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“Whoa,” Belle said as she grabbed some cutlery for us both. “I’m gathering by the amount of food on these plates that you’ve had a rather nasty night?”
“I dreamed.”
She glanced at me quickly. “The everyday ‘I’ve got lots to worry about’ kind, or the other damn one?”
“What do you think?”
She swore. “You haven’t had a prophetic dream in more than twelve years, so why now?”
“I don’t know.” I quickly filled her in on what I’d seen and what I’d guessed it might all mean, and then added, “One thing is very clear—we need to track this vamp down, and fast.”
“And protect our butts as much as we can in the process,” she said, around a mouthful of food. “I think I saw a charm spell in one of Gran’s books designed to ward off the undead.”
Amusement touched my lips. “Seriously? There’s a charm for that?”
“Hey,” she said, waving her fork threateningly at me. “Charms have saved our butts more than once, if only because they’re such a profitable item.”
“Yes, but we’ve concentrated on the whole ‘bring good fortune or find love’ end of the spectrum, never anything stronger.” Not for the general public, anyway. I picked up some bacon and munched on it contemplatively. “Will such a charm actually work?”
“If it’s in Granny’s book, it’ll work.” She paused. “To a degree, anyway. I mean, Gran was killed by a spirit gone rogue after all, and she’d been wearing the appropriate warding charm at the time.”
“Awesome. That fills me with so much more confidence.”
She grinned. “I might also check if any of our books have anything on vampires and how they turn. The image of those red lips is snagging at my subconscious.”
“Mine too,” I sai
d, “but I felt the life leave her, so I’m really not sure what the dream is trying to imply.”
“Nothing good, I’m sure.”
That was a fact that couldn’t be disputed, given the river of blood that had almost drowned me. “I’ll contact Karen’s dad this morning. I might also head over to the tourist bureau and see if they’ve a map that shows the location of any miners camps in the area.”
“It could also be an idea to report in to our ranger—”
I snorted. Loudly. “Even if he didn’t loathe the fact I’m a witch, it’s highly unlikely he’ll take my dream seriously.”
Her sudden smile held a seriously wicked edge. “Hey, he told us off for not following procedure, so I think it’s only fair we toe the line completely, and report every little scrap of information we have to the man.”
“Because that’s not going to piss him off any further.” I mopped up the last bits of yolk, then rose and walked into the kitchen to dump the plate. “Have you arranged for Penny to cover my shifts for the rest of the week?”
Belle nodded. “She’s quite pleased with the extra work.”
“Oh, good.” I grabbed my phone from the counter where I’d left it last night and then headed upstairs to make the call to Karen’s father.
“Phillip Banks,” he said. “How may I help you?”
His voice was cool and polite, but for some odd reason, dislike stirred. “Mr. Banks, my name is Lizzie Grace, and I’m—”
“The witch who found Karen’s body,” he finished for me. “How can I help you, Ms. Grace?”
His tone remained unperturbed, even when he said his daughter’s name. While I was well aware he was on the other end of a phone and that I could be reading him totally wrong, that sense of dislike got stronger. “I was wondering if I might be able to meet with you to discuss your daughter.”
“I’ve already told the rangers all I know. I’m not sure there’s anything else I could add.”
“I’m not working with the rangers,” I said. “Marjorie hired me to try and track down Karen’s killer.”
He was silent for a moment, and then said, “And do you think you can?”
