I shivered, and it wasn’t entirely because of the cold. I might not be able to sense any magic, but it was here, somewhere, of that I was sure.
“Where exactly was the note left?” I asked. “Inside the refrigeration room or somewhere else?”
“It’s in the small reception area, and it was written before he released Karen.”
“Why are you so certain?”
His smile held little in the way of humor. “Because the wolf who’d been guarding the door into the cold chamber managed to set off the alarm before he was killed. The vampire wouldn’t have had the time to do anything more than grab Karen and get out of there.”
“Ah.” I studied the door ahead. Once again I had no sense of anything untoward, and there was no shimmer or spell threads to indicate magic was present. And yet, intuition stirred, suggesting caution.
I glanced at Belle. Are you sensing anything?
No, but that’s not surprising. You’re the stronger witch in this outfit.
Aiden opened the door and ushered us inside. A ranger appeared and handed us blue crime scene booties and gloves; once we’d all pulled both on, we were allowed to continue. I narrowed my gaze as we neared the main door into the morgue; once again, there were no immediate signs of magic. And yet, the gentle pulse of it began to stir, making the small hairs on my arms rise.
I stepped into the room and then stopped. This was obviously a reception area, as there was a desk directly opposite and several chairs along the right wall. There were two doors behind the desk, but no symbols or signs, magical or otherwise.
The message had been painted on the left wall, in what I suspected might be drying blood—a theory supported by the chalked outlines of several body parts lying between the desk and the wall.
There were only two ways our vampire could have wreaked such havoc on a human form—either he’d used some form of spell, or he was extraordinarily strong. And it didn’t really matter which of those was the truth—I simply didn’t want to confront a man capable of wanton destruction.
I shivered again and forced my gaze back to the wall and the message. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like gibberish, but it was, in fact, what was commonly known as witch script—an ancient text that only adepts could read, and which had been developed over centuries to prevent the more dangerous spells from falling into the wrong hands.
Which could mean that not only had our vampire been a witch of some power before he turned, but that he’d come from one of the three blueblood houses. And yet that was impossible, because it broke the laws of life and death and went against everything witches believed in.
I couldn’t read what it said, however. There was some sort of spell interference happening, making it blurry.
It’s also blurring for me, Belle said. Which suggests that whatever the spell is, it’s not specifically aimed at you. It might just be a general warning to the reservation’s witches.
Then why would he use my name? And why use witch script if all he wanted to do was warn us away?
I don’t know.
Neither did I, and that was what was worrying me.
“Can you read what the message says?” Aiden asked.
“Kind of.”
“Meaning what?”
I glanced at him briefly. “It means there’s a spell in place stopping me from reading it fully.”
“Your charm isn’t reacting,” Belle said. “That backs up the idea that the spell isn’t specifically aimed at you.”
“Or it could just mean it’s triggered by proximity rather than mere presence.” I glanced at Aiden again. “I want your people out of here, just in case my attempt to defuse the spell goes wrong.”
He immediately glanced at the brown-haired ranger who’d handed us the booties. “Order an immediate evacuation of the entire facility. I want everyone out to the vehicle area.”
She nodded and began talking into a two-way radio. As a stream of people began to leave the area, he added, “I’ll get you to head out as well, Jaz.”
As she retreated, I said, “I think you and Belle had better do the same.”
Aiden frowned. “The IIT would have my badge if I allowed you to remain here alone—”
“If we are dealing with a major spell of some kind,” I cut in, “then you have little other choice, and they’ll know it. I can’t be worried about your ass when I’m trying to defuse a spell, Ranger. If you want, Belle can relay everything I’m seeing and doing for your records.”
His gaze shot to hers. “You’re telepathic?”
She patted his arm comfortingly. “It’s okay. I discovered a long time ago that the thoughts of most men aren’t worth the effort of skimming.”
His expression was anything but comforted as his gaze returned to mine. “Fine. But if you need help—”
“I’ll call in Belle. You, Ranger, are to remain outside until I’ve declared the area safe.”
He hesitated, but after a moment, nodded and walked out. I tugged off my heels, handed them to Belle, and then put the blue booties back on.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” she asked. “Sometimes two sets of eyes are better than one when it comes to unraveling unknown spells.”
“Yes, but if he has concocted something nasty, I’d rather have you free to detach me from it.” My gaze went to the ranger’s departing back. “Thanks to the current clime, we can’t exactly call on other witches for help.”
“Then please be careful.” She touched my arm lightly and then retreated; a few minutes later, she added, We’re both clear.
I took a step closer to the wall, and the crawling sensation immediately sharpened. I squatted on my heels and studied the area with narrowed eyes, all senses—both physical and metaphysical—alert. After a moment, I began to see the slight shimmer that indicated the presence of magic. But I wasn’t yet close enough to make out the individual threads—or layers—of the spell. Each one was basically a combination of the words and energy used to create the incantation, which were then fused together to make a whole. In some ways, creating a spell held some similarities to the way fleece became yarn—and its success just as often depended on the skill of the weaver.
I shuffled closer. The vampire’s magic began to bite more strongly, its unpleasant feel making my skin jump and twitch. But I could at least see the spell now. It had been placed three feet away from the wall in a semicircular shape, and it appeared to be nothing more than a simple concealment spell—a fact that was at odds with the force crawling across my skin. I couldn’t see any spell stones being used as anchor points, and that was another indication of the vampire’s magical knowledge and strength. Most minor witches tended to use stones, as Belle and I had at the café. There was a lot less effort involved.
I reached out and carefully untwined the first thread from its brethren. As I did, the charm at my neck sprang to life, its warm pulse telling me there was indeed a dark intent behind this spell, even if I couldn’t immediately see it. I carefully deactivated the opening line, and then repeated the process with each of the others. As each of the blurring spell’s threads came free of the sum, and the words painted onto the wall became clearer, the biting sensation got stronger. It began to feel like I’d stepped into the middle of a swarming bull ants’ nest, and that was the opposite of what was supposed to be happening.
The final few threads looked unusually dark for this kind of spell, which—when combined with both the stinging and the warning pulse of my charm—suggested something had been attached to one or more of the final lines. And that meant the vampire had been here far longer than Aiden had suspected.
I dismantled another thread, leaving two. The bottom one—which was also the final line of the incantation—definitely felt heavier than it should have. Most were nothing more than the spell’s list of limitations and closure.
Stop, Belle said, mental tone urgent. Energy is building under the earth on the outside wall of the reception area.
I
paused, handing hovering over the remaining threads. Earthquake?
Not a natural one.
I’m not feeling anything in here. And I should if the spell was strong enough to affect or draw power from the ground outside. Perhaps you’d better push everyone back farther.
And maybe you’d better leave those final threads alone, she said. I’d rather not know what the bastard has said rather than risk your safety.
You know I can’t do that.
A half-dismantled blurring spell isn’t dangerous to anyone—
The closure line is too thick, Belle. There’s something else here.
Is the message clear enough to read yet? If we could at least get the gist of it, then maybe you don’t need to go any further.
My gaze jumped back to the wall. The blurring spell had faded enough to see it was writing, but what it said was still unclear. He’s designed the spell so that it has to be fully dismantled before the message can be read.
A trap, in other words.
We suspected that going in. I reached out, plucked the penultimate line free, and began to undo it. The final thread hovered in the air, dark, heavy, and extremely unhealthy in its feel. There’s definitely a second spell attached, and it’s nasty.
Nasty as in not witch magic?
I hesitated. Its construction is witch, but its power comes from blood.
Then he can’t be one of us, she said. In all the time the six families have been collecting spells and histories, there’s never been any mention of a witch becoming a vampire.
As far as we’re aware, I said. But how else would he know witch script? It’s something that’s handed down generation to generation rather than taught in schools.
And because of that, each family had script quirks specific to them, and that meant untangling the blurring spell was more important than ever. It could be one way of pinning down who we were dealing with.
I don’t think this is a good idea, Lizzie.
Whatever the spell is, I can at least see it. And if I can see it, I can undo it.
A declaration that isn’t really comforting me right now.
It wasn’t comforting me, either, especially given neither of us knew anything about blood magic. That was the sort of information they gave to those who went on to study at the witch university—of which there was only one in Australia—and Belle and I had run long before we’d become eligible for that.
And I was never eligible, given I’m a lowly Sarr. She paused. Everyone is now farther back. I’m not sure whether this is good news or not, but the trembling in the earth hasn’t worsened.
Maybe he just wants to frighten us rather than cause any real damage.
Maybe, she said. Be careful.
It’s my middle name. I reached out and carefully touched the final thread. It shimmered in response and the stinging peaked briefly then faded, but the unclean feel of the whole thread became stronger. I shivered and forced myself to concentrate, even as sweat trickled down the side of my face. The final thread’s fibers slowly became visible—the completion line was indeed intertwined with the threads of a secondary spell. I carefully pulled on the lightest of the three spell lines that made up this final thread, holding it as I murmured a spell to isolate it without breaking the connection to the other two.
The words on the wall shimmered and then became visible. But even as they did, the fiber in my hand began to disintegrate and the other two began to pulse.
The trap had been sprung.
I swore and quickly read the note to Belle. Vengeance is best given time and served cold. Let them sleep in the knowledge that they are safe, because it will make the moment when my hand rips out their hearts—as they ripped out mine—taste all that much sweeter.
To that end, I cannot allow any interference. Your death is not personal, Ms. Grace. It is merely a precaution.
Even as my gaze swept across that last word, a wave of power knocked me off my feet, and both the floor and the wall began to shake and buckle.
I scrambled upright, quickly uttering the words of an umbrella spell that would hopefully protect me from the worse of the explosion as I dove for the desk rather than the door and the glass walkway beyond it. I had no idea if the former would, in any way, provide additional protection, but the latter surely wouldn’t.
Even as I leaped, the wall exploded, filling the air with dust and huge chunks of rocks. The force of it was so damn strong it not only sent me tumbling forward, but down into blackness.
Chapter Six
Waking was a somewhat slow and confused process. It came in a series of stops and starts that were filled with voices and dust, the former echoing in my head as sharply as fear, and the latter catching in my throat and making breathing somewhat difficult. There were what felt like boulders pinning me down, but no waves of pain. My body felt bruised rather than broken, and if that were the case and not a symptom of shock, then I’d been extraordinarily lucky.
As consciousness sharpened, Belle’s voice became clearer. Don’t move, she said. The desk and that last-minute spell appear to have protected you from the worst of the explosion, but there are still some bits of wall pinning the lower part of your legs. They’re in the process of moving them now.
They?
Emergency service guys. No one else is allowed inside the building, as the reception area has been declared unstable.
Meaning the force of the explosion had been even worse than it had seemed. I finally opened my eyes, but couldn’t see much more than the somewhat battered underside of the desk. And I couldn’t turn my head to look at anything else because there was a brace around my neck.
The entire walkway came down in vast sheets, Belle continued, her tone grim. If you’d been underneath it, it would have sliced you to pieces.
Which suggests he expected me to run that way rather than toward the desk.
Yes, otherwise the force of the explosion would have also demolished the desk.
He’s going to be pissed when he realizes I didn’t die in his carefully planned trap. One of the lumps covering my left leg was moved, and pain flared. It still wasn’t anywhere near the agony that came with broken bones, but I nevertheless growled at whoever was doing it.
“Sorry,” a male voice said. “But the pain relief should kick in any minute now.”
“Any minute isn’t fast enough.” It came out croaky—no surprise given my throat was dry and coated with dust.
We’ll need to seriously ramp up both the protection spells around the café, Belle said, as well as the ones we’re wearing.
Yes. Another piece of rubble was moved, but the drugs were obviously beginning to work because this time I barely felt it.
“Right,” the same man said. “We’re going to slide you onto a board and get you out of here. Ready?”
“Not really, but I’d rather not stay here.”
A man appeared in my limited line of vision. He gave me a comforting smile, but his gaze was on someone else rather than me. “Okay, on three—”
Tension ran through me as he counted down. And despite the drugs, the minute they moved me, a wave of pain hit and consciousness fled once again.
When I next woke, it was to the gentle beeping of a heart monitor and a wall of blue curtains.
“You’re in the hospital,” Belle said. “There’re no broken bones, no spine or neck injury, and no major cuts. You’re going to be black and blue, and as stiff as hell for the next few days, but all in all, you’re good.”
I carefully pushed into a sitting position, wincing as various bits of me protested, then hitched the ill-fitting hospital gown back into place. “Then why am I still here?”
“Because they’re hardly able to release an unconscious person.” Her voice was dry. “They want you in overnight for observation.”
“I can’t stay here—”
“You can and you will,” Belle said. “You’ve been unconscious for a couple of hours. They want to be sure nothing has been missed.”
&nb
sp; “But the vampire—”
“Won’t be aware you’ve survived as yet,” she cut in. “Besides, he’ll be too occupied with Karen to worry about us for the next couple of days.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and then shut it again. She was right. Becoming a vampire was the easy part of the whole process. Learning to cope with all the new sensory input, adapting to the hunger and the need to take human blood without destroying life, as well as understanding the restrictions that came with life as a vampire, would surely take weeks, if not months.
And while I doubted this vampire intended to give Karen that long, if he wanted to use her as any sort of weapon, then he’d have to give her a few days, at the very least, to gain some control and sanity.
Unless, of course, it was her insanity he wanted.
“That’s a definite possibility,” Belle said. “He did state he was here for vengeance.”
“Did Aiden give any indication he knew what that note meant?”
“No.” She grinned. “He’s been in to check on you several times, though, which is interesting.”
“No, it isn’t,” I replied. “He’s dealing with a magic-capable vampire, and—whether he likes it or not—we’re the local authorities on magic.”
“All true,” she said. “But he could simply have sent one of his subordinates. I’m thinking the man is attracted.”
“And I’m thinking you’re insane.”
Her grin grew. “Possibly. I have been hanging around you for a very long time now. That sort of thing can be catchy.”
I snorted and whacked her lightly on the arm—an action that probably hurt me more than her.
“The IIT also want to interview you once you’re out of the hospital,” she continued.
I frowned. “Why don’t they just interview me here and now? It’ll surely save some time.”
“I have a vague feeling Aiden had a word or two in friendly ears,” Belle said. “The doctors are refusing to let them in.”
“It would seem the rangers aren’t the only ones who dislike the IIT,” I said.
“It would be fairer to say no wolf likes the IIT,” Aiden said, as he came through the curtain. “They do have a tendency to ride roughshod over reservation sensibilities.”