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“I’m not liking the feel of that,” Monty said. “Which is the second time tonight I’ve made that statement. Third time’s the charm, I’m thinking.”
“Let’s hope not.”
I slammed the door shut and walked over to the edge of the forest. In the twin beams of the headlights, a very faint path was visible. There were no footprints in the dust, and there surely would have been had our sorcerer come this way. While it was possible to spell away telltale signs of passing, there was no reason why she’d have wasted energy. If she was aware of our presence, she’d also know that this forest was too far away for us to reach in time to prevent her spelling.
Monty stopped beside me, his hands in his jean pockets. “Given the amount and strength of fractured threads, I’m thinking the sacrifice site isn’t too far away.”
“No, but we can’t go in until Aiden gets here. It’s just too dangerous with all the mine remnants scattered about the place.”
“Caution? From you?” He lightly touched my forehead. “I’m not feeling a temperature or anything—”
I laughed and knocked his hand away. “I don’t suppose you can tell what sort of spell might have been performed?”
He raised a hand and caught a small stream of broken spell threads. Most of them disintegrated at his touch, but enough remained to at least get some feel for the spell’s architecture.
“It’s definitely a blood summoning,” he said after a second, “but I’m not getting any indication of what sort of demon was called.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Would you?”
“In a spell this fresh, generally yes.”
“So why haven’t you used this skill before?”
“Because we’ve never arrived so close to the spell culmination before. Not without being physically threatened by said demon or some other nasty, anyway.”
“Let’s hope whatever was summoned isn’t waiting for us up ahead.”
“You’d sense it if it was, wouldn’t you?”
“My psi senses aren’t infallible, Monty. Shit does get past them.” I scanned the night again but couldn’t hear anything other than the usual buzz of cicadas and the occasional ground-level rustle as possums and wombats moved through the scrub. “Why are the threads so fractured? That generally only happens if something goes wrong with the spell, doesn’t it?”
“Summoning is a dangerous business, no matter how strong the witch or sorcerer. If the demon who answers is stronger than the summoner, then it’s all over, red rover.”
I motioned toward the quickly disintegrating spell thread. “Is it worth preserving that, just in case we can use it to track her.”
“I can, but it’s in such a poor state that it probably won’t last more than an hour, even with assistance.”
As his magic rose, the roar of an approaching engine snagged my attention, and I glanced around. Headlights glimmered through the trees, approaching at speed.
Aiden.
Anticipation rose, but I did my best to curb it. After all, this time it was my own fault that I hadn’t seen the man.
Monty turned and raised a hand to protect his eyes. “That’ll be our ranger. You going to be okay?”
I smiled and touched his arm lightly. “Of course I am.”
But my heart nevertheless stuttered when Aiden climbed out of his truck and walked toward us. The man moved with a predator’s grace, and it was just lovely to watch. Like most werewolves, he was tall and rangy, but his shoulders were wider than usual, and his arms and chest well defined without being over-the-top muscular. The moonlight played amongst the silver in his short, dark blond hair, and highlighted the sharp but pleasing planes of his face. His eyes—a deep blue, rather than the usual amber of a werewolf—showed as little emotion as his expression, but his aura fairly crackled with it.
The man was annoyed. At me. At my actions.
To be honest, I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“What have we got?” It was said to Monty rather than me, even if his gaze was steadfast on mine.
“A blood sacrifice,” Monty said. “The site is probably no more than 250 meters past this point.”
Aiden stopped between us. His scent filled my nostrils, warm, musky, and familiar; it was all I could do not to lean into him.
