Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

I finished my eggnog and then grabbed his. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good alcoholic beverage. “What about the skinning case—any movement on that?”

He grimaced. “We found the truck you mentioned. It’d been abandoned and burned out up on Adam’s Track in the Dundoogal Nature Conservation reserve. We’re pretty damn lucky the fire brigade got there as quickly as they did, because it could have resulted in the whole area going up.”

“I guess it’s too early to tell yet whether it was stolen or not.”

“The number plates were charred but we were able to grab an impression from them—the truck was stolen.”

“And the murdered wolf?” Belle asked softly.

He grimaced. “It was Angus Sinclair. He was fifty, and a good friend of my father’s.”

I briefly touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Dad took the news pretty hard.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw, the sound like sandpaper. “First indications are that he died of a heart attack, even though there were no indications of heart problems beforehand.”

I hesitated, and then said, “That necklace I used to track him—he was very fearful, Aiden, and I could feel the tightness in his chest.”

“Fear doesn’t match the nature of the man I knew.”

“Yes, but he was being forced into actions against his will,” I said, “and he had no idea why.”

“Did you see anything else? A hint of the hunters, perhaps?”

“No.” I hesitated again. “But when I touched that chain, I got the impression that he wasn’t only being forced to run, but also that he’d been brought down by something other than a gunshot. We certainly didn’t hear a shot and, given how close we were by then, we would have unless they were using a silencer.”

“They weren’t. That dart in his shoulder was tipped with some sort of poison—”

“Why would they do that,” I cut in, “when silver itself is poisonous to werewolves?”

He shrugged. “When Ciara pins down the type of poison they used, we might have a clearer idea. But it’s possible it attributed to his heart attack.”

“Don’t discount the power of fear,” Belle said quietly. “While fear might power the flight or fight response, it is possible for someone to be so afraid—so terrified for their life—that it causes a heart attack.”

“I guess I just find it hard to believe that such a big, powerful wolf in the prime of his life could be so easily taken.” He grimaced. “But I guess he’d at least lived a good portion of his life. Jamison had only just started.”

Just as my sister had only just started hers. I blinked back the sudden sting of tears and thrust upright. “Anyone for tea or coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Aiden said. His gaze followed me as I walked behind the counter, and I very much suspected he’d caught that brief glimmer. “I actually came here to ask if you were busy this afternoon.”

I glanced over my shoulder as I filled up the kettle. “Why?”

“Ashworth said you’d asked him about witch stores whose name had something to do with either black or dancing teapots.”

“Yeah—I’ve seen them twice now. Once when I was reading that thread on the first victim, and once in my dreams the other

night.” I leaned back against the counter as I waited for the kettle to boil. “Did he find some?”

Aiden nodded. “He got bored when he was waiting for them to operate on his arm, so he nabbed a computer from who knows where and logged into the witch business register to see what he could find.”

“And he found something?” Belle asked.

“Four somethings—all of them outside the reservation.”

“Then why isn’t Ashworth accompanying you?” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d want to be left behind, especially after being cooped up in the hospital for the last couple of days.”

“You mean aside from the fact I’d rather be with you than him?”

I smiled. “Yes, aside from that.”