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The wild magic was pulling me to the right, but there were no signs to clue me in on where it might take me. I grabbed my phone and brought up Google Maps. There was a pine plantation a couple of kilometers up ahead and, behind that, Mount Alexander, but Google was decidedly scant on information about either of them. Changing to street view didn’t further my education, as it seemed the camera car hadn’t dared risk the track.
I shoved my phone away and studied the road dubiously. I didn’t like the idea of going deeper into the scrub without knowing where the hell I was headed, but it wasn’t like I really had a choice. Not if I wanted to find the wellspring.
But I’d taken a dozen steps when there was a gentle rustle of leaves behind me, and a familiar voice said, “And just where are you headed, Ms. Grace?”
I briefly closed my eyes and silently swore. Aiden O’Connor was the last person I wanted to see right now. But I forced a smile and turned around to face him. “I’m exploring the forest. What are you doing here?”
His deep blue gaze swept me and came up suspicious. “And why would you be out here when you have a newly opened café to operate?”
“Just because it’s newly opened doesn’t mean I need to be chained to it twenty-four/seven,” I replied. “One the advantages of being a boss is that you can ask other people to fill in while you go out for a stroll.”
He raised an eyebrow—an action that spoke of disbelief even if little of it otherwise showed in his expression. “So if a stroll is all you intended, why did you visit Marjorie before heading directly up here?”
“That statement suggests my actions are being watched, Ranger, and if that’s true, I’d like to know why.”
“You can hardly be surprised given you were found with Karen’s body last night—”
“Last night you said you were aware I didn’t kill her—what’s changed?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then why the hell am I being followed?”
“Because, as I also said last night, I believe you know a whole lot more than what you’re saying. So why are you up here, Ms. Grace? Wouldn’t happen to be searching for the elusive stranger, would you?”
His words revived the images—and emotions—I’d been an unwilling partner to, and heat stained my cheeks. “No, I am not.”
“Then why are you here? Honesty would be advisable, because there are harsh penalties for any human who steps within the boundaries of the O’Connor compound without permission.”
I quickly looked around. There was absolutely no indication that I’d entered his pack’s home grounds, and surely there should have at least been a warning sign. “Is that where I am?”
“That’s where this roads heads, yes.”
“So is your compound in the plantation, or up on Mount Alexander?”
“The latter,” he said. “And stop avoiding the question.”
It took me a moment to even remember the question. I hesitated, and then said, “I’m looking for the source of the wild magic.”
He raised that eyebrow again. “And why would someone who has claimed to be not much of a witch be looking for that?”
“Because I’m all this place has got, and I need to place some protection around the wellspring in an effort to stop evil from staining it.”
“You say that like evil has substance—”
“Because it has.” I crossed my arms and met his skeptical gaze evenly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never walked into a room and immediately felt either comfortable or ill at ease, because I know that wouldn’t be true. Wolves, while generally not psychic, are sensitive to currents of stronger emotions.”
And not just lust and desire, but also hate and fear.
He studied me, his expression as unreadable as ever. “No witch who has lived within the reservation has ever mentioned wild magic.”
“Why would they? It’s their job to protect and guide it; there would be no need to mention it unless something was going very wrong.” I hesitated. “Why did the last witch leave?”
“His residency was revoked.” His answer was flat, and filled with both repressed anger and deep hurt.
Which only made me all the more curious as to what had gone on here. But if Marjorie, who was obviously a leading lawyer in this town, had no clue, then there was very little chance that any other human living here would. And the wolves certainly wouldn’t tell me; werewolves were extremely protective—even secretive—of anything related to their pack.
Would the spirits who resided in this place know? It might be worth asking—although surely if they did, they would have already mentioned it.
