shifting from one foot to the other, her whole body quivering with the need to run.
Nikki bit her lip, battling for the strength to keep the leash intact. An all too familiar ache began in her brain. Sweat trickled faster down her face. 'Tell me about him, then.'
'We can't.'
She frowned. Why was Rachel continually referring to herself as we rather than I ? It was odd—especially given Ginger spoke in much the same manner… Nikki stared at the young vampire in sudden realization. When she'd searched earlier this afternoon for Rachel, she felt heat, sorrow, and chains made of words. A flame imp had been bound in the young vampire's body. She shivered. What sort of monster cared so little for life that he destroyed two at a time?
'Then we wait for the man who comes,' Nikki warned, though it was the last thing she really wanted to do. Still, Rachel didn't know that.
'He's evil,' Rachel said, her voice little more than a desperate hiss.
'But does he have a name? What does he look like?'
'He is called Randolf Cordell. He is tall, with blonde hair and green eyes. Now let us go.'
It sounded like the man she'd seen in those first visions, the man who had turned Rachel. Was their magician also a vampire? 'Why is he using the flame imps? Why is he forcing them into the bodies of others?'
Rachel spat. 'We don't know, do we?'
The sense of evil was a blanket threatening to smother her. Across the silence, she heard a door open.
He was coming their way.
She couldn't stay here, nor could she let Rachel go. And she couldn't hold the kinetic net for much longer. Nikki bit her lip, knowing there was only one real option. Gathering what was left of her energy, she thrust Rachel back, smashing her skull against the car. The vampire slumped, her weight tearing at the net. Pain shot through Nikki's head. Blinking against the sting of tears, she released the kinetic cage and ran forward. Though unconscious, Rachel's pulse was as steady and as strong as a vampire's ever got.
She hadn't really hurt her then. Good.
She rose and scanned the parking lot. There was a Dumpster near the back fence. Perhaps she could find something there to restrain Rachel—at least until Michael got here to help her.
She grabbed the young vampire's hands and began dragging her. The wind chilled the sweat dripping down her cheeks and back, and the sense of evil was so thick she could barely breathe.
It seemed to take hours to reach the bin. Her arm, leg and back muscles were all protesting fiercely by the time she got there. She leaned Rachel against some boxes that had fallen from the bin, then thrust a hand through her sweat-tangled hair and scanned the night. No sound, no movement. The sense of evil was unmoving, as if he too stood listening.
The flame imp in Rachel, she thought suddenly. They'd told her that he couldn't see them, that he could only sense their power. That's what he'd been following. When she'd knocked out Rachel, she'd also knocked out the flame imp, and the man Rachel had called Randolf Cordell had lost all sense of them.
But if he was a vampire, he only had to come around the corner, and he'd find them. Her heart was a rapid drumbeat that would call him toward them.
She stepped over Rachel and peeked inside the Dumpster. Luck was with her. The bin was not only filled with boxes but used packing tape as well. She grabbed as much of it as she could reach, then quickly wrapped it around Rachel's feet and hands. For good measure, she wound some around the vampire's mouth.
Then she squatted next to her, listening to the wind moan through the trees behind them. The sense of evil was still stationary, still centered on the left-hand alley. Why didn't he move? What was going on?
Pain hit her then, pain so fierce it burned through her brain and knocked her sideways. She gasped, holding her chest, feeling as if she'd just been hit by truck.
Only it wasn't her pain.
It was Michael's.
Chapter Fifteen
Nikki scrambled to her feet. Michael was hurt. She didn't know how or why, but she had to find him.
Help him.
She reached for the link. Pain pulsed, a red-hot glow that burned through her. She bit her lip, gaze sweeping the night. He was in the left-hand alley—right where the evil was.
She ran. Her footsteps echoed across the night, a rhythm oddly in tune with the thumping beat of the music coming from the bar. She rounded the corner of the building and slid to a stop.
A pair of hands hovered above the ground, seemingly unattached to anything but the night. Lightning arced from them, leaping across the darkness, a ragged, blue-white streak of energy that hit Michael in the chest and threw him backwards. He hit the wall with a crunch and slid down to the ground.
He didn't move.
She couldn't tell if he was alive or not. No , Nikki thought wildly. No . Energy surged, burning through her, crackling at her fingertips, sparkling like fire through the night as she hit the shadows that hid Randolf
Cordell with everything she had. The hands disappeared into night and something heavy hit the trash cans, scattering them.
Pain seared through her brain, almost blinding in its intensity. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
Energy still tingled across her fingers despite the fire lances in her brain. She watched the shadows and waited. The hands appeared again, ghostlike in the night. She hit them kinetically, flinging him away.
For an instant, a figure appeared, sprawled across the sidewalk—a long, lanky body above which a flame imp rotated. It looked washed out, gray, as if every ounce of energy had been sucked from it.
Maybe it had. Maybe that was where the lightning originated.
The shadows closed in again, concealing Cordell. She clenched her fists and waited for an attack, be it physical or magical. Nothing happened. The sense of evil that was Cordell dissipated, and the night became friendly once more.
He'd gone. She heaved a sigh of relief and ran to Michael. Kneeling by his side, she touched his face, his neck. His color was abysmal, even for a vampire, but his pulse was steady and strong. Relief surged so fiercely that tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision
'Michael?' She brushed the midnight strands of hair from his closed eyes. 'Michael? Can you hear me?
Are you okay?'
She felt his thoughts stir. Pain bloomed, followed quickly by anger. 'Did you get the number of that truck?' he muttered, holding his chest and wincing slightly.
'What happened? Why did you show yourself to him?' She quickly undid his shirt, noticing with a slight smile that he was still wearing her cross around his neck.
'I didn't. He obviously sensed I was there because I came out the door, and he was waiting for me.
Must have had some sort of magical wards set in place to warn him if someone follows him.'
'And maybe he sensed you because he's also a vampire.' It was certainly more believable than magical wards—whatever the hell they were. She pulled his shirt to one side. His skin was an angry red and already blistering. 'We have to get something cold on these burns.'
'What do you mean, he's a vampire?' He brushed away her hands almost angrily. 'I'll be all right, damn it.'
She glared at him. 'Just because you're feeling like an idiot, don't go taking your anger out on me. And you'll do as you're damn well told. Now, stay here while I go get some ice.'
'Nikki—'
She ignored him and disappeared inside the bar. When she got back five minutes later with ice wrapped in a cloth, he reached out and gently thumbed the moisture from her cheek. Heat slithered through her, as warm as the caring in his dark eyes.
'You really are the most irritating and bossy woman at times, you know that?'
'And it's taken you this long to realize it? Damn, you're slow.'
