Hell's Bell (Lizzie Grace 2)

“You wouldn’t,” she replied. “Because what remains isn’t really a ghost. It’s merely a shade—a remnant of what she was. Shades have neither consciousness nor any true ability to interact with this world.”

“Have you any idea why her expression is so different to Aron’s?” I asked. “He looked as if he’d been asleep when it happened. This woman looks as if she was in the middle of sex.”

“She was,” Aiden said. “The scent of arousal and desire lingers in the air, but not completion.”

“Then perhaps your arrival on the scene is the difference,” Belle said. “Maybe our soul eater normally only dines after its victims have fallen into a contented sleep. You might have forced it to do otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t have thought a soul eater would care one way or another about whether its victims were aware or not,” Aiden said.

“There’s plenty of spirits who feed on souls during the act of sex,” I said. “But maybe this one has learned that the best way to avoid detection is to make it look like nothing untoward happened.”

“After all,” Belle added, “would you be considering either of these deaths murder if we hadn’t said anything?”

“Probably not.” His voice was grim. “And the council still mightn’t.”

“Then the fucking council are fools,” Belle said.

“No,” he bit back. “They’re merely cautious, and rightly so, given up until now we’ve had no confirmation that these murders are a result of supernatural interference.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t think to record what happened out on the road, because that would certainly prove someone beyond the norm is happening here proof.”

“I did record it—that’s why I turned the truck around to face the cottage. Whether anything will be visible through the fog is another matter.”

“And if the council decides there’s not enough proof?” I asked. “What then? How many more people have to die before someone will pick up the phone and call the RWA in? Or do we have to do it?”

“That’s the one thing you shouldn’t be doing—your position here is tenuous enough.”

“Meaning what?” I said, my voice sharp.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I’ve another murder scene to lock down.” His expression was grim. “But I promise you this, if the council doesn’t make a decision, I’ll call in the RWA myself.”

“Good,” Belle said. “Do you need anything else? Because if not, I’m off back to bed.”

“No,” Aiden said, even as I added, “Thanks, Belle.”

Her thoughts disconnected from mine and tiredness washed through me. I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and then said, “Do you know who the victim is?”

“Yes.” He caught my elbow and gently—but firmly—led me out of the cottage, grabbing my backpack on the way through. “Her name is Teresa White. She works part-time at the bakery up near the ranger station.”

“And the monster of a man?”

“I’m not sure, but he does have the coloring of the Schmidt pack, who hark from South Australia.”

I frowned. “What’s he doing here, then?”

Aiden shrugged. “He could have come here under the exchange program I mentioned earlier. It would explain why he was here with Teresa.”

“Were they an item?”

“I have no idea. They might have simply come here to relieve tensions. These old cottages are often used by those who don’t as yet have a place of their own but who want to escape the prying eyes of the pack. If Schmidt was here under an exchange, he’d have usage rights.”

“If that’s the case, then maybe revenge isn’t the primary motivation behind these attacks, given Schmidt isn’t in any way related to Aron.”

“Possibly. Right now, we’re not discounting any theory.”

I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “Meaning there are other theories?”

“Yes, but Larissa remains our number-one suspect.” He opened the truck door and helped me up onto the seat. “She might not be directly responsible for these murders, but I can’t discount the possibility that she hired a witch to bring this evil into the reservation.”