Blood Kissed (Lizzie Grace 1)

If I’d been a wolf, I would have growled in frustration—which probably would have either amused him or made him even more convinced I was hiding something. Which, as far as the case went, wasn’t really true. Not when the only thing I was hiding were truths he didn’t want to hear.

I bit back my annoyance and continued down the road, the condition of which got worse the deeper we moved into the scrub. And even though I was watching every step carefully, my awareness of the man walking beside me was painfully acute.

“Why is this road so bad if it leads up to your compound?” I asked, more in an effort to break the growing tension—mine, not his.

“Because it’s a back entrance rather than the main one.” His gaze remained on me. Obviously, he wasn’t overly concerned about the possibility of breaking an ankle on this pitiful excuse of a road. “Tell me about the wild magic, and why you feel it’s so important.”

Surprise had me briefly glancing up at him. “Why? It’s not like you actually believe it exists, is it?”

“What I believe isn’t relevant right now,” he said. “I’m merely trying to understand what wild magic is and why you think it’s connected to Karen’s murder.”

“I didn’t say it was connected. I just said it being unprotected is a problem.”

“Which is what I’m trying to understand.” He caught my elbow and guided me around a rather large hole. “Honesty in all matters is advisable. It will help whatever action the council decides to take when the news of your being a witch reaches their ears.”

I snorted and pulled my arm away from his touch—and tried to ignore the fact that the heat of it lingered. “I’m surprised they haven’t already, given your hatred.”

“Despite what you seem to think, emotion neither blinds me nor guides all my actions.” He hesitated. “I admit my behavior in that clearing was perhaps a little less than professional, and you are more than welcome to file a complaint—”

I snorted again. “As if filing a complaint against an O’Connor will get me anywhere in a reservation run by O’Connors.”

“We only hold three seats on the council, which is no more, and no less, than the Marin and Sinclair packs.”

Surprise ran through me. “But this is your traditional land—”

“Which is why we hold the area around Mount Alexander in its entirety,” he said. “But there was never any question of us ruling this place over the other packs. It would have been unworkable.”

As had been proven in some of the older reservations. Obviously by the time this reservation had come into being, lessons had been learned.

“And,” he continued, “you’re once again avoiding the question.”

“Wild magic,” I said, as the road began to climb and the scrub gave way to the soldier-like lines of pines. “Is not really magic, but rather a force, or an energy, that comes from not only the earth itself, but everything that lives in the soil or flies in the skies. It is the ground we walk on and the air we breathe; it is the rivers and trees and life itself, right down to the micro-organisms that are to be found everywhere.”

“All wolves are aware that in life there is power,” he said. “But what separates wild magic from the power witches draw on every day? That also comes from the world around us, does it not?”

“Yes, but only a surface level. Wild magic comes from deep within the earth—there are some who suggest its source is the tumultuous outer layers of the earth’s core—and that’s the reason it so dangerous and unpredictable.”

“So these wellsprings are also dangerous?”

“In and of themselves, no. They’re simply collection points, and no one really understands why they develop. But, like any source of power, be it magic or man-made, if they are placed under the wrong influence, then they can be deadly.”

“How?”

“Have you heard of the High Ridge Massacre?”

He snorted. “It’d be a rare person in Australia who hasn’t. It’s not often an entire town is all but wiped out in one brutal and bloody night.”

“Ah, but that one night was merely the ultimate culmination.” My replies were coming out in an increasingly breathless manner, thanks to the steadily rising incline. “What went unsaid in the news reports was the fact that the murder rate kept increasing over a period of months. The final mass slaughter was simply the pinnacle.”

I could feel his gaze on me. “And you know this how?”

“Because even a low-class witch like myself hears whispers.” I stopped and eyed the road ahead. It showed no sign of flattening out, and my legs were seriously beginning to burn. “How much further until we reach the boundary of your pack’s land?”

“Another couple of kilometers.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not far.”

“For the fit, maybe.” But if I waited for the burn to ease, I’d be here all day. I swung the pack around and opened it up. Thankfully, amongst all the other paraphernalia, Belle had included a bottle of drinking water.

I took a long swig then offered it to the ranger. He shook his head and said, “I’m gathering you believe the wild magic was responsible for both this upswing and the murders?”