Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

“Yeah, yeah, but I want to check the body of that wolf before the rangers get here.”

“I can do—”

“Except you can’t,” he cut in. “Underpowered witch, remember?”

My lips twitched. Nothing like having your own words flung back at you.

“It would have been a hell of a lot easier if you’d mentioned this need before you’d actually sat down.”

“Except I had to sit because my strength was about to give. The legs are less shaky now.”

I didn’t bother commenting—he’d undoubtedly just tell me he was perfectly able to judge his own fitness and strength.

I rose and held out a hand. Once he’d grasped it, I shifted my weight and pulled him upright. His curses flowed again and pink-stained sweat now dripped onto the shoulder of his pajama top. But the cuts on his face were minor, like mine. He pulled his hand free and slowly made his way down the slope. I kept close, just in case, but we reached the body without him needing further assistance.

The wolf’s pelt was black—suggesting he’d been lured from the nearby Sinclair reservation—and the

re was no obvious reason for his death. Despite the fact both men in the back of the truck had been holding guns, there was no immediate sign of a gunshot wound. They’d had no time to skin him, either, which—given that was how the first wolf had died—suggested there was another reason behind the death of this one. But the brightly plumed silver dart was here once again—though it was in his shoulder rather than his flank—and magic was also present. It rolled from him in waves that were far stronger than the remnants that had clung to the thread I’d pulled from the flesh of the first victim.

Ashworth squatted, a faint hiss of pain escaping his lips. “See that?” he said, pointing to the wolf’s front leg.

I bent and studied the area. After a moment, I spotted the charm bracelet. It was barely visible against the wolf’s dark coat, and appeared to be little more than a weave of five black cotton threads. Though it looked quite fragile in design, the magic rolling from it was anything but.

I raised my gaze to Ashworth’s. “That’s more than a simple tracking charm.”

He nodded. “At a guess, I’d say it was both a tracker and a body controller.”

Body control was in many respects an easier spell to create than one aimed at the mind, but they were both something no lower rung witch could produce. I frowned. “For a control spell to work properly, doesn’t the witch have to be present?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On the spell smarts of the witch.” He glanced at me. “Whoever created this charm has had full training—it’s the only way they could have gotten the knowledge needed to create a control spell that didn’t require his or her presence.”

Again that sense of dread began to trip lightly through my veins. “Do you think this charm is in any way linked to our dark witch?”

He hesitated, and then shook his head. “While the witch behind this is strong, I’m not sensing any darkness.”

Which didn’t necessarily mean anything given how easily evil could be concealed in the deeper layers of any spell.

“There is darkness in intent, though, given what’s happening to the recipients of the charms.”

“Which suggests, at worse, he or she simply doesn’t care how their magic is employed. I’ve come across more than a few of them over my years with the RWA, and there’s one thing they all have in common—they’ll turn a blind eye to anything as long as you pay them well enough.”

I grunted. “When I touched the thread I found on the first wolf, I got a vague impression of black teapots. I don’t suppose you know of any registered witch stores with a name revolving around either tea or teapots?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I work for the RWA, not the business register.”

“Yeah, but aren’t witches supposed to notify the RWA if they’re setting up shop in your area?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean squat, and you and Belle are perfect examples of that.”

I smiled. “That’s because we’re unregistered and underpowered.”

“So you keep saying.”

“And maybe one of these days you’ll actually believe it.” I glanced around at the sound of a distant siren. “I’ll head up and flag that thing down.”