Circle Of Death

Chapter Four

Magic burned across Doyle's skin, a touch as warm as her fingers were cold. Fear flitted briefly through the vibrant depths of her eyes, though whether it was fear of him or the situation, he couldn't say. Maybe it was both.

Right now, though, it didn't really matter. It was more important that they got out of here. Manarei's usually traveled in pairs. There would be another out there in the darkness, and it would have felt the death of its mate.

Somehow, he had to get Kirby into the car without alarming her any further—no easy task, he suspected. Especially if she noticed the manarei was beginning to melt away.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the creature. "You need those wounds tended to."

It sounded rather lame, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He certainly couldn't force her into the car—not when the thrum of magic pulsed between them. Light danced across her fingertips, a gentle play of energy that lit the night with miniature thrusts of lightning. Though he'd never come across anything like it before, one thing was clear: One wrong move and that energy would be aimed at him. And that, he suspected, would not be pretty.

"So you're offering to drive me to the nearest hospital?" She pulled her arm from his grasp and wavered on one leg. "Why?"

"Because you're going to bleed to death if you don't get medical help soon." The emergency room was actually the last place he wanted to take her. There were too many people—and too many forms the manarei could assume.

"And you're what? The local neighborhood watch out on evening patrol? And I suppose you just happened to have a gun handy in the glove compartment."

Inferring, no doubt, that he was a crook and up to no good. Once upon a time that might have been true, but not these days. Not since he'd joined the Circle. "Listen, all I'm trying to do is save your ass."

Irritation bit through his words. He thrust a hand through his hair and tried to remain calm.

She snorted softly. "Why the hell would you have any interest in saving my arse? You don't even know me."

"But I know a fine ass when I see one, and yours certainly deserves to be saved." His irritation was more obvious this time, and he took a deep breath. Damn it, why was her distrust getting to him? It was more than natural. In her shoes, he probably would have used his magic first and asked questions later.

A startled look crossed her face and, for a moment, a smile touched her lips. It transformed her features, thrusting them from pretty to extraordinary.

"Compliments ain't going to get you anywhere, chum."

Her tone was still tart, despite the lingering warmth on her lips. Lips he suddenly had great difficulty tearing his gaze away from.

"Tell me how you know my name, and why you're really here," she said, a slight flush invading her cheeks.

Before he could answer, a howl ran across the night. It was a high-pitched wail of distress that sounded more human than animal. The manarei's mate giving voice to its grief.

Time was running out. Though he still had four silver bullets in the gun, facing a grief-stricken manarei was an entirely different proposition to one in a feeding frenzy. Given the option, he preferred to run.

"The creature had a mate." Her gaze searched the night, and her voice was soft, edged with fear.

Doyle raised his eyebrows, wondering how she knew. "Yeah. And it's going to be a little pissed that we killed him. We have to get out of here."

"Why didn't you just say that earlier, instead of rambling on about the hospital?"

Her gaze met his. It seemed to delve right to his soul, tasting secrets he'd rather keep hidden. "Didn't want to alarm you more than necessary."

She snorted softly again. "Like my night hasn't been one huge, monster-filled nightmare already."

And she was counting him as one of those monsters, at least until she knew who and what he was—something he was in no hurry to tell her. "Can we just get in the car?"

He touched her elbow. Warmth flared, washing electricity between them. Not her magic but something deeper, something more basic. Her gaze flicked to his, startled, but she didn't pull away, didn't run. But only, he suspected, because the other manarei was still out there hunting her.

He helped her over to the car and opened the door. The lightning still danced across her fingers, stronger now than it had been before. He wondered what her magic was, and why she hadn't used it against the manarei .

Another scream cut across the night, closer than before. Doyle slammed the door shut and hurried around to the driver's side. The wind whipped around him, bringing with it the scent of death. Their death, if they didn't get out of here.

He started the engine, switched on the lights and threw the car into gear. The wheels spun on the wet road for several seconds before the car lurched forward.

"You know, you neatly avoided answering my question before."

She was leaning against the door, as far away from him as she could possibly get. Her arms were crossed, hands hidden, but he sensed this was less a defensive gesture and more an effort to keep warm.

She must have been out in the rain for some time, because she looked soaked.

He leaned forward and switched the heater to full blast. "And what question would that be?"

She made an exasperated sound. "Why are you here?" she repeated. "And how do you know my name?"

The lights changed to red up ahead. Doyle braked and glanced at the rearview mirror. Though he couldn't see anything, he knew the manarei was out there. Its grief was so strong the night reeked with it.

"I'm here because an old witch told me to be here."

"And I suppose this old witch just happened to tell you my name, as well?" Her voice was sharp with disbelief.

"Actually, yes, she did." He shifted gears and edged forward, wishing the lights would hurry up and change again.

"I see."

The tone of her voice told him she didn't. She stared out the window for several seconds. Tension rode her. Ready to run, Doyle thought, and knew if she did, she'd die.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm and nonthreatening as possible. "I'm a private investigator. I'm working on a case that bears striking similarities to what happened to your friend tonight, and I came to investigate. That's all, nothing more."

"Then why did you stop back there? Why come down Grice Street at all if you were going to my place?"

He shrugged. "I got lost." The lights finally went green. He pressed the accelerator and sped off.

She studied him for several long seconds. "You're a liar, Doyle Fitzgerald."

He glanced at her. Her green eyes were flecked with silver and gleamed brightly in the darkness. So pretty, and yet so full of anguish and mistrust. "I'm not lying about the reason I'm here."

"Maybe." She looked away. "And maybe you'd better just stop and let me—" She hesitated, and gasped.

The shadows moved ahead, and the streetlights gleamed off the metal garbage can hurtling towards them. Doyle braked hard, and the car slewed sideways. The bin hit the hood of the car, shattering the windshield before rolling off into the rain swept darkness.

Through the spiderweb of cracks, Doyle could see the manarei , eyes gleaming yellow fire as it raced towards them. He cursed and threw the gears into reverse. The tires spun then gripped, and the car lurched backward.

But not nearly fast enough.

"Look out," Kirby screamed a second before something heavy hit the hood.

Glass shattered, flying everywhere. Kirby screamed again, a sound lost to the manarei's howl. It reached through the large hole it had shattered in the windshield, claws slashing wildly. Doyle braked, but the sudden stop failed to dislodge the creature. He thrust the car into neutral then threw a punch, connecting with the creature's jaw. The force of the blow jarred his whole arm but had little effect on the manarei . He might as well have been hitting concrete.

He grabbed the tire iron and smashed it into the creature's mouth. The manarei recoiled, shaking its head, splattering Doyle and Kirby with blood. Then it snarled and lashed at him. He thrust back in the seat as far he could, but the claws raked his side, tearing past his coat and into skin. He cursed and hit it again.

Blue fire leapt through the night. Kirby, her hands ablaze, touched the creature's arm. The lightning leaped from her fingers and spider-webbed across the manarei's body, encasing it in light. The smell of burnt flesh rent the air, and the creature howled again—this time a sound full of pain rather than anguish.

Then it was flung backwards, off the car and onto the road. Doyle grabbed his gun and scrambled out.

The wind whipped at his coat, and the rain stung his skin. He braced himself against the door and waited. The manarei shook its head then climbed to its feet. Its skin was smoldering, and one large chunk near its chest had peeled away and was flapping in the wind. Kirby's power, whatever it was, would have killed anything human.

The creature looked around, eyes gleaming malevolently. Then it launched toward them, arrowing straight for her. Doyle squeezed the trigger. The sounds of the shots were muted, lost quickly in the howl of the wind. Blood and bone sprayed through the night, and the creature dropped to the road. It didn't move.

Neither did he, not for several seconds. Manarei , like snakes, had been known to keep moving, to keep reacting, even after death. It was usually better to leave them completely alone, but right now he couldn't afford to do that, just in case the creature wasn't dead. He walked to the front of the car, gun held at the ready. He only had two bullets left. If the manarei were still alive after having two bullets plugged into it, then two more probably weren't going to make a huge difference.

The creature lay on the road, a huddled mass of leathery skin that wasn't going anywhere. One bullet had torn into its brain, the other into its heart. The creature's whole body was bubbling, steaming, disintegrating. Soon there would be nothing left but a stain that the lashing rain would quickly wash away.

A gasp made him look up. Kirby had climbed out of the car and was looking wide-eyed at the creature.

She covered her mouth with shaking fingers, and her face was white—too white.

He raced around the car and caught her slumping body a second before she cracked her head against the road. He picked her up and placed her back in the car. She was lighter than he'd expected—beneath the bulkiness of her coat, there was obviously little more than skin and bone.

He fastened her seat belt then slammed the door shut and went back to look at the manarei . It was now little more than a bubbling, pulpy mass. One of the good side effects of silver bullets, he thought grimly. They made the cleanup a whole lot easier.

He climbed into the car and started it again. The rain was driving in through the hole in the windshield, its touch icy. Despite this, he could feel warmth trickling down his side. He'd have to tend to his wounds—and Kirby's—as soon as possible. Manarei were filthy creatures, and infection was an all too real possibility with wounds they inflicted.

He drove off, then dug into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone. After glancing in the rearview mirror to check for cops, he quickly dialed Russell's number.

It didn't ring for long. "About time you checked in, bro," Russell said. "What's happening?"

"We've two dead manarei and one unconscious but alive woman."

"You okay? I know from experience what nasty bastards those manarei can be."

"It clawed me, but it's nothing serious. Kirby's got a pretty nasty leg wound. Camille had better take a look at it."

Russ cleared his throat slightly. "That might be a bit of a problem."

Doyle glanced in the rearview mirror again. The red and blue lights of an emergency vehicle cut through the darkness, but he relaxed when he saw it was just an ambulance. Right now, the last thing he wanted was to be pulled over by the police.

"Why will it be a problem?" he said, slowing for another set of traffic lights. "What's happened to Camille?"

"Nothing. But she's done another reading using Kirby's hair. Someone's using magic to track her, and until Camille figures out how and why, she doesn't want you to bring her back to the office."

"So I hole up somewhere and wait?"

"That's the general plan, yes. But remember, she's being tracked, so you can't afford to relax."

"I gather from that you're not coming over to share guard duties."

"Nope. This pretty lady is all yours. Camille wants me to check out both Helen's and Kirby's background, then head on over to the government facility that looked after the adoption for the first victim."

"I doubt whether you'd find any clues now." Doyle accelerated slowly as the lights changed to green.

Between the rain and the spiderweb of cracks covering what remained of the windshield, it was difficult to see anything. He'd have to stop somewhere soon—if only because his body was beginning to go numb with cold.

"There'll be records, if nothing else. And I had a damn fine teacher when it comes to picking locks."

Doyle grinned. "Last time you tried you set off every damn alarm in the place."

Russ snorted. "And whose fault was that? You were the one who was supposed to kill the alarms, not me."

"Blame Seline. It's her fault I'm not getting any practice these days." His skills as a thief were not what she'd been after when she'd invited him to join the Circle some twelve years before, and she'd basically kept him on the straight and narrow ever since.

Not that he was altogether unhappy about that, though in many ways, life as a thief had been a hell of a lot less complicated than life in the Circle. And it had certainly been safer.

"I'll give a call once we hole up somewhere."

"Do that," Russ said and hung up.

Doyle shoved the phone back into his pocket and glanced at Kirby. Her eyes were still closed and she was slumped against the door, but the tension riding her shoulders told him she wasn't unconscious.

"Know anywhere decent we can stay?" he asked.

Her eyes opened a sliver. "What's this 'we' business?"

"Like it or not, I'm all that currently stands between you and those manarei ." Which was something of a lie— manareirarely travelled in packs. They were far from sociable creatures, and he actually doubted if whoever was behind this could control more than two. But that only meant something far worse might be on her trail.

"What about the police?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Were you not under police protection when the first manarei attacked?"

"Yeah, but what makes you think you're going to fare any better?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Just why you're here is another point I'd like to discuss."

She was persistent, he had to give her that. "Later, perhaps, when we're out of this rain and you've had that leg tended to."

She regarded him silently. He could see from her thoughts that her distrust was a habit, and he wondered what had happened in her life that now made her suspect the motives of everyone around her.

"Don't suppose you can suggest a good motel around here somewhere?"

She looked away. "No, I don't think I can."

He wasn't entirely sure whether she was talking about trusting him or suggesting a motel. "Then let's travel along this road and see what we find, okay?"

She didn't answer, but the lightning was beginning to flicker across her fingers again. "Kirby," he said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to assault you. I have no intention of doing anything more than tending to your wound and guarding your butt from future attacks."

"I only have your word on that."

If her tone of voice was anything to go by, his word wasn't worth a dime.

"Then believe this—whatever or whoever sent those manarei after you is going to be pretty pissed at their deaths. And they will come after you again."

She shivered and rubbed her arms. "I know." She glanced at him, eyes rich with suspicion. "And that's why I can't trust you. This whole thing may just be a ruse to gain my trust."

Killing two manarei was a hell of a dangerous way to gain her trust. Doyle shook his head in disbelief.

"Look, you've got a pretty damn potent weapon at your disposal. I've seen it in action, and I know it can kill. You think I want to risk that?"

She bit her lip. Droplets of water ran down her face, shimmering silver in the warm wash of the streetlights. They looked like tears. Maybe they were.

"You make one wrong move, and I will use it," she said after a moment.

"Fair enough." He spotted an illuminated sign ahead and slowed the car. "This motel okay?"

She shrugged. "Do you really care anyway?"

"I guess not." He stopped at motel's office and opened the car door. Then he hesitated and glanced at her. "Wait for me. Don't go anywhere."

She shrugged. It could have meant anything. He frowned. "Promise?"

She snorted. "Bit old for that sort of foolishness, aren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. After a moment, she looked away, muttering, "Yeah, I promise."

He nodded, and headed inside. The motel's manager gave him a room, some advice on where to get the windshield replaced, a bottle of antiseptic and several bandages, both of which he cheerfully added to the bill.

By the time Doyle got back to the car, she was gone.