Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace 5)

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to help with the rest of the food prep?”

I shook my head. “I’ve only got to decorate a few remaining cakes and slices, then get the scalloped potatoes ready and I’m done.”

Besides, Belle had covered for me often enough in the kitchen. It was about time I returned the favor.

“Awesome—thanks. But you will contact me if that specter makes a reappearance, won’t you? The sooner we get to the bottom of that, the better.”

“It’s not likely to make an appearance during the daylight hours—is it?”

She hesitated. “Generally no, because most of them simply haven’t the strength to project their form in sunlight. But this one is capable of magic, which means anything is possible.”

“Have you ever heard of or seen a concealment spell whose threads are silver?”

She raised her eyebrows. “We went to the same school, remember? If you didn’t recognize the spell, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but you did make a habit of reading through your gran’s spell books before you went to sleep.”

“Only to find innocuous old spells to fling at our classmates when they annoyed us.”

Like the ‘shoelace constantly undone and tripping you up for a day’ one she’d used. While the whole ‘do unto others, because it will come back threefold’ rule did generally apply to spells, it couldn’t actually be enforced if you didn’t wear laces. It also didn’t apply to spells cast by dark or blood witches—maybe because such witches were already bound to hell or had their souls so stained by their evil that they were irretrievable and little else could be done to them.

“But you do know a whole lot about ghosts and specters,” I said. “How usual is it for them to be able to perform magic after their death?”

“It’s rare, but there are some who can interact with our world, so this may just be an extension of that.”

If that were the case, then I could only hope that she didn’t start aiming her magic at us. “Are you driving the SUV across to Kash’s?”

She shook her head. “It isn’t that far away, and it’s not too hot to walk.”

“For you long-limbed types who don’t burn after ten minutes in the sun, maybe.”

She grinned. “I burn. I just don’t go flame-red and then peel afterward. You want me to bring something back for dinner?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not staying overnight at Kash’s?”

She shook her head again. “His bed is too damn uncomfortable, and he refuses to get another, so he pays the price by not being able to sleep with this luscious bod.”

“So, despite high intelligence, he’s not actually that bright?”

“Indeed. But it doesn’t matter, given neither of us are looking for anything serious.” She pushed away from the bench. “I should be home by about eight.”

I nodded and continued the prep. When that was done, I grabbed another coffee, a thick slice of freshly made caramel shortbread, and then headed upstairs to go through the index and jot down the numbers of any books that might contain information about flesh-stripping demons or ghostly white ladies.

It was close to four when a sharp ringing startled me awake. I blinked for the second or two it took for true alertness to catch up, and then realized it was the café’s phone rather than mine. I carefully shifted the book—which had obviously dropped onto my chest when I’d fallen asleep—then pushed upright and ran downstairs.

And knew, even as I reached for the handset, trouble was about to step my way again.

Three

“Is this Elizabeth Grace?” a somewhat distraught voice said.

My stomach sank, even though intuition wasn’t yet suggesting that whatever this woman wanted in any way involved the evil we’d discovered last night.

“Yes, it is, but I’m afraid we’re closed until—”

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry, but my son is missing, and I desperately need your help. I don’t know where else to go.”

I closed my eyes and briefly wished I had strength to ignore the desperation in her voice. But I didn’t, and probably never would, simply because I understood it. I’d felt exactly the same way the day my sister had been snatched and subsequently killed by a serial killer—a tragic event that had no doubt given birth to this inner need to help others when and where I could. Still…