Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace #5) - Keri Arthur Page 0,99

and keys. Mrs. Rankin reappeared just as I was making a coffee. I didn’t bother offering her one. I wasn’t in the mood to be that generous right now.

I screwed the cap onto my travel mug and then walked over to the table on which the shiny black shoe sat. I picked it up, opened the psychic gates, and immediately felt a response. It was distant, but nevertheless strong. There was no sense of danger coming with that pulse, no sense of urgency. Her son might be lost, but he and his friends weren’t overly concerned about it.

“Okay, I’m getting a clear response—”

“Oh good, let’s go.”

No way, no how. Not together. I cleared my throat and somehow managed politeness. “It’ll be easier if we take two cars—that way, you can take the boys straight home once we’ve found them.”

“So I just follow you?”

“Given you know their starting point, it’ll be quicker and easier if you lead the way there. I’ll use the shoe to locate them from that point on.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m parked out the front.”

“I’ve a red SUV around the back. You can’t miss it.”

“Oh. Okay,” she repeated, and headed out. I locked the door behind her then pulled out my phone and called Aiden as I left via the rear door.

“I take it this is not a social call,” he said.

“Yes and no. I just thought I’d inform you that a Mrs. Rankin has just asked me to find her wayward son. If I’m not here when you come to pick me up, I shouldn’t be too far away.”

“Let me guess, said son is missing up near the Marin reservation.”

“Yeah.”

He swore. “They’ve been warned multiple times about that. I’ll contact Rene and tell him you’ll be in the area.”

“Thanks.” Mrs. Rankin wasn’t going to be pleased, but I’d rather face her ire than a werewolf intent on protecting his compound’s boundaries any day.

“There is a sliver of self-interest in my actions, you know.” His amusement shimmered down the phone line.

“Oh, of that I have no doubt, your sexual drive being what it is and all.”

He laughed. “Be careful out there. Call me if the psychic senses don’t land a result.”

“I have his shoe. We’ll be fine.”

“Meaning he’s walking around the bush with one bare foot?”

I smiled. “No.”

“Shame. The little brat needs some discomfort in his life. I’ll catch you later.”

I shoved the phone away and started the SUV. Mrs. Rankin pulled away from the curb as I nosed out onto the street, and led the way through Castle Rock and out toward the Marin reservation. Darkness had closed in by the time she turned left into what looked to be little more than a goat track and then stopped.

I grabbed the flashlight out of the glove compartment then swung my pack over my shoulder and climbed out. The stars were bright in the sky, and the nearby forest filled with the song of cicadas. If they were singing, then there was little in the way of threat in the area.

I locked my SUV and walked over to hers. “Why on earth would you drop four boys off here?”

She seemed surprised at the question. “Because it’s a good area to practice their orienteering skills for a comp that’s coming up.”

If this little adventure was any indication of said skills, they had no right to be entering any sort of competition. “And there were no other places further away from the Marin boundary that would have done?”

“Of course, but this area—”

I held up a hand to stop her excuses. “Just give me the shoe.”

She did so. Life pulsed across my fingertips, a strong beat I’d have no trouble following. “Okay, let’s go.”

“What?” she said. “You want me to come with you? Into the bush?”

It’s your fucking son, lady. I took a deep breath and said, “Yes. I’m a stranger—they might just run.”

“Oh. Right.” She sniffed, a sound that was somehow filled with displeasure. “Let’s go then.”

I switched on the flashlight; the bright beam pooled out in front of me, silvering the nearby leaves and muting the call of the cicadas. The pulse coming from the shoe led me to the left; after squeezing past a number of thorny bushes, I found a slight path. Mrs. Rankin followed close behind, her annoyance staining the air. Hopefully, this little adventure would impress on her the need to stop overindulging her damn son.

It was a good hour before the signal coming from the shoe jumped into sharper focus. I stopped and swept the