Under any other circumstance, she might have grabbed at the chance not to be alone with him. As Helen had noted many a time, cowardice was her middle name. But it just wasn’t a good move, tactically, for them all to be in the same place. At least if there were two groups, the murdering witch after her and Trina would have to expend a lot more time and energy to find them. And in doing so, with any luck she’d give them the chance to find and stop her.
“It’s safer if we remain apart,” she said eventually.
His smile crinkled the corners of his bright eyes again. “Admit it—you like being with me, don’t you?”
Heat crept through her cheeks. “I will admit to nothing more than feeling safe with you.”
“Well, that’s a damn good start.” He pushed upright as the elevator stopped and the door opened. “After you.” He motioned her forward with a gracious sweep of his hand.
As they traveled upward, she wondered why her words seemed to please him so much. They certainly hadn’t committed her in any shape or form. Frowning, she walked out of the lift. The corridor beyond was a bright, sterile white. Blinking at the light’s harshness, she hesitated and rubbed a hand across her eyes. The brightness had invigorated the madmen in her head again.
He touched her elbow, lightly guiding her toward the only door visible. It opened before they got there, revealing a broad-shouldered, brown-haired man she would have classed the “all-American boy” type except for his eyes. They were a warm, rich brown, at once inviting and yet somehow chilling. This was a man who knew death more intimately than most.
“Russell, Kirby,” Doyle said by way of introduction.
Her hand got lost in the big man’s grip. She tried to ignore the little voice reminding her that this man was a vampire, a drinker of blood.
“Only animal blood,” Russell said, his voice as rich as his eyes and oddly soothing.
“Oh great,” she muttered. “Another one who can read my thoughts. Just what I need right now.”
Russell grinned. “I promise not to play about in your mind.”
She snorted. “Yeah, well, I guess if I’m trusting the word of a thief, I might as well trust the word of a vampire.”
Russell threw a grin over the top of her head. “I’ve got the feeling she’s not exactly sure of you yet, my friend,”
Doyle snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Though his words were aimed at his friend, his gaze found hers. For the first time, she saw that he was annoyed by her refusal to trust him completely. Even hurt by it. She looked away, troubled by the thought, and brushed past the big vampire. The office beyond was a mess—desks littered with paperwork and files, bins overflowing with takeout containers, bookcase lined with empty beer cans and stained coffee cups.
“You’ve been in Australia how long?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she glanced around.
“A week,” Russell said, bolting the door shut after them. “Give or take a day.”
She shook her head in amazement. They’d made this much mess in a week? “Another week and this place won’t be livable.”
Russell shrugged. “Another week and hopefully we’ll be out of here.”
His words reminded her of just how little time she had with Doyle. She bit her lip, blinking rapidly. Yet she refused to think about what such a reaction might mean. If she did, she’d have to admit what she felt, and she was far from ready for that.
Doyle touched her back, guiding her toward another doorway. “The boss in the interview room, Russ?”
“Yeah, tending to Trina.”
Doyle opened the second door and ushered her through. This room was shadowed, the only light provided by several flickering candles. But it was cleaner than the first and smelled of lime and lemongrass rather than old burgers. Trina was lying unmoving on the large table that dominated the center of the room. Maybe she’d passed out.
Camille was standing next to Trina, bandaging her arm. “That headache still bad?” she said, without looking up.
“Yeah.” Kirby walked around the other side of the table. Trina’s skin was almost translucent, her gray eyes closed. Even so, she looked nothing like the child Kirby had seen briefly in her vision. Her hair was blond, her face was rounder, and there was a bump near the bridge of her nose, suggesting she’d broken it at some point. They could have passed each other on the street and never known it. “She going to be all right?”
Camille nodded. “She lost some blood, but I’ve given her some herbs to help with that. She’s lucky, because the manarei’s claws didn’t hit anything vital.”
“What are you going to do with her now?”
“Keep her safe from the murdering witch, obviously.” Camille finished bandaging, then stood upright, pressing her hands against her back and stretching. Bones cracked in the silence. “Kirby, you stay here and watch the girl, and I’ll go find you some herbs for that headache. Doyle, you come with me. I need to talk to you.”
The old woman whirled and departed. Kirby raised her eyebrows. “Is she always like that?”
“Abrupt and full of energy, you mean?” A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes again. “No. You’ve hit her on a mellow day. Usually, she’s much, much worse.” He hesitated. “Just call if you need anything. I’ll be in the next room.”
She nodded and watched him walk away. He left the door slightly ajar, and she wondered why he seemed so reluctant to leave her alone. Surely the witch wouldn’t get them here, in a room eight stories up, with no windows and only one exit. A chill ran through her. But anyone who could use magic to control and transport the manarei probably wasn’t going to be daunted by a lack of entry points.
She pulled a chair close to the table and sat down. Trina was beginning to stir, her eyes moving under her closed lids and her hands twitching. Dreaming … or remembering? Kirby crossed her arms and waited. Time ticked slowly by. The candles flickered and danced, casting warm shadows across the walls. In her mind’s eye, they became ghostly figures dancing to some unknown beat, heralding in darkness and death. Her death, if she wasn’t very careful.
She rubbed a hand across her eyes, trying to shake the growing sense of dread. It was just tiredness, just imagination, nothing more.
“You,” a voice said into the silence.
She started and opened her eyes. Trina was staring at her, eyes wide and filled with fear.
“You’re okay,” she said, forcing a calmness into her voice that she certainly didn’t feel. “You’re with friends.”
She might never have even spoken, for all the notice Trina seemed to take.
“I know you,” Trina said, voice low but edged with hysteria. “You … you killed Felicity Barnes!”
“WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?” DOYLE ASKED, DROPPING down onto the chair behind Russell’s desk.
Camille propped a hip on the edge of the other desk, her expression grim. “We’ve been doing some more research into this elemental circle of Kirby’s.”
He accepted the coffee Russell offered with a grunt of thanks and tried to ignore the niggle of fear in his gut. “And?”
“According to legend, the circle was one of the most powerful forces of nature to evolve during the dawn of time. It’s said that the gods themselves split the force into five elements, to protect the Earth and all its species. It’s also said that if the elements were ever rejoined as one, the Earth itself would be torn apart.” She grimaced. “Granted, that’s not likely to happen, but joining the elements of earth, air, fire and water would certainly create a dangerous force of energy.”
He frowned. “Not that dangerous, given that Kirby apparently did join the circle when she was eleven. All it did was put a monster who deserved death into a wheelchair.”
“Not exactly true.” Russell tossed a folder across to him. “I’ve been digging around in old newspaper articles. Eighteen years ago, a very centralized quake hit Melbourne. It happened in the dead of night, in the midst of a freak storm, and the only place to be hit was a certain governm
ent facility caring for unwanted teenagers. One building was partially destroyed, and a child was killed. Several other children were injured, as well as a nurse and a caretaker who were in the building at the time.”
He opened the folder and flipped through the reports. There were images of destruction and terrified children. Kirby wasn’t among them, though why he thought he would recognize her he wasn’t entirely sure. He dropped the folder back onto the desk.
“So what you’re saying is that she caused this quake by forming the circle?”
Camille nodded. “But because she was one of five, the power was, in a sense, muted—or at least controlled. But imagine that power all placed in one body.”
“It would be damn near unstoppable,” Russell intoned. “And that’s what we’re facing, buddy boy.”
“Not yet, we’re not. Kirby and Trina are still alive.” And would remain that way, no matter what the cost—or what he had to give up.
“Yes,” Camille agreed. “But two others are dead, and while Helen managed to thwart the witch’s plans to grab her power, Rachel Grant did not. I have no doubt this is the reason she was able to summon and control two pairs of manarei as well as the zombies. No witch, light or dark, could perform spells that strong so close together without suffering some side effects.” She shuddered. “No wonder Seline was so determined to stop this.”
Doyle rubbed a hand across his eyes. There might have been three of them, but the odds, it seemed, were decidedly on evil’s side. “Have we any idea what abilities she’s stolen?”
“Given what happened inside Trina’s house, Trina is obviously earth, and it would have been her power that caused both quakes. From what Kirby has said and what we’ve discovered, it seems she is the binder, so that leaves fire and water.”
“The witch tried lashing me with fire when she locked me in that water tank,” he murmured. “So she’s definitely got that one. What power does water give her?”
Camille shrugged. “She could call in ice and freeze. She could change the course of any nearby water.”
“And Kirby? Can she do anything more than call a web of lightning to her fingers?” Because if she couldn’t, she was seriously outgunned.
“There’s not much known about binders, because they’re extremely rare.” Camille’s expression was one of annoyance. She hated not knowing. “In theory, she should only be able to use the power of all the elements when they are bound together, but it’s obvious she can draw energy from everything around her.”
“What about the wind?” he asked.
Camille frowned at him. “What about it?”
“Well, she sleepwalked the other night, and when I questioned her about it the following morning, she said she talked to Helen through the wind,” he said. “And she’s said that Helen used to read their future in the wind’s whispers. I didn’t think that was something storm witches could do.”
“It’s not—but it is something an air element could do. Which would explain why she was number one on the witch’s list. Air is perhaps one of the most powerful elements, because a person cannot live without it.” Camille frowned. “I wonder what she did with her powers? It’s a damn unusual thing to do, I’m telling you that.”
He sipped his coffee for a moment, remembering the words of a ghost. “Is it possible to gift your powers to someone else?”
“Not usually. I’ve seen it happen once, but the two people were related. Why?”
“I think that’s what Helen intended to do when she stripped her powers. She wanted to give them to Kirby.”
“What?” Camille’s voice was gratingly sharp. “Why would you say that?”
“Because her spirit still roams this Earth—”
“Well, it would, wouldn’t it?” Camille interrupted harshly. “She killed herself, after all.”
He ignored her and continued. “Helen has talked to Kirby twice now that I know of. She wants Kirby to perform a spell of some sort tonight, and she left a box that tingles with magic.”
“Good or bad?”
“If it was bad, I would have destroyed it. You know that.” He hesitated. “Have you had the chance to look at the other gift that was left for her?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t only a tracker, but another transport spell. It was well shielded, which is why you couldn’t sense anything.”
“Were you able to trace the magic back to its source?”
“No. The witch is too cunning for that. The minute I tried, the spell disintegrated.”
Doyle scrubbed a hand across his eyes. Luck, it seemed, wasn’t on their side at the moment. “Kirby and Helen aren’t related, so why would Helen think she could transfer her powers?”
“We don’t know that they aren’t,” Russell said. “They were left at different hospitals when they were born. Their birth certificates simply have ‘unknown’ when it comes to the name of their parents. They could be related, for all we know.”
Camille’s gaze cut back to him. “Doyle, are you going to let her perform this ceremony?”
“Yes.” If only because Helen’s abilities might be her last hope of survival if the Circle failed her.
“Then you’re going to have to do a protection circle.” She twisted around and grabbed a paper and pen. “You do know how to do that, don’t you?”
“How to make them, and how to destroy them. You can’t feel magic and not know the ins and outs of it, Camille.”
“Good.” She handed him a note. On it was an address and what amounted to a grocery list of magical ingredients—everything he needed to make a circle of protection, and a little bit more.
“Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, then head out and get that stuff,” she continued. “Russell, you keep digging and see if you can find the identity of the kid that was killed in the quake. After that, see if you can find anything else on this Felicity Barnes or Marline Thomas. One of them has to be the killer—I’m sure of it.”
Doyle stood, tucking the note into his jeans pocket. “Keep an eye out, you two. The wicked witch from the west hasn’t had much trouble finding us so far.”
“Don’t you be telling this old witch her business. Get out of here, before I’m tempted to box your ears.”
He grinned and glanced toward the interview room. Kirby was as safe here as she would be anywhere. Even so, he had an odd feeling that he didn’t dare leave her side long or all hell would break loose and claim her. He headed quickly out the door.
KIRBY STARED AT TRINA FOR SEVERAL SECONDS. She’d killed? Was that why she’d locked those memories so far away?
Just for an instant, the fog stirred. Once again she felt the thrum of power flooding through her, through the room, until the whole world seemed to be buzzing with energy. She saw the earth itself rise, dancing around Trina’s feet, as if in exultation. Heard the clash of thunder and the icy thrust of rain lashing through walls, through them—right through them, as if they were beings of energy, not flesh. But the daggers of ice and water cut the others. Cut the caretaker. Then the buildings began to collapse, trapping the very people they were trying to save …
Tears stung her eyes. She raised a hand against the horror, and the memories momentarily fled. “It was an accident,” she whispered hoarsely, her stomach churning. “I didn’t mean for her to die. I just wanted to stop him.”
Trina edged farther away. “You forced us to join hands. You and that other one—Helen. You did something to us, made us feel the power, the energy. Made the earth tremble at my feet.”
“No, that was all of us.” She’d never had the power to stir the earth or call to the rain and the storms. It had come from the circle itself, from the power of the five of them. “It wasn’t me.”
It was fate that had loaded the weapon and placed them all in that one place. All she’d done was aim the gun and pull the trigger. Did that make her a murderer? She didn’t know, and it scared the hell out of her.
“You killed her,” Trina continued, her soft voice edging closer to hyster
ia. “It’s your fault, not mine. I didn’t want any part of it.”
“Would you have rather suffered the attentions of the caretaker night after night?” she snapped back, suddenly angry. “It was you and the others who pleaded with me and Helen to do something—to somehow stop him.”
“Kill him, not the others. I saw her, you know. Saw her squashed, saw the blood …”
Trina’s voice faded. Kirby closed her eyes, but there was no escaping the images now. The old dormitory walls hadn’t been built to withstand the force they’d summoned that night, and a good half of the building had collapsed, trapping many children still in their beds. Felicity had been one of them.
Felicity, who’d been Mariel’s best friend and coconspirator.
“You killed her, not me!” Trina intoned shrilly into the silence.
You killed … The words seemed to echo through the silence. Guilt washed through Kirby—guilt that was both old and new—and yet surely she couldn’t bear the entire burden herself. She may have been the one who called the power into being, but she was still only one of five. She opened her eyes, staring at Trina’s fear-stricken face. Saw the haunted look in her gray eyes, the edge of madness lurking close.
They’d all been terrified that night. They’d raised a power that shook the very world around them, and because of that, a child had died and many more had been injured.
She’d coped by wiping out the memory of that place and pushing the pain, the guilt and the images of destruction so far back into the recesses of her mind that even now, when it mattered most, she still couldn’t remember everything that had happened. And she’d retreated, not so much mentally as physically, afraid of taking a chance lest she hurt anyone else.
Helen, who’d also been a part of that circle, had reacted completely the opposite. She became a wild child, afraid of nothing, willing to push the limits in all that she did.