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“Oh, that’s not good.”
“What?” I frowned at the tank but couldn’t immediately see anything untoward.
“There’s magic lingering along the top of the tank.”
My gaze jumped up. After a second, a vague, almost otherworldly energy caressed my skin—one that didn’t feel foul. Then the shimmering threads of a fading spell came into view. I couldn’t immediately guess what type of spell it was, as the threads continued to move, weaving in and out of the tank’s metal roof.
“Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s connected to our shifter. It hasn’t got the same feel.”
“No.” His gaze narrowed. “It’s recent, though, and quite intricate.”
“Any guess as to what its purpose is?”
“Not a one.” He hesitated. “There are some thread similarities to a demon containment spell.”
I swallowed heavily. “You don’t think—?”
“If the demon’s in there—dead or alive—we’d surely know.” Monty’s voice was grim. “I think you’d better climb up and have a look.”
“Not without checking out the rest of the area first,” I snapped, and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “If anything jumps out of that thing, make sure you’re ready to knock it into the next time zone.”
“That’s hardly going to get us any answers.”
“When we’re dealing with a flesh stripper, I don’t care.”
He laughed. “If a flesh stripper jumps out of that thing, I’ll swear off chasing Belle for the next month.”
A smile tugged my lips. “A statement that would have placed Belle in quite a quandary if she’d been here.”
He laughed again and motioned toward the tank. “Go check. If anything moves, I’ll hit it first and ask questions later.”
“Good.”
Fortunately for me, the tank’s perimeter held nothing more dangerous than several pretty but thorny roses. I stopped beside Monty again and studied the still-moving spell threads. “Are you able to disengage them? We need to look inside, but I’m not about to risk triggering that spell.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when the threads stopped moving and the spell simply disappeared. A cold prickle ran up my spine, and my gaze went to the distant energy that was our watcher.
It had been her spell.
“Oh, fuck,” Monty said, in an exact echo of my thoughts. “Our White Lady is not only capable of magic, but able to use it to affect things within this world.”
“How is that even possible?”
He shrugged. “There are ghosts capable of interacting with physical objects within this world, so it’s more than possible that a strong enough witch could not only interact, but also spell.”
My gaze returned to the tank, and goose bumps prickled my skin. “Which begs the question, what exactly was her magic interacting with in that tank?”
“I guess there’s only one way we’re going to find out—and, given I can’t climb a ladder, that delightful task falls to you.”
“Fabulous.” Not.
I spun around and went in search of a ladder. I found one in the first shed and set it up next to the tank’s inlet strainer, which was caked with dirt and old grass. It took a few minutes to clear it before I could pry it off. Nothing jumped out. No sense of evil stirred through the air. Relief swept through me, though my pulse rate remained high. There’d obviously been something here; why else would our specter have bothered spelling the tank?
“Anything?” Monty said.
I peered in. The water was dark and very close to the top, making it difficult to see anything beyond the first few feet of the opening. “Lean up against the tank and hand me one of your crutches.”
“I’m not sure I’m enthused about you using it to stir up whatever evil lies inside.”
