Circle of Death (Damask Circle 2)

She frowned. “But Helen only died yesterday. You were already here in Melbourne.”

“Yes, because Seline, the lady in charge of the Circle, did a reading and sent us out here in advance of the first murder. She said something big was going down.”

“Reading? What is she? Some sort of psychic or witch?”

“Witch,” he said. “But not the witch I referred to earlier. That’s Camille, who’s here with me and Russell.”

Russell was obviously the man she’d heard him talking to earlier. She had a feeling there was a whole lot more about his companions—and himself—that he wasn’t telling. “So you have no idea who is behind all this?”

“None whatsoever.” He glanced at her, eyes gleaming in the darkness. “But whoever it is seems to want you dead pretty badly. Remember that the next time you decide to run.”

What could she say? She certainly couldn’t deny there would be a next time, because she did have every intention of running. Eventually. If there was one lesson she and Helen had learned well over the years, it was to depend on no one but themselves.

She blinked back tears and looked out the side window. The rain fell in a mist, muting the glow of the streetlights and filling the silent streets with a curtain of gray. Anything could be out there, she thought. Anything at all.

She shivered again. She felt so cold it seemed to be seeping deep into her bones. Death, reaching out for her.

“He won’t get you while I’m here,” Doyle said softly.

She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. She didn’t want him to see her tears. “I’m not afraid of death.” Just of being alone. Of never finding anyone who would care for her as much as Helen had cared.

Of never finding that one person who could love her as she was rather than being terrified of what she could do.

She bit her lip and watched the gray-slipped world rush by. There was little traffic on the roads and they reached Carlton quickly. She glanced down at the phone. “Turn left here,” she said. “Number twenty-eight should be on your side.”

He pulled into a parking space and stopped. With the headlights off, the mist seemed to crowd in, encasing them in a blanket of gray. Even the nearby gum trees looked ghostly.

“I don’t like the feel of this,” she muttered. There was a chill in the air that seemed unnatural. The same sort of chill she’d felt just before she pushed through her front door and discovered death had come visiting …

His hand covered hers, his touch flushing heat through her entire body. “Why don’t you stay here in the car while I go check it out?”

“Not on your life.” She withdrew her hand from the warmth of his. “I’m coming with you.”

Annoyance glimmered briefly in his eyes. “It’s safer in the car.”

“Not if one of those creatures is out there.”

“I would know if a manarei were out there, believe me.” Yet his gaze swept the drizzle surrounding them and he frowned.

Did he sense anything? Or was it just the blanket of gray teasing their imagination? She glanced at him. Somehow, he didn’t seem the type to have problems in that department.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I have an active enough imagination when it matters.” A smile touched his lips. “For example, I can easily imagine you actually doing something I ask.”

Heat crept through her cheeks again. She looked away and crossed her arms. “I’m coming with you.”

He sighed. It was a sound of sheer frustration. “Well, I guess it is one way of knowing where the hell you are. But you do what I tell you, is that clear?”

She nodded and climbed out of the car. The mist ran damp fingers across her skin, and she shivered. The night was quiet, hushed. The street was filled with shadows. Cars and houses loomed briefly as the fine rain swirled. Streetlights puddled light down onto the pavement, looking like forlorn stars in the night. Nothing moved. It was very easy to imagine they were the only two people alive in the world right now.

He moved to the rear of the car, then glanced back at her. “You coming?”

She cast an uneasy look at the shrouded trees, then followed him across the road. “What are you going to say to this woman if she’s home?” She shoved her gloved hands into her pockets, still trying to warm them. “I certainly wouldn’t open the door to a couple of wrinkled-looking specimens like us at this hour of the morning.”

He shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure yet.”

“Oh, great. What if she decides to call the cops? What if she’s got a great, big dog and sets it on us?”

He grinned. “Dogs don’t worry me.”