Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

“Me too, especially given you’re the stronger witch.”

“Which seems to have no meaning in this reservation.” He glanced at me again. “Perhaps the reason you’re sensing it rather than me is the connection you appear to have with the wild magic.”

I hesitated. “Maybe, but I haven’t felt the wild magic’s presence.”

“I guess that’s something to be thankful for.” He flicked on the blinker and overtook a slow-moving car. “Can you still feel the waves?”

I hung a hand out the window and let the air run through my fingers. The dark energy within felt like soup.

“No waves, but the magic is still there, and its viscosity is increasing.”

He swore again and the truck’s speed increased, the engine so loud it was pointless trying to talk. We raced out of Newstead and followed the highway around a sweeping right curve. There was nothing out here. Nothing except golden fields, livestock, and clumps of trees. While there were rolling hills in the distance, the nearby area remained boringly flat and open. Not an area that would have been my first choice to raise a powerful spell.

A fifth wave hit. It swirled in through the open window, a dark, bloody-feeling heat so fierce I started sweating.

Ashworth sucked in a breath, and I glanced at him sharply. “You felt that?”

“Yeah. Whatever it is, it’s close.”

“But there’s nothing around here!”

“Whoever it is might be using a concealment spell.”

I frowned. “But if they’re doing that, why wouldn’t they also add a containment restriction?”

“Maybe they think they’re far enough away to avoid detection. Which,” he added grimly, “was almost the case.”

“It was only luck that I was in Newstead. Up until then, all I’d felt was a vague unease.”

“Which is still more than I got.”

The road swept left as we roared toward what was marked on the car’s GPS map as part of the Cairn Curran Reservoir even though right now it was little more than scrubby ground and dead trees.

The foul feel of the magic air playing through my fingers sharpened abruptly. “Turn right just ahead.”

The tires squealed again as he did so, and dust flew as we briefly skidded onto the gravel shoulder. The road began to narrow and the trees closed in. But he hadn’t gone very far when he slowed and turned into what was little more than a goat track. Another kilometer in, we stopped.

The dark force was so strong it hurt to breathe it in.

Ashworth scrambled out and ran to the back of his truck. I jumped down and rubbed my arms as the twin charms around my neck—one designed to ward off evil and the other ill-intent—flared to life, a bright heat that did very little against the soup surrounding us.

Ashworth tossed me a small white pouch as he strode past. “Wear this. It’ll help.”

I quickly slung it around my neck; almost immediately the dark force retreated and breathing became easier. I hurried after him, my heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to tear out of my chest. My magic was no counter for whatever—whoever—lay up ahead, but that didn’t stop the desire to wrap a repelling spell around my fingers. But this close, any sort of spell might just alert the witch to our presence and turn the darkness in the air against us.

Presuming, of course, he or she wasn’t already aware of our presence. It was totally possible that the thick force we were feeling now was a nice little trap about to be sprung.

And yet you continue to follow Ashworth into the heart of that darkness instead of staying behind like any normal sane underpowered witch would.

I think in this case, two witches are better than one.

Three would be better. I’m on my way.

Belle, don’t—

La la la la la, she cut in. Not hearing you.

Damn it, it’s too dangerous! It’s better you remain safe so that, if the worst happens, I can draw on your strength.