Circle Of Death

pressed against her back, and darkness loomed above her. Trina was lying beside her, as cold and still as death itself. Terror rose, grasping her by the throat, threatening to strangle her.

Sound scuffed to her right, then the sharp click of heels approached. She closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness, knowing that until she knew where Doyle was, it was better not to move. Better if the witch thought her still unconscious.

Mariel stopped beside her. She ran her hand almost lovingly down Kirby's arm, and it took every ounce of willpower to remain still and not shudder away from the sting of her touch.

Then she turned away and addressed the shadows. 'Come into light where I can see you, shifter, or the next shot will remove your charge's toes.'

A chill ran through Kirby. She had no doubt Mariel meant what she said. Obviously, neither did Doyle.

He moved into the circle of dusky firelight, and her breath caught. Blood glistened wetly on his arm, and darkened his jeans almost black. He was barely even standing—most of his weight seemed to be resting on his left leg. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes were little more than deep blue slits.

A bloodied warrior ready to die to protect her, and she knew she could do no less for him. She shifted her hand carefully, reaching for Trina. Found her fingers and clasped them tightly.

Overhead, thunder rumbled, a violent sound that seemed to shudder through the very air around them.

Energy burned into her body, her soul. Though her eyes were still closed, she could see the swift running clouds far above them, could feel the lick of their power, as if they were her own.

Mariel glanced at her, a brief but heated touch she felt rather than saw.

'Drop the knife, shifter,' the witch said after a moment, her voice filled with sudden anxiety.

The knife clattered to the concrete. Doyle's concern ran around her, through her. Are you okay?

Tears stung her closed eyes at the sheer depth of concern—and love—in that one question. I'm certainly better than you . She hesitated, wishing she could say more but not daring to tempt fate just yet. I'm about to test Helen's spell and call the storms down, so be ready for it.

Be careful,he said. She still has the gun.

Not for long she doesn't.She clenched her fist, fighting back the bitter taste of fear and any form of doubt. This would work. Had to work, or they all might die.

Within her mind, she reached for the clouds high above. Power surged, sharp and clean, running through every muscle, every vein, until her whole body ached with the force of it.

Mariel's snort raked the silence. 'Sometimes men are simply too predictable.'

She raised the gun. Kirby called down the storm, and the wind swept in, swirling around Mariel, thrusting her sideways and wrenching the gun from her hands. Rain lashed the air, a torrent that soaked the three of them near the table and yet left Doyle untouched.

He shifted shape and leapt toward the witch. Fire burned through the night, and he twisted. The flames singed his coat, and the smell of burnt hair and flesh stung the air and churned her stomach. He hit the ground and became human again, but remained on all fours, as if he didn't have the energy to move any further. Agony surged through the link between them, and for several seconds she couldn't even breathe.

'Bitch!' Mariel spun and lashed out.

Kirby dodged, but not fast enough. Mariel's nails raked her face, as sharp as any panther's claws.

'For that, you will both pay.' A knife appeared in midair. Mariel waved a hand, and the blade arrowed toward Doyle. He didn't move. Wasn't even looking.

Kirby called the storms, directing their power at the blade, then lurched up and grabbed Mariel's hand while tightening her grip on Tina's hand.

The witch's eyes widened, and for the first time, fear flickered deep in the depths of madness. But she could no more fight Kirby's hold on her than she could the energy that now rushed between them.

Once again, the circle of five had become one.

Power surged, crackling sharply across the silence, a rich, throaty roar that made the storms pale in comparison. The earth shuddered in response, and the sharp sound of concrete shattering filled the air.

Kirby!

Doyle's shout seemed a million miles away. Energy burned, became a song only she could see and control. Her whole being danced to its tune, aching for its caress.

Kirby! Listen to me.

She frowned, but the music of energy beckoned and his voice seemed to fade. She smiled, in her mind's eye seeing the witches' stones tumble and leap like frogs in the pond that the car park had become.

You must control it, or you'll kill us all.

The desperation in his voice reached past her euphoria. Memories shuddered through her. She couldn't kill—not again.

Not innocent bystanders, anyway.

She took a deep breath, then focused the force of five on Mariel herself.

Pain exploded—pain so deep it tore through every fiber of her being. She screamed, a sound echoed by both Mariel and Trina. Then the whole world seemed to tear itself apart, and she knew no more.

Chapter Eighteen

'Are you sure you won't come back with us?'

Doyle shook his head. 'I have to find her, Russ. I can't leave until I at least talk to her.'

Three weeks had passed since that fateful fight in the parking garage that had killed the witch and damn near killed him as well. Three weeks in which he hadn't seen or heard from Kirby.

She'd checked out of the hospital the day after they'd both been admitted, and had simply disappeared.

Worry and fear had been his constant companions from that moment on. What if she was still lost in the dance of energy she'd raised? What if the energy that had blown apart the witch had somehow backwashed and taken her spirit and her mind, as well?

What if she was running from him , from the emotions she feared to face?

The wind stirred, running heated fingers through his hair. He squinted up at the clear blue skies. Though dawn had barely passed, the promise of another hot day was already evident. A good day for hunting, if nothing else.

'You'd better get inside,' he said, returning his gaze to Russell's bandaged face. 'Before the sun hits full strength and you start burning.'

Russell nodded and held out a bandaged hand. 'Good luck, my friend.'

'Thanks. I think I'm going to need it.' He glanced past the vampire as Camille appeared in the doorway of the Circle's private jet. She looked around quickly, then clattered down the steps and bustled toward them. 'Looks like you're about to get the hurry up,' he added.

Russell groaned. 'It's going to be a long trip home if the old witch is going to start nagging now.'

'If you don't watch that smart mouth of yours, vampire, you'll well and truly hear me nag.' Camille stopped and glared up at Russell. 'Now, get that bandaged butt of yours into the plane. We've got to get going.'

'The butt isn't bandaged. Only the face and hands.'

'Seems to be no difference from where I'm standing,' she muttered. 'Now, move it.'

Doyle choked back his laugh as Camille turned the full force of her glare at him. 'As for you, shifter, be careful. There's no telling what her state of mind is going to be.'

'I know.' But he couldn't leave without trying to find her. Without knowing, one way or another, whether she wanted to be a part of his life.

Camille pulled a brush and a scrap of paper from her pocket and slapped both into his hands. 'I did a finding spell for you. The address where you'll find her is written on that paper.'

He clenched his fingers around both. 'Thanks.'

Camille studied him for a moment, her expression troubled. 'What are you going to do if she says no?'

He shrugged. It was a question that had preyed upon his thoughts more than a few times. And the truth