Damn. That meant they'd have to come back once they got Matthew out. It was a prospect she didn't look forward to. Michael stopped. Her vision flared, seeming to expand again. Suddenly a door appeared in the darkness, its metal hinges and latch glowing with icy brightness. Her stomach churned.
Her night sight had never been like this—at least not until Michael had shared his life force with her.
Amusement shimmered around her. So can I.
Thralls? What the hell is a thrall?
He hesitated. Technical term for what you now are.
Why didn't she like the sound of that? Another chill ran through her. Maybe because if there was a term, there were sure to be problems and disadvantages.
He squeezed her hand then stopped. The door has a lock on it.
So I can see.
Think you can break it without making much noise?
Do pigs have wings?
She grinned and held the lock. Energy danced from her fingertips to the metal, making it glow briefly before it shattered. It was little more than a scuff of sound against the silence around them.
He pushed open the door. Shapes glowed in the heavy darkness cloaking the room beyond—a chair, table and a rough-looking bed. It looked like a cell—and probably was, if what she'd seen when she'd joined Matthew's mind was anything to go by.
She couldn't see the teenager. She wrapped her fingers around the watch again, watching the flow of images, listening to their intensity. He was there, somewhere, watching them. He wasn't afraid—wasn't anything, she realized. Beyond the rush of his memories, she felt little emotion. It was if he were a slate wiped clean and waiting to be filled.
Energy flowed across her senses. Michael, searching the darkness, trying to find the dangers they both sensed were there but couldn't see.
There had to be a trap of some kind. Had to be. We can't just stand here . Nor could they run, though every instinct was telling her to do just that.
The warmth of his hand left hers. She bit her lip. He stepped into the cell then hesitated. Nothing happened. He stepped forward again. There was a soft click, as if a button had been pushed somewhere. He froze, his tension flowing like fire through the link. Her stomach churned, and her breath was caught somewhere in her throat. For several seconds nothing happened. Then with an almost silent sigh, the ground gave way and plunged her into a deep pit of darkness.
Michael spun and dove forward, his stomach scraping against rock as he grabbed her hand and hung on tight. The sudden shock of her weight slid him forward several inches, and his straining arm muscles burned a protest through his body. He grunted, trying not to crush her fingers in the force of his grip. She hung in the darkness, staring up at him, eyes amber fire.
Metal creaked, a sound as sharp as a gunshot in the silence. He glanced up, saw the glimmer of metal spikes hurtling toward him. He only had two choices. One of them was dropping Nikki and rolling into the safety of the cell.
He took the other option and dove into the pit with her.
Chapter Seventeen
He plunged into water, sinking deep. Like the night itself, the water was dark and cold, and it was hard to know which way was up. He drifted for several seconds, trying to get orientated, then kicked toward the surface.
He broke it with a gasp and looked around. 'Nikki?' There was no response, and the water around him was still, silent. Fear clubbed him. She couldn't swim. Nikki!
He thrust the link wide open but was met with silence. He took a deep breath and dove under the water, kicking deep into the murky depths. She'd been close to him when they'd fallen. Surely she couldn't be too far away.
Hair floated against his fingers. An instant later he touched her neck, her shoulders. She wasn't moving.
He couldn't tell if she was holding her breath or simply not breathing. She can't die, he reminded himself fiercely. Not like this, anyway . But repeating those words over and over didn't help the sick sensation churning his gut.
He grabbed her shirt, then kicked back to the surface, pulling her with him. Holding her head above the water, he looked around quickly, seeing nothing but darkness. He blinked and switched to the infrared benefits of his vampire vision. Walls became visible, then a rocky shelf, and beyond that, a path that disappeared into the darkness. He glanced at Nikki, saw the rich glow of blood welling from a wound on the side of her head.
Fear slammed past any reaction his vampire instincts might have made. He swam quickly toward the ledge, thrusting her onto her it before climbing up beside her.
'Nikki?' Still no response. He pulled her onto her side, then opened her mouth and checked for obstructions. She wasn't breathing.
She couldn't die. He knew that. But seeing her like this, so pale and unresponsive, terrified him. What if he was wrong? What if his life force wasn't enough to keep her alive through most injuries?
Cursing fate and his own lack of knowledge, he began resuscitation. Fear was a knife digging deep into his heart. He didn't want to lose her—not now, not like this. Not ever.
For several long minutes nothing happened. He continued resuscitation and hung on to hope. Then she shuddered and coughed, and water spewed from her mouth. Relief surged through him so strongly it left him trembling. He thrust her onto her side, holding her while she vomited the rest of the water from her stomach.
'Oh God,' she murmured. 'Did you get the number of that truck?'
Her voice was weak and shaky, but never had he heard a sweeter sound. He smiled and pushed the wet strands of hair from her eyes. 'Do you remember what happened?'
'After the truck? Not a thing.' She hesitated. 'I'm wet. So are you.'
'We fell into water.' She sounded stronger, but her skin was cold, and she was still shaking. It might have been shock or the cold or a combination of both. Either way, they had to get back to their room before she caught a chill. 'Are you able to get up?'
'To echo the grouchy words of someone else, of course I can. I'm just wet, not an invalid.'
