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Moon Sworn
If you loved Circle of Fire,
be sure not to miss the next thrilling novel
in the Damask Circle series
by
Keri Arthur
And stay tuned for the epic conclusion
to the Damask Circle series—
Circle of Desire—coming next month.
Here’s a special preview:
DEATH HAD COME CALLING ON A WINDBLOWN, WINTRY EVENING. It smashed past the deadbolts lining the front door and grabbed the living with unparalleled glee, sucking the life from them until there was nothing left but husks. Then it tore the remains apart, as if determined to erase any evidence of humanity.
Kirby hadn’t been home at the time—but her best friend was.
Kirby stood on the edge of the porch, in the wind and the rain, and felt nothing. No pain. No anger. Not even the chill from the wild storm that had shattered the warm Australian summer.
It was as if part of her sat in a vacuum, waiting … but for what, she wasn’t sure.
“Miss Brown? Did you hear my question?”
The voice held an edge of impatience. She turned, vaguely recognizing the red-haired police officer who stood before her. “Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
On walking into the kitchen and seeing the blood spattered like paint across the walls. Or the dismembered parts of Helen and Ross, strewn like forgotten toys throughout the house.
She swallowed heavily, then crossed her arms and licked the rain from her lips. It tasted salty, like tears.
“I asked why you were late coming home tonight.” His blue eyes studied her closely. Not suspiciously, not exactly. Just a cop being a cop, asking questions.
“There was an accident on the West Gate Bridge. It held up traffic for hours. I was supposed to have been home by six.”
If she’d been on time, death would have caught her, too. But fate had stepped in and saved her life. She wondered why.
“What time did you get home, then?”
“Eight-thirty. I stopped at the KFC down the road and got something to eat.” It had been her turn to cook, but because of the late hour, she’d decided to wimp out and just grab takeout for everyone. The chicken still sat in its box, just inside the door where she’d dropped it. She wondered if she’d ever be able to eat KFC again. “I called in the murder not long after that.”
But the constable knew all that. He’d been there earlier, taking notes, when the other detectives had questioned her. She wondered what it was that he didn’t believe.
He checked his notes. “And you saw nothing, heard nothing, as you walked up to the house?”
She shook her head. “Everything was dark. I didn’t even notice the door was open until I got close.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t find that unusual?”
In all honesty, she hadn’t. She’d merely grinned, thinking that perhaps Helen and Ross had been too involved with each other to worry about mundane things like locking the front door. “Helen had only known Ross for a week. They were still at the ‘fucking like rabbits’ stage, I’m afraid.”
She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d said that. She wasn’t usually the swearing type. Maybe it was simply the need to shock the half-smug smile from the young officer’s lips.
A faint hint of red crept across his cheeks and he cleared his throat softly. “Yes, well, that would no doubt explain why the victims had no clothes on.”
