"No." 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 identical twins, and more one person than two. 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."
Camille grunted. "The only way it could possibly succeed was if they were twins. They ain't, are they?"
"Who would really know?" Russell said. "They were left at different hospitals when they were babes.
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, 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? Is 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. 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 further away. "You forced us to join hands. 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. 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, soft voice edging closer to hysteria. "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've killed…The words seemed to echo through the silence. Guilt washed through her—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'dcoped by wiping out the memory and pushing the pain, the guilt and the images 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 hadn't been a full participant of the circle and yet had been there in spirit with her, had reacted completely the opposite. She became a wild child, afraid of nothing, willing to push things to the limits in all that she did.
Trina, it seemed, had spent her years seeking someone else to take the burden of her guilt, and if the look in her eyes was anything to go by, hadn't been all that successful. She wondered how intimately Trina knew the local psychiatric wards. She had a feeling the answer might be very.
"It was an accident," she murmured softly, firmly. They hadn't meant to kill anyone but the caretaker, and had failed even in that. But they did stop him, and in the end, maybe that was the one fact they all had to cling to.
"How many lives did we save that night, Trina? I can remember you saying that you'd rather kill yourself than have that man touch you again. How many of the others felt like that, do you think?" Helen had, which was what had moved her into action in the first place.
"We killed— youkilled," Trina whispered hoarsely. "That power… it ate me, you know. Swept through me like I wasn't even there, like I wasn't even real. It was horrible… horrible. And it was you who did that to me. You."
The madness was brighter in her gaze. Her eyes were wide, staring, as if she was seeing the past rather than the present. Maybe Kirby's sudden reappearance, combined with the manarei's attack, had snapped whatever tenuous hold Trina had on sanity.
Camille swept into the room and moved toward Trina. "Now, don't go making a fuss," she said, her normally edgy tones gentle, almost calming. "I just got that arm of yours all neatly fixed."
"Who are you?" Trina thrust away from Camille's hand, sliding down to the far end of the table. For the first time, she seemed to take in her surroundings. Her face went white, and her fear became something Kirby could almost smell. "Why am I here? Who are you people?"