Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,61

magic will conceal it.”

“We’ll run a second concealment spell through the weave,” Monty said. “Between that and the wild magic, we should be right.”

I hoped so, because right now this was our one and only hope of stopping at least one of the remaining Empusae.

“Can you disconnect your spell so that we can weave ours along the inside of it?” Ashworth said.

I did so, and then tried not to feel like a third wheel as they set up their protection circle and stepped inside it. This was the main reason why I couldn’t be the reservation witch, no matter how deep my connection with the wild magic got. I simply wasn’t good enough at spell craft.

Which didn’t stop me learning from every spell they did. I might not have the knowledge, but I did have a good memory.

I crossed my arms and watched through narrowed eyes as their magic rose around the inside of my deactivated trigger spell. The two of them worked well as a team, and the spell was intricate and powerful. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever be able to replicate the thing in full, but there were certainly bits of it I could apply to the spells I did know. Monty might have warned multiple times about the dangers of ad hoc spelling, but I’d been doing it for nearly half my life now. When you didn’t have the training, you simply adapted.

Once they’d tied off and activated their trap, Ashworth glanced at me and said, “Right, your turn.”

I immediately reconnected my spell, then silently studied it. Ashworth was right. Between the pulse of wild magic and the concealment spell they’d threaded through their snare, there was no outward evidence of our magics around the tree cave.

Ashworth helped Monty to his feet and then collected their spell stones. “Now it’s just a matter of waiting.”

Monty nodded. “Let’s just hope the pair of them aren’t out hunting for another victim to strip tonight.”

“If they are, there’s not a lot we can do about it.” Ashworth glanced at me. “Give us a call the minute your spell goes off.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not daft enough to come out and confront this thing all by myself.”

His expression was skeptical, though his eyes twinkled. “I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”

I snorted. “For that, you can pay for your next coffee.”

“And I’m more than happy to do so, lassie.” A smile tugged at his lips. “In fact, I think Monty should do his bit to support the café, too, and start paying for all those cakes he demolishes.”

“I demolish the old stuff, not the new. I’m considerate like that.”

I shook my head at their continuing banter and followed the two of them out of the clearing. Ashworth dropped us both off and then continued home to Eli. I didn’t bother going back into the café—I simply went around the back to collect our SUV, headed across to the supermarket to grab some food, then drove down to Aiden’s place.

Once I’d let myself in—again without setting off the alarm, which maybe meant I was getting the hang of it—I went upstairs for a quick shower. He still wasn’t home by the time I’d finished, so I pulled on a loose-fitting summery dress and went back down to help myself to some of his rather fine whiskey. He rang just as I took my first sip.

“Have you got an alarm on your booze cabinet or something?” I said by way of greeting.

“No—why?”

His voice, I noted, was etched with weariness. “I just raided your Jameson Limited Reserve.”

He laughed softly. “Tough day?”

“Yes and no.” I took another sip and felt the happy burn all the way down. “It sounds as if you’ll need a glass when you get home.”

“Three or four, more likely. We’ve spent the day dealing with a murder in the Marin compound.”

My pulse rate stuttered. “Not another flesh-stripper victim, I hope?”

“No. Just two men fighting over a damn woman. Things escalated badly before we could get there, and the victim died on the way to hospital.”

“Oh crap, Aiden, I’m sorry.” I hesitated. “Was it someone you knew?”

“I went to school with both of them.”

“Oh God—”

“Yeah,” he cut in softly. “He’s looking at several years behind bars, at least, despite the number of people who’ve testified the death was accidental.”

“And the families involved? How are they coping?”

I didn’t know a whole lot about werewolf life within the compounds—no one did, outside the werewolves who lived there—but I had been into the Marin