Circle Of Death

Chapter Fourteen

"What's the problem?" Doyle asked, dropping down onto the chair behind Russell's desk.

Camille propped a hip on the edge of the other desk, her expression grim. "We've been doing some research into this elemental circle of Kirby's."

He accepted the coffee Russell offered with a grunt of thanks and tried to ignore the niggle of fear in his gut. "And?"

"According to legend, the circle was one of the most powerful forces of nature to evolve during the dawn of time. It's said that the gods themselves split the force into five elements, to protect the earth and all its species. It's also said that if the elements were ever rejoined as one that the Earth itself would be torn apart."

He frowned. "If any of that were true, we'd all be dead, because Kirby apparently did join the circle when she was eleven. All it did was put a monster who deserved death into a wheelchair."

"Not exactly true." Russell tossed a folder across to him. "I've been digging around in old newspaper articles. Eighteen years ago a very centralized quake hit Melbourne. It happened in the dead of night, in the midst of a freak storm, and the only place to be hit was a certain government facility caring for unwanted teenagers. One building was partially destroyed, and a child was killed. Several other children were injured, as well as a nurse and a caretaker who were in the building at the time."

He opened the folder and flipped through the reports. There were images of destruction and terrified children, but Kirby wasn't among them, though why he thought he would recognize her he wasn't entirely sure. He dropped the folder back onto the desk.

"So, what you're saying is that she caused this quake by forming the circle?"

Camille nodded. "But because she was one of five, the power was, in a sense, muted—or at least controlled. But imagine that power all placed in one body."

"It would be damn near unstoppable," Russell intoned. "And that's what we're facing, buddy boy."

"Not yet, we're not. Kirby and Trina are still alive." And would remain that way, no matter what the cost—or what he had to give up.

"Yes," Camille agreed. "But two others are dead, their abilities sucked into the soul of another. I fear our killer may be the point representing strength. It would explain her ability to summon and control two pairs of manarei as well as the zombies. No witch, light or dark, could perform spells that strong so close together without suffering some side effects."

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. There might have been three of them, but the odds, it seemed, where decidedly on evil's side. "Have we any idea what abilities she's stolen?"

"I did a reading on Trina. She's earth, and it would have been her power that caused the quake. If Kirby is air, that leaves fire and water."

"She tried lashing me with fire when she locked me in that water tank," he murmured. "So she's definitely got that one. What power does water give her?"

Camille shrugged. "She could call in ice and freeze. She could change the course of any nearby water."

"And Kirby? Can she do anything more than call lightning to her fingers?" Because if she couldn't, she was seriously outgunned.

"Given she's air, she should also be able to control the wind. But if she's never called it, it might not be her strongest ability."

"Helen talked to the wind," he murmured thoughtfully. "Is that usual for storm witches?"

"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?"

"Trina, calm down," Kirby said.

Trina made a violent chopping motion with her hand. "You calm down. Better yet, you go to hell . I want to know what's going on."

"Need some help?" Russell said, his large frame filling the doorway.

Camille sighed. "Afraid so. Calm her down. Better yet, put her to sleep."

"Don't you touch me," Trina said, voice hoarse. She teetered on the edge of the table, watching Russell with wide, frightened eyes.

Russell didn't move, just narrowed his gaze slightly. Trina gasped, then her gaze went blank, and she slumped to the table. Camille caught her before she could hit her head, and she made sure her injured arm wasn't taking the weight of her body.

Kirby glanced uneasily at Russell. "You did that? How?"

"Mind control. It's an ability most vamps have, in varying degrees of strength. I merely calmed her fears and put her into a trance. She'll remain that way now, until I suggest otherwise."

She eyed him warily. "You did promise to keep out of my mind, you know."

He grinned. It was oddly boyish and very charming. "And I always keep my word. Especially when that someone is a friend of someone I care about."

"Good," she muttered and rubbed her eyes, wondering again at the sanity of trusting a vampire. "Where is Doyle, by the way?"

"Gone shopping," Camille said, voice sharp enough to nail wood to a wall. "That headache still bad?"

She nodded, though in truth, it had ebbed a little. Camille muttered something under her breath, then walked across the room to the urn and filled a mug with water. Into this, she tipped what looked like dried up leaves.

"Drink this tea. It'll ease the immediate effects of the headache. I'll make up some more that you can take with you."

She accepted the offered cup and sniffed it warily. It smelled faintly of lemongrass and lime, but there were other scents mingled amongst those two that she knew but couldn't name. Helen had used them sometimes in the past.

Camille sat opposite her. "Did Trina say anything? Remember anything that might help us?"

She sipped the tea, finding the taste wasn't as bad as she expected. "Not really. But she did shake loose some of my memories. It can't be the real Felicity Barnes who's working for the government. Felicity died that night we formed the circle."

Camille raised an eyebrow. "So you can remember that now?"

She nodded. "Part of it. I have no idea who Marline is. She certainly wasn't one of the five. There was a Mariel, though."

"Marline and Mariel are awfully similar names," Russell commented. "Maybe when you did the reading you just got the spelling wrong."

"Possible," Camille muttered. "Quite possible. Anything else?"

Kirby took another sip of tea, considering all the bits and pieces that had floated through the fog in the last day or so. "Mariel was a witch. She could make dead things come to life."

" What?"

She nodded. "Both Helen and I saw her do it on several occasions. She used to kill bugs then bring them back to life." And make the dead things chase them. She shuddered, remembering again the horror of it all. But in many respects, if it wasn't for those bugs, neither she nor Helen would have discovered the full potential of their abilities. "It wasn't a trick, either."

Camille and Russell shared a glance. "At least that explains the zombies," Russell said.

"Yeah, but it's an ability that usually runs in families and has to be taught. These kids were all orphans."

"Helen and I figured out how to use our abilities," she said. "Why couldn't Mariel?"

"She could have taught herself to raise small things like bugs easily enough. There's not much skill needed for that. But raising anything larger requires finesse. It can sometimes take half a lifetime to refine the skills needed to raise something as large as a human."

"I hear a but in all that," she said, when Camille hesitated.

"That's because there is a second option. It involves invoking the spirit of the dead and drawing them into your body—making them a part of your world, and you a part of theirs."

A chill ran through her, and her hands began to shake. She set the tea down and clasped her fingers under the table. It didn't stop the growing feeling of dread, however. "Felicity Barnes, the girl who died in the quake that hit the night we raised the circle? She was Mariel's best friend. Mariel swore she'd get her back, no matter what it took or how long it took."

Camille cursed. "Did you ever see her do it?"

"No. We were all separated a few months after the quake, shifted to various other homes or into foster care. Helen and I were the only ones that remained together."

"Damn." Camille looked at Russell. "Try doing a search for Mariel Thomas and see what you come up with. And do the same with Felicity Barnes. See if you can get a picture of both girls—or at least a description. I've got a feeling they might just be one and the same."

Russell nodded and moved back into the other room. Kirby stared at Camille incredulously. "Meaning Felicity's spirit might be living in Mariel?"

Camille nodded. "If she's only recently performed the summoning, it would certainly explain the sudden need for revenge."

"But…" Her voice faded. She swallowed some tea to ease the dryness in her throat and tried again.

"How is something like that possible? Felicity died eighteen years ago! Don't try to tell me her spirit has been hanging about all that time waiting to be resurrected."

"It depends. Some spirits move on and get reborn. Some remain on this Earth, compelled to right some wrong. And a very few are swept into a void some might call hell, destined to remain there for eternity unless recalled by the forces of darkness." Camille hesitated, blue eyes sympathetic. "Where do you think the legends of demons come from? They are merely twisted souls who have been in that void for a very long time."

Kirby rubbed her head. She was having a very hard time taking all this in. Witches she could cope with.

After all, Helen had been one. Vampires and shapeshifters she could learn to handle. But a void containing dead spirits who became demons was going a little too far beyond comprehension. "I don't think I can handle all this right now."

"You might have no choice," Camille said, voice still sympathetic and yet holding a hint of steel. "You have to know what you're facing in case the rest of us fail."

She closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about them failing. Didn't want to think about Doyle dying to protect her. She'd sworn eighteen years ago to never be the cause of another death. If it came down to a choice between his life and hers, there would be no contest.

She sipped her tea, but all it was doing now was agitating her stomach. She put it back on the table half-finished. "Why would anyone in their right mind raise the spirit of a person who'd been dead for eighteen years?"

"She may not have been in her right mind, and if Felicity's spirit is in her, she sure as hell won't be now."

She stared at Camille for a second, a chill chasing goose bumps across her skin. "What do you mean?"

"I mean its pretty obvious that this woman is not just after the power of the circle. She wants you all to suffer, as Felicity must have suffered when she was crushed all those years ago. All you have to do is look at the way she killed Helen and her first victim. And remember, Felicity's spirit has had eighteen years in hell to plot its revenge."

"Oh great," Kirby muttered, rubbing her arms. "So, in reality, I have two nuts after me rather than one.

They're just neatly packaged together."

A tingle ran across her skin, flowing warmth through her entire body. Doyle had entered the other room.

She turned and watched him approach.

His gaze met hers, and relief flicked through his thoughts. He'd been worried about leaving her, she realized then, even if she was with his friends. The thought made her heart do an odd little dance.

"Who's neatly packaged together?" he asked, stopping in the doorway.

Camille rose with a grunt. "Kirby can fill you in. Grab some names and address off Russell and keep looking for this Marline or Mariel Thomas. But I want you somewhere safe before sunset, understood?"

He nodded and motioned toward Trina. "What about her?"

"Russell's best suited to look after her. At least he can keep her controlled and quiet. I want you to keep in regular contact, understand?"

"Understood."

Camille's sharp gaze momentarily pinned Kirby. "I'll go get those herbs. Just make yourself a tea before you go to bed. It should take care of any lingering after effects."

Doyle moved to one side as Camille pushed passed. "You feeling any better?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I honestly don't think that's going to be possible until this whole mess is finished. Why does Camille want us tucked away before sunset?"

"A dark witch's powers tend to be greater after sunset."

She frowned, confused. "But she attacked you yesterday and Trina today. Both times were during the day."

"Yeah, and it's a sign of her strength, because she'll definitely get stronger with the night." He walked around the table and held out a hand. "Come on, let's get moving."

She hesitated, not trusting the sudden hint of mischievousness in his expression. He wiggled his fingers impatiently. Knowing he was up to something, but not entirely sure what, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet, then pulled her close, amusement and desire darkening his eyes.

"Won't dare to steal kisses with my friends around, huh?" he murmured, his breath washing across her cheeks and setting her whole body alive. "Never tempt a thief with a statement like that."

His mouth captured hers. She meant to protest, meant to push him away, but the moment his lips touched hers all resistance seemed to melt away. All she could think about, all she wanted, was him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer still. Her breasts were pressed hard against his chest, and she could feel his strengthening desire. He deepened the kiss and, for one moment, it felt as if he was delving deep into the very heart of her. Her pulse raced and her whole body was on fire, every nerve ending gloriously alive and aching with the need for his touch. For him.

Then he pulled away, his breathing harsh, eyes filled with such heat she felt it clear through to her toes.

"It hasn't faded, Kirby," he said softly.

"No." Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Nor will it, you know."

"I know."

He squeezed her fingers. "Shall we go?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Got the fast deflation model, have we?"

He grinned and brushed the hair from her eyes, his fingers trailing heat across her skin. "No. But I have got a coat. Wonderful inventions, coats. They hide many secrets."

"No doubt half of them stolen," she said dryly.

He grinned and didn't deny it. "I might even let you investigate one day, if you play your cards right."

"I wait with breathless anticipation."

His gaze found hers as he led her from the room. "So do I," he murmured. "So do I."

Heat crept through her cheeks. She pulled her gaze from his and knew, with absolute certainty, that if she survived the night without making love to him, it would be nothing short of a miracle.