Chapter One
The breeze whispered around her, its touch furnace hot. Sweat beaded her skin, staining her T-shirt black and dripping from her ponytail.
Around her the night pulsed, a bass-heavy rhythm that made her want to dance. The air was rich with the scent of sweat, alcohol and chlorine.
Nikki stood in the shadows of an oak and sipped a lukewarm soda. Below her, on the main pool deck, bodies writhed in time to the music, unmindful of the heat or the closeness of others. They had to be mad. If she'd had any choice, she would have been in the pool, allowing the cool water to wash the heat and sweat from her skin.
Instead, she was stuck here in the shadows with a lukewarm cola, awaiting the next move of a wayward teenager.
It was an all too familiar feeling. Six months before, she'd followed another teenager through the night, and had found herself caught in the middle of a war between two vampires. Pain rose like a ghost, stifling her. She bit her lip, blinking away the sting of tears. It was her own stupidity that had driven Michael away. Her refusal to trust, to admit what she'd felt, had worn him down as surely as the sea wears down a rock.
But what hurt the most, perhaps, was the fact that he'd left without saying good-bye. She crossed her arms and stared moodily at the star-drenched sky. She'd looked for him, of course. She'd spent the first two months after she'd awakened in the hospital doing little else. But America was a big country, with lots of places to hide. And when the man she was hunting was one with the shadows, what hope did she really have of finding him?
None. Not that it really mattered. She'd keep looking until she found him—though what happened then would very much depend on how he reacted.
The two-way clipped to her lapel squawked. “Nik, you there?" It was Jake—her boss and her best friend. He sounded as bored as she was. Nikki pressed the button.
“No, I'm at home enjoying a nice, cool bath."
"Forget the bath. A cold beer would go down real well right now. The kid still in your area?" She scanned the crowd. Matthew Kincaid, a redheaded, flap-eared teenager, stood out from the mob like a wart on a thumb. But it wasn't so much his looks as the fact that he towered a good foot or more over his peers. Basketball material for sure, if someone could teach him to catch a ball.
"Yeah. He's hovering near the bar, trying to convince some of the adults to buy him a drink.” She hesitated and took a sip of her cola. The warm liquid slid like raw sugar down her throat. She shuddered and upended the rest into the garden bed. “He's not acting like a kid on the verge of running away from home, you know."
"No. But his mom's paying us to watch him, so watch him we will. Besides, we need the money."
"When don't we?” she said dryly. They'd been working together for close to ten years now, and she couldn't remember a time when the business hadn't been strapped for cash. Private investigators didn't make a lot of money—not in Lyndhurst, anyway. “Why is Mrs. Kincaid so convinced he's going to disappear tonight?"
"A conversation she overheard when passing his bedroom last week. Apparently, he's been chatting to this girl over the Internet and has formed quite a relationship with her. He's arranged to meet her during the party."
She frowned. “That doesn't explain why she thinks he's going to run away."
"The kid's unhappy at home. Hates his dad, who's an alcoholic and hardly ever home, and argues constantly with his mom."
"Sounds like your average teenager to me."
Jake laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess it does. But lately, the kid's apparently been saying that he doesn't need them any more, that he's found someone who understands him." Nikki raised her eyebrows. “The Internet friend?"
"Maybe."
"Has Mrs. Kincaid asked Matthew about the friend?"
"Yeah,” Jake said, voice dry. “And the reply is one I'm not about to use over the two-way." She grinned. “Has she tried going into his computer when he's at school?"
"You need a password to get into his E-mail and chat logs."
"Clever kid."
"Too clever, apparently. That's why he's something of an outcast at school." She snorted. “I think the ears and the height might have something to do with that."
"On the Internet, looks don't matter."
"They do if you intend to meet the person."
"Yeah, but there's no indication Matthew's lied about his looks." There was no indication that he hadn't either, and she had a bad feeling the teenager had lied through his teeth while on-line. Given his height, his coloring, and those ears, he would surely have been the butt of many harsh jokes at school. The Internet would have given him not only anonymity but also the ability to reinvent himself.
So why would he risk all that to meet his friend and reveal the truth? And why did she have a feeling that it could all go horribly wrong?
She glanced at her watch. “It's close to eleven-thirty now. Does his mother have any idea when the meet was going to happen?"
"Midnight, apparently."
Witching hour. The time when all things dark and deadly came out to play. Things like Michael. Or Jasper.
She shuddered and lightly rubbed her wrist. In the worst of her dreams, she could still feel Jasper's touch—in her thoughts, and on her skin. But Jasper was dead, burned to ashes by the sun's heat. His evil could never touch her again.
Could never feed off her again.
A chill ran through her. Jasper wasn't the only malevolent being in this world. She couldn't shake the certainty that evil of another kind was on the move in Lyndhurst tonight. And that it was after Matthew Kincaid.
The bass-heavy pounding faded, replaced by a gentler, more romantic song. On the pool deck, teenagers drew close. There was probably more kissing going on than dancing. She looked across to the bar. Matthew was staring at the crowd, his expression a mix of envy and anger. He slammed his drink onto the counter then walked away.
"Heads up. He's on the move."
"Where?” Jake sounded relieved.
Matthew disappeared behind the tent that housed the bar. Nikki broke into a run, keeping to the shadows as she skirted the sweating mass of slow-dancing teenagers. The teenager came into sight, arms swinging as fast as his legs as he strode along the path.
She slowed, not wanting to get too close and attract his attention. “He's heading for the back gate."
"Anyone else in sight?"
"Not unless you want to count the teenagers getting passionate under the trees." Jake snorted softly. “I'll bring my car around. Keep me posted."
"Will do."
Matthew reached the gate and stopped to unlock it. She stepped behind a tree. The kid threw the gate open, then glanced over his shoulder. His look was petulant, like a child who sees candy he knows he can't have.
It wasn't his family making him run, she thought with a grin. It was his hormones. He headed out and turned right. She pressed the two-way, telling Jake, then followed the teenager out the gate.
Matthew's long strides had taken him a good way down the street. She crossed to the other side then broke into a run, closing the distance between them. The slow beat of the music began to fade, and silence closed in, broken only by the occasional roar of a car engine or the blast of a horn. The teenager strode on, looking neither right nor left. She swiped at the sweat dripping from her chin and studied the street ahead. They were in the Heights—a ritzy and very expensive section of Lyndhurst nestled into the western edge of the mountains that ringed the town. Below them, lights blazed, a neon sea of brightness that outshone the stars. Matthew could have been heading toward any one of those lights, but her gaze stopped at the docks. Ocean Road led down to there. And that's where he's going, she thought.
The two-way buzzed softly. “Nik, I'm in the car. Where are you?" She pressed the receiver. “Ocean Road, just past Second."
"I'm parallel on West. Let me know if he changes direction or meets a car."
"Will do."
They continued on—Matthew striding out, her half running to keep up with him. Boxlike shapes began to loom up around them as houses gave way to factories and warehouses. The faint wash of traffic noise seemed to die completely, and in the silence, her breathing seemed sharp and harsh. Ahead, Matthew stopped in the puddle of an overhead light and glanced at his watch. He looked briefly to his right, then turned left, heading into a small side street. She pressed the two-way. “He's just turned into an alley. He's heading your way."
"Last cross street?"
She frowned, thinking back. “Sixth."
"Just passed it. I'll park and wait."
She stopped near the street entrance and peered around the corner. Matthew was nowhere in sight. Swearing softly, she hurried down the street, keeping an eye on the fences lining either side of the road, looking for gaps or gateways the teenager could have gone through. Nothing. But halfway down on the right she came across a small street. The teenager was a dark shadow moving quickly away. She sighed in relief. “He's turned off again,” she told Jake. She glanced up, studying the unlit street sign.
“Heading down Baker's Lane toward the docks."
"That street comes to a dead end."
She hoped it was just a figure of speech and not a reality. “It's a rather odd place to meet an Internet friend, don't you think?"
"If it is a friend he's meeting, then yes. But all sorts of perverts go trawling the chat rooms looking for innocents like Matthew."
She kept close to the fence on the off chance that Matthew turned around. At least in the darker shadows lining the fence she'd be harder to spot. “Problem is, I've got a feeling it's not your average pervert we're looking at here."
Jake groaned. “That's all we need. I'm heading in—and bringing a gun."
"Be careful, Jake. I really don't like the feel of this."
"Oh, great. Maybe I'll call the cops, just to be safe."
"And tell them what? I've a got feeling?” When it came to her psychic abilities, skepticism ran high within the police department. It was doubtful if a statement like that would get anything other than laughter. Jake grunted. “Don't do anything stupid until I get there." Meaning she could do something stupid after he got there? She grinned, though it didn't ease the tension knotting her stomach.
The street narrowed, and the warehouses on either side seemed to loom in on her. She skirted several Dumpsters and screwed up her nose. From the amount of rubbish overflowing onto the street, they hadn't been emptied for several weeks. Combine that with the heat of the last few days, and the result was stomach turning.
Matthew stopped. She ducked behind a stinking Dumpster and held her nose as she peered around the side. He was studying the buildings on either side, but after a few seconds he turned and ran at the fence on the left. She waited until he'd disappeared over the top and moved after him.
"He's just climbed a fence. Third warehouse from the end."
"Wait for me."
"I might lose him if I do."
Jake swore. “Damn it, be careful."
"You be careful. I'm not the one who can die here."
"But you're not immortal either, and I'm more than a little certain Michael didn't tell you everything about his gift of life everlasting."
She smiled grimly. Michael had never told her more than what he thought she needed to know. Bare facts, nothing more—especially when it came to anything concerning his past or what he did for a living.
"I'm heading over."
She grabbed the chain link and pulled herself over the fence. Dropping to the ground on the other side, she crouched, her gaze sweeping the darkness. It had to be some sort of produce warehouse—packing crates were lined in neat rows, those closest containing limp remnants of lettuce leaves. Matthew could have gone anywhere. She stayed where she was, listening intently. The wind moaned through the silence, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She rubbed her arms, then reached down, withdrawing a knife from her right boot. Made of the purest silver, it was one of two she'd had specially designed after her little dance with Jasper. If an old kitchen knife with only the smallest amount of silver in it could stop him , her new knives should stop just about anything. That's what she was hoping, anyway. From the right came a soft, metallic squeal. She rose, padding quickly through the rows of crates. An old brick building loomed through the darkness. She stopped at the end of the row and peered out. To her left were several large entrances, all shuttered. To the right, nothing but brick wall. The sound had come from around the corner.
She ran to the wall, then edged forward and looked around the corner. Matthew's sandals were disappearing through a window.
"Jake, Matthew has just entered the warehouse through a window on the right side of the building. I'm just about to follow."
"I'm almost with you, Nik."
Almost wasn't good enough. She couldn't afford to wait. The sensation of danger had risen tenfold and was threatening to stifle her.
She edged around the corner and made her way to the window. It was a foot or so above her reach, but there were several packing crates stacked close enough to use as a ladder. She climbed them carefully and peered through the window.
There was no sound, no light. Just a darkness thick enough to carve. Yet the warehouse was far from empty. Somewhere in the blackness, evil waited.
Fear rose, squeezing her throat tight. Nikki closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she didn't go into the warehouse after Matthew, Jake would. Though he was armed, they both knew from experience that guns weren't much of a threat to a vampire.