see if there were bits of flesh or tiny bone fragments in that vast pool of blood, and partly because everything the victim had felt—all his terror and pain—still blanketed the air. I may have seen far worse since we’d set up our café in this reservation, but this death was far too fresh. The thick waves of agony were bad enough here; they’d be nigh on suffocating if I stepped any closer.
I took a deep breath, then, as the wail of approaching sirens finally echoed across the night, switched off the flashlight app and called Monty.
“Tell me what your cat is seeing.”
“Undoubtedly the exact same thing as you—”
“I can’t get close to the remains. Too much of his agony still rides the air.”