Blood Kissed (Lizzie Grace 1)

“But I want to help—”

“No,” I cut in. “You can’t. I’m sorry, but for this section of the search, anyone too close can interfere with my ability to find whatever—whoever—is missing.”

Her expression suggested she wasn’t happy, but she pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to me. Marjorie Banks, it said, Attorney at Law.

I shoved the card into my back pocket and tried not to think about the havoc a grieving lawyer could cause to the woman who failed to find her daughter alive.

Even before Marjorie was out of the shop, we were gathering everything I needed: a first aid kit—which also included herbal remedies like yarrow and agrimony to stop both internal and external bleeding—a couple of potions to ward off evil, a knife made of silver, and finally, my warding stones. I had no idea who that man with Karen was, no idea whether he was just a human sicko or something else entirely, but I fully intended to be as fight-ready as I could.

Even if the last time I’d gone running to the rescue similarly prepared had ended in utter disaster.

“Better grab the flashlight,” Belle said, as I slung the backpack over my shoulder. “It’s as dark as Hades out in the scrub.”

“A flashlight will warn that man of my presence way sooner than I might want. I’ll call a wisp if I’m having trouble seeing.” And at least calling a will-o’-the-wisp—or ghost candles, as they were more commonly known around these parts—to help me wasn’t beyond the range of my meager magic skills.

“Be careful out there.” Belle hugged me briefly. “You dying will play utter havoc with my lifespan.”

I smiled, despite the tension riding me. “You and I are destined to live very long lives.”

“Says the woman who has never seen anything—good or bad—relating to us in her dreams.”

“I don’t have to. Not when I’m hell-bent on remaining alive just so I can become the bane of my father’s existence

.”

“He has to care that you’re actually alive for that to work.” She pushed me lightly to the door. “Go. I’ll ring the rangers and tell them what’s going on.”

She would also, I knew, keep track of my whereabouts via our connection, and come running to the rescue if my own abilities were somehow overwhelmed. Although in this case, that might be too little, too late, given I’d be deep in the forest’s heart.

I zipped up my jacket as I exited the café and headed up Lyttleton Street, the burn in the locket guiding my steps. All too soon I’d entered the thickly treed Kalimna Park, and the darkness grew heavier as the trees closed in around me. I followed the road for half a mile or so before the locket pulled me left, into the deeper darkness. My steps slowed, and then stopped. It was so damn black that I could barely see my hand when I stuck it in front of my face, let alone anything else. But the fear pounding through my veins had little to do with the thought of falling over and breaking a limb, but rather the darkness staining the locket. It had grown so heavy it was a dead weight in my hand. Death’s talons had reached the teenager, and that meant I only had a small window left. While it was possible to keep a soul from moving on if its body was still alive, not even my parents—who were not only witch royalty, but two of a only a handful of witches who were considered the most powerful in Australia—had the power to call a soul back once it had begun its journey. I had to hurry.

But to go faster, I needed light.

I quickly kicked off my shoes and socks, and then dug my toes into the dirt. It felt warm against my skin, and filled me with an odd sense of energy. That meant there was wild magic near, which was strange, given how close I still was to town. Usually it kept to the wilder places of the world.

But I thrust concern aside, wriggled my toes a little deeper into the soil to ensure I was well grounded, and then began the summoning incantation. It wasn’t exactly a smart thing to do this close to wild magic, but I didn’t have time to go elsewhere—and neither did Karen.

After several minutes, warmth caressed my skin. When I opened my eyes, I discovered a wisp hovering a meter or so away from my face. It was orb shaped, and the glow of its being caressed the nearby tree trunks with a cool blue light. Wisps weren’t ghosts despite their nickname; they were spirits, and very fragile by nature. Wind could tear them away, rain could wash them out, and they couldn’t stand the touch of sunshine. Sometimes they were helpful, and other times they weren’t. The myths of them leading travelers astray were very much based on truth. This one was older, if its size and glow were anything to go by, and that generally meant it’d be more inclined to help.

I bowed slightly. “Thank you for answering my call.”

The wisp spun in response, its light briefly pulsing. Wisps undoubtedly had their own language, but it was one most witches didn’t understand.

“I’m here to find a teenager—a girl who is in deep trouble. Could you light my path through the trees?”

The wisp seemed to consider me for a moment, then its light flickered. When it didn’t disappear, I took it as acceptance.

“Thank you,” I said, and bowed again. Though I really hadn’t had a lot of experience dealing with spirits—that was more Belle’s forte—and had no idea if they actually cared about politeness, I’d always worked on the theory that it cost me nothing.

The wisp moved closer and settled about half a meter above my head. Its cool blue light fanned across the darkness, lightly touching the tree trunks around us and providing just enough light for me to make my way through the thick scrub. I shoved my feet back into my shoes, then grabbed my socks and ran.

The pulse of life in the locket was dying.

I crashed my way through the scrub, the noise echoing across the night. Branches whipped across my face and tore at my clothes, but I ignored it and kept on going. Time—and the teenager—was slipping away.

Deeper and deeper into the trees I ran, until the thick canopy above me blocked the stars and even the distant sounds rising from Castle Rock faded. The only noise to be heard—aside from the racket I was making—was the occasional hoot of an owl, and even that halted as I drew close to it.

The locket’s pulse stilled, and the warmth and connection began to fade. I cursed and ran on. There was still a chance I could save the teenager, still a chance I could bring her back to life if she hadn’t bled out. The soul didn’t leave the body straight away, and while it was still present, there was always hope.