Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

The main serving area—where we made the coffee and plated up the cakes—was located to the right, opposite the kitchen. Belle flashed me a smile as I headed behind the counter. She was a typical Sarr witch in coloring—ebony skin, long, silky black hair, and eyes that were a gray so pale they shone silver in even the dullest of light. She was also six foot one with an Amazon’s physique; to say she was stunning would be an understatement. I, on the other hand, had the crimson-colored hair of the blueblood Marlowe line, emerald green eyes that were now ringed with silver—the only fallout from my desperate and dangerous merger with the wild magic that inhabited this reservation—and freckles across my nose. I was also five inches shorter with a body that would never be described as athletic.

“Will you be okay here if I disappear for an hour?” I grabbed three takeaway cups and began making coffee. Gina was another regular customer and a founding member of the local gossip brigade. If I made a coffee for myself and not the two older women, half of Castle Rock would know about my “selfishness” within minutes. While the brigade generally used their communication powers for good, I had no intention of ever getting on their wrong side.

“It’s nearly two, and I doubt there’ll be a last-minute rush before we close.” Belle finished decorating a piece of salted caramel cake then slid the plate next to the coffee mug already waiting on the counter. As Penny—our middle-aged waitress—swooped in to whisk both away, she added, “But don’t forget Zak and I are going down to Melbourne to see Les Mis this evening, so you’ll have to do the prep for tomorrow.”

“I should be back, but if for any reason I’m not, just lock up and I’ll get to it when I can.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you expecting trouble?”

I hesitated. “Not with Mrs. Potts, no.”

“Meaning you are expecting something.”

“No, not really. It’s just that every time I’ve used my psychometry talents to track someone of late, I’ve ended up finding a body.” I shrugged. “But Ashworth is the acting reservation witch now, so he can take care of any damn problem that arises.”

Ira Ashworth had initially only come here to take care of a soul eater and the witch who’d called it into being. He’d offered to stay not only because the Faelan Reservation was without a government-approved witch to protect it, but also because he was apparently fascinated with the “conundrum” Belle and I presented. One that had nothing to do with the fact we were witch and familiar—something he wasn’t yet aware of—but rather his conviction that while we might separately be underpowered, together we were as strong as any witch outside Canberra. According to him, our magical abilities combined in a way no one had ever thought possible. We’d long been able to draw on each other’s strength, but neither of us had—until that moment—been aware the merging was much deeper than that.

“Don’t be surprised if Aiden and his rangers still come to us for help,” Belle said, amusement evident. “I don’t think they really like dealing with Ashworth’s forthright cantankerousness.”

A smile twitched my lips. I actually liked that in the man, if only because he very much reminded me of my grandfather—one of the few relatives I’d gotten along with. Of course, he was also one of the few who didn’t see the need to constantly bemoan my lack—maybe because he, too, hadn’t come up to expectations, be they his own or that of others.

“I think you’ll find it’s more a case of them liking the free chocolate brownies we give them whenever they’re here.” Even Aiden had readily admitted his lust for those brownies was almost as fierce as his desire for me. I glanced around as Mrs. Potts came out of the reading room. “All set?”

The older woman nodded. “She’ll be out the front in five minutes. Come along.”

Her imperial tone had my smile growing. I slipped lids on the three takeout cups, grabbed my handbag from out of the open safe, and dutifully followed.

“Good luck,” Belle called after us. And just in case the unease you’re feeling is something wicked this way coming, be careful.

Let’s hope it’s not, because I’d really like to spend our first Christmas here in peace and quiet—and maybe even in the arms of a good man.

Amen to that, sister.

The wind swirled as I stepped outside, flipping my hair across my face and tugging at the ends of my dress. There was nothing untoward to be felt in that breeze, and the day was bright and warm, holding a promise of the heat supposedly coming over the next couple of days.

And yet....

And yet that vague sense of unease was getting stronger. I studied the street but there was seemingly nothing out of place or wrong. Nothing that twinged the radar of my “other” senses, anyway.

But energy—dark energy—was neverthe

less gathering beyond the confines of Castle Rock.

“I hate this weather,” Mrs. Potts said, with an abruptness that made me jump. “I much prefer the colder months. Ah, here’s Gina now.”

A silver Mercedes came to a halt in the no parking zone outside the café. Once we’d all climbed inside, I handed the ladies their coffee, then wound down the window.

“Is that really necessary?” Gina said, somewhat crossly. “The air conditioning—”

“I know and I’m sorry, but the open window allows me to track locations better.”

“It won’t be for long,” Mrs. Potts said. “You know Henry won’t be too far away—his eyesight isn’t all that good these days.”

Gina sniffed then glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Where to, then?”

“Straight ahead for the moment.”

“You’ll tell me when to turn?”