Chasing The Shadows

The sharp premonition of danger stabbed his mind, and he raised an eyebrow. Why had no one mentioned the fact Mary had grown up in Boston?

'No,' he said slowly, 'I guess not.'

'There. Someone finally agrees with me. Perhaps you should talk to Jake for me.'

'Perhaps.' He touched her thoughts, lightly controlling. The spark of awareness left her eyes. 'Tell me, did you attend high school in Boston?'

'Yes,' she repeated dutifully.

'Were any of the following women your classmates at that high school?' He reeled off the names of four kidnap victims.

She frowned. 'All but Dale Wainwright were in my class.'

He wasn't entirely surprised. 'Did you know Dale at all during school?'

'We met afterward, when she married Mark. I believe she was three years my junior.'

'Did anything unusual happen during your years at high school?'

'No.'

'Think back a little more.' He pressed his mind control a little deeper.

'Nothing.' She hesitated. 'There was one prom that was somewhat tragic.'

'In what way?'

'Two girls got drunk and leapt from the roof of the hall.'

'Any idea why?'

'No.'

'How did the alcohol get into the hall then?'

'No idea.'

This was getting him nowhere fast. If Seline was checking the records, she'd undoubtedly find mention of this incident. He'd talk to her later this morning.

He crossed his arms and stared at the window for a moment. 'Did these three girls do anything unusual during the evening?'

'Nothing different from the rest of us.'

'And nothing else happened?'

'No.'

He released his hold on her mind, and she blinked. 'Now, what was I saying?'

'It's not me who needs to talk to Jake,' he said, giving her the prompt. 'But you.' And knew the irony of the words even as he said them.

'We have talked. I talk, he talks, and still we get nowhere. I think we've both grown more selfish over the years, and it's me who's cracked first.'

'You've spent too long together to simply walk away now.'

She sighed. 'It's the only reason either of us is still here.'

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. In that instant, he was slammed by the rush of fear running through the link.

Nikki. In trouble. He thrust upwards. 'I'll be back in a moment.'

Mary smiled gently. 'Don't worry. I've grown used to men running out on me of late.'

He hurriedly kissed her cheek, then ran out of the dining room. He didn't wait for the elevator, but blurred his form and raced up the stairs.

A heartbeat later he reached their room and shoved open the door. Nikki spun as he entered, hand raised, energy dancing in sparks across her fingertips. She relaxed the instant she saw him.

What's wrong?He quickly looked around the room but could see or feel no immediate threat.

We have a visitor.

Who?

She nodded toward the bedroom behind her. He strode to her side, sliding his hand down her arm until his fingers were twined through the warmth of hers. In the center of the bedroom stood a man. He was ordinary looking—short, plumpish, with thinning red hair and pale blue eyes. His face was pockmarked, leftover evidence of the acne he must have suffered as a teenager. He was dressed in black boots, faded jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket.

But he wasn't real.

Wasn't actually there.

His image rippled, sparked, and energy caressed the air, raising the hairs along Michael's arm. Have you talked to him?

She shook her head. I was about to, when you came in.

Then do so. He released her fingers. I'll remain silent, so he doesn't sense I'm here.

She walked into the room and stopped in front of the flickering image. 'Who are you?'

The man jerked, like a mannequin brought to life. Michael very much suspected that this wasn't the true form of the man behind the murders. And if the marks on the image's neck were anything to go by, he was also very dead.

'I'm sending you a warning. Leave this city now, or I will destroy you.'

The image's lips didn't move. The voice was disembodied but familiar. It was the man he'd talked to last night.

'And why would you want to do that?' She circled the image, studying him from all angles. She paused when she saw the man's neck and glanced across at Michael. This man is dead.

By several hours, I'd say.He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the door frame. But he didn't entirely relax. This image might well be the forerunner of another attack.

'What I do is nothing more than justice,' the voice said. 'You have no right to stop me.'

'What you're doing has nothing to do with justice, and everything to do with revenge. Don't lie to me or yourself.'

The image's mouth slid into the gruesome replica of a smile. 'You are more intuitive than I'd originally thought.'

'And you're sicker than I'd originally thought.' Nikki stopped near the front of the image again. 'And I have no intention of going anywhere until I stop you.'

No reply came. The image hung in the room, waiting for its master to give it life once more.

It might not be wise to antagonize him, Michael advised. We're working with a sick mind, and it's doubtful his reactions will be predictable.

Antagonizing him might be our only way of stopping him. At least if he's coming after me, he's not kidnapping other women.

I wouldn't be too sure of that.This plan, whatever it was, smelled of precision. Their killer might be mad, but madness certainly hadn't incapacitated his brainpower. He's here for a reason. He's not here just to deliver a warning.

An image can't harm me.

It can if it's meant as nothing more than a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder. While he could hear no sound or movement, the awareness of… something… surged across his senses.

She glanced at him, eyebrows raised. You think he plans another attack?

Yes.

But it's daylight, so his vamps can't move around. And the cops have the hotel monitored.

Fledglings could take them easily enough.Yet it wasn't fledglings he could sense. It was something else, something undefinable.

Something that felt vaguely human, though he could neither smell blood nor hear a heartbeat.

Zombie?

Remember what they smell like.

She shuddered. No disguising that .

No. He pushed away from the bedroom door frame and moved to the center of the main room,