I swung around and studied the room again. Where would a teenager hide something she wanted to keep out of immediate sight but within very easy reach? My gaze went back to the bed—or rather, the pillows, which were lying on the floor near the bed rather than actually on top of it. Given the fact Marjorie had sworn off coming into the room to even change the bedding, it was as good a hiding place as any.
I walked over and picked one of them up. It didn’t feel any heavier than a pillow normally would, but I nevertheless opened the pillowcase’s flap and rather warily peered inside. There was nothing more than used tissues to be seen. I tossed it to one side, picked up the second pillow, and repeated the process. This time, in amongst all the used tissues was the glitter of gold. I pulled the case free of the pillow and dumped all the rubbish onto the bed.
The chain tumbled out. It was rather fine and obviously expensive, and attached to it was a bloodstone pendant—which was not only a rare and expensive stone these days, but also somewhat appropriate given what we might be dealing with. It was, however, an unusual choice for a dark sorcerer, given bloodstones were traditionally a symbol of justice, and in some cultures believed to ward off those with the evil eye.
I reached for it, but the wash of… not corruption, not exactly, more an utter lack of compassion and humanity… stopped me. Until I was feeling stronger and had more than just the simple ward hanging around my neck to protect me, there was no way I was going to touch the thing.
I looked around on the floor and spotted a pen, which I used to scoop up the necklace. “Do you recognize this?” I asked, holding it up.
Marjorie frowned and walked closer. “No,” she said. “But it might have been something her father gave her.”
“I was under the impression she didn’t see her dad all that much.” I spotted an envelope near the dressing table and walked over to grab it.
“She didn’t, but he did occasionally invite her over to his place when it was her birthday or at Christmas.” Marjorie’s voice held a bitter note. “She valued his meager offerings far more than she ever did anything I might have done for her.”
“Because she blamed you for the breakup.” I slid the necklace into the envelope then folded it over to seal it.
“Yes. Her father might have had an affair, but it was all my fault, according to her.” That edge of bitterness was joined by a mix of anger and grief. “I know they were close, but her refusal to see—to understand—nevertheless hurt.”
“I can imagine.” I continued walking around the room, but there was nothing else that spoke to me. Nothing that suggested it might have come from her killer. “Does your ex still live in town?”
“No, he moved back to Melbourne a while ago.” She frowned. “Why?”
I shrugged. “If he was still living within the reservation, I’d have liked to talk to him.”
“You don’t think he had—”
“No,” I said quickly. “But if he’d had some contact with her recently, she might have said something to him.”
“He won’t talk to me at all, but I can give you his phone number and address, if it helps.”
I nodded. “I have no doubt the rangers will have already talked to him, but I might try, just in case.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated. “We’ve not spoken of a retainer—”
“Because there is no need until we know whether or not I can help you.”
She shook her head. “I’m asking you to fully concentrate on finding this man for me, and it’s hardly fair that I take you away from your new business for any amount of time without offering some form of compensation—especially when it means you’ll also have to hire someone to take your place.”
All of which was true, but not the main point. Aside from the fact O’Connor had already warned me away, I really didn’t want to work on tracking Karen’s killer full-time.
“As I said before, I’m not—”
“Five hundred dollars a day,” she said. “For however long it takes.”
I sucked in a breath. “That’s a very generous offer, but—”
“Please,” she said, stepping toward me, “you have to do this. For me, and for Karen. Neither of us will rest peacefully until this bastard is caught.”
A chill ran through me at her words. Though I wasn’t entirely sure why, I had a bad, bad feeling that even if I did walk away from this case, fate was already conspiring to pull me back.
Belle? I said silently. What do you think?
I think there’s something more happening here than just a teenager’s death at the hands of a possible vampire, she replied. And I don’t think we dare ignore it.
The problem is, I don’t know if we’re anywhere near capable of dealing with whatever shit is brewing in this place.
Maybe not, but we’re all this place has got. And let’s face it, five hundred a day is nothing to be sneezed at.
I took a deep breath and then released it slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to ease the trepidation. “Okay, I’ll agree. But if the shit hits the fan with the O’Connors—”
“I’ll be there to hassle and threaten their asses, never you fear.”
I nodded, and then raised the bagged necklace. “Do you mind if I keep this for a few days?”
“No. As I said, I have no idea where it came from.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the envelope into one of the backpack’s pockets, but even so, I could feel the chill radiating from it. It was a sensation that made my skin crawl. “Do you want me to report back daily, or just when I have something?”
She hesitated. “Daily, if you don’t mind. Even if there’s nothing to report, it’ll ease my mind. It’s not as if the rangers are going to tell me anything.”
Which shouldn’t surprise her, given we were on their land. That lack would probably change once the IIT got here, however, as they tended to be more communicative when it came to the relatives of human victims. “I’ve got a couple of things to do today, so it’ll probably be tonight before I get back to you.”
“Good.” She reached out and grabbed my hand again. “Thank you. If you send me your bank details, I’ll make arrangements to transfer the payments.”
Part of me felt guilty over taking her money, even if it was desperately needed. A couple of payments would at least ease some of the immediate stress on our bank account.
I nodded and left, but stopped once I was back in the street, watching a train depart the station as I tried to decide what to do next. While all I really wanted was to go back to the café, I couldn’t risk ignoring the warnings of the spirits for too long. If they wanted the wellspring protected ASAP, then that was what I’d better do. I might not be able to put a full spell around it for a couple of days—that sort of magic required time and careful attention to detail—but I could certainly put a warding ring around it. It wouldn’t keep out a full-blown blood witch, but it was unclear as yet whether that was what we were dealing with. Certainly the bloodstone, for all that it felt foul, didn’t actually reek of powerful magic.
Whether he was more powerful than me was something I guessed we’d find out, especially if he was here for the wild magic rather than to simply create a little bloody mayhem.
I walked up to Doveton Street then swung right and headed back to Kalimna Park. Grand old maple trees arched over the road, creating a tunnel of green that was oddly soothing. Most of the houses here looked to be as old as the trees, although there were more modern buildings randomly scattered along the street that stuck out like sore thumbs. As I got closer to the park, the maples gave way to eucalyptus trees, and the roadside vegetation got scrubbier. Eventually the bitumen became dirt and stone, and all too soon I was once again in the park. The road quickly narrowed and the trees crowded closer. Though the morning was definitely warming up, in this place there was a decided chill to the air. But there was no sense of evil, no sense of death. The teenager’s soul didn’t haunt this place, and of that, I was glad. After the way she’d died, her soul deserve
d to move on to its next life rather than lingering for all eternity in the clearing in which death had found her.
Of course, if that had been the case, Belle could have helped her to move on, although not all ghosts actually wanted to. There were a rare few who’d rather chase revenge than the chance of rebirth.
I continued down the old road. The deeper I got into the forest, the more the noise and bustle of Castle Rock faded. Birdsong filled the air, but there was little else in the way of noise or movement.
As I neared the spot where I’d dived into the forest, the wild magic once again caressed my skin. The fact I was feeling it so strongly when I didn’t appear to be anywhere near the source suggested either the wellspring was huge, or that there was more than one of them in this reservation. Which would be unusual but not unheard of.
The road began to climb and I soon came to something of a crossroad. The main road continued on for half a kilometer or so and then gently curved around to the right. The rough, heavily rutted road to my left probably went back to town. The one on my right—which was in even worse repair—disappeared into the scrub. Neither of them looked overly used, although in their current state, anything other than a four-wheel drive probably would have gotten stuck.
The wild magic was pulling me to the right, but there were no signs to clue me in on where it might take me. I grabbed my phone and brought up Google Maps. There was a pine plantation a couple of kilometers up ahead and, behind that, Mount Alexander, but Google was decidedly scant on information about either of them. Changing to street view didn’t further my education, as it seemed the camera car hadn’t dared risk the track.
I shoved my phone away and studied the road dubiously. I didn’t like the idea of going deeper into the scrub without knowing where the hell I was headed, but it wasn’t like I really had a choice. Not if I wanted to find the wellspring.
But I’d taken a dozen steps when there was a gentle rustle of leaves behind me, and a familiar voice said, “And just where are you headed, Ms. Grace?”
I briefly closed my eyes and silently swore. Aiden O’Connor was the last person I wanted to see right now. But I forced a smile and turned around to face him. “I’m exploring the forest. What are you doing here?”
His deep blue gaze swept me and came up suspicious. “And why would you be out here when you have a newly opened café to operate?”
“Just because it’s newly opened doesn’t mean I need to be chained to it twenty-four/seven,” I replied. “One the advantages of being a boss is that you can ask other people to fill in while you go out for a stroll.”
He raised an eyebrow—an action that spoke of disbelief even if little of it otherwise showed in his expression. “So if a stroll is all you intended, why did you visit Marjorie before heading directly up here?”
“That statement suggests my actions are being watched, Ranger, and if that’s true, I’d like to know why.”
“You can hardly be surprised given you were found with Karen’s body last night—”
“Last night you said you were aware I didn’t kill her—what’s changed?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then why the hell am I being followed?”
“Because, as I also said last night, I believe you know a whole lot more than what you’re saying. So why are you up here, Ms. Grace? Wouldn’t happen to be searching for the elusive stranger, would you?”
His words revived the images—and emotions—I’d been an unwilling partner to, and heat stained my cheeks. “No, I am not.”
“Then why are you here? Honesty would be advisable, because there are harsh penalties for any human who steps within the boundaries of the O’Connor compound without permission.”
I quickly looked around. There was absolutely no indication that I’d entered his pack’s home grounds, and surely there should have at least been a warning sign. “Is that where I am?”
“That’s where this roads heads, yes.”
“So is your compound in the plantation, or up on Mount Alexander?”
“The latter,” he said. “And stop avoiding the question.”
It took me a moment to even remember the question. I hesitated, and then said, “I’m looking for the source of the wild magic.”
He raised that eyebrow again. “And why would someone who has claimed to be not much of a witch be looking for that?”
“Because I’m all this place has got, and I need to place some protection around the wellspring in an effort to stop evil from staining it.”
“You say that like evil has substance—”
“Because it has.” I crossed my arms and met his skeptical gaze evenly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never walked into a room and immediately felt either comfortable or ill at ease, because I know that wouldn’t be true. Wolves, while generally not psychic, are sensitive to currents of stronger emotions.”
And not just lust and desire, but also hate and fear.
He studied me, his expression as unreadable as ever. “No witch who has lived within the reservation has ever mentioned wild magic.”
“Why would they? It’s their job to protect and guide it; there would be no need to mention it unless something was going very wrong.” I hesitated. “Why did the last witch leave?”
“His residency was revoked.” His answer was flat, and filled with both repressed anger and deep hurt.
Which only made me all the more curious as to what had gone on here. But if Marjorie, who was obviously a leading lawyer in this town, had no clue, then there was very little chance that any other human living here would. And the wolves certainly wouldn’t tell me; werewolves were extremely protective—even secretive—of anything related to their pack.
Would the spirits who resided in this place know? It might be worth asking—although surely if they did, they would have already mentioned it.
Not necessarily, Belle said. They tend to offer information only as required or as asked, remember.
And yet they have no damn qualms about offering unwanted advice.
Belle laughed. That’s because not only are we seen as a special case, but because my guides do feel rather protective toward us.
I’m not sure I really want to be regarded as ‘special’ by the spirit world. Out loud, I added, “And are you my self-appointed follower, Ranger?”
There was little warmth in the smile that touched his lips, which was a shame, because they were rather nice lips.
I frowned and batted the thought away. I didn’t need any sort of attraction happening right now, especially to a man who hated what I was with every inch of his being.
“I wasn’t following you. I was up here searching for scents and heard your approach.” He paused, and just for a moment, something sparked in his eyes—something I would have named amusement if it weren’t for his otherwise stony expression. “Silent you are not.”
“I wasn’t trying to be, either last night or now.” I hesitated. “Wouldn’t the wind have now erased any scent if it was to be found?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t only searching for a scent. I was also looking for any indication that a third party had moved through the forest.”
“And did you find it?”
He gave me a cool smile and crossed his arms—an action that only emphasized their lean strength, even through the shirt.
“Fine, don’t answer.” I spun around and started off down the road again. “If I’m not actually near your compound yet, then I guess I’m safe to continue on my merry way.”
I rather suspected I wouldn’t be doing so alone, and that suspicion was immediately proven correct.
He caught up with me in three quick strides and then said, “Why did you choose to settle in Castle Rock?”
Because I felt compelled to come here, and because the spirits thought it was a good idea. But I could hardly admit that to this man. “The fact that your whole reservation is a tourist destination was part of the reason. It’s a lot easier to run a successful business when you have a g
ood stream of people coming through.”
“Then why settle here rather than Argyle? That’s the main spa town, not Castle Rock.”
I shrugged. “We liked the feel of this place better.”
He didn’t immediately reply, but I could sense his gaze on me. Or rather, on my hair. Again his suspicion rose around me but he didn’t give it voice. “Because of the wild magic?”
“Because it seemed like a really friendly town.” I glanced at his stony countenance somewhat wryly. “We did tell your council we intended doing readings and selling charms at the café.”
“And forgot to add the fact you were also witches.”
“Damn it, Ranger, if you fall foul of another werewolf, do you blame your whole race for that one wolf’s action?”
“No—”
“Then stopping blaming whatever catastrophe happened here on every damn witch you come in contact with.” There was an edge of anger in my voice that I couldn’t quite control. “I can’t change whatever that was. I can’t heal it. No one can—not until all those involved are willing to let the wound be healed. And it seems to me neither you nor this reservation is willing to do that just yet.”
“You know nothing about me or my pack—”
“No, I don’t, nor do I fucking want to,” I said, in an echo of his own statement. “But you’re running a huge risk by not having a powerful, vetted witch here to protect the wild magic, and you’d better pray like hell the darker forces do not become aware of it.”
“Vetted witch?” he said, voice mild. “Does that mean you haven’t gone through accreditation, and therefore are unaligned to any of the major or minor houses?”
I swore internally. Trust me to run off at the mouth and give him a clue like that.