Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

I completed the spell and activated it. The magic now wrapped around the bracelet pulsed across my fingertips and whispered secrets to my mind.

It had worked.

I took another deep breath, deactivated my protection circle, and then slipped the bracelet into a small silk bag to protect it in my pocket. I finished the final dregs of my hot chocolate and then climbed to my feet. Once I’d replaced the carpet, chairs, and table, I picked up my mug and headed out. Aiden was reading an old, red, leather-bound book, his feet resting on the chair Belle had vacated and a half-eaten brownie slice sitting on the plate next to him. Either we’d finally managed to fill the man or the book had killed his appetite.

His expression, when he glanced up at me, was less than impressed.

“Seriously, why are these bastards allowed to run about?” He snapped the book closed and waved it slightly. “Surely the high witch council must have some idea who will turn and who won’t—why don’t they just kill them before they can?”

“Maybe they believe in trying an intervention before death.” I walked around the counter to drop my empty mug into the small sink and then grabbed four slices from the cake fridge. While the toll on my strength from spell work wasn’t anywhere near that of reading the minds of the dead, it was close to dinnertime and I needed something to stop my stomach grumbling.

“They’re obviously not too successful at it if you have a whole division dedicated to tracking the bastards down.”

“Maybe, but when you consider how many witches there are in the world, the fail rate isn’t really that bad.” I shoved the slices into a bag and then walked back around.

Aiden rose. “Were you able to reverse the spell on the bracelet?”

“Yes.” I exchanged the paper bag for the book. “I’ll just go put this away.”

“I’ll be out in the truck.”

I nodded and raced up the stairs, carefully tucking the book—complete with the Post-it Notes stuc

k to pages Aiden had thought interesting—back into its well-protected spot on the bookshelf.

Belle came out of the shower, her long hair wrapped in a towel. “All good?”

I nodded. “The reversal spell seems to have worked, so we’re heading straight out. Have fun tonight.”

She grinned. “Hoping you have the chance for the same.”

“Amen to that.”

I clattered back down the stairs, grabbed my purse and my keys, and then headed out, making sure I locked up on the way out.

Aiden had parked several spaces up from our café, and handed me the paper bag once I’d climbed into his truck and buckled up. Once he’d driven out of the parking spot, he said, “Where to?”

I pulled the silk bag out of my pocket and gripped it tightly for several seconds. “Right onto Barker Street.”

He made the turn and then accelerated away. I handed him one of the slices and munched on the others in between giving directions. All too quickly we were on the Calder Freeway and speeding away from the reservation’s boundaries.

He immediately made a call to notify the Bendigo Police that he was seeking suspects in their area. He must have sensed my surprise, because once he’d hung up, he said, “We haven’t the authority to investigate outside the reservation.”

“But didn’t you tell Francesca Waverley you could?”

A smile touched his lips. “That was something of a white lie.”

“Then you’re a damn good liar, because I had no idea.”

“The best lies are always the ones wrapped in partial truths.” His gaze met mine. “We actually can investigate beyond our boundaries, but only in the company of a cop from whatever area we’re in. We’ve a good relationship with the Bendigo boys, and I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize that.”

I glanced down at the silk bag as the magic within whispered its secrets. “Keep to the right up ahead, and then slow down. We’re close.”

He didn’t reply, but the tension emanating from him jumped several notches.

The connection between the bracelet I held and the others had strengthened to the point where the invisible leash that was my spell was practically burning my hand. I scanned the area ahead and then said, “Turn left into that holiday park.”

He slowed down and did so. The park entrance was pretty, filled with an assortment of native flowering trees and shrubs. The manager’s cottage and reception area was a three-story A-line house surrounded by graceful old willows, with parking to the right and a concrete driveway that swept around to the left. “Keep left.”