Hell's Bell (Lizzie Grace 2)
“It’s not always nowhere,” I cut in. “It does sometimes happen in city centers, but such events are much rarer. Something to do with all that metal and concrete providing a barrier.”
Or so one of my long-ago teachers had once said. Of course, no one was really sure why the wild magic—which was said to develop close to the heart of the earth’s outer core—became a collective force in the first place, let alone how or why it then found its way to the surface. But there was no argument about the danger such wellsprings represented if they were not appropriately protected and monitored.
“Fascinating,” he said, voice dry. “When do you want to go?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
He hesitated, and then nodded. “I’m on afternoon shift this week, so that works.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate you humoring me like this.”
“It’s not humoring, not really. I did as you suggested, and requisitioned the reports on the High Ridge Massacre. I’d rather not chance that happening here.”
The High Ridge Massacre was what happened when a wellspring was too new or left too long without protection. Dark forces had invaded the town and basically wiped out the population in one brutal night. But there’d been warning signs—a gradual increase in crime and murder rates over the previous few months. The cops there had just failed to put two and two together until it was far too late.
“Have you actually mentioned the wellspring to your pack’s alpha?”
“Elders, as there’s more than one alpha. And yes, I did. Last I heard, they were still arguing about whether or not they needed to call the RWA in to properly protect it.”
“I’m surprised the RWA hasn’t ridden roughshod over pack sensibilities and just done it anyway.”
“A regional association hasn’t the power to overturn pack rulings. The order would have to come direct from the state or maybe even federal government.”
Which was the perfect opening for the other thing I’d been putting off. And yet, part of me still resisted. Sitting here with him so obviously relaxed, and with a good percentage of his aura gleaming orange—a color that not only spoke of high intelligence, vitality, and excitement, but also warm emotions—was nice. Did I really want to risk sending him spinning back into grief by mentioning his sister?
“I can see from your expression something else is troubling you,” he said. “Whatever it is, just say it, Liz.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I just... I think we also need to drive to that spot where your sister was killed.”
His expression closed over, and black once again pulsed through his aura. But it didn’t take over, and that suggested he might be finally coming to grips with his grief.
I hoped so, for his sake as much as any relationship he might want in the future. With the weight and depth of his grief, there was little hope of other emotions surviving—which could well explain his lack of emotional attachment over the last year.
Although it didn’t really explain the apparent lack of sex. Men generally didn’t need emotions to be involved to engage with someone sexually.
“So you really still think Gabe is there?” he asked eventually.
“I honestly don’t know what to think.” While I did agree that it was highly unlikely that Gabe—if he was alive, as Anna had suggested—could have avoided any wolf sensing his presence for so long, there was something strange going on here. Something that, at the very least, had resulted in his magic remaining active within the reservation even if he wasn’t. “I just know that I have to go there.”
“Is this an intuition thing, or something more?”
“Intuition, mainly. I’ve had no dreams, and Belle’s guides haven’t mentioned Gabe’s presence.”
“Would they?”
“If asked a direct question, maybe.” I shrugged. “They can be spectacularly unhelpful when they want to be, though.”
“Here’s to spirits being as ornery as the rest of us.” He lightly touched his coffee cup against mine. “It’s oddly comforting to know the afterlife actually has life.”
“It’s generally only those who have chosen not to move on and be reborn, or those who are chosen to be familiars, who remain.”
“So ghosts are the former?”
I nodded. “Generally, yes.”
“Have you sensed many around here?”
“I don’t actually go looking for them. And for the most part, they’re harmless.” I studied him for a moment. “Do you need to ask permission from the Marin pack to go into St. Erth forests tomorrow?”