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She stared at him. “How can you tell that just by looking at it?”
“I can’t. I can feel it.”
“You can? How?”
“Now is not the time, believe me.” Without glancing at her, he moved off down the path.
“Now is never the time,” she muttered, stomping after him.
They rounded the corner of the building. About halfway along this section was an old wooden door. Standing in front of it was a woman. Though she had gray hair and, from a distance, looked reasonably old, her multicolored sweater was so bright you almost had to squint to look at it. To complement this, she also wore black leather pants and red sneakers. A woman who didn’t care about the opinions of others, Kirby thought with a smile.
The woman glanced up as they approached, a smile creasing her lined features.
“About time you got here. I can’t get this damn lock to open.” The woman’s bright gaze swept past Doyle, fixing on her. “You’d be Kirby, then?”
Her blue eyes were luminous, almost electric. Not a woman who missed much.
Kirby nodded. “You’re Camille?”
“That I am.” She swatted Doyle’s arm, then stepped to one side, out of the way. “Get a move on. We can’t stand out here all day, you know.”
“You could have spelled it open,” he said, voice dry as he squatted in front of the lock.
“I could have, but that would have let whoever placed those spells around the front of the building know anoth
er witch was near.”
Kirby crossed her arms and watched Doyle work on the lock. “Are you sure your friend is inside?”
“Something is,” he said, as the lock clicked open. “I can hear it scuffing around.”
She frowned. Did vampire’s scuff? Somehow it didn’t fit the image she had. “It could be a trap.”
“It could be,” he agreed, rising. “Which is why you’ll wait out here.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. We need someone to watch for security patrols. You’re it.”
She bit her lip. It made perfectly good sense for her to remain out here, and they both knew it. Problem was, she didn’t want to be left alone in this place. Something about it spooked her. But whether it was forgotten memories finally surfacing or something else, she wasn’t entirely sure.
Camille patted her arm, fingernails painted purple and glittering in the pale morning light. “Don’t worry, dear. Whatever they’re using to track you, it’s not with you now. You’re safe.”
Doyle’s glance was sharp. “Her backpack is the only thing that’s not with us, and I checked that last night.”
“You did?” Kirby said.
He gave her a half-apologetic glance. “Yeah, sorry, but I had to double-check, given I can sense magic and you can’t.”
Camille nodded. “The spell might be layered deep, though. I’d get rid of the pack, fast.”
“But I packed it myself. Believe me, nobody put anything in there that I don’t know about.” Then she remembered Helen’s words and a chill ran through her. If her friend hadn’t left that gift for her, who had?
“The spell might be on the pack itself. As there’s no immediate way to discover the truth, it would be better to abandon it.” Camille glanced back to Doyle. “You ready?”
He nodded, his gaze meeting Kirby’s. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere and don’t run.” Warn me like this if you hear or see anything. Don’t yell, and don’t enter the building.
His thoughts were firm but warm as they whispered through her mind. She stared at him for several heartbeats, wondering if she should take this opportunity to run. His blue gaze narrowed slightly.
