Circle of Death (Damask Circle 2)
“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.