Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

And he was.

“So we’d believed until we witnessed it ourselves,” Eli said. He was a handsome, well-built man in his late sixties, with neatly cut salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that were bright blue. “But the spells here are evidence to the fact that it’s not.”

Monty didn’t reply, but I could see the questions in his eyes even from where I stood. I put all the coffee mugs onto a tray and carried them over. Belle followed me with the cakes, then retreated to the counter.

Once seated, I said, “It’s just as well you arrived today. We’ve another situation the rangers will want help with.”

“Supernatural?” Ashworth immediately said.

I nodded, even as I wondered if he’d remember he was no longer the acting reservation witch. “I think we’re dealing with some sort of fire spirit.”

Monty frowned. “They’re rather rare in areas like this. They tend to prefer big cities, where it’s not as easy to sense and track their heat spoors.”

A statement that not only emphasized my lack of knowledge, but why I could never be this reservation’s defender.

“What makes you think it might be a fire spirit?” Eli asked.

I gave them the details and then showed them the images on my phone.

“This definitely isn’t the work of a vampire,” Monty said. “But there are a number of demons and spirits who leave marks similar to this. I wouldn’t mind seeing the body myself—it’s rather hard to get any true sense of the wound from a photo.”

“I’m sure Aiden will arrange that once the autopsy has been performed,” Ashworth said.

Monty grunted and scooped up some cake. Whether he liked it or not was hard to say, because his gaze kept sending daggers my way.

“You haven’t sensed anything along the psychic lines?” Ashworth asked.

I shook my head. “But that’s not entirely unusual. I only sensed the soul sucker because of the bell that tolled when it killed.”

Which wasn’t exactly the truth, but Monty already had enough questions about Belle and me. I didn’t want to add to them.

“Your psychic powers always were more powerful than your magic,” Monty said, “or, at least, they used to be.”

“Still are.” I sipped my coffee and tried to ignore the continuing trepidation. “Where are you staying?”

“The council have set me up in a place along Lyttleton Road. Nothing flash, but it’ll do for now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning you’ll be looking for a grander place once you’ve had a chance to look around?”

“Indeed.” A faint smile touched his lips despite the annoyance still evident in his eyes. “I always did have highbrow tastes, remember?”

“I can certainly remember the Armani suit you turned up in for the Year Ten formal,” Belle commented.

He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t the only one wearing Armani.”

“No, but you were the only one who paired it with a Kermit the Frog tie.”

“Which caused less of a stir than it should have,” he murmured. “That honor went to the two of you.”

Yeah, because they hadn’t expected an underpowered witch and her Sarr familiar would have the courage to turn up at an event designed to commemorate achievements in a year in which they’d had none.

“You should come for dinner once you’ve settled in,” I said. “We can catch up on everything that’s happened since we last saw each other.”

“How does tonight sound?” he said. “Saves me worrying about a meal.”

And gave him the answers he wanted so much sooner.

“Sure.” I glanced past him as the bell over the door chimed and a middle-aged woman stepped inside. Her gaze quickly swept the five of us then shot back to me. She was a tall woman with brown hair and eyes, and an aura that ran with swirls of muddy gray—the color of fear. She was also human rather than wolf. While I vaguely recognized her, I couldn’t recall her name.