Wicked Wings (Lizzie Grace 5)

“You should.”

“Totally.”

She gave me the look—the one that said I was dead if I didn’t shut up. I grinned, but resisted the urge to tease her any further.

We finished our drinks and then concentrated on the day’s chores. Custom was steady rather than busy, and Byron’s murder was very much the topic of conversation. Which was interesting, given there’d been four other murders before the Empusae had lashed out at him.

Monty came in as things were quieting down and walked over to the table we generally kept reserved for Aiden, Ashworth, and him if we knew they were coming in. We’d placed a basic ‘mute conversation’ spell around it when we’d first begun dealing with the rangers, initially to prevent any unwanted information about either Belle or me from getting out, and then later to stop the gossip brigade hearing any tantalizing tidbits about the investigations we were helping with.

Penny took his order and, once it was ready, I delivered it and silently activated the spell as I sat down opposite him.

“So, what did you learn about our tracer?”

He grimaced. “Not a lot—she’s playing her cards close to her chest.”

“So you don’t know who sent her?”

He picked up his cutlery and began to eat. “No, but I suspect the order comes from Clayton rather than your father.”

“Why?”

“Because I contacted a few friends and asked them what they knew about a tracer being sent to my reservation. Their replies were… interesting.”

My stomach flip-flopped. Interesting wasn’t good. “In what way?”

“Apparently, Clayton is desperate to have children but the numerous lovers he’s had over the years have been unable to conceive.”

That might have something to do with the hex I put on him, Belle said.

Hex? That’s the first time you’ve mentioned that to me. To Monty, I added, “And how does that relate to the tracer being here?”

You were pretty out of it at the time, Belle said, and there was little point in mentioning it afterward.

Hexes can bounce back rather badly—

Unless they’re used to save oneself. Your trauma is mine, remember, and it was pretty damn fierce that night.

“There’s rumor currently doing the rounds up there,” Monty said. “That he married in secret but the woman disappeared not long after.”

“I take it my name isn’t on the short list of possible suspects?”

“As far as I can tell without pressing too hard, no.”

“Because why would he marry an underpowered witch—even one with the best family connections—when there were plenty of other women w

ho’d be willing to step into the breach?”

He nodded. “The rumor has been given weight by the fact the records are sealed—no one can gain access to them. Clayton, of course, denies the rumor and the fact he had anything to do with said records being sealed.”

“Of course he would. What he and my father did was against the law.” To Belle, I silently added, What sort of hex did you cast?

A limp willy one.

Laughter silently bubbled through me. How very appropriate. Is there seriously a spell that can do that?

Yes. And in Clayton’s case, I didn’t add a time limitation, which means his dick will never man up—and it serves him right.

That will explain why he hired the tracer. Given he certainly didn’t have that problem when he tried to rape me, he obviously suspects we’re the source of his problems.