She nodded and accepted the scrap of paper with a look of trepidation on her face. “I’ll see you when you get back, then.”
“Count on it.” He kissed her a final time, then before he could change his mind and give in to the desire to stay with her, he grabbed the car keys and headed out the door.
Kirby crossed her arms and watched him leave, an uneasy chill running down her spine. It wasn’t so much that she feared being left alone, but more that she feared something would go wrong. That this was the opportunity the witch had been waiting for. Goose bumps chased their way across her arms. She shivered and quickly dressed before heading down the stairs to make coffee.
The silence seemed to close in on her, and the natural creaking of the old house made every nerve ending jump. She wandered around aimlessly, looking for something to do. In one of the bedrooms she found a stack of romance novels, and after sorting through them, she settled down to read.
The hours ticked slowly by. Outside, the wind called. She frowned, put aside her book and walked to the window. Beyond the curtains, the light was bright, almost harsh, but the day itself looked warm. The breeze stirred the trees, rustling through leaves and tugging at the brightly colored daisies in the garden beds below. She frowned and closed her eyes. Beneath the whispered song of the wind came the soft but clear call of her name.
She bit her lip and wondered if she was imagining things—wondered if all the events of the last few days had tipped her over the edge and into insanity. The call came again, more urgently this time. Definitely not imagination. She dropped the curtains back into place and headed outside.
The afternoon sun was as hot as it was bright, but it failed to chase the chill from her skin. She walked down the slight slope of grass and sat under the gums. The leaves stirred, stronger than before, and through their murmuring she heard her name. The voice was soft, warm, and oh so familiar. Vanilla drifted on the breeze, entwined with the slightest hint of lime. Helen’s favorite scents.
Pain welled. Kirby closed her eyes and somehow found her voice. “What did your spell do to me?”
The leaves stirred and answered. “Nothing more than return what was rightfully yours.”
“What do you mean?” She stared up into the gum tree’s dark canopy, wondering if Helen’s spirit danced with the wind among the leaves.
“There is a reason we always felt drawn to one another. We were not just friends, dear one, but sisters. Twins.”
“Twins.” It came out harshly, her throat too constricted by sudden tears. “But how do you know this? How can you be sure?”
“The wind told me, long ago.”
“So why didn’t you tell me? Damn it, I had the right—”
“But you never showed any desire to uncover the past and the reason we were abandoned as babes,” Helen interrupted. “And how many times have you said you have no desire to meet the people who could abandon you to such misery?”
“Yes, but parents are far different from a sister—from a twin.”
“We found each other in the end, and that is all that matters. And deep down, you knew. You felt our connection as keenly as I did.”
Yes, she had. From the moment she and Helen had met in that facility, it had felt as though she’d found the other part of herself. Which she had, because they were twins. She took a deep, quivering breath. “Did you ever find out anything about our parents?”
“No. Not even the wind could tell me that. But it was my search for answers that brought us to this point, Kirby.”
“I have my own powers, Helen. I never wanted yours.”
“Perhaps not, but they are now where they should have been from the very start.”
Kirby frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that we are not just twins, but the much rarer semi-identical twins,” Helen said. “One egg, two sperm. It means the abilities that should have been yours were split between us. You were and are the binder, but you should have been a whole lot more.”
Kirby’s frown deepened. “Meaning I should also have been a storm witch?”
“And air elemental. But those two came to me, in a somewhat diluted form. I was never a very powerful witch, nor could I control air as I should have. That is because some remnants remained in you.”
“But I never—”
“Because you never wanted to. You had your one weapon—a weapon that was born from all the elements that once resided in you—and you had no desire to learn or use anything else. But you must use them now, Kirby. You must stop that woman’s murderous ways.”
Alone? How the hell was she supposed to stop a woman who was now half demon? “Doyle’s gone after her.”
“No. The witch has set a trap. It is your task, your fate, to stop her.”
Fear ripped through her, and she scrambled upright. “Doyle? Is he—?”