The smell of death mixed with a damp, slightly fishy odor, indicating they were in the sewers again. But beyond that, there was a sea-weedy, salty sort of tang. In the distance came a continuous, thumping roar, like that of ocean pounding against rocks. They had to be near an old outlet to the sea, even though those had been blocked many years ago.
But why here? Especially when it was such a long way from where they'd found the other two victims?
What was Farmer up to this time?
'I know you're awake,' Farmer continued, his tone less jocular. 'Feigning unconsciousness in the hope of getting me closer will achieve nothing. You're chained, in case you didn't realize it.'
He shifted his right arm carefully. Heard the clink of metal. Normally, chains wouldn't hold him. Farmer knew that and so did he. Which meant he was hurt far more than the pain pounding through his body would suggest.
'This won't—' The words came out a cracked, almost unintelligible whisper. He stopped and ran his tongue around his mouth. Three teeth were chipped, his top lip was split, and the bottom half of his face seemed horribly swollen. Farmer obviously hadn't been overly careful on where he'd placed his boots. It hurt to breathe, let alone talk. '—get you anywhere,' he finished.
'Interesting you should say that, because I really did expect the witch to come rushing to your rescue.
She hasn't, and I'm wondering why.'
'Well, that's just downright inconsiderate of you. How bad?'
'Split up.' It hurt to say those words. Hurt more than any of the wounds Farmer had inflicted on him.
And if he got out of this situation alive, he was going to ensure she stayed in his life. There had to be a compromise that suited both of them. Had to be.
And if there wasn't?
Then he'd do what it took—even if that meant walking away from the Circle, from everything and everyone else he loved. Her leaving him this afternoon had allowed him to glimpse the future, and it was as he'd long suspected. Life without her was a long, dark tunnel. He'd been through that tunnel once. He had no intention of going back.
Farmer tsked. 'Very inconsiderate. Still, maybe she has no idea yet that you're my captive. Maybe she failed to find that damn cross of yours.'
She would have found it. Of that, Michael had no doubt. But why she hadn't yet tried to rescue him he couldn't honestly say. Maybe all the arguing they'd been doing over the past few days had actually done some good. Maybe she was thinking instead of simply reacting.
Which wasn't really a fair thought. Especially when it was part of what he loved about her.
'Perhaps I shall send her a little souvenir and let her know.'
Over his dead body. 'Great… idea.'
The silence seemed to stretch. He could feel Farmer's confusion, even if he couldn't yet see it.
'It worries me that you so readily agree with me,' the younger vampire said eventually.
It was supposed to. Obviously, Farmer wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and at least that gave Michael himself some advantage. Right now, he needed every little bit of help he could get. He shifted his right hand and carefully rubbed his face. Blood crusted both his eyes. He wiped it away and opened his eyes—or eye. The left one remained swollen shut.
Farmer was a blur of red heat fifteen feet away. Farmer's left arm was heavily bandaged, indicating Michael had been successful in at least one aim. Behind the younger vampire were four others—the fledglings he'd heard feeding earlier.
'Why do you want me to send her such a reminder when it is your flesh I'll be taking?' Farmer continued.
'How…' His voice faded, and he coughed. The action sent pain slicing through him, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He swallowed it. Blood was blood, and right now, he could not afford to lose any more than he already had. '…would you react?'
'I'd be hysterical. Then I'd want revenge.' Farmer paused again. 'Which is exactly the reaction I want.'
'Go for it.'
Farmer crossed his arms, expression wary. Puzzled. 'You're just trying to psyche me out of it, aren't you?'
'Yes.'
The puzzlement on Farmer's face deepened. 'And now your just agreeing with everything I say and trying to confuse me.'
'Yes.' At this stage, there wasn't much else he could do. Not until the pain ebbed a little.
'Perhaps I should try to contact her first. Give her a little taste of what I intend if she doesn't come to your rescue.' Farmer glanced at his watch. 'In the meantime, I have a pressing engagement with another prisoner.' He turned, then hesitated. 'And don't bother trying to escape. My boys will be more than a match for you in your current condition.'
The boys in question stirred restlessly. None of them were particularly old, three of the four probably little more than eighteen or nineteen. The taste for young flesh was something he had never been able to understand. Even in the darkest days of his early years as one of Elizabeth's fledglings, he had always chosen older victims to feast on. The destruction of such young life was something he'd always abhorred.
As Elizabeth had often said, he never did make much of a 'proper' vampire.
Farmer left. The Loop milled uncertainly for several seconds, then followed their creator. But they didn't go far. Their restless movements and hungry, blood-crazed thoughts stirred the darkness from just around the corner.
If Farmer wasn't careful, these four would soon slip the leash. They were too new to their condition, too crazed by the urgency pounding through their veins. And that could lead to a blood bath on the streets above. Not that Farmer would particularly care, except for the fact it might put a dent in his plans for revenge.
Plans Michael still had every intention of stopping. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and taking stock. The pain was centered in three areas—his ribs, his left arm and his stomach. His legs were undoubtedly bruised and battered, but he could move them without great walls of agony hitting him, so nothing was broken. His arm was broken—every twitch sent hot lances arrowing into his brain. His ribs and stomach were almost as painful, but neither of those would hamper his escape as much as his useless left arm.
He reached out to the link and tried to contact Nikki. Nothing but a haze of gray came back to him. It was something he'd felt once before—when Jasper had kidnapped and drugged her. Farmer had undoubtedly done something similar to him. He'd felt the full force of Michael's mind strength in the cafe.
He wouldn't risk being captured like that again.
Michael glanced at the metal cuff around his right wrist and tried to kinetically pry the attached links apart. The fog swirled sluggishly, and the metal links remained stubbornly locked together.
No relying on his psychic skills, then.
He edged carefully onto his back, but the movement still jarred his arm. Sweat broke out across his brow, and he hissed, battling waves of nausea and the threatening tide of unconsciousness.
He couldn't slip back. He didn't trust the fledglings not to attack him. And he needed to get out of here, away from Farmer, before Nikki did come looking for him.
He continued to breathe deeply until the pain had subsided once again, then turned to study what held the chains. It wasn't the wall he'd expected, but a rusting metal ladder. His gaze followed it up into the darkness. The cover looked as if it hadn't been moved in some time, but that didn't mean it couldn't be moved. It was certainly worth a try.
But first, he had to do something about his arm.
He looked down at the limb in question. Bone gleamed whitely in the darkness. One break, close to his elbow. It would heal with time but, right now, time was the one thing he didn't have much of. He looked back at the ladder. Muck and silt had built up over the years, and the bottom rung was half buried and looked rustier than the rest of the ladder. If he could break it off, it would make a good splint.
He wrapped his fingers around it, took a deep breath, then pulled with all his strength. It came away with a
