You don't need to see my eyes, Nikki. You never have. His smile danced through her heart. He touched her face, cupping her cheek. You knew what I felt. You have always known. Maybe. But it's nice to hear it said occasionally. She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. As much as I would love to discuss this matter further, I think we'd better keep moving. Yes. He pulled his hand away and continued on. The darkness closed in around them, and the air was still, stale smelling. They were headed downward, and the chill gradually increased. She shivered and wished she'd put on a sweater. But at least there was no sense of evil. Maybe Cordell wasn't back yet. She touched the watch in her pocket. Sensations vibrated through her. Hunger and need, similar to a vampire's and yet not. Nikki frowned, unsure what that meant exactly. We're coming up to that three-way split in the tunnel, Michael said. Do we go left or straight on?
She studied the darkness for several seconds, even though the answer throbbed clearly through her fingers. The air felt heavy and the silence intense. There was still no indication that Cordell or any of his cohorts were here, but something felt wrong.
Can you sense anyone?
Power shimmered bright enough to burn should she attempt to grasp it. Michael, searching the night, looking for the dangers she could feel.
Nothing, he said eventually. You?
Not a person ... just something. Maybe it's just nerves.
Maybe. Doubt filtered through the link. Which way?
Left. I don't think Matthew's far.
He tugged her on. The path became uneven. Stones scooted away from her feet, rattling across the silence. She bit her lip but resisted the urge to turn on the flashlight. Cordell might not be near, but something was. Turning on the light might only force into action whatever stood out there in the darkness watching them.
They made their way slowly through the blanket of night. The closer they got to Matthew, the stronger the pulsing in the watch became. Images flicked brightly through her mind, recalling moments of sweat and sex and loathing. Matthew and Elizabeth had been intimate, if the visions were anything to go by. At least one wish had come true for the teenager, and she hoped the price he'd had to pay wasn't too high—though she had a bad feeling this wasn't the case.
Goose bumps chased their way across her skin. She rubbed her arm with her free hand and uneasily studied the cloak of darkness past Michael's shoulders. It was still there, still watching them—whatever it was. Would it do anything more than watch? She couldn't say, and that worried her. I can sense only Matthew, Nikki. He's alone, just ahead.
No sign of Rodeman?
Not in this section of tunnels.
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. I can see a door.
Amusement shimmered around her. So can I.
No, I mean I can see it so well it's almost glowing. And yet I can barely see you, and I certainly can't see the damn walls. Even though they were so close she could reach out and touch them. You've always had good night vision—you told me that not long ago. But not like this. Never like this.
I'm not sure what's happening, then. His concern ran down the link. It may have something to do with me sharing my life force, and it may not. Seline's doing a check on thralls. I'll know more when she gets back to me.
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?
Try, Nikki. Impatience edged his mental tones.
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.
I do not like the feel of this.
Neither do I. Why was Matthew merely sitting there? Why didn't he do something? She licked her lips. 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.
No. You wait while I check out the cell and the teenager.
Separating us may be the whole idea. And she didn't want to be left alone in this darkness. We can't stand here like fools, either.
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.
Don't drop me, don't drop me ... Her litany ran through him, her fear so sharp he could taste it in the back of his throat.
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." Oh yeah, she was definitely feeling better. Smiling slightly, he rose and helped her to her feet.
"Where are we?” She clutched his arm, hanging on tight, as if afraid she was going to fall. Maybe she wasn't feeling as well as she was making out. He opened the link again, felt the knot of pain and weakness in her thoughts. He glanced at her head and saw the glimmer of blood. But the tide had slowed to a trickle, and she wasn't in any danger of bleeding to death.
"I don't know where we are. Are you able to walk?"
"Yes.” She teetered forward a few steps. “What exactly happened?" He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as they walked, trying to keep her warm. “You don't remember?"
She shook her head, frowning slightly. “I remember falling and cracking my head on something, then nothing."
"You must have hit your head when we fell. We'll head back to the room and—"
"No,” she said, stopping abruptly. “We've got to get Matthew out of here."
"Nikki,” he said, as patiently as he could. “You're wet, and shaking and—"
"I said no, and I meant it.” She glared up him, fists clenched and eyes sparkling with anger. She'd never looked more beautiful. “We may not get another chance at this." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. What she said made perfectly good sense, but he just wasn't willing to risk her life again.
"It's my life to risk, Michael."
She was back to reading his thoughts. As he'd feared, the barriers he'd raised to stop her were beginning to fade.
She touched his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin. Her thoughts spun around him, through him, tender and persuasive. “A chill is not going to kill me,” she said softly. “But any delay might mean the difference between life and death for Matthew."
She cared more for her client's safety than she did her own. Always had. And no matter what he said or did, she wasn't going to be swayed. “Stubborn wench,” he muttered and pulled her close, kissing her cold lips.
A shiver ran through her, but he knew it had nothing to do with being cold. He could feel her need as heavily as he did his own. It was an ache growing steadily stronger by the hour. But if he gave in to desire and made love to her as he so desperately wanted to do, he knew he wouldn't have the strength to leave her again. And he had to leave. He couldn't face seeing her cold and lifeless again. Twice was more than enough for his heart to take.
He stepped away, though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now. “Let's go find a way back up to Matthew, then."
A knowing smile touched her lips. “You won't win this battle, you know. Fate is on my side." His shrug was noncommittal. He had to at least go down fighting. He held out his hand, and she slipped her fingers into his. Once more he led the way through the caverns, his pace slow at first, then gradually speeding up as she recovered and regained her strength.
They wound their way through the darkness, heading steadily upwards. The air was damp and stale, and it felt as if it hadn't been breathed for many years. Cordell and his cohorts obviously didn't come down here much. If they had, the air would have caught their scents and left them lingering. The path flattened out. In the distance, like a far-off drum, he could hear the beat of a single heart, guiding him on even as it called to the darkness in him—a darkness he was increasingly able to ignore. We're getting close to Matthew's cell again.
Her thoughts were touched by fear. He scanned the night, wondering what she felt. He could find nothing, taste nothing in the stillness of the night. Only Matthew. What can you sense?
Something is watching us again. I can feel its presence.
That he couldn't see or feel anything meant little. In some areas, her psychic abilities far outweighed his, and he'd learned to trust her instincts. Is it dangerous?
I don't know.
He scanned the night again. Still nothing. Tell me if it moves. I will. Her tension was a lump sitting heavily in the link. He squeezed her hand lightly and continued on until they reached Matthew's cell. The door was still open, the teenager still sitting on his bed. He didn't even look as if he'd moved. Something's wrong, she said. No teenager in recorded history has ever sat still for so long. Maybe he's just scared. Yet he could feel no emotion, taste no fear. Frowning, he touched the teenager's thoughts—and found nothing more than memories. All self-awareness had been wiped away, leaving only the desire to please.