Dancing With The Dead

sitting like a rock in the pit of her stomach. If Jasper could haunt her dreams and send images to taunt her, could he do more? Could he somehow control her?

She raised the knife still clenched in her hand. Light reflected brightly off its tarnished surface. It was part of an old setting she'd found in a second hand shop some time ago. She had no idea how much silver the knife actually contained, and no idea if it would be of any use against Jasper. Yet it had felt oddly comforting to have it under her pillow last night. She studied the shadows still crowding the far corners.

There wasn't a doubt in her mind that holding it had somehow made the demons disappear. Just as it had forced Jasper's whisperings from her mind.

Shivering, she rose and padded barefoot across the dusty floorboards to open the curtains. The fading afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, chasing away the shadows and the lingering remnants of her dreams.

If the gathering clouds were anything to go by, the night was going to be a bitch. The wind stirred the nearby oak, scraping branches against the windowpane and chasing shadows across the footpath below.

People wearing heavy coats hustled by, intent on getting home before the threatening rain hit.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill. If Jasper was a vampire, as Michael insisted, how was he able to send her images during the day? Weren't vampires little more than corpses during the sunlit hours?

Maybe a quick trip to the library was in order. Her knowledge of vampires amounted to little more than what she'd seen on the movie screen. Which was pretty much all crap, if Michael were to be believed.

Goose bumps chased themselves up her arms, due more to the chill in the air than the fear sitting like a lump in her stomach. She turned and grabbed her robe. What she needed right now was coffee to warm her up.

She headed for the kitchen, turning on the lights as she went. To hell with the power bill tonight. She made a coffee, then leaned against the bench, idly watching her eccentric old neighbors jog past. The light outside had almost faded. She'd have to get moving or she'd be late for work—again.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled a warning. Smiling, she reached for the phone. 'Evening Jake.'

'I wish you wouldn't do that. It's very annoying.'

Background noise told her he was calling from his car. She frowned and glanced at her watch. It was nearing six o'clock, so he had to be on his way home. What was so important that it couldn't wait until he got there?

'Hey, it's one of the reasons you employ me, isn't it?'

'Yes. And it's still annoying.'

The tone of his voice told her it had not been one of his better days. 'What's the matter?' she said lightly. 'Mary threaten to divorce you again?'

'Worse. Monica Trevgard just walked out of the morgue.'

Nikki closed her eyes and tried to control a sudden burst of panic. Now that the impossible had happened, what in hell was she going to do?

'Did you hear me Nikki? I said…'

'I heard.' She rubbed a hand across her eyes. They had to stop Monica, obviously. But where would a newly turned vampire go?

Home.

Michael's thought cut through her mind, knife-edged with anger. Though he had every right to be, she was suddenly glad his thoughts held a hint of distance. Monica was loose because she'd refused to believe. Yet even knowing the truth, could she have stood by and let him sever the teenager's head? She shivered and thrust the image from her mind.

Why home?She asked in confusion.

Because she must… As she must kill soon.

A chill ran through her soul. It was no secret that Monica hated her father. Trevgard was in danger.

'Still with me, Nik?'

Jake's voice made her start. She clenched her fingers against the phone. 'Yes. And we have big problems.'

'Nothing compared to the coroner's, I'd say.'

'Wrong.' She rubbed her eyes again, hoping the niggling ache behind her left eye didn't mean yesterday's headache was returning. 'Where are you at the moment?'

'Corner of Jackson and Pacific.'

'Then you'd better swing around to my place and pick me up. We have to get to Trevgard's. I'll explain why when you get here.'

Nikki, no!

She ignored Michael and hung up the phone. She finished her coffee in several gulps that burned her throat, then walked back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Damn it, woman, wait for me. You have no idea…

It's my responsibility, she reminded him, quickly strapping her spare set of knives onto her wrists.

Don't go alone. Wait for me.

No.

She collected her coat off the chair, then grabbed her keys and a small flashlight. At the front door, she hesitated, then turned and moved back into the bedroom. Rummaging quickly through her jewelry box, she found the small silver chain and cross Tommy had given her so long ago. Bitter memories rose, but she shoved them away and clipped the chain around her neck. She had no idea if a cross would offer any protection against vampires, but, like the knife earlier, she felt safer with its coldness pressed against her skin.

Jake's sleek silver Mercedes pulled up as she stepped outside.

'What in hell is going on?' he growled once she'd settled into the front seat. 'Why is it so important for us to get to Trevgard's?'

She grimaced. How did you sanely approach the subject of vampires? 'I left out a few details about Monica when we talked last night.'

'Like what?' The look he cast her simmered with annoyance.

She hesitated, then shrugged. Perhaps a direct approach was best. 'Did the police happen to mention the manner of Monica's death when they interviewed Trevgard?'

'No.'

'It was blood loss.'

He gave her a quick, surprised look. 'The creep cut her up?'

'No. Her body was hardly marked, in fact.'

'Nikki—' There was no avoiding the subject. 'She only had two marks on her body. A small cut on her wrist that was days old and almost healed.'

'And?' he prompted, when she hesitated.

'Two small puncture marks on her neck.' She glanced across and met his brief, puzzled look. She must have given Michael the same sort of look.

'Am I supposed to read something significant into that statement?'

'Think, Jake. Blood loss… Puncture marks?'

'Jeez…'

The car swerved violently as he jerked around in surprise. Swearing under his breath, Jake battled to get the vehicle under control then pulled over to the side of the road.

'Now,' he said, applying the hand brake before twisting around to face her. 'Are you trying to tell me Monica was killed by a vampire?'

'Yes.'

'A vampire ?' He stared at her. 'You really believe Monica was killed by a vampire?'

'Yes. I saw the body, Jake. Apart from the puncture marks, the only other wound was days old and almost healed. Yet there was no blood, in or out of the body.'