Broken Bonds by Keri Arthur

Chapter Nine

“How lovely to see you again, dear sister.” His mellow tone was an echo of my father’s and just as aristocratic sounding. “Especially after such a long time.”

I crossed my arms in a vague effort not to reach out and smack the condescending smugness from his features. He had the same height and build as our father, but the structure of his face lacked the same sharpness. He was also nowhere near as lean; in fact, there was a very definite paunch developing.

But then, Juli had always been rather fond of the good life, even from a very young age.

“If it was so damn lovely to see me,” I said mildly, “why the hell did you run the first time you came here?”

“Because I wasn’t initially sure I had the right place or person. It wasn’t until Father came back and mentioned that you had discovered a means of incorporating the wild magic into your spells that I realized—”

“The sister you’d declared useless and utterly unworthy of your attention, suddenly was?”

His silver eyes sparked, the fury I’d sensed earlier rising briefly to the surface. But then, Juli had never appreciated people calling him on his bullshit.

“I never considered you useless, Lizzie. Your psi talents were, after all, responsible for tracking down our sister’s killer when no one else could.”

“I note that you didn’t deny the whole ‘unworthy’ comment,” I said, in dry amusement. “And let’s not forget the fact that you and Father did hold me accountable for her death.”

“Ah yes,” he said, looking both uncomfortable and apologetic. Neither was real, of course. He was an accomplished actor, and well able to show whatever emotions were deemed appropriate for the occasion or situation. “We were perhaps a little hasty, but grief—”

“Had nothing to do with your reaction, Julius, and we both know it. You and Father were looking for someone to blame for her death, and I was, as usual, a handy scapegoat.”

Because I’d done what he and Father and all the other high-flying royal councilors had failed to do—I’d found and then confronted the dark sorcerer responsible for a string of brutal, high-profile murders. I just hadn’t done it in time to save Catherine’s life—and that’s what they couldn’t forgive.

That and the fact that I’d lived while she hadn’t.

“But hey,” I continued blithely, “her death did at least have one benefit—you became Father’s successor, something that would never have happened had she lived.”

“That is a fucking shitty comment to make,” he growled. “Aside from the fact I’m as worthy as she ever was, my place on the council had nothing to do with her dying.”

It was a fucking shitty comment, but it was also the damn truth. Juli might be a powerful royal witch in his own right, but he’d never, ever been in Cat’s class. Not in power, not in skill, and certainly not when it came to understanding the intricacies of spell development.

“I daresay you’ve said that often enough over the years to actually believe it.”

His expression darkened, and he stepped toward me. Magic stirred around his fingers, though I had no idea what it was or what he intended. The spells protecting the café and me flared to life, and a moon-bright pulse of energy lit the room. It was a warning the wise would not ignore; Juli was many things, but he wasn’t stupid.

He stopped abruptly, his silver gaze sweeping the room and the anger fading as swiftly as it had risen. “Father was right. Your use of the wild magic in the construction of your spells is quite impressive.”

“It’d be even more impressive if I could actually control it,” I said evenly. There was no way known I would ever confirm just how deep my connection and control over the wild magic was. Not to him, at any rate.

Of course, it probably wouldn’t make any difference in the long run, as I’d already agreed to undergo a full magic audit …

Would that agreement actually hold up in a court now, though?came Belle’s comment. Clayton did smash it when he came after me.

Actually, no. The agreement concerned the annulment and the audit. It never mentioned Clayton leaving us alone.

Which was rather stupid move on our part.

I doubt it would have made a difference anyway.

True that. You want me over there? Juli always was a little afraid of my physical magnificence.

Nah, I’m fine. He can’t hurt me physically or magically here in the café, and I’d rather keep you off his radar anyway.

I’ll not only be on his radar but in his face if he does try anything.

A grin twitched my lips. As much as I’d like to see that, if you wander over, Monty will, and he and Juli never did get along.

That’s because Monty has damn good judgment when it comes to people.

Of course. He chose you to be his wife, after all.

She did the mental equivalent of an eye roll. Fine. Juli is all yours to deal with.

“Of course you would have no idea on control,” my brother was saying. “You’re in a backwater town in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Who on earth would be able to teach you anything about the wild magic here?”

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. “Who on earth would be able to teach me anything about the wild magic up in Canberra?”

“Our mother—”

“Knew so little it almost killed her when she was sent to restrain and protect a wellspring,” I said. “I doubt she’s learned anything since, because there are few enough books written about the subject and absolutely no scholars.”

“Here in Australia, perhaps, but we’re a young nation—”

“Actually, no, we’re one of the oldest continuously inhabited nations in the world.”

“I meant when it came to the presence of witches, magic, and their combined knowledge.”

“And you think First Nations Peoples don’t have any of that?”

He made a chopping motion with his hand, anger flickering through his expression once again before he got it under control. “That’s not what I meant.”

Amusement bubbled through me, but I pressed my lips together to hold it back. As much as I enjoyed needling him, I also didn’t want to push him too far. Juli’s anger was easier to trigger than our father’s, but it was just as ugly.

Besides, he was bigger than me. Granted, with the wild-magic-induced changes to my body, I’d probably be his match strength wise, but I really didn’t want to test that out.

“Look, say whatever the hell you came here to say, Julius, and then get the hell out of my home. You aren’t welcome here.”

Cool amusement crossed his face. “So much for sibling love—”

“Oh, I think we both know there was never any of that between the two of us.”

“Fine.” The vague amusement died, and his expression became hard. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of our family, and it is extremely unbecoming to drag a family dispute into a courtroom.”

“Oh, this is a whole lot more than a family dispute,” I snapped back. “What he did to me was against the law, and I have no intention of letting him off the hook so easily.”

“Your formal complaint has been investigated, and Father has been sanctioned—”

“By who, exactly? Not the high council, I know that for damn sure.”

He waved a hand, as if it wasn’t important. “The point, dear sister, is that there is no need to air our laundry in the very public setting of a court. The Black Lantern Society will drop the case if you request it.”

I dug my nails into my palms to keep from lashing out at him magically. “I could. But I won’t.”

“Elizabeth, it is unbecoming for the Marlowe name to be dragged through the courts—”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I give exactly zero fucks about the Marlowe name. In fact, I legally changed my surname years ago, and I have no intention of ever changing it back.” I paused and took a deep breath. It didn’t help ease any of the inner anger. “Is that all you were sent here to say? Because if it was, feel free to turn around and get the hell out.”

His expression darkened again. “I think you’ll discover a name change means nothing. You will always be regarded as a Marlowe, and therefore a valuable asset to the family and those who wish a connection with us.”

I laughed. Harshly. “Oh, so now I’m a valuable asset?”

He nonchalantly waved a hand around the room. “The spells here certainly speak to that.”

“Then how is the unguided and undirected weaving of wild magic in any way useful to our family—or anyone else, for that matter—whenit cannot be used beyond the confines of this reservation.”

He frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t have the control you and Father covet, Juli. The reservation’s wellspring was unprotected for well over a year, and it seems to have garnered a vague kind of sentience that has nothing to do with me. Perhaps if you’d read the various reports sent up to the council from both Ashworth and Monty, you’d have saved yourself a trip and me the annoyance of your presence.”

“The wild magic is not the sole reason for my being here.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a long envelope.

It held an official court seal, just like the one Ashworth had slid across the table only hours before.

He offered it to me. I didn’t take it. “What is that?”

“A subpoena.”

“A second one? To the same court case or a different one?”

His smile was cold. “Different. Your inheritance is being challenged.”

“Inheritance? What fucking inheritance?”

He laughed, but it was as cold as his expression. “What inheritance do you think? You were Clayton’s wife—”

“No, I wasn’t—the marriage was legally annulled before Clayton was murdered.”

“A murder that very few of us believe you played no part in.”

“He was alive when I left him.”

“Which is not a denial that you took no part in his death.”

“I did not kill the man, but you know what? I surely would have if I’d been given half the chance and an assurance of no legal blowback.” I motioned to the envelope. “Why on earth would he have left me anything? I disappeared on our wedding night; he didn’t have time to fuck me, let alone make a will.”

He raised an eyebrow. It was a somehow mocking gesture. “Do you think our father was totally uncaring about your future?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He didn’t look amused. “There was, of course, a prenuptial agreement in which your dowry—”

“My dowry?” I cut in, with a laugh. “What fucking dowry?”

“Your percentage of the Marlowe empire, of course.”

“Yeah, like I was ever going to inherit even the smallest smidge of the so-called Marlowe empire.”

“For the purposes of the agreement, you certainly were. In exchange, Clayton made you his main beneficiary on his death. The will was a part of the prenup agreement, so of course everything was made official before your actual marriage.”

“And he never bothered to change said will in all the years I was missing?” I snorted. “I find that terribly hard to believe.”

“Clayton was nothing if not stubborn. He could never believe that you—a mere snip of an underpowered witch—would ever outfox him for very long.”

Now that I could utterly believe. “So why are you delivering the paperwork rather than Clayton’s family or their lawyers?”

“Because I wished to see firsthand your spell skill, and because our families remain on good terms.”

Of course they did. A squabble over a dead man’s estate would never get in the way of old alliances. Like it or not, my family was one of the major powers in the ancient halls of the royal high court. No court case, successful or not, was likely to change that too much. Not when my brother and mother were also powerful figures in said court.

I reached out and took the subpoena. “When is the court case?”

“It will initially be mediation, and it’s slated to start two days before the other case. We do not expect it’ll take more than a day or so to sort out.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That sounds as if agreements have already been made.”

“There have been discussions, yes—”

“Without me? The main recipient of said estate?”

“You will of course be given final approval—”

“And I will, of course, require a full list of everything my inheritance entails before agreeing to anything you and Father might have negotiated on my behalf. I will also want a copy of said agreement so that my lawyer can go through it thoroughly.”

“That is unnecessary—”

“Perhaps it is, but my days of trusting you lot are long, long gone.”

He scowled, but he really had no choice and we both knew it. “Fine. I shall get the documents spelled down to you.”

“Just make sure they’re the real documents, not fakes designed to lull me into a false sense of security.”

“We would not stoop so low—”

“Oh, we both know you would if it benefitted the family’s position in any way.” I motioned toward the door. “And now, feel free to make use of that; the sooner the better.”

He stared at me for several long moments, then made a low, mocking bow, turned, and marched out. I locked the door behind him, then leaned back against it and closed my eyes.

Well, Belle said, that was all unexpected.

Understatement of the year, I believe.

Wonder how much of an inheritance we’re talking about? Clayton was a very wealthy man, but I can’t imagine he’d be foolish enough to sign his entire fortune over. Not even for the promise of a young and fertile wife.

My father has always coveted the residences Clayton owned in Yarralumla—they’re opposite the golf course, and Father has long wanted to run a golf holiday resort there for the hideously wealthy.

Places in Yarralumla go for upwards of two million. I can imagine Clayton handing over one house for a nubile wife, but more than that? Unlikely.

He was desperate for heirs, remember.I mentally shrugged. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

It’d be nice if at least some of the money you inherit actually reaches our bank account. It’d certainly secure our future here.

Oh, I think it will. Juli was basically sent here to suss out the lay of the land on behalf of both parties. They now know I’m not going to be a legal pushover, so money will be on offer.

Well, you certainly deserve it.

We both do. Now stop talking to me and go play with your man.

She did the mental eye roll thing again. He’s still entranced by the movie.

Belle, if you can’t figure out a way of distracting him from said movie, I’ll be very disappointed.

She laughed. Enjoy your night.

That was highly unlikely, but I bid her goodnight and then went and got myself another large slice of cake.

Aiden pulled up outside the café right on the dot of nine and leaned across the seat to open the passenger door. I jumped in, dumped my purse into the footwell, and then did up my belt. He didn’t make any move to kiss me, which wasn’t unusual when he was working, but it nevertheless left me on edge.

“I take it things didn’t go well last night?”

He pulled back into the traffic and then glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think that?”

I waved a hand up and down his length. “Dark countenance, tumultuous aura.”

“Ah.” He grimaced. “A few home truths were given and received on both sides. It was a long night, and I’m not sure anything was really sorted.”

“So your mother is still intent on interference?”

“My mother will never change. That much was made obvious.”

In other words, the bitch remained determined to get rid of me. Which was a bit of a laugh when, for all her efforts, she wouldn’t in the end be the reason we split.

“Anything happen on the Mia front?”

“My parents were told why I sent her packing and why I have absolutely no interest in renewing our relationship.”

A statement that made my silly heart dance, but only briefly. If it wasn’t Mia, it would be someone else. “And did your mother actually listen?”

“Yes.” He glanced at me. “But she still believes we should at least talk—which is something you also rather weirdly insist on.”

I half smiled. “And you know why.”

He sighed. “I do not harbor any lingering feelings for the woman.”

“And yet your aura does this weird emotional dance whenever you mention her.”

“Because she betrayed my trust, and that’s something I will never forget or forgive.”

Which was something I could understand. “I take it she isn’t being invited back for another family dinner?”

“Oh, she is. I gave ground on that point. Besides, it is ultimately better that our so-called heart-to-heart happens at the family residence. The last thing any of us need or want is to give the brigade more grist for their mill.”

“So you won’t be home again tonight?”

“Oh, I certainly fucking will be. There’s only so many family ‘heart-to-hearts’ a man can take.”

I once again quelled the rise of hope. Nothing had changed for us long-term, and it never would.

“Wouldn’t it be better to simply get it all over and done with?”

“I am not spending another night without you in my arms. End of story, no arguments.” He paused for a long moment. “Unless, of course, you would rather I sort this all out before you and I continue on.”

“Continue on?” I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped. “That really does sum up our relationship, doesn’t it?”

“You know I didn’t mean it to sound so casual or uncaring.” He reached across the seat, gripped my hand, and squeezed my fingers lightly. “Right now, I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“The modifier there being ‘right now.’”

“Liz—”

“It’s fine, Aiden, really. It’s just that Mia’s presence has made me confront a few basic facts I’ve been willfully ignoring.” I glanced at him. “I suspect I’m not the only one guilty of that.”

“If I’m guilty of anything, Liz, it’s of enjoying my life as it is, for as long as it is, without worrying about the future.”

“Which is all fine and dandy when there’re no emotions involved, Aiden.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I know. But this is neither the time nor the place—”

“Is there ever a perfect time and a place for such a discussion?” I asked mildly.

He grimaced. “In this particular case, I don’t believe there will be. However, once we’ve caught our killer vampiric spirit and I’ve seen Mia on her way, we’ll sit down and discuss us. Openly and honestly, and see where we go from there. Okay?”

I knew where exactly we’d go, but all I did was nod. Continuing on blithely wasn’t going to work for us anymore, and he had to know that, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“Okay.” I glanced out the window but not out of any interest in the passing scenery. I didn’t want him to see the heartbreak and anger in my eyes—though he’d undoubtedly smell the latter and wonder at its cause. “Did you tell Marian Letts why we were coming to see her?”

“No, just that I needed to talk to her.” He glanced at me, a weight I felt rather than saw. “I figured if she was responsible for the curse, it would forewarn her.”

“Good idea, though unless she’s a witch—”

“She’s not.”

“Then she definitely couldn’t have placed the curse herself. She’d have gone to a practitioner who specializes in such things.”

“And are they hard to find?”

I shrugged. “In large city centers, no. Out here, in the country? Probably. Curses are considered a gray area for witchcraft, and it’s far easier to track down the caster of a curse gone awry in a less-populated area.”

“Do they go awry very often?”

I hesitated. “Anytime a demon or a dark spirit is involved in a curse, there’s always a high probability of things going awry. If the hone-onna was brought here by a curse Marian had placed on her ex, then the practitioner behind it failed to set all the necessary parameters, and that has allowed our spirit to go after all cheating men.”

He grunted. “So once we get a name, Monty should be able to contact the RWA and get the witch’s location?”

“If she’s in the area, yes. If it was done in Melbourne, he’ll probably have to ask the state witch council to track him or her down.”

“That could take longer than we have.”

“It would depend on whether that particular witch is on their radar.”

“Meaning state councils keep track of curse givers?”

“They keep track of all witches who flirt around with the edges of darker magics. It’s a very slippery slope to traverse, and darkness has ensnared more than one overconfident witch over the centuries.”

He glanced at me. “Have you ever done a dark spell?”

“Once.” I shivered at the memory even though I had no lingering regrets. That spell had saved Belle’s life. “I felt unclean afterward.”

“Did it hold a cost?”

“All magic holds a cost, Aiden.”

“You know what I meant.”

I half smiled, though it held little warmth. “I had to destroy something extremely precious, so I guess it did.”

And while Belle might have paid that particular cost, it remained to be seen what price I’d eventually pay. While the spell lay more in the gray zone than the black, it had required blood. Worse still, it had come with a warning that invoking the spell would make the caster more susceptible to the darker forces of this world.

Which might well explain the hone-onna’s current fixation on me.

We turned off the main highway a few kilometers out of Castle Rock and then stopped in front of a cute, white miner’s cottage. There was no car sitting under the small carport to the right of the cottage.

I undid my seat belt and grabbed my purse. “She is expecting us, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “Her car is at the mechanic’s down the road.”

I climbed out of the truck and then followed him over to the front door. There was no yard, which meant there was about three feet, if that, between the footpath and the door. “But something had to have drawn the hone-onna here. According to Ashworth, it’s rare for them to be hunting in a place like this. They prefer major city centers.”

He rang the doorbell. A soft bell chimed deeper within the old house and, after a few seconds, footsteps approached. The woman who opened the door was short, with elfin features, sharp blue eyes, and short red hair. She was also human, rather than wolf, and her scent spoke of pregnancy …

I blinked. Not just at the fact that pregnancy had a scent, but also at the fact I smelled and recognized it.

“Ranger O’Connor, and right on time too.” She stepped back and waved us in. “Would you and your friend like a cup of tea? I just boiled the kettle.”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Marian,” Aiden said. “This is Liz Grace. She’s working—”

“At the café with the amazing cakes,” Marian said. “My friends keep saying we should go there.”

I smiled. “I’d have to agree with your friends, but then I would, given I own the café.”

“Indeed you would,” she said with a laugh. “Head on down to the kitchen—it’s at the end of the hall.”

Aiden led the way, his steps quieter than mine on the old wooden floors. The wild magic might be strengthening my senses, but it certainly wasn’t altering the way I moved. Grace might be my last name, but it really didn’t play any part in my overall physical repertoire.

The kitchen had been built in what was basically a lean-to attached to the back of the house. It was a small but perfectly formed galley kitchen, with enough space for one person to comfortably work, as well as an area big enough to hold a square, four-person table. Marian motioned us to sit and then brought over a tray holding a large teapot and three cups.

After pouring the tea and handing us the cups, she said, “Now, what is this all about? Have you discovered who did me a huge favor by killing the bastard I once called husband?”

Aiden hesitated. “Not yet, though we do have several leads we’re following up. One of them is a bit out there, and it’s the reason we’re here this morning.”

She raised a pale eyebrow. “Now that sounds intriguing.”

There was no change in the flow of pink through her aura—which generally indicated a gentle, peaceful nature—and nothing to suggest she had anything to hide in her expression. If Marian had paid for a witch to place a curse on her ex, then she didn’t consider it in any way a legal problem.

And it generally wasn’t unless it resulted in a death.

“Ms. Grace is here this morning in her capacity of assistant reservation witch—”

“Ha!” Marian cut in, her eyes smiling. “That would explain the much sought-after nature of your cakes—you sprinkle them with a little bit of magic.”

I smiled. “I wish that were possible. It’d save us a whole lot of hard work.”

“I guess it would.” She leaned back in her chair, her expression open and unworried. “So why would a reservation witch be involved in a murder investigation?”

Aiden glanced at me, and then said, “It would appear that something non-human was responsible for the murder of your husband.”

“Ex. And it surely couldn’t have been a werewolf—you lot couldn’t do that to a body.”

“You saw his body?” I asked, surprised.

Her gaze returned to me. “Had to ID it. I must admit, I did think there was something rather odd about the severe state of his dehydration.”

“It wasn’t dehydration, and it wasn’t a werewolf,” I said. “He was attacked by what we believe was a vampire. Of sorts.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wasn’t Hale killed during the day?”

“Yes. This particular being isn’t as restricted as a regular vampire.”

“Huh.” She took a sip of tea. “What do you wish to know?”

I hesitated. “Did you seek out a witch to place a curse on your ex?”

She laughed, though her amusement abruptly died when she realized the question was serious. “No, I did not. Although, I have to admit, if the thought had actually occurred to me, I probably would have. I’ve certainly cursed him many a time over the last few months, but that, I’m afraid, is as far as it went.”

Which meant this trip was a dead-end information-wise. Unless, of course, she was a latent talent. Plenty of humans could lay claim to a witch ancestor—it was part of the reason why Belle and I had successfully pretended to be half-bloods for so long—but most were incapable of magic. In the few who could spell, it generally took some kind of trauma or stress to bring the ability to the fore—often with disastrous results.

But there was no hint of magic in Marian’s aura and absolutely no evidence that she was, in any way, a latent talent.

So if she didn’t place the curse and Hale was the first person killed, did that by necessity mean we were dealing with a summoning? Or was the hone-onna’s presence here simply a matter of bad luck? Had she, perhaps, simply been passing through at the exact same time as Marian had been physically rather than magically cursing her ex?

“Would there be anyone in your immediate circle who could have placed such a curse?” Aiden asked. “A family member or friend, perhaps?”

Marian was shaking her head even before he’d finished the question. “There’s just me and Bonny here in the reservation. My family lives interstate.”

“Bonny being the dog,” Aiden said, with a glance at me.

I smiled. “Dogs are utterly loyal to their humans, but it’s rare for them to get involved in curses. Cats, on the other hand, are extremely untrustworthy when it comes to such matters.”

“I take it your familiar isn’t a cat then?”

“No, thank God.”

She laughed and drank some more of her coffee. “If a curse is responsible for calling Hale’s killer here, could it have been placed by his lover?”

I hesitated. “Maybe, although it’d be extremely unusual.”

Mainly because revenge spirits generally weren’t drawn to women involved in the act of betrayal.”

“Hale was a smooth operator. I don’t believe his bit on the side knew I existed until the fatal evening I answered his phone. Her shock was too raw—too real.”

“Do you know anything about her?” Aiden asked.

Red flickered briefly through her aura’s gentle pink. “No, and I think it best it remain that way. I still have his phone here, though, if you’d like it. It’s not in great condition, because I threw it at the wall multiple times, but you might be able to resurrect the database and get the list of his contacts. She’s there, though knowing him he probably has her listed under a false ID.”

“If we could have the phone, that would be great,” Aiden said.

“Hang on a sec, then.”

She briefly disappeared down the hall but wasn’t gone all that long. When she’d said the phone wasn’t in great condition, she’d actually been understating it. The casing was cracked in multiple places and the glass screen so spiderwebbed I doubted anything would be visible even if the phone still worked.

Aiden pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket and motioned her to drop it in. “Do you want this returned with the rest of his effects?”

“No. I’ve plenty of other things of his to destroy should the urge take me. But thank you for asking.”

He finished his tea and then rose. “We’ll be in contact if we have any further questions.”

She nodded and led us back to the front door. “You know, there is a part of me that hopes you never catch the thing behind these murders. The world in general is a much nicer place without men like my ex.”

“Problem being,” I said, “is that sometimes the innocent get hurt.”

“That’s the way of the world in general, I think.” She shrugged and closed the door once we were through.

I walked over to the truck and climbed in. Once Aiden had done a U-turn, I asked, “Can werewolves smell pregnancy?”

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “That’s an extremely odd question—you’re not pregnant, are you?”

I snorted. “Heaven forbid. I was just curious.”

He turned onto the highway and headed back to Castle Rock. “I take it you smelled hers?”

I nodded. “My olfactory senses have been sharpening for a while, but I wasn’t expecting something as personal as pregnancy to have a smell.”

“It’s the hormonal changes a pregnant woman’s body goes through that you’re smelling.”

“Does that mean a pregnancy is obvious from the point of conception?”

“No. It generally happens from about three months on.”

“I’ve never actually thought about it, but I’m guessing that means you’re also sensitive to menstrual cycles? I can’t imagine that would be pleasant on a day-to-day basis.”

A smile tugged the corner of his lips. “You learn at a very young age to basically turn off certain scents. I’m well aware of your cycle and can generally tell a few days out when it’ll happen, but that’s only because we live together.”

“Huh.” I studied the street ahead for a moment. “Do you think Marian is aware she’s pregnant?”

“I think when she stopped menstruating it’d have been pretty obvious.”

“There are women who continue to menstruate all the way through their pregnancy.”

“Then their past selves must have done something pretty shitty to be stuck with that. But yes, she knows.” He glanced at me again. “Why the curiosity?”

I shrugged. “Just found it odd that she didn’t seem fazed by the fact that, with her husband dead and no family here, she hasn’t anything in the way of a support system.”

“Some women don’t need all that. I can’t imagine you ever would.”

“Except I have more help and support here than I ever would have up in Canberra. Between Belle, Monty, Ashworth, and Eli, I’ll never have to worry about a sitter for my daughter when she pops along.”

“Daughter?” His eyebrows rose. “Not a son?”

“Nope. Not first up, at any rate.”

He glanced at me. There was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke of longing, and it made me angry and sad all at the same time.

“So says your psychic self?”

“Multiple times.”

“Huh.” He paused for a long moment. “I don’t suppose those same dreams gave you any idea who the father will be?”

“No, but what does it matter to you if they did?”

“That’s unfair, Liz.”

“Why, when sooner or later we’ll both move on to other partners?”

“Moving on doesn’t mean we can’t remain friends. Moving on doesn’t mean I will stop caring about you. Moving on doesn’t mean I will ever cast you from my life.” He glanced at me, his gaze fierce. “I’d hope that you feel the same way.”

I sighed. “Of course I do.”

But hope was a fickle lover at the best of times, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had the strength to keep him as a close friend, to see him happy with another woman, day in and day out.

But maybe that was fear speaking. I’d seen that blonde-haired little girl, after all, and if she wasn’t Aiden’s, she had to be someone else’s. Which meant I was absolutely destined to find happiness in the future, even if my present was falling to pieces.

Silence fell, but it was haunted by what-ifs and far from comfortable. At least for me.

As we neared the café, his phone rang sharply. He pressed the switch on the steering to answer it and then said, “I take it there’s a problem?”

“There certainly is” came Monty’s reply. “We’ve got ourselves another goddamn body, and this time it’s a woman.”

Aiden swore and briefly scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “Where are you?”

Monty gave us an address and then added, “Maggie’s already called in Ciara and notified Tala.”

“Brilliant. It’ll take us about ten minutes to get there.”

“Us? Lizzie’s with you?”

“Yes. Aiden out.”

He flicked on the lights and siren then did a tire-squealing U-turn and headed toward Louton. Thankfully, there wasn’t that much traffic on the road, and we got there in eight minutes. Only one ranger vehicle sat out the front of the old brick house, which meant neither Tala nor Ciara had arrived as yet. Police tape had been rolled out around the front of the building, though; Maggie, being her usual efficient self.

Aiden stopped behind her SUV, and we both climbed out. Monty appeared in the front door, kitted out with crime scene booties and gloves. His expression was pale and grim, which didn’t bode well for what had happened inside.

Aiden held the tape up so I could go under and then followed me through. “Are we dealing with the same MO, Monty?”

“No. This time the victim wasn’t murdered during sex, and she very obviously fought back. It’s all a bit of a mess.”

I frowned. “Why would the hone-onna change tack this late into the game? That doesn’t make any sense, given what we know about them.”

“Which isn’t a whole lot, let’s be honest here.” Monty handed us both a pair of booties and some gloves. “Maggie says the victim is Candice Taylor. She’s thirty-five, single, and a vet nurse who worked over in Colban Falls.”

“Where did the murder happen?”

“In the living room. Straight ahead and then to the left.”

I followed Aiden down the narrow, somewhat cluttered hallway into a surprisingly large and bright room. Maggie was taking a photo of what appeared to be a raw piece of meat but glanced up as we all walked in. “This one is bloody nasty, boss.”

As I stopped beside Aiden, a thick wall of terror, agony, and fury slapped across my senses, tearing a gasp from my throat. I automatically sucked in a breath, only to find it filled with blood and death and horror. My knees buckled, and I would have fallen had Aiden not grabbed me.

“Fuck. Sorry, I should have mentioned the violence,” Monty said. “If the psychic vibes are that bad, maybe it would be better—”

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

“We can cope without your sensory input,” Aiden growled. “You don’t need to put yourself through—”

“I’m fine.” I pulled away from his grip and shored up my mental shields. It helped, even if it didn’t completely shut out the psychic waves. I ignored them as best I could and studied the room. The victim’s emotions were a tangled weave that floated through the room, but now that I was aware of them, I could for the most part hold them at bay. It was the random bits of flesh and limbs scattered all over the floor and furniture, and blood sprayed across the nearby furniture and walls, that weren’t so easily ignored. When Monty had said it was all a bit of a mess, he’d definitely been understating the situation.

“I take it the rest of her body is elsewhere?” Aiden asked.

Maggie nodded. “In the kitchen. I suspect she was going for a knife. She didn’t make it.”

“Is there any evidence the hone-onna made any attempt to feed on Ms. Taylor the same way as she had the others?” I asked.

“Hard to be positive without a proper postmortem, but I’d have to say no. All the body parts are fully fleshed.” Maggie paused and frowned. “It’s almost as if we’re dealing with an entirely different creature.”

“That’s always possible in this damn reservation.” Aiden said, his tone grim.

“Except,” Monty said, “that the neighbor who reported the attack gave us a description of the woman who entered just before the screaming started, and it matches the report we got of the woman who entered Kyle Mason’s house.”

“Then why the violence this time and not the others?” Aiden said. “Why tear this woman apart and not the men?”

Monty shrugged. “It could be something as simple as the sex of the victims—maybe our spirit simply isn’t into women. Or maybe it’s the fact that this victim fought back.”

“All reasonable explanations,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain the anger lingering in the air. It’s the hone-onna’s rather than Ms. Taylor’s, and I doubt it’s a result of our victim fighting back.”

Aiden’s gaze swept the room before returning to mine. “But why would a revenge spirit be angrier at a woman than a man? Betrayal is betrayal, no matter what the sex of the person committing it.”

“As the old saying goes, it takes two to tango. What if Candice Taylor was the clandestine lover of one of our victims?”

“If that’s true, all the mistresses of all our victims could be on her hit list.” Monty glanced at Aiden. “Do we know the names of the women the other victims were seeing?”

“In Kyle’s case yes, but the affair happened off reservation and several years ago, so isn’t likely to be a problem here,” Aiden said. “We’re still checking phone records of the other victims and calling possible contacts.”

“I have to say,” Monty said, amusement evident, “if someone called me out of the blue and asked whether I was fucking so-and-so, my reaction would be automatic and less than pleasant.”

A smile twitched my lips. “Except no one would ever cold call you with such a question, because you’re well aware what Belle would do to your nuts if you ever did dare cheat.”

His smile flashed. “True, but also a totally unnecessary warning. When you have found perfection, there is no need to go elsewhere.”

“You,” Aiden muttered, “are nauseatingly romantic at times.”

Monty patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, and you should try it sometime.”

Aiden rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as his phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and then walked out of the room. Personal call, if his aura was anything to go by.

I did my best to ignore the stupid rise of anxiety and studied the door on the other side of the living room. It obviously led into the kitchen, because the twisted weave of emotions were still emanating from it. What was odd, though, was the fact that the fury appeared to override the victim’s agony, and that really shouldn’t have been the case, given how brutally she’d died.

“Maggie,” I said, “are we okay to go into the kitchen?”

She glanced up. “If you’re careful not to disturb or step in any evidence, yes, but are you sure you really want to? Things are much, much worse in there.”

“I know, I just …” I stopped and waved a hand. “Something feels odd, that’s all.”

She nodded. “Okay, but can I suggest you go in through the hall entrance? There’s less chance of stepping in gore.”

I tried to ignore the images that rose and silently motioned Monty to lead the way. He limped down the hall and stopped at the last door on the left. Instead of ushering me in, though, he placed an arm across to prevent me from entering. “Are you really sure you want to do this? It’s a rather nasty dismemberment, so I’d imagine the emotional waves will be pretty full on.”

“I can already feel them.” Thankfully, the anger continued to drown them out. I just had to hope it remained that way, because the underlying wash of Ms. Taylor’s final moments suggested their full impact would be harrowing and all consuming. “But I really have no choice, Monty. Instinct is saying there’s something here to be found.”

“Damn.” He grimaced and removed his arm. “Can I at least suggest that you do not, under any circumstances, breathe deep? That could prove deadly given your strengthening olfactory sense.”

I nodded and motioned him on. At first glance, the kitchen didn’t look all that bad. Well, compared to the living room, at any rate. There were several arterial sprays across the far wall and blood splatters on both the kitchen counter and the canisters sitting on top of it, but there was no immediate evidence of dismemberment.

I could smell it, though. Smell the flesh and the blood even as pain and terror briefly pulsed across my senses. The epicenter lay out of sight on the other side of the kitchen counter, close to the door between the kitchen and the living room. I had absolutely no desire to step any closer to that counter. No desire to see the bloody, fragmented remains of humanity beyond it.

The waves of fury weren’t emanating from that area though, but rather from the left. I scanned the rest of the room. Beyond the rectangular kitchen table was a glass sliding door that led out into a small pergola area.

A dark smudge on the sliding door’s handle caught my attention. It was blood, though how my nose could be certain of that when the entire room reeked of the stuff, I have no idea.

“Monty, did you or Maggie check out the back yard?”

“Not as yet—why?”

“Because our hone-onna exited through that door—and she left some blood behind on the handle.”

“It’s probably the victim’s. Given the brutality of the kill, she must have been covered in blood and gore.”

“It’s not the victim’s,” I said. “It’s hers.”

“Even if it is, a smudge isn’t going to be of much use, spell wise.” He paused. “Unless, of course, there’s more out in the yard. Come along.”

“I can’t imagine our hone-onna would carelessly leave handy pools of blood lying about,” I said, following him around the table. “She’s magic capable, so she’ll be well aware of just how much blood it takes to set a spell.”

“Still worth a shot,” Monty said.

It was, but not because of the blood. The caress of anger had sharpened closer to the door, and it seemed to be centered outside rather than in. Whatever had angered the hone-onna, it had nothing to do with this victim fighting for her life.

Monty took out his phone and took a photo of the smudge, then carefully slid the door open, using the top edge of the handle and keeping his fingers well away from the bloody smear. I stepped out after him and raised my face, drawing in deep breaths of fresh air to chase the foulness from my lungs.

“There’s another spot here,” Monty said. “Looks like she was running for the fence.”

I walked over, squatted beside the droplet, and lightly pressed a finger into it. It was tacky and hummed with power and purpose. The anger that had led me out here might have dissipated in the open air, but it still burned through her blood. Which was decidedly odd.

Unless, of course, anger was a part of her DNA.

Do spirits even have DNA?Came Belle’s question.

Don’t know, I replied. But if we ever find more than snippets about this thing in your gran’s books, maybe we’d have an answer.

I rose and scanned the grass between the fence and us. There was a tiny smudge of black that could have been dirt as much as blood on one of the rocks that lined the garden border, but little else. I’d put money on the fact that there’d be another smudge on the top of the fence, though.

“Anything useful?” Monty asked.

“Not really. But I don’t think the placement of these blood drops is accidental.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why would she deliberately leave a bloody trail?”

“Well, she has tried to kill me twice now. This might be the beginning of a third attempt.”

“It’s a pretty damn lame attempt if it is. There was no guarantee that you or even I would step out onto the patio and find these spots.”

“Uncertainty could be part of the game.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in that reply.”

“That’s because I don’t think this is a game. I think it’s deliberate.”

“On that, we agree.”

I glanced at him, surprised. “You do?”

He waved a hand at the blood on the rock. “Aside from the fact it’s doubtful our victim had the time or the skill to injure our spirit this seriously, she’s too clever to leave an obvious trail like this. She wants us to follow. What we need to be wary of is the why.”

“I’m not feeling anything in the way of magic.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t be there at the end of this trail if it does happen to be a trap.”

“It isn’t.”

“So says your gut?”

“Gut reinforced by second sight, yes.”

I stepped onto the next rock and peered along the top of the fence. As I’d suspected, there was more blood here, and it was no mere smudge this time. She’d wanted to ensure we actually saw it.

“I don’t think we should be climbing over another fence,” Monty said. “Especially if your gut is wrong.”

“You’re the one who is constantly telling me I need to trust my instincts more.” I glanced around as he hobbled over. “But I agree in part—you definitely shouldn’t be climbing any more fences. Not with that ankle.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Too much walking—or in this case, fence jumping—will see you in that brace for weeks longer. Is that what you really want?”

“If it means you not going on alone after this thing, then yes.” He clambered up onto another rock, his balance somewhat precarious as he peered over the top of the fence into the next yard. “I’m not seeing a dog.”

“That’s because there’s only a cat, and it’s three feet further along the fence in the bushes to your right.” Aiden strode across the yard and leapt up onto the rock on the other side of me. “What are we looking for?”

“We were following a trail of blood. It led us to the fence.”

“The creature isn’t in that yard. Nothing nasty is. There’s a kid shrieking in the house, though, and I think it needs to be checked out.”

“The hone-onna hasn’t shown any inclination to hurt kids,” I said. “In fact, she went out of her way to protect Jack when she murdered his dad.”

“I know, but I’ve been a ranger a long time now, and every instinct I have is suggesting we need to get inside and check that kid. Especially if our spirit did head that way.”

He didn’t wait for our response; he simply leapt over the fence. I stepped onto the fence railing and followed him over, as did the ever determined, not-to-be-left-behind Monty. I raised my eyebrows at him. He merely grinned and motioned me on.

There were two more spots of blood; a spatter on the grass midway between the fence and the house, and another close to the steps that led up to the back door. There was no blood on either the door or the handle, but the kid was still screaming inside, and it was rather odd no one was making any attempt to calm him down. Especially when he sounded far too young to be left alone.

“Oh God,” Monty murmured. “I hope the hone-onna hasn’t done a two-for-one deal on victims.”

“I don’t think she has,” I said. “Her blood might be on the bottom step, but I have no sense that she lingered here or even went inside.”

And there were no further blood spots to be seen, either on the path that led around the edge of the house or on any of the nearby shrubs. And given the regularity of the drops that had led us here, there should have been.

I returned my gaze to the back door. “She wanted us to come here. Because of the kid.”

Monty blinked. “That’s a bit of a jump.”

“Not really. Not given her efforts to protect Jack. It might also explain why the anger got stronger the deeper we went into the house—she was hearing the upset kid.”

Monty’s expression was one of disbelief. “It’d be extremely unusual for a dark spirit to be in any way concerned about human life, young or not.”

“And yet dark spirits do breed, and they certainly do raise offspring. Who knows, maybe this one lost a child somewhere in the past and now holds a soft spot for them.”

“You two can discuss the finer points of all that at a later time,” Aiden said. “We need to get inside. Now.”

He drew his gun, then padded up the steps and pressed his hand against the door. It opened. Magic briefly shimmered.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Monty said.

Aiden glanced at him. “What is?”

“There’s a protection spell in place across the doorway.”

“Would it have stopped the hone-onna from entering?”

“No, but her entering would have shredded it. It’s intact.” He paused, gaze narrowing. “It’s also not wrapped around the entire house; just across this doorway and, from the faint echoes I’m getting, the front one.”

“Can you dismantle it?”

Monty immediately did. I touched Aiden’s arm and said, “I’ll take the front door and meet you inside. Just give me a couple of minutes to get around there.”

He nodded and glanced briefly at his watch. I ran around the corner of the house and followed the concrete path toward an old wooden gate. There were no further droplets of blood and no indication our spirit had climbed through any of the windows along this side of the house—but one of them was open, and there was an old wooden box sitting under it.

Our spirit might not have climbed inside, but someone definitely had.

I unlatched the gate, made my way through an empty carport, then stopped at the end of the house and peered around. Agapanthuses lined the path that led up to a covered concrete porch. The screen door was open, but I couldn’t see the main door from where I was standing.

I headed for the porch, ducking under each of the windows in an effort not to be seen. Though I was absolutely certain the hone-onna wasn’t here, someone with bad intent definitely was.

I quietly bounded up the steps, then pressed back against the wall and peered around. The front door was closed, so I leaned forward and pressed my fingers against it. Magic stirred against my fingertips, its touch clean and pure. It wasn’t immediately obvious who it had been designed to protect the homeowner against, and though I could have found out with a little time and effort, I was growing more certain time was the one thing I didn’t have a whole lot of. Not if I wanted to stop the bad thing that was about to happen.

I reached for the door handle. It was locked, but a quick spell soon fixed that without disturbing or deactivating the protection spell.

I pressed the door open and warily stepped inside. The carpeted hall wasn’t very long and there were two rooms running off it, both on the right side of the house. The overwrought kid’s desperate, frightened screams might dominate the airwaves, but they didn’t erase scents. There were two people in the room with him and neither appeared to be making any effort to comfort him. One of them stank of fear; the other was all anger. If not for those two scents and the sharp rasp of breathing, it would have been easy to believe that the kid had been left alone.

Unease ratcheted up several notches, and energy unfurled around my fingertips, ready to be unleashed. But as much as I wanted to rush toward the kid’s room, caution was needed. One room lay between us, and this might yet be a trap.

I carefully opened the first door. It was a large bedroom—probably the master—though it didn’t have an en suite and there were a couple of freestanding wardrobes instead of built-ins. The bed was neatly made, and there was nothing to indicate a problem.

Relief stirred but just as quickly died. As I quietly moved down to the next room, I briefly considered waiting for Aiden and Monty. But I just as quickly dismissed the idea. Time was of the essence. I was certain of that if nothing else.

I called on more energy and glanced down as it rolled around my right hand and formed a thick ball—one that could be thrown as a weapon or shield. I just had to hope it would be enough to protect the kid and stop whatever the hell was going on inside the room.

I carefully peered around the doorway. The first thing I saw was the little boy. He was standing in his cot, his face tear streaked and bright red, his arms raised and reaching desperately for his mother. She stood to the left of the door, her hands clenched by her sides and her breathing so fierce her whole body shook with it. Sweat beaded her pale skin, and she stank of fear and horror.

I only had to look right to realize why.

Standing on the other side of the room was the second person I’d sensed. He was tall, broad, and muscular, his physique that of a bodybuilder or weightlifter. His expression was cold and his pupils were pinpoints, suggesting he was either drug- or alcohol-fueled.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

At the end of one outstretched hand was a gun. I knew enough about them now to see that the safety was off. As Aiden had once said to me, “red and you’re dead.”

“Jim, please,” the woman said, her voice low and shaky. “Please, we can work this out. You can’t do this. You don’t want to do this.”

I clenched my fists to hold back the magic pulsing furiously around my fingers. I wanted to unleash it, wanted to intervene, but I had no idea if my magic would ever be faster than a finger already resting on the trigger.

If I made one wrong move, someone could end up dead.

For several seconds, the man didn’t reply. Then, with a low, incomprehensible growl of fury, he fired.

Not at the woman.

At the little boy.