Tied With a Bow

misogynist?”
    “That’s him. You can talk to him later, I suppose.” Porter sighed. “Robin, what have you gotten me into?”
    So Benedict’s inclusion was Robin’s idea? Satisfaction flickered, deep down. Arjenie’s aunt must trust him more than he’d thought. “I’ll be useful,” he assured the sheriff. “You’ll be glad you brought me in.”
     
     
    The body had been found near the portion of Moss Creek that ran through Foggy Draw. That surprised Arjenie—she hadn’t thought anyone lived near the draw. It was rough country. Also a lot closer to Delacroix land that it would seem from the time it took to get there. They’d had to go roundabout, to the far end of the draw where there was a bridge, then back again.
    The deputy’s car marked the place where they had to turn off the county road onto a pair of ruts that didn’t really deserve the designation of road. Robin was telling Arjenie what they’d do as they headed down that tree-lined track. “First we’ll cast for traces of magic. We want to know if this is a normal bear or something else. Once we know that, I’ll try a Find, using that bit of fur they found as a focus. I may need to draw on the circle, depending on how close the creature is.”
    Arjenie nodded. One reason Wicca had survived when magic grew so thin after the Purge was the way Wiccan circles could pool their power so the high priest or priestess could use it. “You’ll scry for magic first?”
    “Yes. I’ll do it in circle so we’ll be ready to move to the defining spell if I find any traces of magic.”
    Though a circle always helped, it wasn’t necessary to scry for magic. But the defining spell did take a circle, and the courts would only accept findings from a defining spell. It revealed the presence and type of magic to the entire circle, not just the principle caster, and having multiple witnesses testify to the same findings was supposed to eliminate individual bias or error. “If you’re needed to Find the creature, I can handle the defining spell.”
    “If I’m not in the circle, the numbers are off.”
    “Benedict could participate.”
    Her eyebrows rose. “He can take part in a Wiccan circle?”
    “I don’t see why not. He can’t cast spells, but he’s got plenty of power.”
    Porter spoke. “This is as far as we go in the car.”
    The dirt tracks ended in a make-do sort of turnaround where cars had come often enough to keep grass and weeds down. Directly ahead a dark wall of trees and foliage marked the edge of the draw; their headlights picked out a bright yellow strip of crime scene tape tied between a small tree and a bush. Arjenie figured that marked the path they’d take down into the draw.
    They parked next to another sheriff’s department car. The deputy belonging to this one was female and stood outside her vehicle, holding a rifle. “Keep your weapon in the holster,” Porter told Benedict, then clicked something that unlocked the back doors. Arjenie climbed out, the backpack she’d borrowed from Sammy in one hand.
    Clay and the twins were right behind them in the weathered Ford truck Robin used in her veterinary practice. He stopped the truck a few yards back of the sheriff’s car. There wasn’t much room.
    “All quiet?” Porter asked his deputy. The woman nodded and said she hadn’t seen or heard anything but a raccoon.
    The wind was stronger than ever, making Arjenie glad she’d brought her heavy jacket. Night had firmly fallen while they were on the way here, and while she had pretty good night vision, the sky was seriously overcast. She couldn’t see well at all.
    A few feet away, Benedict had his head up, looking around. Or maybe smelling around. Clay and the twins climbed out of the truck with a dual slamming of doors.
    Arjenie had a flashlight in her backpack, but she couldn’t resist showing off a little. “Shazzam,” she whispered—and a ball of light sprang into being a couple feet above her head.
    The word was a trigger, not the spell itself—which she’d learned from Cynna, who’d gotten it from Cullen, who picked it up when the two of them were in Edge. It was an almost purely spoken spell—those were rare—but everyone who wasn’t a sorcerer like Cullen had to add one physical component: a drop of their own blood to link it to them. Once cast, though, the spell could be held in abeyance for days. Arjenie usually recast the spell once a week so she’d have it ready if she needed it.
    “Nice!”