Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

“Some,” Chester said, voice hoarse and edged with pain. He started sitting up but grabbed at the arm he’d been lying on and cursed loudly. The arm wasn’t broken. There was a knife-like shard of quartz embedded in it.

As he reached across, obviously intending to rip it out, I yelled, “Don’t!”

I swung my pack off my shoulder and hurried over.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why on earth not?”

I snorted. “Don’t they teach you first aid up in Canberra?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing.” I dug the first aid kit out of the pack and quickly unzipped it. “Until the paramedics get here and can assure you there’s been no major blood vessels sliced by that thing, we keep that shard immobilized and in your arm. It might just be the only thing standing between you and bleeding to death.”

“And all the other little bits?” His voice was dry. “Surely I can take them out?”

I hesitated, and then nodded. There might have been plenty of those other bits embedded into his clothes but very few of them seemed to be digging into his skin.

As I began to wrap a bandage around the quartz to hold it in place, Aiden said, “Are you able to explain what happened here?”

Chester snorted. “Yeah, the bastard who made the protection circle was cannier than I expected.”

“Meaning what?” Aiden asked.

“Meaning that while the protection spell placed on the stones initially seemed simple enough—strong, but simple—there were several sub-layers woven into it that got more and more complicated. I caught three. I saw the last one too late.”

“What sorts of spells were layered in?” I finished tying up the bandage and then repacked the kit in the pack.

He shrugged. “They were basically trip-spells of growing complexity, and are usually meant to test rather than hurt.”

“Except for the last one,” Ashworth said. “If you hadn’t have sensed it at the last moment, both of us might well be dead.”

“I’m not so sure on that,” Chester said. “If it had truly been meant to kill, I think we’d both now be dead.”

I sat back on my heels. “Then what do you think was intended?”

“That is a damn good question, and probably one I won’t be able to answer until I see the body of our practitioner in the morgue.”

Meaning he did have a theory but wasn’t willing to share it just yet.

“Were you able to tell anything at all about the witch from his magic?” Aiden asked.

“His magic is strong and dark, and it’s not one I’ve encountered before. It at least means it’s not Frankel Kang, who’s the number-one most wanted on our heretic hit list.”

“Which sounds like a good thing, but probably isn’t,” I muttered.

He glanced at me. “And you’d be right. Two and three are also pretty nasty pieces of work.”

“They’re dark witches,” Ashworth commented. “That comes with the territory.”

“Indeed it does.” Chester held out his hand. “Help me up, young woman.”

“I don’t really think you should—”

“Hogwash,” he said. “Besides, I’m no fool. If I thought for a second there was any internal damage, I’d be waiting for the paramedics as you were no doubt about to suggest.”

It wasn’t like he’d actually know if there was internal damage, as sometimes these things simply didn’t give you any sign. But I didn’t bother arguing, just rose and clasped Chester’s hand. His magic curled around my fingers as easily as his hand, but it was little more tha

n a faint splutter of energy. Deconstructing the spell really had weakened him and that had unease treading lightly through my soul. If this witch was stronger than Chester, we were in deep trouble….