Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,65

of her presence.

He would have warned us.

Unless she spelled him into silence.

She doesn’t feel strong enough to have pulled something like that on him.

Then maybe it was Canberra itself.

Not even the strongest witch on the council could place a restriction spell on another witch over such a long distance.

The strongest witches on the council were my damn parents and husband, and I wouldn’t use the word ‘couldn’t’ in any sentence when it came to the three of them.

I got out my phone, then quietly moved away from the stairs so there was no chance of my conversation being heard downstairs—no matter how unlikely that even was given the clatter of cutlery and plates and the overall buzz of conversation.

Monty answered second ring. “If you’re wanting an update on the flesh strippers, talk to your ranger. He hasn’t given me squat so far today.”

“That’s not—”

“So there’s been another murder?”

“No, and will you just let me finish?”

He must have heard the anxiety in my voice, because all humor fell from his voice. “What’s the problem?”

“Did you get any sort of notice from Canberra about a tracer being sent here?”

“No, and you know I would have told you if I had. I take it such a witch has arrived?”

“She’s in the café right now.”

“And you’re certain she’s here to snoop?”

“My sixth sense is.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks, Monty.”

I wasn’t sure what he could do, but he was the reservation witch and should have been advised of this witch’s presence if she was here at the council’s behest.

I shoved my phone away and resisted the urged to pace. I needed to keep calm and not do anything that could be felt along the magical lines by the woman below. I didn’t know much about tracers aside from the fact they were basically magical bloodhounds able to pick up the ‘scent’ of a spell and trace it back to its originator. If she was here for me, then the one thing in my favor was the fact that none of the spells I’d created before I’d fled Canberra would be active now—and even if some were, the signature of those spells would be vastly different to the ones I created now, thanks in part to the presence of the wild magic.

Fuck, Belle said. She’s got an old photo of you and is asking Penny if she’s seen you. Says you’re believed to be working here somewhere.

I closed my eyes against the surge of panic. This was it. This was the first step in us being found. And there was nothing I could do to avoid it—not now. Even if we did attempt to alter the tracer’s memories, it would do no good. Belle might be a powerful telepath but even she couldn’t entirely erase her mental ‘fingerprints’ in someone else’s mind. Another telepath would see the signs even if they couldn’t undo what she’d done. It might even be enough to draw Clayton out of his Canberra cave to reclaim his bride and fully consummate the marriage.

The memory of cold hands on unresponsive flesh stirred, and a deep shudder ran through me. I swallowed against the bitter rise of bile and said, And Penny’s response?

That it’s illegal to employ anyone that young in this reservation.

Despite the tension, I couldn’t help but smile. Has the tracer spotted you yet?

She’s headed my way now.

The impending sense of doom ramped up several degrees. I closed my eyes, trying to remain calm, trying not to panic.

Succeeding to do neither.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Belle said, her voice echoing my panic, Oh fuck, Liz, she is a goddamn Sarr.

Ten

A cousin?

Probably, because Daniela is a very popular name in my branch of the family tree.

But you don’t immediately recognize her?

No, but I’ve a bad feeling she knows who I am.

It was usually me getting the bad feelings. If Belle was getting them, then things were catastrophic. If there’s one thing in our favor, it’s the fact that you no longer resemble that scrawny teenager.

Yeah, but how many Sarr witches hang around a witch who looks like a Marlowe?

Not many at all. Except she’s looking for a witch with green eyes, not silver. It’s something.

I’m not sure it’ll be enough. She’s obviously done some research on our fake identities.

There was another long stretch of silence. I knew Belle was answering the woman’s questions, but tension sawed at me. I wanted to know what was happening—needed to know what was happening—but I dare not touch Belle’s thoughts any deeper because I