Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace 5)

I snorted and dropped the feather. “From what Aiden has said, shifting from human to animal form doesn’t alter your being or your thought process. The owner of these feathers just didn’t feel right.”

Which, considering the fading caress of evil still emanating from them, wasn’t really surprising.

“What was she doing in the area?” Ashworth asked.

“Hunting—although I never saw the prey—and she wasn’t alone. There were three of them.” I paused. “Something blindsided them as they neared their prey and sent them tumbling. The chief shifter was the one who landed here.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see who or what hit them?”

“I didn’t see the who, but the what was magic.”

“Suggesting we have another witch on the reservation.”

“Our specter is capable of magic, remember,” Belle said. “And she’s the one who led us here.”

Ashworth frowned. “I think I’m going to have to contact Canberra about this—it’s not a situation I’ve ever come across before. Which, I might add, seems to happen a lot in this place.”

“Monty will be miffed if you don’t consult with him first,” I said.

“To which I can only say, good.”

I grinned. “He is the reservation witch—”

“Not at the moment he’s not. Let me gather the feathers and then we can dismantle the protection circle.”

He pulled several small plastic bags out of his pack, putting the feathers in one and then chipping off some of the blood from the stone with his knife before putting it in the other. Once the spell had been dealt with, we made our way back to the shoreline.

“What are you going to do with the samples?” Belle reached out to grab my hand and helped me out.

“Thought we might go back to your place and try a little location spell.”

“Not without eating first, we’re not,” I said.

“With that, I agree. What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Nothing—not for you, anyway.” Belle’s voice was dry. “You need to go back to your guests. We can meet up once you’ve finished playing host and we’ve consumed the takeout waiting in the warmer.”

He shook his head sadly, but the expression was somewhat spoiled by the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You’re cruel women, the pair of you.”

Belle snorted. “And now you’re dilly-dallying. Move, old man.”

“You know, if Monty had called me that, he would have gotten a clip over the ears.”

“He has called you that,” I said, amused. “Multiple times.”

“True, but I’ve only got so much patience.”

I snorted and started up the hill. From what I’d seen, patience and Ira Ashworth weren’t often bosom buddies.

By the time we’d scrambled up the loose slope, even Belle was breathing heavily. We made our way through the scrub, following the clear trail I’d made when I crashed after the specter. Our new SUV—a deep red Subaru Outback that was totally awesome to drive—sat this side of the track, while Ashworth’s borrowed vehicle sat on the other.

“See you in a couple of hours,” he said, then climbed into his SUV and disappeared down the road.

We followed at a more sedate pace. Once home, Belle grabbed the containers out of the warmer, while I got plates and cutlery.

“Might want to get another set,” Belle said as I placed them on the table. “Aiden’s about to knock on the door.”

I all but bounced across the room, unlocking the door and then throwing my arms around his neck, kissing him with all the passion I’d somehow contained in the forest.