Chapter Twelve
It was close to four by the time she woke. Nikki yawned and stretched, then felt across the bed with one hand. She'd spent the day alone.
Sighing, she got up and grabbed fresh clothes, then headed into the bathroom. The cut on her hand was little more than a pink scar. Even the cut on her head looked half-healed, though the bruise around it was awful—a big, blackish-purple mass stretching from her temple to just above her eye. Not good, when
Michael and she were supposed to be honeymooners. Biting her lip, she studied her reflection for several minutes. It wasn't natural to heal so fast—wasn't human. Ignoring the chill that raced across her skin, she turned on the taps and stepped into the shower.
Once she'd dressed, she walked over to her suitcase and pulled out the two plastic-wrapped items
MacEwan had given her. Even through the plastic, Matthew's watch sent images scattering through her mind. If the strength of these were anything to go by, he was close. She shoved the watch into her shorts pocket, then opened the second bag. The bra belonging to MacEwan's niece felt dead when compared to Matthew's watch. She sat down and closed her eyes, reaching for whatever images the bra might give her. Gradually, they came.
Nikki dropped the bra into her lap and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what was happening to
Rachel, but one thing was certain—it wasn't good. The voice that had flowed so powerfully through the darkness was the same voice evident in the images she'd received when she'd touched Ginger's hand. But how were MacEwan's niece and the flame imps connected?
She put the bra back into the plastic and returned it to her suitcase. She couldn't exactly run around the resort holding a bra, so finding Rachel would have to wait until the other guests were asleep.
She grabbed a room key and headed down to the library. Probably a dozen or so people were in the airy room, browsing the shelves or sitting in the overstuffed armchairs reading newspapers. Michael was close to the ceiling-high windows, nose deep in a book. Given it was well after three, the fading rays of sunlight did little more than glimmer off his damp, dark hair.
She knelt next to him, resting her elbows on one arm of the chair. 'You've changed.'
The black shirt he now wore clung to his body and seemed to emphasize the lean strength of his shoulders and forearms. She resisted the urge to touch him then remembered they were supposed to be honeymooners. She ran her fingers up his forearm and played with his ear.
He pulled her hand away, brushing a kiss across her fingers before releasing them. Amusement touched the corners of his eyes.
'And you're awake.' He dropped the book onto the nearby coffee table. 'You were snoring last time I saw you.'
'I don't snore!' She slapped his leg. 'Why didn't you wake me?'
'Because you needed sleep.' He touched her face, his fingers warm and oh-so-gentle. 'People are going to think I hit you.'
She placed her hand over his, pressing his palm against her cheek. Heat slithered through her body, and deep inside the trembling began. Lord, she craved this man's touch so much it was beginning to hurt. 'Let them. You and I know the truth, and that's all that matters. Did you find anything here?'
He withdrew his hand, but the heat of his touch still lingered on her skin. 'Nothing much. A few vague mentions of underground caverns in the area's history, but nothing concrete. They haven't anything official on the area's geology.'
'Really? That's odd, isn't it? From the quick look I had coming in, they seem pretty well-stocked on books about the area's history and stuff.'
He shrugged. 'Maybe someone removed them. I checked the computer records, though, and there's no mention there, either.'
'Computer records can be altered easily enough.' Especially when you had a computer nerd like
Matthew on hand. Though admittedly, he'd probably been kidnapped for projects loftier than hacking into a library cataloguing system.
She looked around. The old couple sitting close by weren't paying them any attention, but she lowered her voice anyway, just to be safe. 'You feel like going for a walk? I've got Matthew's watch in my pocket.'
Michael raised his eyebrows. 'He's here? In the resort?'
She nodded. 'Somewhere.'
He glanced at his watch. 'Most people will be heading to the restaurant for dinner soon. It's either now, or later tonight.'
'Now. And we'd better start hunting around for Rodeman, as well. Ginger said the man who binds them had him in the darkness.'
'Whatever that means.' He rose and caught her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. 'Shall we go for a walk, my love?'
Though she knew he spoke for the benefit of the nearby couple, the endearment still warmed her heart.
They strolled into the lobby. She put her free hand into her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the watch. Images skated through her mind. She only had to focus slightly, and she would be with Matthew.
A tremor ran through her. Why was this happening? What was it about Matthew that linked her so strongly?
Michael squeezed her fingers. 'Where to?' he murmured.
'Left,' she said. 'Down toward the Health Center.'
A young woman glanced up as they entered. Her welcoming smile faded almost immediately, and her brown eyes narrowed slightly. 'How may I help you?' The look she gave Michael was cold, almost hostile.
He was right. People did think he'd hit her. 'Just thought we'd look around, if that's okay?'
'Sure. Feel free to use any of the facilities, although private gym sessions, massages and facials do have to be booked. We're open until midnight every night.'
Michael accepted the woman's brochures with a smile. The ice, Nikki noted wryly, began to thaw at that precise moment. She wondered if he'd touched the woman's thoughts and erased her suspicions.
The throbbing in the watch became stronger as they headed toward the treatment rooms. There were few people around, and little noise. Unease began to creep up her spine. Something didn't feel right.
Michael stopped at a tee in the corridor. 'Which way?'
She looked left and right. Both corridors lay in semidarkness. There were four doors to their right, two to the left, and not a sound to be heard from either direction. Even the air seemed still, as if the air-conditioning wasn't working in this section of the center. She closed her eyes, briefly clenching the watch. 'Right,' she said after a moment. 'End room.'
Though they walked on carpet, her footsteps seemed to echo across the hush surrounding them. Michael made no sound, as silent as a ghost. Goose bumps crawled across her skin, and the sensation of danger churned her stomach. Or maybe it was just nerves.
They stopped in front of the last door. Michael twisted the handle. 'Locked,' he said, then smiled. 'Not that it has much hope against you.'
'Haven't met a lock yet I can't master,' she said lightly and directed a bolt of kinetic energy at the handle.
The door clicked open. The room beyond was empty and dark, and the air even mustier than the corridor. Obviously, this particular treatment room hadn't seen a lot of action recently. He ushered her through the door, then closed it behind them. The darkness was blanketing, and yet the chairs and tables in the room seemed to
