His thoughts wrapped around her, offering sympathy and strength. She thrust him away angrily. "I could have been there. I could have stopped her."
"If you had been there, you'd be dead as well," he said, voice sharp. "All you can do now is make sure Helen's sacrifice doesn't go to waste."
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. He was right. She knew that deep down. But right now, she just wasn't ready to accept any of it, particularly the gift her best friend had died to give her.
"I don't want to do this," she muttered.
"You have no real choice now."
"Maybe." She looked away from the understanding in his eyes. She wasn't ready to accept that, yet, either. "What now?"
"Right now, we're going to join the hunt for the fourth member of this elemental circle of yours."
His tone was still a little sharp. Maybe he'd heard her thoughts. "Camille didn't have any luck last night, then?"
He shook his head. "I was talking to her earlier this morning. They've eliminated eight addresses, and Vicki Campbell is off the list completely. Camille found her last night, and she doesn't fit the profile. No psychic ability at all—woken or unwoken. That leaves us with seven still to check."
"So either Trina Jones or Marline Thomas is the killer?"
"Presumably. And neither of the names ring any bells?"
She shook her head. The past was still a cloud she just couldn't navigate. And it was beginning to get a little frustrating. Somewhere in that fog lay the reason behind all this. Somewhere in that fog lay the true identity of the killer.
An image ran through her mind—a skinny girl in jeans and a red sweater, brown hair tied back in pigtails, silver eyes ablaze as she chased her and Helen through the trees.
Mariel, who liked to tear the wings off bugs. Mariel, who could make dead things come to life. She was their killer, of that Kirby was suddenly certain.
Only trouble was, there was no Mariel on Camille's list.
"She might have assumed another identity," Doyle commented. "No one is stating that Camille's list is one hundred percent accurate, but right now, it's all we have."
She nodded and rose. "Then let's get going." Because she had a feeling time was running out—for them, and for the next victim.
He didn't move. The window behind him threw his features into shadows, but his eyes gleamed blue fire.
There was concern in his gaze and in his thoughts. "Are you really feeling okay? You were so sick yesterday, maybe you shouldn't push it today. It might be better—" "Don't even suggest it," she interrupted. "I'm not staying here alone while you gallivant about looking for the next victim. Helen said I had to find her, and find her I will."
"Damn it, will you just listen to common sense for a change? I'm sure Helen never meant for you to run yourself into the ground."
"Helen died to keep me safe," she retorted. "I couldn't live with myself if I did anything less."
"You are the most annoying, aggravating, pigheaded woman I have ever met." His voice was so low his words were little more than a soft growl.
She smiled sweetly at him. "And you love me for it."
He shot her a look that could have meant anything and pushed away from the bench. "We'll come back here tonight. I still think it's the safest place to be right now. And if you have to perform that spell tonight, then there's less likelihood of us being disturbed here."
She followed him out of the house, not wanting to think about the spell right now. "You have the new list of addresses?"
He locked the door and handed her the list and car keys. "I'll open the gate. You bring out the car."
She did. While he re-locked the gate, she pulled the list out of her pocket and studied it.
Seven addresses—three for Marline Thomas, four for Trina Jones. Which of the two was the girl she had to save? It could take all day to check these damn addresses, and the feeling that they had to get to the fourth member of the elemental circle was growing more urgent.
The writing blurred briefly, merging into one. She blinked several times, wondering what was going on, then thrust back against the seat as one address seemed to leap off the page at her. Suddenly she wasn't staring at a piece of paper, but at a single-story, red-brick house. In the distance, a clock chimed, ten times. Confusion ran through her. It wasn't even nine yet… was she seeing the future? Or merely hallucinating? The vision blurred again, shifting closer.
In the shadows that loomed close to the house a manarei crept. From the house came a soft humming—a sound that echoed through the fog, opening a window to the past. Trina, she thought, remembering the taste of her terror, the shaking of her hand, as the younger Trina had clasped her fingers and completed the circle. Remembered the force that had thrummed between them, through the other girls, to her, filling her until she was one with the elements, a being of energy not flesh.
Trina, who had trusted her only at Helen's urging, was about to be torn apart by a creature sent from hell.
Unless they got there first.
Chapter Thirteen
Doyle had barely climbed into the car when Kirby sped off. He cursed, thrusting a hand against the dash to stop being smashed against it, then grabbed his seat belt.
Her hands were clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white. She drove too fast around a corner, and the car slewed on the gravel road, forcing him to grab the dash again to keep from being flung against her. There was fear in her thoughts, in her expression. What the hell had happened in the few minutes they'd been apart?
"Kirby, ease up a little and tell me what's wrong." He touched her knee. Her gaze jumped to his, eyes wide and filled with horror.
"I can't ease up. We don't have much time." She hesitated, barely even braking as she swung onto the main road. "I had a vision. Trina Jones, who lives in Port Melbourne, will be attacked by a manarei at precisely ten o'clock this morning unless we get to her first."
He didn't doubt her, just grabbed his cell phone and dialed Camille.
"Two phone calls in a matter of hours. This is something of a record, shapechanger."
"We've got a problem, Camille. In just over an hour, Trina Jones of Port Melbourne will meet death at the hands of a manarei ."
" Goddamn it—how do you know this?"
"Kirby saw it."
"You believe her?"
How could he not believe her? "Yes. I left my gun in my car, too, so bring some weapons with you."
"I will, though I think we've only a couple of silvers left."
"Then we'll have to make every shot count, won't we?" He glanced at Kirby. "How long will it take us to get there?"
She chewed her lip briefly. "Maybe an hour, depending on the traffic."
"It'll probably take me about the same, given I have to find the damn place," Camille said. "I'll meet you out front."
They made the trip in silence. Once they neared Port Melbourne, he grabbed the street directory and guided her through the maze of side streets until they reached Trina's. She stopped the car several houses up and looked at the clock in the dash.
"We've got five minutes. Camille doesn't appear to be here yet."
"No." He studied the small, red-brick house. Several large trees dominated the front yard, surrounding the house with shadows and providing perfect cover for the manareis . He glanced at her. "You stay here. I'll go scout."
"You can't confront a manarei without any weapons. Wait for your boss."
"We haven't got the time, and I'm not going to confront anything. I'm not that stupid."
"Then I'm coming with you."
She reached to undo her seat belt, but he placed a hand on hers, preventing her. He was so close to her that her breath washed warmth across his skin. All he had to do was lean forward a little, and her lips would be his to claim.