Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant #1)(44)

Hugh reached over and held out his hand. The entire column was behind them, watching. She gritted her teeth and put her hand into his.

“Oh look, my skin isn’t smoking,” Hugh murmured.

“You’re overdoing it with the PDAs.”

“We’re newlyweds. If I threw you over my shoulder and dragged you into the woods, that would be overdoing it.”

The image flashed before her. “Try it. They won’t even find your bones.”

“Oh, darling, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding my bone.”

She tried to jerk her hand out of his, but he was holding her tight and she couldn’t yank her fingers out without making a scene. “Sure thing. I think I packed a magnifying glass.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.

“You’ll pay for that,” she ground out.

“Mmm, are you going to punish me? Kinky girl.”

Insufferable ass. Elara let a tendril of her magic slither from her fingers and lick his skin. He didn’t let go.

They caught up with Armstrong and Chambers. Chambers was looking at them wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry, Deputy,” Hugh winked at him. “I’m just trying my wife’s patience with public displays of affection.”

“Ignore him,” she said, smiling. “He has no boundaries.”

“I’m only human,” Hugh said.

Yes, you are.

A dark shape rushed through the woods and Sharif emerged on the road, his eyes shining with the telltale shapeshifter glow. Deputy Chambers grabbed for the vial on his belt.

“The road is clear,” Sharif reported. “Empty palisade. The scents are old.”

Chambers let go of the vial, and she glimpsed the pale-yellow substance inside. The color was almost gone. Opportunity.

“Your wolfsbane has soured, my friend,” Hugh said, letting go of her.

Ah! He saw it too.

Chambers startled.

“He’s right,” she said, holding out her hand. “Here.”

Chambers unclipped the vial from his waist and handed it over. She unscrewed the top and smelled it. Barely any scent. “Sharif, would you mind?”

The werewolf took the vial and held it to his nose. “Tingly.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the vial back.

“Potent wolfsbane should’ve sent him into a sneezing fit,” Hugh said. “A strong wolfsbane has a deep orange color.”

“It should be stored in a dark container in a cold place,” Elara added. “Until you’re ready to use it.”

“Sadly, the stuff they issue us is barely yellow to begin with,” Armstrong said.

“We’re the biggest producer of wolfsbane in the region,” Elara said.

“We can cut them a deal, can’t we, honey?” Hugh asked.

“I’m sure we can.” They would take a loss on it. It didn’t matter. The contacts and good will at the county level was worth more than all their wolfsbane put together. “How much are you paying per gram now?”

“We pay five hundred per half-pound,” Armstrong said.

She waved her hand. “We can do better than that. We will supply you with premium quality wolfsbane at six hundred per pound.”

Armstrong blinked. “We don’t want to take advantage.”

“Call it law enforcement discount,” Elara said.

“Look,” Hugh said, his face somber. “One day things could happen, and I may not be here when they do. My wife might be in danger. My future children. My people. When that day comes, I’ll count on you to ride out here just as you’re doing now and uphold the law. You can’t do that if you’re dead. Let us fix this small thing for you. It’s the least we can do to help.”

Wow, he was good. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve believed every word. What a “good” man I’ve got there. Elara almost rolled her eyes.

“I’ll have to run it by the chain of command,” Armstrong said.

“The wolfsbane will be ready to go when you are,” Elara said.

The road turned. The empty palisade loomed ahead.





Hugh watched the forensic mage read the magic scanner’s printout. The m-scanners sensed the residual magic and printed them as colors: blue for humans, green for shapeshifters, purple for vampires. They were, at best, imprecise and clumsy; at worst, misleading. He’d seen printouts that made no sense, and from the faint lines on the paper, this one held very little value. The magic signatures were too old. Whatever took the people was long gone. Might as well get some druids to cut open a black chicken and study its liver.

Speaking of druids. He turned slightly to watch Elara’s magic users waiting patiently outside of the palisade. They wore the typical neo-pagan garb; light hooded robes, just generic enough to make it difficult to pin them down. They could be witches, druids, or worshippers of some Greek god.

Eight people. Not really enough for a coven.

His gaze slid to the harpy. There was something witchy about Elara. When he goaded her into letting her magic out, it felt odd, a touch witchlike, a touch female, and a whole lot of something else, sharp and cold. Daniels had felt like that, a little witchy, but mostly her magic felt like boiling blood. Elara was ice.