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
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
