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“That,” he cut in brusquely, “is unlikely, given the only person capable of magic in this territory appears to be you.”
“This whole goddamn territory is filled with magic, Ranger, and if you and the elders aren’t aware of that, then you deserve the shit that’s coming your way.”
“Is that a threat?”
His low tone sent a shiver down my spine; the only trouble was I wasn’t entirely sure it was fear, given his voice was decidedly sexy when it took on that timbre.
“No, it’s merely a truth. You shouldn’t be afraid of the small amount I’m capable of when the wild magic is absolutely everywhere in this place, and there isn’t a proper witch here to protect it.”
He snorted softly and gestured me to follow him as he led the way back through the building. Either he didn’t believe in wild magic or didn’t believe it could be dangerous.
My backpack was still on the counter where he’d dumped it, and I paused. “Can I take the pack with me?”
“Yes.” He keyed open the door into the office area. “As I said, I’ve already confiscated the illicit items.”
I grabbed the pack and slung it over my shoulder. “You might want to keep the potions rather than pouring them down the drain. They’ll keep you safe when few other things will.”
His brief smile held very little in the way of humor. “Trust me, vampires—and there’s no evidence so far this Tomme is one—hold few fears for a werewolf.”
“Then let’s just hope a vampire is all you’re dealing with here.”
&nbs
p; His gaze narrowed. “Meaning what, exactly, Ms. Grace?”
“Nothing more than what I said. I’ve told you everything I know, Ranger, and you don’t want to hear what I suspect.”
“I listened to the words of a witch once before. Hell will freeze over before I make the same mistake again.” He opened the external door and waved me out.
I gave him a thin, tight smile. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but that, I’m afraid, would be a lie. Good night.”
And with that, I left. But his gaze continued to burn a hole in between my shoulder blades, and as I turned into Mostyn Street, I glanced over my shoulder. Though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was still there. Still watching me.
It was a realization that made my pulse dance for a beat or two. Apparently, my hormones hadn’t gotten the memo about no more men.
I was about thirty feet away from the café’s front door when a wave of grief hit me so hard that I actually staggered back several steps. I sucked in air and quickly shut down the sensory input as my gaze ran across the nearby shadows and parked cars.
A figure detached itself from the nearby building and walked toward me.
Marjorie Banks.
But her expression wasn’t grief-stricken. It was one of utter fury.
Chapter Three
“Mrs. Banks,” I said, doing my best to keep any sort of inflection out of my voice. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I tried, but—”
Her mouth flattened into a thin line. “I want you to find him.”
Of the many things I’d thought she might say, that hadn’t been one of them. “I can’t. I’m not a ranger or even a private investigator. The rangers will—”
“If the fucking rangers had listened to my fears earlier,” she cut in, “then Karen might now be alive.”
Her brown eyes glistened with tears, but guilt sparked in the deeper depths. She wasn’t only angry with the rangers for not acting sooner, but also herself.
“You can’t be sure of that,” I said. “No one can. Not until the coroner hands in her report, at least.”
“We both know what that report will show,” she said, her fists clenched. “We both know she was still alive when I came to you. You did what they did not, and now I want your help to catch this bastard.”
