Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

F or several minutes, neither of us moved. We simply stared at each other across the heated expanse of road tarmac. She was barely discernible from the shadows that surrounded her, but her eyes gleamed with a molten, silvery fire that boded no one any good.

I'm thinking she doesn't want you inside that club for a reason we really don't want to know about, Belle said.

And I'm thinking I sure as fuck don't want to go inside that club, no matter what the reason.

Belle snorted. You really are on a roll today with this whole sensible thinking thing.

Don't worry—I'll be back to my usual "fools rush in" modus operandi any moment now.

As her laughter rolled down our line, I checked for cars and then crossed the road, stopping again once I reached the pavement. Though there was a good eight feet between me and those open doors, the magic protecting her building was a dark wave that made my skin jump and tingle—and not in a pleasant way.

I crossed my arms, hiding my hands and the instinctive press of inner wild magic at my fingertips. "I need to know, Maelle —were you responsible for the slaughter in that house up in Moonlight Flats?"

She smiled, revealing canines that we just a little longer than normal, which generally meant she'd just fed or she was anticipating a feed. Unhappily, instinct was suggesting that in this case, both might actually apply.

"What makes you think I had anything to do with that?" Though her tone was lightly amused, the molten gleam darkened.

It was not an amused sort of gleam.

"You mean aside from the summoning charm we found in the field next door that has the feel of your magic? Those murders have the thick taste of revenge." I somehow kept any sign of nervousness from my voice, though given she was a vampire and my heart beat rather erratically, it was a pretty pointless exercise.

"And my, it does indeed taste so good."

Which was confirmation enough for me. "What sort of creature did that charm summon, Maelle?"

A smile touched ruby red lips. She'd moved closer, I realized, though I hadn't actually seen her do so. Sunrays danced only millimeters away from her bare toes … I blinked. She wasn't wearing boots. My gaze jumped upward. Or indeed clothes. She was naked and bloody, and there were bits of flesh and God only knew what else smeared … My stomach heaved, and I looked away, swallowing unsteadily. I hadn't vomited earlier, and I would not do so now. Not in front of her.

This bitch really isn't running on a sane playing field anymore, is she? Belle said.

I think it's more that the combination of Roger's kidnapping and his subsequent leg loss has finally torn away the thin veneer of civility. What we're seeing is the reality rather than the sophisticated projection.

"That was an átahsaia," Maelle was saying, "a creature I am particularly fond of."

"I thought you were fond of snakes?"

"I have an affinity with them, yes." Her eyes gleamed. "But the átahsaia? Ah, he is a grand one, a demon the likes of which is rarely seen."

My gaze skimmed the blood covering her torso, and I couldn't help but wonder if her "grand demon" had survived its recall. "Were the people killed Marie's? And isn't using such a demon overkill, given you were there with it and are more than magically capable of taking them all out?"

"I am not one to take chances, and I dare not overestimate my abilities when it comes to matters such as revenge, especially when it comes to a coven I am no longer a part of or indeed familiar with. Precautions are only sensible when you are unfamiliar with your foe's depth of skill. Where is Roger?"

I blinked at the abrupt change of topic and tone, the almost teasing lightness replaced by a deep and dangerous flatness. "Hard to say, given the ring you gave me was yours rather than his, and it wasn't his echo I was sensing. You led me to that place, Maelle, because you wanted me to kill your demon and unleash the tidal wave of his negative energy in the hope it would take out at least some of Marie's people. But she was one step ahead of you."

"I led you to that place because I truly believed he was there . I had no awareness that only a … portion was." Her anger swelled, briefly burning the air. "You should not have banished my demon. The cost of that one action will be high."

For her, and for me. She didn't say that but that's exactly what she meant.

"It will indeed, especially if you don't start being honest with me, Maelle."

"So, you wish honesty?" She shifted again, her toes pressing against the streaks of sunlight invading her sanctuary. Her skin did not immediately burn, though a pale pink flush appeared at the tip of her big toe, and a glimmer of pleasure briefly danced through the dangerous glint in her eyes.

The woman was mad. Utterly mad.

And getting madder, if we're using the insane definition of the word rather than the angry, Belle growled. Do not, under any circumstances, step closer. It would be just like that bitch to lunge forward, sun-be-damned, and attempt a sip.

Trust me, I have absolutely no intentions of giving her any opportunity to take a bite.

Not now, not later.

Because there would be a later, I was sure of that. Even if we somehow saved Roger, I doubted his presence would calm her inner monster now that it had been fully unleashed.

"Do not believe Marie's silver tongue," she said in that same flat but chilling tone. "Do not believe that she will not harm you and yours. Do not believe that she will leave if she is the victor, and do not think this reservation will survive her celebrations if she does."

"Oh, I don't believe her any more than I believe you truly meant your vow not to harm anyone in this reservation."

"I vowed I would not feed on the unwilling or shed the blood of those who lived and worked here. I have kept that vow."

"Perhaps to the letter of the vow but not the spirit. There's an entire fucking cavern of bodies to prove it."

"Those bodies were not from this reservation, and you are clever enough to have guessed that. And that means the reservation council cannot legally evict me, because I have harmed no one from this reservation."

A big fat "yet" seemed to hang over that declaration. "Aside from the fact no court of law will uphold your contracts, given the circumstances, you fucking murdered dozens of people. Since when has that ever been acceptable?"

Her smile was … well, freaking scary. "It is not murder if they wish the death."

"And it's not a wish if it's enforced by magic. Besides, there was no magic in that place. You simply tore them apart and swam in their misery, their pain, and their remains."

"Perhaps that is so, but neither you nor your wolf can prove that I am responsible. And we both know the reservation's council would not want this matter to reach the courts. The publicity alone would make this place a tourist ghost zone."

Her toes, I noticed, hung further into the sunshine and her canines were now protruding. She wanted to feed. Badly. I clenched my fists against the wild magic aching for release, but was nevertheless comforted by its presence. If she lunged, it would shield me. However much stronger she was than me magically, she would not get through such a shield. Not before the sun crisped her flesh and the gentle breeze blew away her ashes, anyway.

"Of course," she continued, "legalities will not prevent them attempting to evict me physically or perhaps even magically, but there are few here, beyond yourself, who would in fact have any hope of besting me. And it would certainly be an interesting and desirable experience for us both if you did indeed try."

A tremor ran through my soul.

Maelle didn't just want to taste the power in my blood. She wanted me . Sexually.

Never fear, Belle said . I'll fry her brains out if she so much as lays a finger on your lady bits.

A laugh bubbled through me. I somehow managed to keep it in, but the tension that had been gathering eased a fraction.

"Jaqueline told me that you've always known how to find Roger—that your connection to him makes it impossible for you not to know. Is that true?"

She considered me for a moment. "To some degree."

"Then why haven't you simply gone and gotten him?"

"That is an inane question and one that is beneath us both."

Bitch, Belle muttered.

Yeah. But I guess the answer is obvious. Because he was both bait and a trap. She'd much rather I spring it than her.

"Then why go through the rigmarole of handing me the ring when you could have just given me directions?" I paused, realization finally dawning. "Or was the ring a means of keeping track of me?"

Her too-toothy smile flashed. Instinct was right again.

I took the silk-wrapped ring from my pocket and tossed it at her. It hit the ground several feet my side of the doorway, and the ring rolled free of its wrapping, scurrying toward her like it had a life of its own. She bent and picked it up, her fingers briefly caressed by sunlight. Again, there was little reaction from her skin and nothing but the flick of pleasure through her eyes.

I shivered. "You need to tell me where he is now, Maelle, and stop playing these games."

It was an effort to keep the internal anger from my voice when I wanted to do nothing more than scream at the mad bitch.

"It is not that simple, Elizabeth. The white ash embedded in flesh diminishes our connection."

Hence her creeping insanity. "That didn't stop you knowing he was in that cavern."

"I am familiar enough with that cavern to recognize it even with the briefest glimpses through his eyes."

"Then what are you getting from him now?"

"He lies in darkness, on dirt, and he is ringed by magic. I cannot say whether it is a house or a shed of some kind because his eyes have been bound and I cannot see through them. I suspect the latter, however, because I have a sense of restriction rather than space." She paused briefly, her gaze inward-looking, her eyes unsettling slits of silver. "Something scrapes across its roof, though it does not feel close. Trees, I think."

"Anything else?"

"He is within town, I believe. I can hear traffic and dogs barking excitedly. There are at least eight animals, and they are not close, perhaps across the road."

A dog park? Belle asked.

Either that, or absolutely every dog in that area has gone off at the same time. To Maelle, I added, "Are there any voices? Dog owners shouting at their pets or something?"

"No." She paused. "Some of the dogs are terriers from the sound of it. Their blood, I must say, is surprisingly sweet."

Well, fuck, Belle said, like we needed to know that.

She's trying to unsettle us.

She's succeeding. Can't see the purpose of it, though.

Hesitation at a vital moment. Like her lunging at me. My gaze automatically dropped. Her toes remained past the edge of that sunlit line, and while her skin was definitely redder, it wasn't burning up like the vampire who'd met his demise on the café's rear steps. Was the dark wave of magic somehow protecting her? Or did vampires gain some sort of immunity as the centuries rolled by?

If the latter is true, then that might mean this bitch can move about in daylight without major protection.

If she can, then Marie and Jaqueline probably can, too.

What a thought. I might hunt through our index of Gran's books and see if she has anything on the subject.

Worth a shot. I returned my attention to Maelle. "Can you feel the magic that's protecting him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And do have fun dismantling it." She paused. "And do watch your back. Marie has a habit of layering and disguising trigger spells into her protective ones. Hitting one might summon something nasty into your presence. Bring Roger here when you free him."

And with that, she stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. A heartbeat later, the doors slammed shut, the sound ringing loudly across the hum of traffic behind me. I stared at the club for several more seconds, then swore softly and retreated across the road.

The truck's seats were hot despite the fact it hadn't been sitting there for very long, so I reached back and grabbed a sweater from the back seat to sit on. Bare legs and black leather were not a good combination in summer.

I started the truck up, did a U-turn once there was a gap in the traffic, and headed back to the café. Belle was upstairs and had a pot of my favorite green tea and a large slab of banana cake waiting for me when I arrived. There was also a half-finished revitalization potion sitting nearby on the coffee table and a laptop sitting next to it.

"You're a doll." I tossed Aiden's keys onto my bed, then walked over to pour myself a cup of tea. The sweet scent of melon and jasmine teased my nostrils, and I sighed happily. The only thing better than this stuff was chocolate. And cake. And possibly bacon … I shook my head. It seemed that no matter how many atrocities I stumbled across or how bad the bloodshed, my touchy stomach wasn't about to let them get in the way of food.

I took a drink and then added, "Did you run down any leads on vamps and sunshine?"

She wrinkled her nose. "There's one book that apparently discusses myths and facts regarding vampires, but it's at the storage unit rather than here or at Monty's."

"Why didn't we find that one when we had our first vampire problem?"

She snorted. "You've seen Gran's index, haven't you?"

I grinned. "Meaning it wasn't actually listed."

"No, it was not. We caught it when we were doing the redo, though it's not been scanned yet."

"We" being her and Kash, the rather delicious-looking man we'd hired to help us convert Nell's books into digital format, and who'd turned out to be a bit of a bastard. "You heard anything from Monty?"

"He rang about ten minutes ago to say he and Ashworth were finished and were on their way here." She paused, her expression going inward as she reached out mentally. "They're just parking out the back now, so will be here in a couple of secs."

"It didn't take them very long to take care of the charm, then."

"No, because the thing disintegrated just as Ashworth arrived."

My eyebrows shot up. "It disintegrated ?"

"Yeah, and from what I could gather, that happened just after you and Maelle began talking."

"She deliberately destroyed it."

"Or destroyed the monster attached to it."

I remembered all the blood and gore covering Maelle and shuddered. If she'd swum in her monster's remains, well, she was further out on the insanity limb than we'd thought. And that meant we needed to find Roger before the disintegration could get any worse.

I scooped up more cake, then reached for my phone and did a search for dog parks. There was one, according to Google, and it was only a few minutes away from here. I flipped the phone around and slid it across the table to Belle. "If your guess is right and the barking was coming from a dog park, then it's possible he's located somewhere near this one."

"Finding him will be the problem. We can hardly go knocking door to door asking if they're harboring a vampire's one-legged thrall."

"Not unless we want to cause the wave of panic the council is trying to avoid," I replied dryly.

"It might be the one way to save more people getting dead, though."

"The only way of doing that," Monty said as he bounded up the last of the stairs, "is to get rid of all the damn vampires."

"Easier said than done when we can't find hide nor hair of one lot." Belle motioned toward the small kitchenette. "Kettle's boiled, and there's cake in the fridge."

"Excellent." He glanced around as Ashworth appeared. "Something to drink? Eat?"

"A coffee would be grand." Ashworth continued on to the patio doors, opened them up, and dragged two of the plastic outside chairs back in. "So, what's this about dog parks?"

I quickly explained the conversation I'd had with Maelle about Roger's location. "Given the dirt floor, I'm thinking we're probably dealing with some sort of shed at the back of a house."

"The house would have to be empty, though, surely? They couldn't risk the owners randomly walking in and discovering him." Monty handed Ashworth his coffee, placed a second mug on the table, then headed back to collect his cake.

"She did say he was well protected with spells," Belle said. "It's possible one of those is a redirect."

"Redirects are notoriously unreliable," Ashworth said. "I think the bigger worry is the summoning spells interwoven through the protection ones. If Maelle mentioned them, you can bet your ass they exist."

"Which is why I think we need all witches on hand," I said. "Two of us can dismantle, and three can guard our backs."

Ashworth nodded. "It'd also be wise to grab Aiden or at least one of his people, so they can evacuate the house if it's not empty."

"I'll call him?—"

"He likely won't answer," Monty cut in. "He muttered something about having to report to the council. Ring the station instead."

I did so and got Jaz. I explained our situation and what we needed, and she agreed to meet us in twenty minutes. Which at least left time for both Monty and me to finish our cakes.

Once Ashworth got off the phone to Eli, I asked, "What do you know about vampires and sunshine?"

"Aside from the fact it ashes them, you mean? There's a theory in some quarters that the very old do gain some immunity from it, but I've encountered no evidence that supports it." His expression was speculative. "Why?"

"Maelle stuck her toes and fingers into sunlight, and she did not go up in flames. Her skin barely even turned pink."

"Like we haven't already got enough fucking problems," Monty muttered.

"‘Barely' means her toes did turn pink, laddie, and that suggests she isn't immune, just … resilient." Ashworth's gaze returned to mine. "Or was she perhaps using some sort of magical shield to ward off the worst of the effects?"

I wrinkled my nose. "She could have been, but it was hard to tell because the whole building was wrapped in protection spells, and all of them were stained with darkness."

"Is it possible she was merely trying to scare you?"

"She was achieving that well before her toes decided they needed to sunbathe."

He shook his head. "Then I'll add it to the ever-increasing list of things we need to research."

"Perhaps jump it to the top of the list," Monty said, "because if Maelle is resilient, you can bet the other two will be as well."

Ashworth nodded, then drained his coffee and rose. "I'll go pick Eli up and meet you at the park."

As he left, Monty asked, "What about the demon? Did you ask her about that?"

"I did, and she said it was a grand beastie she was quite fond of." A smile twitched my lips. "Given she was naked and covered in gore when I questioned her, I'm not sure if she meant that in a rhetorical, ‘I just loved swimming in its remains' manner or not."

Monty just about choked on his cake. "God, things just go from bad to worse."

"Well, look on the bright side," Belle said dryly. "If she did swim in its remains, then it's one less monster we have to worry about."

"I'd like to think so, but given she wasn't letting you into that club and she was naked, maybe swimming wasn't all she was doing with it."

"Eew," I said, and tossed my spoon at him.

He laughed, caught it, and dropped it back onto the table. "We should get going. We can scout the area out a little before the others arrive."

I picked up the teapot and rose, transferring the remainder of the drink into a travel cup, then sent a message to Aiden telling him his truck was at the back of the café and the keys in my room. After grabbing my pack, I followed Belle and Monty out and jumped into the back of the SUV.

Monty reversed out of the parking spot and drove toward the dog park, Belle giving him directions via Google Maps on her phone. Monty's old station wagon came from the era that had cassette players rather than Bluetooth and GPS—and, like many other things in his car, said cassette player did not work.

It only took five minutes to reach the park. Monty swung into McGrath Street, then parked under one of the old trees that ran along the verge on the right. I took a final sip of tea, then tucked it into the middle console for safekeeping and climbed out, swinging my pack over my shoulders. A couple of dogs were barking in the park behind the trees, though the thick greenery lining the dividing fence made it impossible to see what they were. They did sound like yappy little terriers, though.

"According to Google's satellite map," Belle said, studying her phone's screen, "all the houses in this area have some kind of shed."

I wrinkled my nose and glanced at the house directly opposite. Like many of the houses in the street, it was an older-style brick building that wasn't overly large, and the shed—which I could see from where I stood—was the type that stored tools. It would barely be big enough to stand upright with your arms outstretched in let alone lie on the ground pinned by stakes.

"We're after something larger than a common garden shed," Monty said, moving around the car and stopping beside us. "We're probably looking more at a garage-style one."

"I'm not seeing anything like that here." She paused, moving her fingers over the image, enlarging one area. "There is, however, an old house back on the main road, with a factory on one side and the dog park right behind it. There are a couple of outbuildings to one side of it that might fit the bill."

"We might as well check it out from the safety of the footpath, before the others get here," Monty said, and grandly waved us forward. "The ladies with all the appropriate skills should go first."

I left the shade of the tree and wished almost instantly I'd thought to bring a hat. It was damnably hot, even though we were barely past lunchtime. As we reached the end of the street, Ashworth arrived and swung in behind us, parking illegally on the footpath.

"Discovered anything yet?" he asked as he and Eli caught up with us. He was very sensibly wearing a floppy toweling hat, though it had very definitely seen better days. Rather like his rock ?n' roll T-shirt and grungy jeans, really.

"No, but there's what looks to be an abandoned house round the corner that holds possibilities," Monty replied.

"An abandoned house is a more likely holding cell than a shed in someone's yard, no matter what our resident vampire might be sensing through her creature," Eli said. He was a tall, well-built, and very handsome man in his late sixties, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes. And, unlike his husband, was impeccably dressed even if he was only wearing cargo shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.

"He's pinned to dirt though," I said. "That suggests he's not in the house."

"Unless the house has no floors," Belle said. "Or perhaps he's simply been shoved under them. That would also explain her sense of restricted space."

"Possible." The sound of an approaching siren had me looking around. A ranger vehicle raced toward us. "That'll be Jaz."

We stopped near the old house's gate, and she swung in beside us, braking hard enough to send dust flying. She bounced out of the SUV, her grin wide. "Sorry for the noise, but the traffic wouldn't get out of my way fast enough without it."

"And besides that, you like going fast with all sirens blazing," I said, voice dry.

"There is that." She stopped beside me and studied the old house, her golden eyes bright in the sunshine. "That's the Hargraves' place. The old girl who owns it was moved into aged care some ten years ago but refused to sell the place. Insisted her son still lives there."

"And does he?" Monty asked.

Jaz shook her head. "He died fifteen years ago. Before my time, but apparently he was cleaning the roof, slipped off, and broke his neck." She sniffed and glanced pointedly at Ashworth "Older men and ladders are never a good combination, in my limited experience."

"Glad I'm not the only one who was casting him a disapproving eye," Eli said, his tone also dry.

"Hey," Ashworth said, raising his hands. "I had all the magical protections necessary, so was never in danger. Now, is anyone sensing anything untoward around that house?"

"Yeah," Belle said, "the old lady was right. Her son is living here."

Monty's gaze shot toward her. "We've got a ghost?"

"Indeed." She frowned. "A very pissed-off one, too."

"Because he's dead?" Eli asked. "Or because his mother no longer lives there?"

"Neither. He's been blocked from the house."

"By magic?" I studied the building with a frown. "Because I'm not sensing anything."

"Not magic." She wrinkled her nose. "It's a physical barrier of some kind, from what he's saying."

"What sort of physical barrier can block a ghost?" Jaz asked, her expression confused.

"Salt is most commonly used," Eli said. "But iron is also a well-known deterrent. It's also said that cat's eye shells can block them, though they're more commonly used in Europe and the Middle East for protection against the evil eye."

"The things you learn," Jaz muttered, amusement obvious.

I smiled and glanced at Belle. "Can you ask him if anyone has been going in and out of the building?"

She hesitated. "He hasn't seen anyone, but he's heard some activity both in the house and in the sheds."

"Has he been in the sheds?" I asked.

"No, because apparently they're full of snakes and he hates snakes."

Monty snorted. "He's a ghost. The bastards aren't likely to see him, let alone bite him."

"Becoming a ghost doesn't mean you lose all your pre-ghost prejudices and fears," Belle said dryly. "It just means you can't be hurt by them."

"Perhaps we should briefly split up," Ashworth said. "Eli and I will check the sheds, you three do a walk around the house."

"If you're opening and entering the sheds, I'll come with you to record it," Jaz said.

Ashworth nodded and the three of them headed through the broken gate and around to the left. We went straight on, following the rutted stony path toward the old truck parked at the end of the drive. It had a decided lean on it, suggesting the tires and possibly even the springs on the driver's side had gone. It was also covered in bird crap, cobwebs, and dirt. I suspected the last person to drive it was the man who now haunted the place.

The house itself was an old miners' cottage with a rectangular section built onto the back that jutted out an extra ten feet from the end of the main house. The red tin roof on the original part had partially collapsed, but all the windows remained intact and there was no graffiti to be seen anywhere, which was unusual in this day and age. Maybe our ghost kept both taggers and vandals away. Fifteen years was certainly long enough for a more determined spirit to gain some skill in interacting with this world, even if it was nothing more than unleashing a moan or shifting random bits of furniture.

We moved around to the back of the building. A covered veranda ran its length, with two smallish square windows sitting either side of a wooden door. Monty jumped up onto the veranda, the wood under his feet bending alarmingly as he walked over and checked the door. The handle turned, but the door itself didn't budge.

"According to our ghost," Belle said, "there's a metal bar jamming it from the inside."

"Explains why it isn't moving and why he can't pass through it." He walked over to the nearest window and cupped a hand against the glass to peer in. "There's salt on the windowsill and along the base of the external walls."

"No surprise, though it doesn't explain why he can't get in through the roof," I commented.

"It's probably corrugated iron." Monty checked the other window, then turned and headed down the other end. "These days, it's usually powder-coated steel."

He checked the final two windows, then jumped off the patio and continued around the building. When we neared the end of the building, my senses burned to life and the faintest wave of agony rolled over me but just as quickly disappeared. I stopped. "Unless there's someone else being pinned by ash stakes that we don't know about, then he's here."

Monty swung around. "You can't tell if it's him or not? Isn't that unusual given you've Maelle's ring and have some sense of his—or at least—Maelle's emotional and psychic energy?"

"I'm afraid I threw the ring back at her."

"Why? I mean, I could understand throwing a pointy ash stake or holy water, but that ring?—"

"Was being used to track our movements."

"Ah."

"Yeah." I motioned toward the house. "As for the wave, I didn't have time to examine it—it simply hit and then disappeared."

"Did you have a chance to pin a location at all?"

"It was close, but more under the house than in." I squatted down, peering through the gaps between the boards screening the house's stumps. Despite the brightness of the day, it was as dark as hades under the house. I tugged my phone from my pocket, flicked on the flashlight app, and shone it through. The light hit an impregnable wall of darkness three feet in. "Whatever—whoever's—emotions I sensed, they're lying behind those shadows."

Monty squatted beside me and studied the shadow wall. "And they are definitely caused by magic. It's just of a frequency so low it wouldn't register along regular sensory lines unless you're close. I suspect the threads are also dark, so wouldn't stand out against the shadows."

"All of which would no doubt take some serious magical nous," Belle said.

Monty rose and walked around to the front of the original section of the house. It was smaller than the extension, with only one window on either side of the old wooden door. He stopped abruptly at the halfway point between the house's end and the steps and squatted again. "There's something here—a pin of some sort."

"A pin?" I squatted beside him, my hand briefly brushing the ground to balance. In that instant, a thick wave of emotion rolled through me, singeing my senses and sucking the breath from my lungs. I jerked my fingers away, and instantly the wave stopped. I hesitated, then warily ran my fingers across the dirt. Emotion chased after the movement—and so too did power.

The wild magic.

It was here, in the ground, responding to my touch and somehow enhancing my ability to see and feel past that dark veil.

Or perhaps , Belle said, it's the Fenna doing what they can to help you stop the stain of darkness pressing into the ground and subsequently them.

Maybe. I'd certainly formed a direct connection with the earth's power before by being barefoot, but this was the first time it had happened by merely brushing my fingers across it. And it made me wonder if, perhaps, it was a more direct way to converse with the Fenna— not that I was going to attempt that here, with all that emotion building up behind the shadow wall.

I ran my fingers across the ground a third time, this time asking what lay beyond the shadows ahead. The whispers rose, speaking of foulness pinned to the earth and blood staining.

"And just what might you and Belle be silently discussing?" Monty asked, breaking my concentration and making me jump.

"Sorry, I was just caught off guard by another surge of emotion." I lightly touched his arm. "What is a pin?"

"Nice redirect, but I'll play along. It's generally a single spell stone that is used as an anchor point for minor spells like the shadow wall we're seeing."

I frowned. "Why would a shadow wall spell need an anchor point? Spells like that usually don't."

"Pins are generally used in enclosed spaces and tend to make the spells harder for passing witches to spot." He waved a hand toward the house. "Case in point."

"I wouldn't call under the house an enclosed space, though," Belle said, then cocked her head sideways, obviously listening to our ghost. "And I would be wrong. There's an old root cellar positioned just behind that shadow wall."

"Is a root cellar any different to a regular cellar?" I asked.

"Only in that they're generally roughly constructed from earth, and used for storage of vegetables, fruits, nuts, or other foods," Ashworth said as he, Eli, and Jaz came around the corner. "They weren't used much here in Australia, though. They're more an English and American thing. I take it you've found one?"

"Our ghost confirms its presence," Belle said.

"And so does the wild magic," I said." Or rather, our Fenna whisperers."

Eli squatted beside us. "Have you tried taking out that pin? It should dismantle the shadows."

"Having only read about pins rather than having dealt with them, no I have not," Monty said, then added with a grin, "Thought it best to wait for the more ancient members of this investigative team to dispense their wisdom."

"That would be Eli you're talking about, then," Ashworth said, with a grin at his partner.

"Oh, he definitely was." Eli's voice was droll. "He did, after all, mention wisdom."

"Rather than simply knocking the pin out of alignment," I said, rolling my eyes at the two of them, "can you retrieve it? I might be able to track the current location of whoever it belongs to."

"The last time you tried that," Ashworth commented, "Jaqueline attacked you through the connection and then set the basilisk after us."

"She caught me unawares that time." I squinted up at him. "And this might be our only chance to ferret out the location of Marie and her crew."

"Of which there are now far less, thanks to Maelle's actions," Monty said.

"Indeed, but that's likely to have only made them angrier, laddie."

"And an angry vampire might be more prone to make a mistake," Monty replied. "Right now, we've nothing much else to work with."

Ashworth made an "indeed" sort of movement with his hand, and Eli got down to business. After studying the shadow wall through narrowed eyes for a moment, he rose and moved closer to the front stairs. Squatting once again, he started to spell. Magic rolled around his fingers, forming a glittering thread of ever-increasing length. Then, with a short, sharp flick of his fingers, he sent the thread whipping through the baseboards into the darkness. There was a brief flash of purplish light, then the shadows fell away, revealing a solid wall of stone around five feet in length that ran from the ground to the floor joists.

A heartbeat later, the whip curled back and dropped a rounded black stone into Eli's hand. Even from where I was, I could feel the residual pulse of darker magics emanating from it, but I had no idea whether it belonged to Jaqueline or Marie.

"Well," he said, "the stone certainly has the deep stain of blood magic on it, but I'm not sensing anything active."

"It's still worth trying to maintain the pulse that remains," Monty said.

Eli nodded in agreement, wrapped the stone in a protective spell, then glanced up at Jaz. "You got a glove on you?"

"I do indeed," she replied, handing him one. "It might be an idea if I held it while you lot concentrate on whatever else lies under the house."

" That appears to be a stone wall built between joists," Monty said.

"According to our ghost, that's a stairwell link between the house and the cellar," Belle said.

I glanced up at the building. "So, we're looking at the kitchen? At the front of the house?"

"Given the positioning of the wall," Eli said, "I think it more likely we have a small living or bedroom at the front, then the cellar stairs—which usually have their own entrance—and then the kitchen at the back."

He rose, jumped up onto the steps, and walked across to the door.

"He also says there's another iron bar across the door," Belle said.

"Easy enough to deal with." He pressed his fingers against the door, and his magic rose again. After a brief moment, there was a heavy thump. Eli twisted the handle and opened the door. Air brushed past me. Our ghost, rushing back into his home.

He's missing his favorite soap, Belle said, her amusement running down the mental lines. Which is, in case you're curious, The Young and the Restless .

Meaning his mom or whoever handles her legal affairs must have ensured electricity remains connected to at least the TV room. But the bigger question is, how on earth is that soapy still running after all these years?

Belle's amusement increased. There's a surprising number of people who love that show. Apparently, he got hooked when he brought lunch home for himself and his mom. They used to sit down to watch it together, and it's a ritual he likes to continue now that she's not here.

That's lovely.

He's a lovely ghost. He was just angry at being locked out. She waved a hand. I promised we'd break the salt lines so he can move around freely.

Nice idea . I followed Monty up the steps and, after Jaz had taken the required photos, we warily stepped through the door. The TV room door was closed—our ghost obviously wanted privacy to watch his show—but the door to our left was open. The room was empty aside from the framework of a dismantled bed leaning against the outer wall.

Eli and Monty had stopped at the next door along, which was open. The scent drifting past spoke of musty darkness, dank earth, and blood. I had my shields locked down tight, but could still feel the distant caress of agony.

"The cellar is practically writhing with protection spells," Monty said, his expression grim. "It's going to take us fucking ages to break them."

I stopped and peered past his arm. Steep wooden steps led into a deeper darkness lit by a thick, twisting mess of spell threads that glowed either a deep purple or ghastly green, two colors synonymous with darker spells.

"Those spells aren't covering the stairs," I noted. "I'll climb down?—"

"I'm thinking that's probably a bad idea," Ashworth said from behind me. "Just because we can't see any triggers on the stairs doesn't mean they're not there."

"But if I'm touching the earth, it will warn me about them."

Eli glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "Is this a recent development? Because it's not something that's happened before, is it?"

I hesitated. "I've certainly used the earth to find someone before. I just didn't really understand the reason for the connection."

"What you're about to do sounds more a direct interaction, though."

"Because the Fenna want Roger and the stain of his blood gone from the earth, so they've decided to help me."

"The book hasn't mentioned that as a possibility. Not so far, anyway."

"It didn't mention the wellspring's source being the cumulus of past Fenna souls either, so maybe whoever wrote the book didn't know about it."

"Possible." He studied the darkness for a second. "It still might be best to test the waters first, so to speak, and send something else down those stairs."

"That won't help if the triggers are set to react to flesh," Monty said. "Besides, if there's something lurking we can't see, it'll just give them warning we're on our way."

"Laddie, if there's something lurking, then its already aware we're here," Ashworth said. "We haven't exactly been quiet."

"Besides," I said, taking off my pack and handing it to Monty. "If we start worrying about everything we can't see, we'll get nowhere fast."

"And the ‘fools rush in' mode of operation returns with a bang," Belle said dryly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't alter the fact I'm the best choice to do this. I have both my inner wild magic and the wilder stuff looking out for me. Everyone else here does not."

"I'm not arguing. I'm just pointing out a fact."

"And the fact is, she's going anyway," Monty added.

I grinned and stepped down. The wood bowed under my weight. I froze, but there was no indication it was about to give way. I took another step, then placed one hand on the stone and earth wall and created a repel spell around the other, just in case.

The whisperers stirred and then fell silent. Other than expressing a desire that I hurry up, they obviously had nothing else to say. I continued on warily, moving past the stone wall and into the actual ground, but the whisperers remained silent, and the only magic that burned my senses was the tumultuous swirl of threads that lay to the right of the bottom step.

I paused on the final step and scanned the earth. I couldn't see anything that suggested there was any sort of trap—magical or otherwise—and the air was still and dank. The thick weave of magic to my right flickered briefly as I stepped down, but otherwise, didn't react. This close, it was possible to see past the ribbons of darkness, though the figure lying a few feet beyond the barrier was little more than a ghostly shadow. A shadow missing the bottom part of his right leg.

Unless Marie had decided to amputate someone else's leg for the sheer hell of it—and right now, I wouldn't put anything past her—it had to be Roger.

He wasn't moving. Wasn't breathing. Not that I could see, anyway. But then, as Belle had noted, he was a thrall and probably didn't really need to.

I glanced up and gave the all clear. Monty immediately clattered down, followed by Ashworth.

"There's definitely a number of trigger points built into those protective layers," he said after a moment. "And given their weight, I suspect we wouldn't be dealing with a lesser demon."

"No surprise, given Roger isn't just bait but a means of weakening Maelle," Monty said. He squatted down and motioned toward the ground. "The spells don't cover the earth. Maybe we—or rather, Lizzie—can use that to our advantage."

"How? It's not like we can tunnel—" I stopped. We might not be able to—not without the right equipment and the possibility of destroying a good portion of our ghost's house—but maybe the wild magic could.

"Exactly," Monty said, obviously guessing where my thoughts had leapt. "If the wild magic intended to consume the entire damn O'Connor compound, that surely means it can shift a few meters of dirt and create a tunnel for us to drag Roger out."

"It would certainly be one way of skirting the protections," Ashworth said. "If—and that's a big if—they haven't countered the possibility. They're obviously aware of Liz's ability to use the wild magic."

"In her spells, yes, but why would they suspect she can use it to manipulate the earth itself?" Monty countered.

"Right now, we dare not discount any possibility."

"Rather than us standing here arguing, let's just ask." I bent and pressed a hand against the ground. Power spun about my fingertips and the whispers immediately started, once again urging me to remove the stain on the earth. I cut through the noise and asked the question. There was a brief moment of silence, then they started again. Giving directions—orders.

As I withdrew my touch, another pulse ran through the dark weave of magic, and concern stirred. I frowned and wondered if it was a warning. We hadn't touched the magic as yet, but that didn't mean it wasn't primed to react to proximity.

"Anything?" Monty asked.

I jumped a little and glanced up. "They'll help, but have warned the ground here has become unstable thanks to the press of the magic and blood, and they cannot guarantee it will not collapse and take out some of the anchors."

"We have to at least try," Monty said. "There's no guarantee that us attempting to dismantle the weave won't set something nasty off anyway."

"Might be wise if you—" I stopped and tilted my head to one side. A high-pitched, almost inaudible whining had just started, and it rather oddly seemed to be coming from the deeply threaded spell mass ahead and from somewhere beyond the house. "Do you hear that?"

Ashworth frowned. "Hear what?"

"I do," Jaz said. "There's a soft whine coming from the cellar and a louder response from somewhere outside."

Another flicker ran through the tightly woven threads, a gentle pulse that suddenly reminded me of a beacon.

Oh, fuck …

"If there's something here making a noise that's beyond regular human hearing," Monty was saying, "I'm thinking it's not going to be a good thing. Maybe we should err on the side of caution and just?—"

"Out," I cut in abruptly. "Everyone get out of this house. Now. "

No one argued. They just turned and ran. I bolted up the stairs after Monty, my heart beating a million miles a minute as the high-pitched whine grew closer, stronger, fiercer.

The protective net around Roger—or rather, the pulse running through the net—was calling to whatever the hell was speeding toward us.

And we'd set that beacon off when we'd flicked aside the shadow pin.

Fear lent my feet wings. I leapt over the final couple of steps, grabbed the doorframe to steady myself as I spun around the corner, and then bolted for the front door.

But the magic below was stirring, the whine now accompanied by a wave of magic that was much deeper and darker in intent.

Jaz leapt from the front door, clearing both the veranda and the steps. Belle, Ashworth, and Eli followed her through, racing down the steps and then on toward the front gate.

The whine was now so fierce it hurt my ears, the magic below stirring with enough force that it was shaking the house. Boards cracked under my feet, and I swore, reaching for more speed, racing down a hall that now seemed impossibly long.

But it wasn't the hall.

It was me.

I was slowing. The thick waves rolling up from below were somehow snaring me, making it feel like I was running through glue. Magic flared within me but before I could react, Monty spun, tore the pack from his back, and drew his silver knife. Then he threw it, as hard as he could, into the floorboards. The magic recoiled, and I stumbled forward briefly. Monty caught my hand, and as one, we raced through the door and leapt off the veranda.

Just as the whine reached its peak and the goddamn house exploded.