Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

I was tempted to ask why, but I rather suspected it was simply a decoration thing. “Where are we heading first?”

“I thought we’d start distant and work our way back in.”

Which meant A Pot of Magic was our first stop while the last one would be The Black Samovar, as it was in Ballan and was the closest to his place in Argyle.

We made our way across

to Woodend. A Pot of Magic was situated between a florist and a real estate agent, and was rich with all the usual paraphernalia low-powered witches used to lure in unsuspecting clients. This particular witch had gray hair, blue eyes, a happy smile, and an aura that glowed with a vivid mix of pink and green, the two colors most associated with healing—which in many respects was the more valuable gift for a witch running a shop that sold healing potions and magic. She certainly wasn’t the creator of either of the charms being used on the wolves.

We moved on to the next one—Tea and Tinctures. Although the witch running this shop was far stronger—and was certainly wary about my presence in her establishment—the feel of her magic also didn’t match the stuff emanating from the charms.

We got exactly the same result in The Tea Cauldron.

“This is very much looking like a dead end,” Aiden said, as he opened the truck door and ushered me inside.

“But it’s still a nice way to waste a couple of hours.”

His smile flashed. “It’s certainly better than sitting in the office catching up on paperwork.”

He climbed into the driver side and we headed to Ballan. It was a pretty typical small country town, with a small main shopping strip filled with a mix of century-old buildings and quite ugly newer ones. The Black Samovar was near the end of the strip, right next to the old Mechanics Hall. It was a tiny place with a wide wooden veranda that was painted silver but decorated with an assortment of black teapots—some of which had legs and looked to be dancing.

“This is it,” I said, as Aiden parked a couple of spaces up from the shop.

He glanced at me sharply. “How do you know?”

I pointed to the images painted onto the beam. “They’re the images I saw in my dream. It’ll also mean she’ll know I’m a witch the moment I step into her premises.”

“Will that be a problem?”

“That depends on whether she has anything to hide or not.”

He studied the building for a second, and then said, “I might make a call to the RWA and get them to send someone out. If this witch is responsible for the bracelets that we found on our two victims, then she is, at the very least, an accessory to murder. That makes her their responsibility, not ours.”

“They may not be able to get someone out here straight away, which means we’ll have to transport her back to Castle Rock.”

Amusement shone in his blue eyes. “Worried about a delay to seduction time?”

“No, I’m worried about a delay to present time. Get your priorities right, Ranger.”

He laughed and got his phone out, quickly making the call to the RWA. I studied the shop, feeling the faint brush of magic even from the truck. Whoever ran this shop might not be a blueblood but he or she was certainly far stronger than the trinket and potion makers who’d run the other shops.

“We’re in luck,” he said, as he hung up. “They have someone who’s just finished dealing with a situation in Bacchus Marsh. They can be here in twenty minutes. They’ll contact Ashworth on the way through to get his input on the situation.”

“I hope they’re ready to get their ears burned off. He’s not going to be happy about missing out on the action.”

“To say the least.” Aiden glanced at the shop again. “It’s probably best to let me enter first. That way I’ve a second or two to spot her before she reacts to your presence.”

If she wasn’t already aware of it, that was. It just depended on how the spells that protected her premises were designed and layered—and whether she’d included a thread to warn her if another witch was approaching.

I climbed out of the car and followed him across the sidewalk to the shop. A beautifully ornate black metal urn with a teapot perched precariously on its top dominated the small front window. The teapot was obviously soldered on, but that didn’t spoil the effect, or the urge to reach out and catch it.

A bell chimed merrily as Aiden entered, and the air was rich with a mix of cinnamon, ginger, and rose—all scents that were generally associated with sex, lust, and desire. The charms and potions that lined the nearby shelves were certainly all aimed at that market.

Her magic swirled around me, its feel very feminine. There was no recognition in it, no sense that it had been designed to warn, only ward.

But it very definitely had the same feel as the tracking bracelet we’d found on the second wolf. Although the RWA would legally have to confirm it, I had no doubt that this was the witch who’d created them.

The curtain at the far end of the shop was twitched aside and a woman stepped through. She had a thick mane of dark brown hair that was shot with silver, pale skin, and eyes the purest silver—all of which said she was from the Waverley line of witches.