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He tossed it toward me. I caught it instinctively and quickly switched it to my gloved hand. A vague sense of hunger stirred across my senses and then died. Whatever spell had been crafted onto this shoe to deceive my psychic senses had long faded—as had whatever connection Waverley had to these shoes.
“Nothing.” I tossed the shoe back. “He’s awake, but that’s all I’m getting.”
“Damn.” He put the shoe back and thrust a hand through his short hair. “If Waverley has snatched O’Connor rather than kill him, we’ll undoubtedly hear from him.”
“You won’t,” I countered. “But I will.”
“Then perhaps we’d better get back to your café. If he does attempt contact, that’s where it’ll happen.”
He was the last person I wanted to go anywhere with, but I didn’t particularly want to walk anywhere alone, either. His company was better than nothing.
I glanced at Tala. “Can I leave?”
She nodded and looked at Blume. “If Waverley does make contact, you’re to let us know immediately. That clear?”
He gave her a noncommittal sort of smile and motioned me to follow him.
True night had settled in by the time we made it back to the café. Belle’s welcoming smile faded when she saw Blume behind me rather than Aiden.
“You haven’t found him?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Ah.” Her gaze flicked to Blume. “And you’re here to protect us or something?”
“Or something.” He got out his phone and then dropped down onto a chair. “I’d appreciate a coffee—black—if that’s possible.”
Belle glanced at me. “You?”
I shook my head. “I’m heading upstairs for a shower.”
She came up about half an hour later and sat on the couch beside me. “Blume has reported in to his bosses and requested more help.”
“It’ll all be over by the time they get here.”
“Yeah.” She paused. “It’s a shame about Hart. He was a pompous ass, but he didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“At least it was quick—that’s more than Waverley gave his other victims.”
“I guess.” She wrinkled her nose. “He had a kid.”
I didn’t say anything. No kid deserved to grow up without their dad, but nothing I could say—no utterance of regret or sorrow—would change what had happened.
Belle reached for the remote and turned the TV on. We sat there in silence, watching the news and the programs that followed. It didn’t relax either of us.
Downstairs, the chime above the café’s door sounded, a merry tune so at odds with the apprehension hanging like a pall over the café. I waited, body tense, for another attack, but nothing else happened. After several seconds, footsteps echoed as Blume moved cautiously toward the door. I glanced at Belle; we rose as one and bolted for the stairs.
“Someone slipped a note under the door,” Blume said, without looking at us. “Are either of you sensing the presence of anyone nearby?”
> “No,” Belle said. “But given Waverley has shown a penchant for using gunmen, it wasn’t all that wise to be standing in front of the door before you discovered that.”
“I’m not in front, I’m to one side, as is standard.” His gaze flicked to me. “If there’s no one near, how did the note get here? Magic?”
“Possibly, given that chime only sounds when someone is entering the café.”
I stopped next to Blume and placed a hand against the door. A trace of foul energy lingered around the chime, but the threads of our spells had neither been challenged nor activated. The latter wasn’t really a surprise—while the note undoubtedly held a threat, neither its delivery nor the ringing of the bell posed any danger.
Blume picked up the folded note and read it. “I have the ranger. If you wish to see him alive, bring Morris Redfern to the clearing you found Karen in at midnight. Do not involve the IIT or the rangers. If I sense either, he dies. Disobey me in any way, and he dies.”
