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He snorted. “The blood we found in that burned-out protection circle doesn’t match the blood group of our dead witch.”
“Meaning he’s used something or someone else to create his spell,” I said.
“The blood was human, not animal.”
“Then I guess the question needing to be answered,” Belle said, “is, was that person a willing apprentice or unwilling random stranger snatched off the street?”
“And if the latter,” I added, “why haven’t we got a body?”
“He might not have killed the source,” Belle said.
“Maybe, but the blood stain in the middle of that circle was a large one. He’s at least lost a lot of blood even if he isn’t dead, and that probably means he’d need a transfusion.” I glanced at Aiden. “I’m guessing you’ve already checked the hospitals?”
“Yes. No one with a serious knife wound has fronted up at the emergency departments in either of the reservation hospitals.”
“What about the nearest one outside the reservation?”
“Them neither.” Aiden picked up a slab of bread and threw some turkey on it. “And Chester is not being overly helpful—his answer to just about any question ranges between vague and noncommittal.”
Which didn’t surprise me if he was, as I suspected, protecting his own butt. “Has Ciara received a reply on the DNA and bloods she sent up to Canberra?”
He nodded. “The body in the morgue is indeed Jonathan Ashworth.”
I frowned. “If my math is correct, Jonathan was only fifty-four. The body we found looked at least thirty years older than that.”
“He did. Chester said it’s due to the use of blood magic—the more you use it, the greater the speed of aging.”
“Meaning our witch has used it a hell of a lot,” Belle commented. “Maybe that explains how he ended up having half his head blown off. Maybe his thinking and reactions had come down to the level of an eighty-year-old.”
“I know plenty of eighty-year-olds who could beat the crap out of me when it comes to strength and brain power,” Aiden commented, amused.
“Okay, a decrepit eighty-year-old then.”
“It still doesn’t explain what happened to the second person, though.” I followed Aiden’s lead and made myself a turkey, cranberry, and gravy sandwich. “If he was an unwilling blood source, why wouldn’t he have fronted up to report the crime? Or gone to a hospital?”
“Maybe he just went to a doctor’s surgery,” Belle said.
“Which is why Maggie is currently contacting all medical providers both within the reservation or on our boundaries,” Aiden said.
“That could take ages,” Belle said. “Maybe we should take her over some eggnog to help her get through the task.”
Aiden smiled. “She is our ranger in training. All the shitty jobs are hers, just as they were mine when I was in the same position.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Were you in diapers when you started training?”
He laughed. “I was eighteen.”
“Which means you zoomed up the ladder in—how long have you been head ranger?”
“Going on two years, and I was lucky. Jenny Wright—the previous head—was heading interstate in an exchange program, and we had two other retirements in the same year. I was the most senior ranger left; Tala, who was one year behind me, became my second.”
“Tala’s older than you though,” I commented.
He nodded. “She joined our ranks when she was twenty-five. She worked as a customer service rep at the local bank before that, but it didn’t pan out.”
“Having witnessed her warm, caring, and extremely helpful attitude,” Belle murmured, “color me shocked.”
“She is all that once you get to know her. It just takes a while.” He finished his sandwich and made another, this time with ham.
