Chasing The Shadows

Michael had changed her destiny. He'd loved her enough to snatch her from death's arms, and yet here she was, ready to walk away because he refused to share one part of his life. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was a fool. After everything he'd been through, after everything he'd done for her, he deserved far more consideration than that.

Deserved far better than her.

'You asked for revenge.' Mary looked Nikki's way. 'That is what I also wish. Let us be a part of this monster's death.'

Fragile wisps of vapor stirred the darkness beyond Mary. More ghosts, probably. Nikki had no doubt it was the other four women Farmer had killed here in San Francisco.

'I'm new to all this. I don't know if I can handle more than one. Especially if I have to touch you all.' Not to mention the fact that standing still when someone like Farmer was around could be extremely dangerous.

'You don't have to touch us.'

Nikki glanced down at their joined hands. 'Then why do you hold my hand?'

Mary's smile was wistful. 'Because you needed it. Because I can.'

The tears spilling down her cheeks became a flood. Nikki drew another deep breath and somehow managed to say, 'I'm sorry we weren't here sooner.'

'So am I.' Mary brushed a gossamer finger across Jake's damp cheek. 'Take care, my love. I'll be waiting for you when it's your turn to cross.'

'No, don't—' Mary faded. Jake made an anguished sound and hugged his wife's body fiercely. The sound of sirens was perilously close.

'Jake, I have to go.'

He nodded. Her gaze swept the darkness, seeing mist shimmer in the corner. He wasn't alone, and of that she was glad. She turned and made her way down the stairs.

Police cars rounded the corner as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She walked down a couple of shops then stopped, watching the three cars screech to a halt and the officers pile out. The FBI agents were among those who entered the shop. At least Jake would be relatively safe now.

She headed to the limo and asked the driver to take her back to the hotel. She'd barely entered her room when electricity shimmered across her skin. Farmer was early. Or maybe he was just checking whether she was still here.

She slipped off the charm and walked into the bedroom. 'If you've hurt her, you bastard, I'll kill you.'

He snorted. 'Isn't that what you intended anyway?'

'Yeah, but I'd intended it to be quick. You'll have no such luxury if you've hurt either one of them.'

'I haven't hurt them. Just played with them a little.'

Liar, liar…God, she hoped Michael was still alive—surely she would have felt it if he'd died? He was a part of her, she a part of him. The two of them were bound together forever, so surely she would feel his passing… and the very fact she wasn't sure scared the hell out of her. Farmer had already gone back on his word once. There was nothing to say he hadn't done it twice.

'Let them go.'

He gave her a Cheshire cat sort of smile. 'Have you chosen?'

She crossed her arms. There was only one choice now, but he wasn't to know she was aware of that.

'No. And I have no intention of doing so.'

'Then they both die.'

'No!'

'Then choose.'

'How will I know you'll keep your word?'

He gave her that smile again. 'You don't.'

'Bastard.'

'Choose.'

She took a deep breath. 'Michael.'

'Obviously, the fight he mentioned wasn't as deep as he'd feared.'

If Michael had mentioned their relationship to Farmer, then he was in a bad way. He wouldn't talk to her about it, so why would he do so with a stranger—an enemy?

'Where is he, Farmer?'

'Somewhere safe. You'll have to come and get him, of course.'

She snorted. 'Yeah, that would be real wise, wouldn't it?'

Farmer raised an eyebrow. 'If you don't, he's dead.'

They were all dead anyway, unless she was very careful. And very lucky. 'Where and when?'

He considered the question for several seconds, though she had no doubt he had this all planned to the very last detail.

'You'll find a park on the corner of Vincente and Twenty-eighth Avenue in Sunset. Meet me there just before dawn.'

Why dawn? That was nearly six hours away. 'Why not meet now?'

'Because that is what I wish, and that is what you will do.'

He was a cocky bastard, that was for sure. She was going to enjoy wiping that smug smile off his face.

'Michael had better be alive.'

'He will be.'

She didn't trust the light in his eyes. Didn't trust the smile that played about his mouth. He was up to something, though she had no idea what—beyond the fact that it boded no good for her.

Farmer's image faded. She retrieved the charm and slipped it back on, then made herself some coffee.

Cup in hand, she walked across to the window and stared out on the foggy night.

She had to rescue Michael before that meeting. She didn't trust Farmer one iota, and if they could get Michael out and hidden before dawn, the advantage would fall on their side. They could walk in and confront him without having to worry about anyone's safety but their own.

The trick was finding Michael and getting him out. She placed the cup on the sill and reached into her pocket, drawing out the silver cross.

Warmth pulsed through her palm. She clenched her fingers around the cross and closed her eyes, reaching for any images that might lie within the cross's heart. Nothing. Michael was alive, but he was still mind dead. She couldn't connect with him, not through the cross and not through the link.

She opened her eyes, her gaze drawn to the southwest. He was there. And in need of help.

She grabbed a pen, scrawled a note to Jake then grabbed her coat and ran out into the night.

* * *

Michael eased over the enclosure wall and padded quietly toward the exit. Though his thirst was finally sated, he felt no more energetic. His body had taken a pounding over the last few hours, and it had pushed his natural healing capabilities to the extreme. It would be days before he regained full strength.

And they certainly didn't have days left. Farmer had to be killed long before then.

The guards were still near the exit. He wrapped the shadows around himself, but even that small task had sweat running down his face. Once outside and beyond the sight of the two men, he stopped and leaned back against the fence, sucking in great gulps of air.

Everything still hurt, his arm most of all. It would have to be reset, and soon, before the bone began to knit in its current position. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds washing across the darkness as he tasted the flavors of the cold night.

The slight scent of antiseptic told him there was a hospital close by somewhere, but between him and it came the smell of evil. The remaining fledglings were on the prowl and closing in. He'd never be able to outrun them. He didn't have the strength, and once they'd caught his scent, they'd be on him quicker than dogs on a bone.

He'd have to make a stand here. At least he could keep his back to the fence. He reached up, gripping one of the branches that dipped over the top of the fence and broke it off. Snapping it in two, he pulled off all the leaves and twigs until two jagged stakes were left. All he could do now was wait.

The seconds ticked by. His eyelids began to droop, and he forced them open again. But it was a battle he