yawned again and snuggled deeper into the blankets. But as she drifted into sleep, the wind whispered through her thoughts, speaking of changes that would affect her heart and her soul.
Speaking of power that was hers to claim—if she dared.
S HE WAS ASLEEP BY THE TIME D OYLE WALKED OUT OF the bathroom. Given her prickly demeanor, he had expected her to be nose deep in the blankets, fingers afire with electricity, waiting to attack should he decide to pounce.
To find her curled up in bed and snoring softly was definitely a surprise.
Maybe he’d misjudged her. Or maybe the night’s events had simply worn her down to the point of sheer exhaustion. It was actually a miracle she was still alive. Very few people lived through the attack of one
manarei
, let alone two. Either she was very lucky or there was more to her abilities than what he’d seen so far.
He draped his wet socks and freshly washed shirt next to her clothing, then pulled on his coat to keep warm. After making himself a cup of coffee, he walked across to the table and went through Kirby’s pack. Just as she’d said, there was nothing there. Nothing that even vaguely resembled a tracker. Which didn’t mean that either a piece of clothing or one of the toiletries couldn’t be spelled; he might be magic sensitive, but that didn’t mean he could feel
all
magic. And a well-woven, well-hidden spell was a difficult find even for someone like Camille.
He drank some coffee, then dug the phone out of his pocket and called Russell.
“Hey, wild man. How’s it going?” Russ said, sounding more alive than any dead man had a right to sound.
Doyle grinned. “Sounds like you’ve had a breakthrough.”
“A minor one. Seems Kirby Brown and Helen Smith were dumped on hospital doorsteps as babes on exactly the same day. No trace of their parents was ever found, and both were later placed for adoption. Interestingly enough, they both ended up in the very same center for troubled teenagers as eleven-year-olds.”
Kirby, at least, had never been adopted. He’d caught that much from her thoughts. She’d been shuffled aroundvarious foster homes, never staying at one for more than a few months. He wondered why. “Maybe that center is our connection.”
“Camille’s certain it is.”
“What is she up to at the moment?”
“She’s headed off to the morgue to get a look at Smith’s remains.”
Doyle picked up one end of the sofa, moving it around until it was positioned in such a way that he had a clear view of the door, the window, and Kirby. “Has she tried to do another reading?”
“Not yet.”
He sat down and propped his bare feet on the small coffee table. “That means despite the fact that our killer seems pretty intent on grabbing Kirby, Rachel Grant could still be the next victim. You any closer to tracking her down?”
“I’ve got three possible addresses. And before you ask, no, I haven’t checked them out yet. I might be able to run like the wind, but I can still only do one thing at a time, and Camille wants me to check the government center first.”
“Then give me the addresses. I’ll check them out once Kirby gets some rest.”
“Is that wise?” Russell’s voice held a hint of doubt. “I mean, you might lead the killer directly to Rachel Grant. Maybe that’s exactly what he wants.”
“I doubt it. The killer didn’t seem to have any trouble finding Helen. I don’t think he’s sitting back waiting for us to lead him to Rachel.”
“Maybe, but you might just drag Kirby into the middle of an attack.”
“A risk we’ll have to take. Besides, Camille was rightabout her being tracked. About ten minutes after the
manarei
died, a vamp was on her tail.”
“I’m gathering you’ve looked for the tracker?”
“Yeah. If it’s under a spell of some kind, I’m not feeling it.”
“What about the vamp? Did you manage to question him?”
“Didn’t have the time. But I’m thinking he was a last-minute recruit or
Speaking of power that was hers to claim—if she dared.
S HE WAS ASLEEP BY THE TIME D OYLE WALKED OUT OF the bathroom. Given her prickly demeanor, he had expected her to be nose deep in the blankets, fingers afire with electricity, waiting to attack should he decide to pounce.
To find her curled up in bed and snoring softly was definitely a surprise.
Maybe he’d misjudged her. Or maybe the night’s events had simply worn her down to the point of sheer exhaustion. It was actually a miracle she was still alive. Very few people lived through the attack of one
manarei
, let alone two. Either she was very lucky or there was more to her abilities than what he’d seen so far.
He draped his wet socks and freshly washed shirt next to her clothing, then pulled on his coat to keep warm. After making himself a cup of coffee, he walked across to the table and went through Kirby’s pack. Just as she’d said, there was nothing there. Nothing that even vaguely resembled a tracker. Which didn’t mean that either a piece of clothing or one of the toiletries couldn’t be spelled; he might be magic sensitive, but that didn’t mean he could feel
all
magic. And a well-woven, well-hidden spell was a difficult find even for someone like Camille.
He drank some coffee, then dug the phone out of his pocket and called Russell.
“Hey, wild man. How’s it going?” Russ said, sounding more alive than any dead man had a right to sound.
Doyle grinned. “Sounds like you’ve had a breakthrough.”
“A minor one. Seems Kirby Brown and Helen Smith were dumped on hospital doorsteps as babes on exactly the same day. No trace of their parents was ever found, and both were later placed for adoption. Interestingly enough, they both ended up in the very same center for troubled teenagers as eleven-year-olds.”
Kirby, at least, had never been adopted. He’d caught that much from her thoughts. She’d been shuffled aroundvarious foster homes, never staying at one for more than a few months. He wondered why. “Maybe that center is our connection.”
“Camille’s certain it is.”
“What is she up to at the moment?”
“She’s headed off to the morgue to get a look at Smith’s remains.”
Doyle picked up one end of the sofa, moving it around until it was positioned in such a way that he had a clear view of the door, the window, and Kirby. “Has she tried to do another reading?”
“Not yet.”
He sat down and propped his bare feet on the small coffee table. “That means despite the fact that our killer seems pretty intent on grabbing Kirby, Rachel Grant could still be the next victim. You any closer to tracking her down?”
“I’ve got three possible addresses. And before you ask, no, I haven’t checked them out yet. I might be able to run like the wind, but I can still only do one thing at a time, and Camille wants me to check the government center first.”
“Then give me the addresses. I’ll check them out once Kirby gets some rest.”
“Is that wise?” Russell’s voice held a hint of doubt. “I mean, you might lead the killer directly to Rachel Grant. Maybe that’s exactly what he wants.”
“I doubt it. The killer didn’t seem to have any trouble finding Helen. I don’t think he’s sitting back waiting for us to lead him to Rachel.”
“Maybe, but you might just drag Kirby into the middle of an attack.”
“A risk we’ll have to take. Besides, Camille was rightabout her being tracked. About ten minutes after the
manarei
died, a vamp was on her tail.”
“I’m gathering you’ve looked for the tracker?”
“Yeah. If it’s under a spell of some kind, I’m not feeling it.”
“What about the vamp? Did you manage to question him?”
“Didn’t have the time. But I’m thinking he was a last-minute recruit or
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