Circle of Death (22 page)

Seven addresses—three for Marline Thomas, four for Trina Jones. Which of the two was the girl she had to save? It could take all day to check these damn addresses, and the feeling that they had to get to the fourth member of the elemental circle was growing more urgent.

The writing blurred briefly, the addresses merging into one. She blinked several times, wondering what was going on, then thrust back against the seat as one address seemed to leap off the page at her. Suddenly she wasn’t staring at a piece of paper, but at a single-story, red-brick house. In the distance, a clock chimed, ten times. Confusion ran through her. It wasn’t even nine yet … was she seeing the future? Or merely hallucinating? The vision blurred again, shifting closer.

In the shadows that loomed close to the house, a
manarei
crept. From the house came a soft humming—a sound that echoed through the fog, opening a window to the past.
Trina
, she thought, remembering the taste of her terror, the shaking of her hand, as the younger Trina had clasped her fingers and completed the circle. Remembering the force that had thrummed between them, through the other girls, to
her, filling her until she was one with the elements, a being of energy, not flesh.

Trina, who had trusted her only at Helen’s urging, was about to be torn apart by a creature sent from hell.

Unless they got there first.

D
OYLE HAD BARELY CLIMBED INTO THE CAR WHEN
Kirby sped off. He cursed, thrusting a hand against the dashboard to stop from being smashed against it, then grabbed his seat belt.

Her hands were clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white. She drove too fast around a corner, and the car slewed on the gravel road, forcing him to grab the dash again to keep from being flung against her. There was fear in her thoughts, in her expression. What the hell had happened in the few minutes they’d been apart?

“Kirby, ease up a little and tell me what’s wrong.” He touched her knee. Her gaze jumped to his, eyes wide and filled with horror.

“I can’t ease up. We don’t have much time.” She hesitated, barely even braking as she swung onto the main road. “I had a vision. Trina Jones, who lives in Port Melbourne, will be attacked by a
manarei
at precisely ten o’clock this morning unless we get to her first.”

He didn’t doubt her, just grabbed his cell phone and dialed Camille.

“Two phone calls in a matter of hours. This is something of a record, shapeshifter.”

“We’ve got a problem, Camille. In just over an hour, Trina Jones of Port Melbourne will meet death at the hands of a
manarei.
”

“
Goddamn it
—how do you know this?”

“Kirby saw it.”

“You believe her?”

How could he
not
believe her? “Yes. I left my gun in my car, too, so bring some weapons with you.”

“I will, though I think we have only a couple of silvers left.”

“Then we’ll have to make every shot count, won’t we?” He glanced at Kirby. “How long will it take us to get there?”

She chewed her lip briefly. “Maybe an hour, depending on the traffic.”

“It’ll probably take me about the same, given I have to find the damn place,” Camille said. “I’ll meet you out front.”

They made the trip in silence. Once they neared Port Melbourne, he grabbed his phone, brought up Google Maps, and guided Kirby through the maze of side streets until they reached Trina’s. She stopped the car several houses up and looked at the clock in the dash.

“We’ve got five minutes. Camille doesn’t appear to be here yet.”

“No.” He studied the small, red-brick house. Several large trees dominated the front yard, surrounding the house with shadows and providing perfect cover for the
manarei.
He glanced at her. “You stay here. I’ll go scout.”

“You can’t confront a
manarei
without any weapons. Wait for your boss.”

“We haven’t got the time, and I’m not going to confront anything. I’m not that stupid.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

She reached to undo her seat belt, but he placed a hand on hers, preventing her. He was so close to her that her breath washed warmth across his mouth. All he had to do was lean forward a little, and her lips would be his to claim.

“No.” He watched the sexual awareness grow in her amazing eyes. Could feel it in the link between them, but it was a heat muted by caution. She wasn’t ready yet to fully trust him, and it was more than a little worrying. Just because his father and grandfather had happy endings didn’t mean he would. “You’re on their hit list as well, remember, so you
will
stay right here. If I smell a
manarei
, I’ll retreat.”

She stared at him for several seconds, her expression troubled. “Be careful.” She hesitated, then touched his face, briefly caressing his cheek. “Please.”

Heat shivered through him. He forced a grin. “Being careful is the motto us thieves live by. I won’t be long.” Lord, it would be so easy to pull her close, to taste her lips once again. Easy, but the wrong thing to do right at this moment. He pulled away. “Please stay here.”

She didn’t reply, and her thoughts told him she wasn’t happy. He didn’t care about that. Her staying safe and alive was far more important.

He climbed out of the car and motioned her to lock the door.
At the first sign of trouble, you get out of here, okay?

At the first sign of trouble, I’ll come running. I’m not leaving you to face one of those things alone, so just forget it.

Damn it
, he didn’t have the time to stand here and argue, and the tone of her thoughts told him it was an argument he wasn’t likely to win, anyway. Short of tying her to the car, there wasn’t much else he could do.

I’ll call if I need help. Just don’t get out of the car before then, okay?

Okay.

Though her reluctance to agree was evident in her mind-voice, he had no real choice but to trust she’d do as he asked.

He headed toward Trina’s house. The wind stirred, tossing his hair and murmuring through the two large gum trees in the front yard. He sniffed the air, but he could smell nothing beyond the warmth of freshly baked bread. He glanced at his watch. If Kirby’s vision was accurate, the
manarei
had three minutes to get here.

He hesitated in the shadows filling the driveway. Someone inside the house was vacuuming, but it was a noise muted by the pounding thump of music. It would be useless ringing the front doorbell. Maybe he should check around the back.

He walked down to the gates and whistled softly. No dog came bounding up to greet him, so he went through. The music was louder back here, the beat so heavy it seemed to thump through his body. The yard was a sea of knee-high grass and weeds. Pines huddled along the rear boundary, throwing vast shadows across the rest of the yard. A perfect place for evil to hide, though as yet, he could smell nothing but dampness and mildew.

He ducked past the windows and moved to the far end of the house. Like the backyard, the narrow gap
separating the two houses was a mass of weeds and shadows. As hiding places for evil went, it was even better.

He leaned a shoulder against the fence and waited. Minutes slipped by, and the thump of music abruptly died. Through the sudden silence came the sound of humming—an old disco tune he vaguely remembered but couldn’t name.

Down the road, bells began to chime the hour. He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock. Why wasn’t Camille here? The last thing he needed right now was to face a
manarei
weaponless …

The foul touch of magic burned across his skin. Halfway down the side of the house, the air began to shimmer and sparkle, until it became a shower of golden lights. Through this, a shadow formed—became a
manarei
, eyes gleaming like freshly drawn blood in the shadowed half-light.

He reached into his boot and withdrew a small knife. It would be as useless as a toothpick against the creature, but right then, it was all he had. The
manarei
stepped free of the sparkle, and the shimmering air died away. It sniffed for several seconds, then it snaked its head around, glaring at him and hissing in anger.

“Care to play?” he said, waving the knife before him, as if it were a stick and the
manarei
nothing more than a playful dog.

The creature leapt. He waited until the last moment and slashed at the
manarei
’s snarling, snapping jaws before diving away. He hit the ground and rolled quickly to his feet, spinning to face the monster.

It wiped a claw across reptilian lips, smearing black
blood across its leathery cheeks. “I will gut you with that little stick.” The
manarei
’s voice was thick, its words barely understandable. “Then I will consume what little brains you have.”

“Try it,” he muttered, watching its tail rather than its eyes. When a
manarei
attacked, its spring came from its powerful hind legs. Usually, the tail was the first indicator of an impending attack.

Its tail lashed, and a split second later, the
manarei
launched itself. He held his ground again, cutting the knife across the creature’s eyes before ducking under its claws and rolling away.

The
manarei
snarled in frustration. It hit the ground and sprang again, almost catlike in its agility. He scrambled to his feet, slashing desperately with the knife, then ducked away and spun, kicking the creature in the gut. It caught his foot and tossed him forward. He sailed through the air and hit the ground nose first, sliding through the weeds and skinning half his face.

The air screamed again. He rolled away and called to his alternate shape. In panther form, he leapt onto the reptile’s back and bit deep into its neck. Blood gushed, thick and hot, its taste like acid in his mouth. The
manarei
screamed and reached back, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him off. He slashed with his claws, tearing into the creature’s face, but it tossed him away as if he were nothing more than a lightweight ball. He hit ground feet first, felt the tremor of the earth through his pads and looked up to see the
manarei
pounding toward him. He twisted around, saw the closeness of the trees and
leapt for the nearest branch, scrambling up into the deep, dark recesses of the pine.

The creature snarled and pounded the trunk in frustration. The whole tree shivered. He dug his claws into the branch.
Manarei
weren’t the best climbers, and right now, this tree was all that stood between him and certain death.

Where the hell was Camille?

Another tremor ran through the old tree, stronger than before. The
manarei
was thrusting its weight against the trunk, trying to bring it down. Doyle looked up. The top of the tree was beginning to rock ever so gently.

He shifted shape again and wrapped his legs around the branch, holding on for dear life. The tree began to sigh, pine needles rustling, as if stirred by the gentlest of breezes. The branch he was sitting on vibrated to the tune of the
manarei
’s pounding, jarring his spine. Not even a tree as old as this pine had the strength to withstand the might of an enraged
manarei
for long.

He reached to his left, plucking pinecones from the nearest branches, and began bombarding the creature. This did little more than seriously annoy it, but right then, that was exactly what he wanted. An enraged creature was more likely to stay put and not remember the woman it was sent here to capture. As long as
he
stayed out of its way, everything should be okay.

The
manarei
howled its frustration, then sunk its claws into the trunk and began to climb.

He dropped the remainder of the cones and scrambled to his feet. “You’re not supposed to be able to climb, you bastard!”

The creature merely grinned, revealing long rows
of gleaming teeth, and continued to climb. Doyle shifted shape once more and worked his way farther up into the tree. But he was running out of room—and tree—fast. The branch beneath him snapped, and suddenly he was falling. Branches caught at his fur, tearing deep. He twisted, slashing wildly with his claws, trying to regain some purchase but catching only pine needles. He heard the guttural laugh of the
manarei
and the fetid warmth of its breath wash over him. Felt the air vibrate as the killing stroke closed in.

He twisted desperately, throwing himself to the right, away from the creature—away from the tree. He heard a sharp sound, felt something sting past his ear and the warm rush of blood, then he was hurtling uncontrolled toward the ground.

He twisted again, somehow managing to get feet first before he hit the ground, but the impact shuddered through him. For an instant, it felt as if every bone in his body had shattered.

He shifted shape and collapsed onto his back, eyes closed and mouth dragging in air. Death had come far too close, and for the first time ever, it had truly scared him.

Maybe because for the first time in his life it actually mattered whether he lived or died—because this time, he had something to lose beyond his life.