"Do you know which files she wanted?" Doyle asked.
"The witch's files, what else?"
"Why?"
"Photos. Last known address, stuff like that. This place was closed down not long after them bitches attacked me, and all the kids here scattered. Makes tracking them down a little hard."
But track them down she had. And not only killed them, but ripped their remains to shreds. Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. I'm going to be sick...
She wrenched her hand from Doyle's and raced outside, barely making it to the garden to the left of the door.
When she'd finished, she leaned back against the cool brick wall and closed her eyes. She didn't want to do this. Didn't want to remember the past--especially if it was going to reveal more horrors like the caretaker. And it would reveal more, of that she was certain.
But as Doyle had said earlier, it was time she faced the past. For Helen's sake. For hers. She'd spent too many years in retreat, afraid to trust, afraid to live. Part of the reason why had now been revealed, but she couldn't stop, not until the whole truth was out in the open. Helen had once said their future lay locked in acceptance. It was only now she realized Helen had meant acceptance of the past, of what had happened, and what they'd done.
But just what, exactly, had they done?
She wasn't sure, and that scared her. What could five prepubescent children have done to this Felicity Barnes that she now exacted bloody revenge all these years later?
Footsteps approached. Doyle walked through the doors and stopped. "Are you okay?"
She didn't open her eyes. Didn't want to see the caring in his eyes that she could feel in his thoughts. It was a lie. Had to be. No one could care for her, especially a man who was still such a stranger.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice a little sharper than she'd intended. "Is the caretaker still alive?"
"Scared out of his wits, but yeah, he's still alive." His gaze swept over her, a heated touch she felt rather than saw. "I'm not a cold-blooded killer, Kirby. I'm not an animal. I'm just a man."
No one who could assume the shape of a panther was just a man. She felt an insane desire to laugh at the thought, and crossed her arms, trying to hold it back, trying to hold in all the pain. It didn't work, and a sob escaped.
)
In one, vicious night, Kirby Brown's world is torn apart. Her best friend is dead, killed by a madman who is now after her. Doyle Fitzgerald has been sent to Melbourne, Australia to hunt down a killer. What he doesn't expect to find is a circle of witches capable of controlling the elements and a sorceress determined to take that power for herself. While Kirby finds herself inexplicably drawn to Doyle, she fears to trust him because of the magic that lies in his soul. It quickly becomes evident that the reason behind the killings lies in Kirby's past--a past she has no wish to remember. Because Doyle isn't the only one with magic in his soul. Only her magic is capable of destroying the world.
