As usual, the psychic part of my soul had no answers as to why.
I tentatively reached out and touched the strip of material. Nothing. I drew in a deep breath, then opened the psychometry “gates.” On a surface level, the talent let me trace misplaced items and sense emotions via touch. On a deeper level, I could track missing people or slip into the mind of whoever owned the item I was holding, allowing me to see and experience whatever was happening to them at the time. The latter was not something I did very often—I’d discovered the hard way just how dangerous being locked into the mind of another could be.
However, both sides of the talent needed some form of connectivity to work—like constant use or the wearer only recently having stripped the item off—and that didn’t appear to be the case here.
“Anything?” Aiden asked.
“No. It’s been at least six hours since this scrap was torn away.”
A flicker caught my attention. A filament of wild magic spun around the material, darted toward me, and then returned to the material.
Katie, using the wild magic to make a suggestion.
But if she knew what was going on or where the missing kid was, why didn’t she just use the filament to connect with me? Or was it more a matter that she knew something was off, but didn’t know the specifics? She might be the reservation’s true guardian but not even she could be everywhere or see everything.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “There is one more thing I can try, though I’m not sure it’ll actually work.”
“Is it dangerous?” Aiden asked.
I glanced up. “It may be the only chance we have of finding this kid quickly.”
He hesitated and then nodded sharply. Not happy about the unspoken risk but also not willing to let a kid wander around an area filled with old mine shafts any longer than necessary.
I just hoped the idea would work. I’d certainly woven wild magic through my spells often enough—even if it had mostly been unintentional—so it was theoretically possible that I could use it to enhance my psychic abilities.
But there were no guidebooks when it came to this sort of thing. One of Monty’s connections in Canberra had found an old book titled Earth Magic: Its Uses and Dangers—earth magic being the original name for wild magic—that held the promise of being a font of forgotten information, but it hadn’t yet arrived. Things tended to move slowly in Canberra’s dusty halls.
I took another deep breath and then carefully pulled a filament of power from the fiery inner river and directed it toward my fingers and the cloth. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then tiny sparks of white began to dance across the material, weaving in and out of its threads as if sewing itself into the material. The whole scrap began to glow, and in the outer recesses of my mind, shadows stirred. I frowned and psychically reached for them, but the fragile wisps of memory spun away from my grasp. I swore softly and pushed harder. The shadows abruptly solidified, and images slammed into my mind so hard and fast it tore a gasp from my throat.
What I saw was death.
But it wasn’t a kid or even a teenager.
It was an adult. A werewolf.
Patrick Sinclair, to be exact.
Chapter Two
I released the scrap of material and pushed back, landing with a grunt on my butt.
“You okay?” Aiden squatted in front of me, his expression concerned.
“Yes. No.” I took a deep breath and then met his gaze. “It’s not good news. He’s dead.”
He scraped a hand across his bristly chin, the sound like sandpaper in the still evening. “An accident? Or something worse?”
“Worse.” I hesitated and gently touched his arm. “It’s not a kid, Aiden. It’s Patrick.”
The wave of disbelief, pain, and sorrow hit so hard, it had me gasping for air even as tears sprang to my eyes. I was generally well shielded against the onslaught of emotion that sometimes came with an unguarded touch, but there was no shielding against this—and not just because of its crushing strength. Our connection—and the growing depth of my feelings for him—had made it virtually impossible.
Who knew love could have such a brutal consequence?
I quickly let go of his arm and flexed my fingers in a vague effort to release the lingering wash of his emotions.
“I’m sorry, Aiden—”
He nodded, short and sharp. His expression was stony, the emotions I could feel so sharply well hidden. “Are you able to lead us to him?”
“I think so.” Though I was no longer touching the fabric, the images I’d accessed still burned in my mind. While I doubted they’d be enough to guide me directly, sparks still flickered across the material remnant. Once again, unease stirred. Not because of what I’d just done, but because there were undoubtedly a lot more surprises in store when it came to the inner wild magic.
I swallowed heavily. I could tell myself all I wanted not to worry about the changes and what they might mean, but the truth of the matter was, it scared the hell out of me. And while I did need to understand what was happening, I also feared taking that step would send me down a path from which there was no retreat.
I’d say retreat hasn’t been an option for a while now came Belle’s comment. Besides, ignoring a problem—or running from it—never leads to anything good.
Depends on the problem. Running from Clayton had given us the time—and, in the end, the power—to deal with him.
That was a somewhat unique situation, though.
In terms of uniqueness, I think my connection to the wild magic would be so far off the scale it’d be in space. And why are you listening to my thoughts? Where’s Monty?
Running late, apparently. Her tone was somewhat peeved, though I was well aware she was in fact only talking to keep my mind off the death I’d soon be finding. If he doesn’t hurry up, we’ll miss the start of the movie.
I’m sure he has a good reason.
He hasn’t. A phone call delayed him, apparently.
He does have to work occasionally—although I will admit it’s odd that he’s chosen a call over a date with his future wife.
I could almost see her eye roll. Seriously? Enough with that crap.
Okay. But only if you promise to block my thoughts and just enjoy your night out.
She sighed. It was a very put-upon sound. Fine. I promise.
Aiden’s hand appeared in front of my nose. “Let’s go.”
I took another of those deep breaths that didn’t do jack-squat to ease the inner tension, then clasped his hand. He pulled me up easily, but the pulse of his sorrow once again echoed through me.
I blinked back the sting of tears and ducked away from his gaze. “Am I able to take the cloth with me?”
“Yes.” He quickly untangled it and handed it to me. “How far away is he?”
“Some distance.”
I wrapped my fingers around the material and reached again for the inner wild magic. Though I directed it back onto the cloth, slivers also shot down my legs, only to pool around my toes.
As if blocked.
Instinct stirred again. My boots …
I swore, sat back down, and quickly pulled them off.
“What the hell are you doing?” Aiden asked.