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That side should come out to play more often, Belle commented. It might result in fewer aches, scrapes, and bruises.
That’s highly unlikely.
Also true. Her amusement echoed down the mental line. I found an interesting side note in the book on fire spirits.
And?
It states that those bound by skin will sometimes claim the skins of others if for any reason they lose their own.
I blinked. Which is what appears to be happening here with the skinning murders.
Yes. It also states that a soucouyant can often feel its skin being salted, and this will often result in a vengeful counterattack.
Which means Monty and co had better be damn sure they contain and then destroy the soucouy
ant tonight.
If she did feel her skin being salted, she may not even come near the place. She doesn’t actually need to—she can fling fire from some distance, remember.
Unease stirred at the comment. I leaned forward and scanned the surrounding area, but there was no sign of fire in any form, be it spirit or not.
Which didn’t mean anything. Not in this situation.
Maybe luck will be with you for a change, Belle said. Maybe she’s simply too far away to have felt her skin being salted.
I wouldn’t like to take a chance on that being the case—especially when she’s already shown a propensity to blow things up.
I think that’s something that goes with the territory when it comes to fire spirits.
And I think we need to start digging deeper into your gran’s books, and see if any of her old spell collections deal with deflection or containment—and not just for fire. I’ve got a bad feeling we’re going to be batting away all sorts of foul energy in the near future.
Aside from the fact Monty must still have access to the catalogue section, isn’t it his job to be worrying about counter spells?
I hesitated. Of course it is, but I’ve just got this feeling that we’d better have our own spells handy—and that we’re going to need them.
My, your psychic self is chock-full of cheerful news of late, isn’t it?
I smiled. Aren’t you glad your bedroom is shielded against the worst of my prophetic tendencies?
I opened the door and climbed out of the truck. The night air swirled around me; while it held no heat, it did hold power. The wild magic was near, but it came from the main wellspring rather than Katie. And there was a lot of it.
I walked to the front of the truck. The glittering threads of wild magic fell around me like a scant but powerful cloak. It was almost as if it was trying to protect me.
But from what?
And why, Belle commented. I can understand it protecting you if it was from the wellspring Katie’s soul has infused, but this is the real thing. It has no awareness and it certainly shouldn’t interfere or interact with either you or anyone else. Not without any kind of direction.
I know that, Belle, but there’s a whole truckload of things involving the wild magic that shouldn’t be happening right now. And this was just another thing to add to the ever-growing list.
I rubbed my arms, my fingertips tingling every time I brushed a thread. The night remained dark and, other than the wild magic, there was little indication of anything supernatural.
And yet the uneasiness was sharpening.
It might be wise to warn the men, Belle commented. If something’s coming, they may not have enough time to get out.
I immediately grabbed my phone and dialed Aiden. I could have called out easily enough, but I didn’t want to wake or alarm the neighbors. And I dared not go inside; if the soucouyant or her fire was headed this way then I needed to be out here to spot it.
What I’d be able to do if I did was another question entirely.
