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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 victim.”
“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 w
as 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 her adoption.”
“I doubt whether you’ll 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 they’d been 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 a hell of a lot 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.
“You want to go through your pack and see if there’s anything in there that shouldn’t be?”
Her eyes opened a sliver. “Like what?”
“One of my partners thinks you’re being tracked by magic, so you need to go through your things.” He glanced at her when she didn’t react. “Now.”
She studied him for a moment longer, then twisted around to grab her pack. She pulled out an odd assortment of clothes as well as, of all things, a small but cheerfully wrapped box.
“Is it your birthday?”
“Not yet.” She shoved the present between her knees, then upended the pack. “There’s nothing else in here.”
Which didn’t mean the tracker wasn’t there, just that it was well hidden. He’d have to search himself—but later, when she was asleep.
