'The old witch has fine hearing, too, Russell, so watch your cheek and get in here."
Russ rolled his eyes and opened the door. Restraining his grin, Doyle walked through the candlelit darkness to the coffeepot.
"Another murder, is it?" Camille snatched the folder from Russell's hands. Pushing her blue rimmed glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, she slapped open the folder and peered at the contents with a frown.
Doyle filled the mugs, handing them out before sitting down at the table next to Russell. He sipped his coffee and watched Camille, an odd sort of trepidation filling his gut. The surprises hadn't ended with these two murders, of that he was certain.
'This can't be right." Camille picked up a photo and tossed it to him.
'This girl isn't on the list. Why would she be targeted?" He studied the photo of the murdered woman. Even though he'd seen a hell of a lot worse in his time with the Circle, anger still burned through him. These people hadn't just been killed, they'd been desecrated. There was nothing ritualistic about the destruction, either. The creatures behind it had done this for pleasure, nothing more.
"We don't know how accurate that list of yours really is," Russ said.
"Especially given we don't know who's really behind these murders." Doyle frowned. Whoever was behind the murders was obviously strong enough to control a manarei, the most dangerous of all shapeshifters. Though if they were that powerful, why would they risk using the manarei at all? It didn't make any sense.
"I did a reading off that bit of scale you found at the first murder scene. That list is accurate, all right." Camille's blue eyes were sharp with anger, though he knew it was aimed more at herself than Russell or him. She didn't like being wrong, and she didn't like deaths happening as a result of her being wrong.
"Manarei don't usually make mistakes." He handed the photo back to her. "If he killed this woman, he did it because he was ordered to." Camille nodded, silver hair gleaming in the flickering candlelight. "What we gotta do now is find out why. Russell, you get a chance to look at the house?"
"Yeah. Got invited in with the forensic team. Same deal as the previous murder. Brains consumed, bodies pulled apart."
She frowned and tapped a gnarled finger on the photo. "Nothing else?
Nothing out of the ordinary?"
Russell frowned. "Yeah. The damn living room looked as if the storm had stepped inside for a few seconds. The whole place was sodden." Camille's gray eyebrows shot up. "What did the cops make of that?"
"Both the door and the window had been left open." Russ shrugged. 'They figured it was probably that."
"But you don't?" Doyle asked.
Russ shook his head. "I'm not magi-sensitive like you, but the air felt...electric." He shrugged. "Whatever happened, it still wasn't enough to protect them."
Doyle grimaced. The only thing that really stopped a Manarei was a silver bullet to the brain. But they weren't just powerful killers. They were hunters beyond compare, and they could assume the shape of anyone they'd consumed. Which made them damn hard to track down.
"Storm witch," Camille muttered. "Had to be. Why would the creature be going after someone like her? She don't fit with the other murder."
"She does if the murderer is after nothing more than a certain look." Russell leaned forward in his chair and lightly tapped the photo of the dead woman. "She had dark hair and gray eyes, same as the other one." Camille snorted. "And the triangles being carved around that circle on the door? That just there for decoration?"
Russ shrugged. "Could be."
Camille's beady gaze headed Doyle's way. "And you? What's your opinion on this?"
He didn't really have one yet, beyond the fact they were in over their heads and sinking fast. He reached for the folder. "I think we're missing something."
"Yeah, a motive." Russell's voice was dry. "And the name of the person pulling the Manarei's strings."
He grinned. "I meant specifically with this murder, moron. What do we know about this Helen Smith?"
"Not a lot. She moved into the Essendon area a month ago. Had a job as a chef at a local vegetarian restaurant. Shared the house with a girlfriend, one Kirby Brown. It was Kirby who found her, apparently."
"You get a chance to talk to this woman?" Camille asked, voice sharp.
"No. The cops were watching her pretty closely. They've got her under protection at a local motel."
Camille made a sound of disgust. Her dislike for police had its origins in the brief period she'd been one of them. She never talked about it much, but Doyle had gathered over the years that it wasn't so much the rules she disliked as the unwillingness of those in charge to see beyond the material aspects of a case in an attempt to solve it.
But the police force's loss was the Damask Circle's gain. Camille had been quickly pulled from the ranks of general investigators and now helped Seline Whiteshore run the huge organization. That Seline had sent her here with them spoke of the seriousness in which she viewed this situation.