Page 43 of A Dragon's Desire (The Pretern Wars 2)

Before she could give into the urge to linger, Gia pulled away and focused her attention on the hex bag, the faint echo of power in it sending a jolt up her arm. Again, Gia was struck with a wave of familiarity. Clever, clever girl, she thought.

“Amy, for somebody who doesn't like those with abilities, you certainly don’t mind taking advantage of those of us gifted with magic.”

This was old magic she held, something not often seen in this part of the world. She should have paid more attention when Amy had used the first hex bag, learned where she’d come across such a thing, where...why...how.

Amy didn’t respond, but Gia hadn’t really expected an answer. Flicking a look up, she said, “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a hedge witch, honey.”

Amy’s gaze clouded at that. “I’m not a hedge witch. I don’t...I’m human.”

“Are you?” Gia made a sound low in her throat, considering the woman more closely than she had before as she contemplated. But the hex bag first.

After another close inspection, she worked lose the finely-worked iron wire holding it closed, aware of Amy’s confused speculation. Once the iron wire was free, Gia dropped it and looked at Amy.

“You, and whatever hedge witch you’ve been working with, don’t know as much as you think you do,” she said chidingly.

“I’m...” Amy’s throat worked as she stopped to swallow, then, in a belated show of wisdom, she nodded.

Too little, too late, because Gia’s gut told her that Amy had done far, far worse than just lead some of Gia’s kind into traps. But there was time for that later. Carefully, she reached inside the bag and plucked out a long nail, also iron. She held it up In the dim light for a dramatic study then gave it the same treatment the wire.

“That's pure iron,” Amy said in dismay.

Gia smiled. “As I said, you don’t know as much as you think you do.” Striding to the fire, she tossed it on. The second the bag caught flame, something within her snapped into place and she gritted her teeth against the agony that shot through the bond between her and her shade.

The bond had been misaligned, somehow—not blocked. That, she would have sensed. But this had been almost as bad because she hadn’t sensed the danger, not to her shade, nor to her.

And the danger wasn’t over because her shadow was in agony.

Spinning around, she rushed to the spectral figure’s side.

Her shadow was no longer trapped, twisting in mid-air, a frozen spiral of misery, but she wasn’t free, either. And she hurt. Damn it. There was another element to the hex, something she’d missed.

“What did you use for the binding? Where is it?” Gia demanded, snarling at Amy over her shoulder.

“A circle of salt and yarrow. Mixed with tincture of water, silver nitrate and...other stuff.” Amy's words quavered. “Once it was cast, the circle burned itself into the floor. I can’t break it. They never taught me how.”

Burned itself into the floor?Gia thought. Yeah, not on its own, it didn’t.

Angling her head around to look at the woman, Gia drew in a slow, careful breath through her nostrils, letting it roll over the back of her tongue, tasting it. She broke down several layers of a complicated scent pattern. It wasn’t the same as what she’d caught on the hex bag, although there were similarities.

And the most basic, strongest thread...Gia looked over at Wyn, understanding coming in a flood.

“Don't,” Amy whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Please, don’t.”

Gia continued to eye Wyn and saw the misery and shame on his face, and knew she was right.

“Don’t what, Amy?” she asked, looking back at the woman. The boy’s mother. She’d used him, used his blood to help seal that spell to trap her shade. “Don’t say that you’ve used your son’s magic since your blood is too weak?”

A low, angry growl rumbled out of Sorin’s chest.

“What?” he demanded.

“Not now,” Gia said, shaking her head. “I’m too furious to be rational. And I have to be rational.”

Rational, and not a monster, not while the boy watched.

Turning her back on Amy and trusting Sorin to watch her back, she paced over to her shade and hunkered down. Thanks to the scent on the hex bag, and what lingered in the air, she could track the other hex, even if she couldn’t see it. Thank Underhill for her keen sense of smell, otherwise this would have taken more time.

Elbows braced on her knees, she studied the faded old boards words of the cabin floor. “Fuck me, it’s pecan wood.”

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