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“Both of us will. It’ll be safer.” I glanced at Belle and Aiden. “Wait here. We won’t be long.”
Aiden’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t argue.
Be careful was Belle’s only comment.
I turned and followed Monty along the top of the ridge. The windswept trees gathered close to the path, and though the sunlight filtered through them easily enough, a vague caress of evil began to stain the air.
“Monty—”
“I know.” His voice vibrated with tension, and magic sparked across his fingertips—a containment spell. “It’s coming from around the curve ahead.”
“It doesn’t feel like the creature.” I silently followed his lead and cast my version of his spell across my fingertips. “It’s not solid enough, if that makes sense.”
“It does.” His pace slow
ed as we neared the curve. “It vaguely feels like magic.”
“Oh, that can’t be good.”
“I’m thinking that’s an understatement.” The spell twined around his fingers glowed brighter. “I’m not seeing any threads though.”
I stepped sideways to get a better view. The path ahead continued to curve around to the right; despite the shadows and the faint caress of evil and magic, there was no indication a spell had been activated. “Maybe she’s hidden them.”
“Maybe.” There was doubt in his tone.
“Has the pulse from the blood changed at all?”
“It’s almost nonexistent now. But that could simply be because it’s dried and the connection’s been severed.”
I eyed the path ahead with trepidation. “What do you want to do?”
“We have to go on—I don’t think we’ve got any other choice. The last thing we need is for a werewolf or a hiker to spring a trap set for us.”
“Agreed, although can I just state that I’m not altogether happy about us springing the trap, either.”
He glanced at me. “You can remain behind.”
“And risk losing the only relative I actually like? No.”
“The problem with that statement is the fact that if you get hurt, my future wife won’t be happy.”
Too right, Belle said. And seriously, tell him to cut it out with the ‘future wife’ stuff. It’s getting annoying.
“The future wife,” I said obediently, “wishes you to stop calling her that.”
He chuckled softly and, in that moment, we heard it.
A soft snap.
We both stopped and glanced down.
The sound hadn’t come from Monty stepping on a bit of wood or anything else so mundane.
Its source had been a spell—a thread of magic we hadn’t seen and still couldn’t see. The broken remnants of whatever spell had been stretched across the path remained invisible—only the slight echo of its power floating away on the breeze gave its presence away.
For several heartbeats, neither of us moved. The broken threads continued to drift away, but there was no immediate indication that anything untoward was about to happen.
“Maybe it was just an alarm of some kind.”
