I narrowed my gaze and stared at the darkness gathering in the lane. After a moment, I spotted a brief flicker of magic. It was the tail end of a rather powerful concealment spell. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if that flicker had been deliberate.
“From what? The witch who leashes you?”
“Yes.”
“And you want my help?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you try to kill me?”
“Thought you her.”
Meaning my instincts had been spot-on. “So, this witch who looks like me—she’s in the reservation?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Cannot say. Leash prevents.”
The reply was accompanied by a fierce wave of anger at the lack of free will and her inability to refuse the kill order.
To be honest, there was a part of me that could totally sympathize with that anger, especially given my own history when it came to free will. But that was a very dangerous voice to listen to in a situation like this.
“And you wish to be free of this leash?”
“Yes. Hates being forced.”
Killing on her own terms was obviously okay. But then, she was a dark spirit—that’s what they did. “I was under the impression that dark spirits such as yourself were attracted to curses and summonings that involved those who stray. Why is this any different?”
“This more. This never ends.”
I frowned. “How long have you been leashed?”
“Months.”
Which meant the witch had been using the hone-onna to kill cheaters well before they’d ever ventured into this reservation. It also meant she was definitely using blood to strengthen her magic—there was no other way she could keep the leash strong enough to contain the hone-onna over such a long period of time.
And all that, by necessity, meant her altar had to be located within the reservation but away from the compounds—wolves could catch the scent of blood from miles away.
“If we hunt this witch down and destroy your leash, what guarantee do we have that you won’t remain in this place and keep killing?”
“Not comfortable here. Too open.”
“Which doesn’t answer the question.”
“Would trust if did?”
To be honest, no, but it was at least worth a shot. “We will kill you if you don’t leave.”
“A challenge? Like. But death? Not ready for final darkness yet.”
Which wasn’t an agreement to leave, but might be as close as we got. “Do you know where the witch keeps her circle?”
“In hills.”
“Which hills? There’re a hell of a lot of them in this place.”
“Near hot springs. More cannot say. Leash prevents.”
The witch had certainly woven a whole network of rules and compliances into her spell. But again, I guess that wasn’t surprising, given what she was attempting to control long-term. “Do you intend to kill her if we do manage to remove the leash?”
“If lives past removal, yes.”
Did that mean the leash was somehow tied to the witch’s life force? I knew it was theoretically possible, but I hadn’t ever heard of anyone actually doing it—especially when they were also using blood magic.
Monty’s looped around and is now standing at the other end of the lane came Belle’s thought. How do you want to play this?
I don’t think we should be playing it any way. I think we should just let her be and concentrate on the witch who holds the leash. Otherwise, these killings won’t stop.
At the very least, we need to be able to track her. If we can’t stop her until we find the witch, then we can at least prevent her kills.
Nice theory. Not sure it’ll work.
“Know other witch close,” the hone-onna said. “Attack me, will respond.”
“If you want our help,” I said bluntly, “we need to stop the killings.”
“Cannot. Not in control.”
“You control the way in which you kill, do you not?”
“Sometimes. Witch intervenes.”
“When it’s a woman?” I guessed.
“Yes.”
That would definitely explain why Ms. Taylor had been utterly torn apart but the men had not. “Why does your witch want the women treated differently?”
“Once betrayed.”
Which at least confirmed what we’d been presuming. “Here?”
“No. Another reservation.”
“Meaning she was betrayed by a wolf?”
“Yes.”
My confusion deepened. “Then why come here? Especially when none of those killed were werewolves?”
“First was.”
Meaning there was another kill out there? One we hadn’t found? Crap. “Where did that happen?”
“Won’t find. Destroyed.”
Obviously not by a spell bomb, then, because someone would surely have reported the explosion to the rangers. But if her very first victim had been a werewolf, why had no one been reported missing? Given pack mentality, that was definitely unusual.
“Look, we need to stop the killing. If we place a tracker on you and follow your movements, we can protect your targets.”
“No track. Won’t allow.”
She wouldn’t? Or the witch wouldn’t? I suspected the answer was a bit of both. This spirit may hate being leashed and controlled, but she wasn’t against the actual killing.
“Then I cannot help you.”
As I stepped back and started to close the door, she said, “Use bone. Will lower magic when sent on hunt. You read.”
I hesitated. Psychically connecting with a dark spirit would undoubtedly hold more than a handful of dangers … but if I was inside the reading room whenever I made the attempt, those dangers would at least be muted. It also meant I pretty much had to keep the damn bone on me twenty-four seven so I could be ready to track her movement at short notice.
“Won’t the connection between you and it fade over time?”
“Not human. Spirit. Won’t.”
“Will it help me track the witch?”
“No. I go now.”
And with that, she disappeared. Totally and utterly. There wasn’t even a hint or surge of magic.
Well, fuck, Belle said. If she can do that, she’s far stronger than we’ve been presuming.
I reached into my coat pocket, drew out the tissue-wrapped bit of bone, and unwrapped it. It felt warm and oddly heavy against my palm, but I wasn’t getting any distinct images from it this time. I wasn’t even getting anything to suggest I’d be able to track her. It wasn’t dead; it was just inert.
I wrapped it up again. Is Monty coming back here or continuing home?
Home. The rump roast is just about ready to serve.
A roast? You’re spoiling him.
Amusement rippled down the mental line. No, just ensuring he has plenty of red meat to keep his strength up.
Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of his libido faltering anytime soon.
Probably not, but it never hurts to be safe. Go rest. You need it.
I will. I closed and locked the front door. It’s probably pointless coming in too early tomorrow now. It appears we’re not going to be able to track the hone-onna until she actually wishes it.