He nodded. “It’s near the Oven Rock campground.”
“So called because it contains an oven?”
He laughed. “There is a natural rock formation that forms an oven, and campers do often use it to make damper, barbeque food, or boil water.”
“I’m gathering there’s nothing much in the way of facilities there.”
“Camping isn’t about facilities. It’s about the experience.”
“If there isn’t a proper loo and at least a lake to bathe in, I’m not interested.”
He cast me an amused glance. “I’ll keep a note for future holidays.”
“Then also consider that anything under four stars is akin to camping in my opinion.”
He laughed. “This from the woman who spent how many years on the run and often living in less than salubrious surroundings?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “It was all part of the disguise. Neither my father nor Clayton would have ever thought of looking for us in a hostel or boarding house.”
“At least now you’re free from all that.”
“I’m free from Clayton. Don’t for an instant think my father has finished with me.”
In fact, I wouldn’t actually be surprised if he was the reason for Sam’s presence here. Many of the Kangs were renowned lawyers, often holding prominent positions in the judiciary system. It would certainly be a worthwhile connection in my father’s eyes, and he was astute enough to realize the fact Sam’s branch of the family had a human ancestor somewhere in their past might make him far more attractive to me.
If that was the case, then it certainly meant he’d at least learned something from the whole Clayton disaster.
“Perhaps not,” Aiden said, “but you’re no longer underage, and he can’t spell you into anything anymore.”
I wasn’t so sure about the latter, but I didn’t bother admitting that. Live for the moment, worry about future heartbreak when it rolls around was the new motto I was trying to live by.
But it was damnably hard after all those years of worrying over every little detail or action.
A few kilometers outside Louton, he turned right onto a graveled road that—once we went over the rail bridge—got progressively narrower and rougher. I hung on to the handgrip in an effort to stop being tossed around, but it didn’t really help.
We eventually pulled into the camping area, although in truth it looked little different to the other scrubby, tree-filled areas we’d driven past in the last twenty minutes or so. Two green-striped, white SUVs were parked off in the trees to the right, but neither Tala nor Mac were visible.
Aiden parked his truck, and we both climbed out. I moved to the back of the vehicle and studied the area through slightly narrowed eyes. Though we were a long way from either of the wellsprings, tiny filaments of wild magic floated through the air. That seemed to be happening more and more of late, and it was decidedly odd. Layers of spells now protected the main wellspring, and it should have stopped any fragments of magic escaping. Unless, of course, these filaments were from Katie’s wellspring.
I raised a hand, and the nearest couple immediately deviated toward me. They curled around my fingers and wrists, fragile moonbeams that pulsed with power. Within that power was a sense of acknowledgment. Of kinship—and it had nothing to do with Katie, even though these threads were sourced from her wellspring. They were acknowledging the power within me—a power that burned so brightly it momentarily felt as if I was being consumed by fire.
But these filaments were her eyes and ears; they were her means of knowing what was happening within the reservation without having to leave the safety of her wellspring.
And though it wasn’t a direct connection to her, I could sense through them that nothing untoward had happened in the immediate area.
Which didn’t mean nastiness hadn’t happened in the wider area. Not even the wild magic could cover the entire reservation.
I hoped that wasn’t the case, though. The reservation—and certainly its witches—could really do with a break from the supernatural nastiness.
And of course, now that I’d put that thought out there in the wilder world, fate would no doubt take it as a challenge.
I turned and followed Aiden through the trees. He moved with the lithe grace of a predator; I was more like an uncoordinated elephant. While my merges with Katie had resulted in an odd sort of bleed over of her wolf abilities, resulting in a sharpening of my senses and even added strength, I doubted I’d ever be able to step werewolf-light through the scrub.
Tala had obviously heard me coming, because she appeared at the top of the ridge. Like most werewolves, she was on the slender side but whip strong. She was around the same height as me, with the dark skin and black hair of the Sinclair pack. She was also a lot older than either Aiden or me, having become a ranger only after trying several other careers first.
“Anything?” Aiden asked, stopping beside her.
She shook her head. “I tried contacting Patrick, but he’s not answering.”
Aiden grunted. “They’ve been having reception issues out his way of late.”
“Tell me about it,” Tala muttered. She gave me a nod of greeting. “Sorry to drag you out in the cold like this, but it may be our only shot of finding this damn kid.”
“There’s no guarantee I’ll have any better luck, especially if that bit of cloth you found is hours old.” I stopped beside Aiden, my breath condensing lightly on the air. It was going to be a bitter night.
“It’s still worth a shot. This way.”
She turned and led us along a path that was little more than a rough kangaroo track. Even with the deep shadows of night now falling, I could clearly see where I was going—an unexpected consequence of my merges with Katie.
Another figure appeared on the trail ahead—Mac. He had the typical rangy build of a werewolf, with brown skin and hair. “Still no luck getting hold of Patrick. Mari says he hasn’t come home yet.”
“Meaning he’s probably still out here.” Aiden scanned the bush with a frown. “Odd that he’s made no move to contact either of you.”
“He might have just made the report and not stayed,” Tala said.
Aiden shook his head. “Patrick’s not the type to leave a kid out here alone. He’ll be out there trying to find him. Where’s the material remnant?”
“This way.”
Mac spun on a heel and led the way off the roo track into the deeper scrub. About thirty feet in, we came across the scrap of material—and it really was just a scrap. It was only a few inches long, and half that in width, and had been snagged by the thorns of a rather nasty-looking bush. It also was at hip height, which suggested we weren’t dealing with a littlie, but rather someone older. Relief stirred; an older kid might be just as afraid as a toddler, but they’d be a little more capable of survival. Or, at least, I hoped they were.
Aiden stepped to one side and motioned me forward. I squatted in front of the piece of material and studied it through narrowed eyes. If there was one thing I’d learned over the last few months, it was to never take anything at face value—not when it came to dealing with the machinations of supernatural entities, at any rate.
There was no immediate indication that’s what we were dealing with here—no caress of magic or supernatural foulness immediately evident on the blue scrap—but unease nevertheless stirred.