Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

The same could not be said about my father.

“Are you sure it was her?”

“Of course. Why?”

“No real reason.” I hesitated, that sense of dread getting stronger. “I’ve still got her necklace, Alice—would it be okay if I drop by in a few minutes and return it?”

“I can come by the café this afternoon—”

“I’ve got to go to the wholesaler’s to pick up some supplies for the café before it opens, so it’s really not a problem,” I cut in. “Saves you the hassle.”

“Sure.” She seemed surprised rather than suspicious. “I’ll go in and put the kettle on, if you’d like.”

Don’t, I wanted to scream. That’s not your mom; it’s someone—something—else. But I had no proof, and Alice wasn’t likely to believe me anyway. All I could do was get there as soon as I could.

“That would be lovely, thanks.”

My voice was edged and a little too sharp, but she didn’t seem to notice. She gave me the address, said a quick “see you soon,” and then hung up. I spun and raced to the reading room. Thankfully, I'd simply dumped the backpack again rather than unpacking it—a fact that gave me a few precious extra seconds.

“You might want to ring Monty,” Belle said, as I came back out. “His place is on the way, and that’s what he’s here for after all.”

“Could you make the call? Tell him I’ll be there in three minutes.”

Her answering grin held a little too much delight. But then, Monty had been a well-known night owl with a long history of arriving late for the first session of school. I couldn’t imagine that would have changed greatly over the last twelve years as, for the most part, government and witch departments up in Canberra worked on flexible hours.

I grabbed my purse and car keys, then headed out. By the time I got across to Monty’s, he was—rather surprisingly—already waiting out the front. But as he climbed into the front passenger seat, it became very obvious his brain hadn’t yet kicked into gear.

“Your shirt is inside out.” I pulled back out onto the road. “And you’ve different colored sneakers on.”

“Is it any wonder?” He scrubbed a hand across his bristly face. “It’s almost indecent to be up at this hour.”

“Next time, I’ll bring one of Belle’s wake-up tonics for you.”

He grunted. “I’m not sure it would help, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt, either.”

I grinned. He hadn’t yet tasted her tonics, and I wasn’t about to spoil the surprise—or Belle’s delight—by mentioning just how foul they could smell and taste.

“What are we racing toward again?” he added. “I think I remember Belle mentioning something about a dead person coming back to life but nothing else really sunk in.”

I explained the situation and then added, “It may be nothing but—”

“Your gut says otherwise,” he finished for me. “Aiden’s already mentioned just how helpful your psi abilities have been when it comes to tracking down perps, so I’m not about to discount them.”

“Perps?” I glanced at him. “Seriously?”

He smiled. “I do love me some crime dramas. Right now, it’s starting to feel like I’m in my very own.”

“And I suspect you might not feel so happy about it after the first few fights for your life.”

“Probably not, but no matter what happens, it’s still far better than sitting behind a desk cataloging other witches’ shitty spells.” He paused. “Of course, it would be preferable if said perps chose better hours to do their thing.”

“Up until now, most of them have.” I flicked on the blinker, braked to allow several cars to go past in the opposite direction, and then swung right. “Isn’t it rather unusual for a spirit to be active this close to dawn? I thought most of them preferred the comfort of darkness?”

“They do, but that doesn’t mean they can’t move around in daylight if necessary.”

Which was not something I really wanted confirmed. “Were you able to find any clue as to what we might be dealing with?”

He shook his head. “Tells like spores tend to fade fairly rapidly, so unless you’re on the scene very quickly, there’s not much hope.”