Tension flowed through the link. Nikki, what's wrong?
Something touched me.
She stared into the darkness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. Yet something had trailed across her skin— her cheek still burned with the heat of its touch.
Neither did she. But that didn't mean there wasn't something there. He tugged her forward again. She licked dry lips, gaze sweeping the darkness.
In the distance, light flared and became an incandescent jewel that gleamed brightly in the darkness.
His frown slid down the link. No, I can't .
Ginger had warned her this would happen. She'd said that even Cordell couldn't see them—he could only feel their power. It's about twenty feet in front of us .
Its light glowed a gentle gold across the cavern walls, whisking brightness from wall to wall, gleaming brightly off the thin strand of wire stretched taut across the path.
She stopped and yanked Michael backwards. Trip wire . She pulled her flashlight from her pocket and shined the beam on the wire.
She glanced at the pearl. It was hovering near a slight curve in the tunnel, its shade a green-tinged blue— colors that hinted at sadness. But why were the flame imps sad? Had another of their number died?
He nodded absently, then reached over the wire and gently pressed his fingers against the ground on the other side. Something clicked. For a second, nothing happened, then there was a sigh of air and stakes stabbed in from either side of the wall. Michael fell backwards, barely avoiding having his arm skewered.
'Cordell's playing with us.' He rose and dusted off his jeans. Though there was a touch of amusement in his voice, anger stirred through the link. 'Those stakes were never meant to kill us.'
They certainly looked deadly enough. She frowned at him. 'What makes you think that?'
'Two things.' He began snapping the stakes, creating a hole for them to walk through. 'First off, the wire is attached to nothing more than rock. It was meant as a warning not a trigger. Second, the delay between pressing the real trigger and the stakes stabbing in was enough that we would have been safely past.'
She rubbed her eyes. 'But that doesn't make sense. Why would he do something like that? Why play games?'
'I don't know.' He captured her hand again, his fingers so warm compared to hers. 'Let's continue.'
They stepped past the broken stakes and the pressure plate and continued down the tunnel. The flame imp kept its distance, hovering a good twenty feet away. Muted light fanned across the walls, enough to see but not clearly. She kept the flashlight's beam trained on the ground, just in case Cordell had more trip wires waiting.
The sound of water splashing became clearer. It seemed quite strong—a stream more than just water dripping off damp rocks. The cold was increasing, reaching icy fingers through her skin to chill her bones.
She shivered, wishing she'd worn something warmer than a cotton sweater.
They rounded the curve in the tunnel. Ahead was a heavily padlocked wooden door. The flame imp hovered above it, but its color was still dark, and it was difficult to see.
Cordell wasn't a fool. Angry and somewhat demented, yes, but no fool. There would be traps waiting here somewhere.
He released her hand. She bit her lip and fought the instinctive urge to reach for him again, to tell him not to leave her. Instead, she clenched her fingers and felt the tingle of energy flow across her skin. Tension rode his shoulders as he tested each step. But he reached the door without incident, and she sighed in relief.
Not that I can see. You?
She again rubbed her arms. The chill air had settled deep inside, and her bones were beginning to ache.
Michael finished his inspection then reached for the door handle. Turning it quickly, he thrust his shoulder against the wood, shattering the lock and pushing the door open. Kinetic ability was somewhat superfluous when you had the strength of a vampire, she thought. He squatted on his heels, studying the ground.
She moved up behind him. The cell wasn't dark. A lone candle sat in one corner. In the wash of its flickering light she could see the end of a metal-framed bed and a foot encased in a shiny leather shoe. A rope was looped around his ankle and tied to the bed.
Rodeman. He hadn't moved, so he had to be either drugged or unconscious. She shivered, hoping that
Elizabeth hadn't paid him a visit like she had Matthew.
Heat tingled across her skin. She glanced up. The flame imp hovered several feet above her, its color pulsing between blue and red. Did that mean that danger waited for them? She wasn't sure, and it worried her. She wished Ginger was here to translate.
He leaned sideways and scooped up a handful of stones, then tossed them one by one into the cell.
Nothing happened.
She glared at him. That is not funny.
She nodded. Whether she obeyed or not was another matter entirely. It depended on what happened.
He stepped into the cell, then stopped, looking around. She could see his tension in the set of his shoulders, feel it thundering through the link.
He took a second step. No sound, no soft click, no rush of evil to indicate something wicked was headed their way. But her hands were clenched so hard her knuckles were beginning to ache.
And the magic you sensed?
Close by somewhere.
Warmth flashed through the link. Don't worry. I'm not that easy to get rid of.
He took another step forward. It was one step too many. Without warning, the ground disappeared, and
Michael dropped like a stone into the darkness.
