Page 2 of Fierce Highland Magic

"And where is this pedestrian now?"

"I don't know. She vanished."

"Vanished."

"I'm getting out to check."

"Lyra, listen to me. Lock the doors, turn around, and drive to the inn."

"I can’t drive away if someone is injured."

"You can call emergency services."

"I have no location beyond a road I may or may not be able to identify. I have no proof anyone is there. And I'm not leaving a potentially injured woman in a ditch because it's inconvenient."

Cat sighed. She didn’t sound irritated. She was worse than irritated. She was affectionate.

"You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Find a vulnerable person and decide the rules don’t apply to you."

"That’s not what is happening."

"Mm."

"It isn't."

There was nothing useful to say to that. Cat knew me too well, which was a separate category of risk I had somehow permitted into my life.

I pulled on my waterproof jacket and tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear as I opened the door. Rain slapped cold against my face.

The road smelled of wet earth, peat, and something sharp and green crushed beneath tires.

"I am not wandering," I told Cat. "I am checking a radius of approximately twenty feet from the vehicle."

"Take the flashlight."

"I have the flashlight."

"Keep me on the phone."

"I was planning to."

I clicked on the flashlight and shut the car door. The beam cut through rain, catching on slick grass and a torn edge of heather beyond the stone wall.

"Hello?" I called.

My voice disappeared into the weather.

I moved carefully, keeping the car in sight. The shoulder dropped away sharply on the left, the land sloping toward a shadowed loch below. Or perhaps it was only a flooded field. The storm had erased depth and distance.

"Hello?" I called again. "Are you hurt?"

Nothing answered.

No groan. No movement. No flash of reflective fabric. No break in the grass where someone might have fallen.