"Not clever enough, obviously. I have no idea why I'm here."
"Revenge. You will suffer, as you made me suffer, all those years ago."
"We've never met."
"Yes, we have. And when you remember, I'll savor the taste of fear in your thoughts." The darkness around her stirred as if restless. The breathing was heavier, almost needy. Her mouth was dry, her throat aching, and her heart drumming a million miles an hour.
"In the meantime,” he continued, “I do believe you are overdressed for what we intend next. Mike, Ray, remedy that please."
Figures merged from the darkness, bloody hands reaching for her. Despite her vow, she screamed...
...Nikki scrambled to her feet and ran for the kitchen. For the next few minutes, she leaned over the sink, throwing up the coffee and doughnut she'd eaten in the cab on the way over. Warm hands touched her shoulders, squeezing gently, then Michael leaned past her and turned on the tap. He wet his hands and gently patted moisture across the back of her neck, then her forehead.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded and reached for a cup, filling it with water. She rinsed her mouth, then turned around and rested her cheek against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her. I'm glad you kept the full impact of that from me. It would have been bad, otherwise. It may be the way we have to proceed with this gift of yours—at least until you gain some semblance of control over it.
I'm not sure if it's something I'll ever be able to fully control. Those images were coming at me before I'd even touched that necklace. I didn't even have to really reach. Which is a worrying aspect. He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. Our client grows restless. She lifted her cheek from his chest and leaned back against the sink. He'd be more than restless if he knew what was happening to his wife right now.
I know. He smoothed the hair from her eyes, fingers still hot against her skin. The caring in his gaze almost liquefied her insides. If you're not up to talking to them yet, I can sidetrack their thoughts . Annoyance swirled softly, but she ignored it and touched a hand to his cheek. No, I'm fine . Harris came into the kitchen. His hands were thrust into his pockets, and his expression was a mix of anger and hope. “Well, did anything happen?"
She sighed and dropped her hand. “Yes. I found her."
Her words seemed to galvanize everyone in the room.
"What?” one of the blue suits said. “Where?"
She grimaced. “I can't pinpoint it exactly without leading you there. But she's in a tunnel of some sort."
"Lady,” the Fed said dryly, “between the Bart and Muni tunnels, the sewers and storm drains, this city is a labyrinth of tunnels. Care to be a little more specific?" A train ran past. Ten minutes ago. Michael twined his fingers through hers.
"It's near a train tunnel, I think, because one went past when I made contact—about ten minutes ago."
"Well, gee, that narrows the search area."
"And you were searching where, precisely, before now?” she asked. The Fed smiled reluctantly, blue eyes crinkling near the corners. “Okay, so you show us. Boys, make arrangements."
The police began making frantic calls. Harris thrust a hand through his hair. “Was she ... is she....?"
"She's alive, Mr. Harris. She hasn't been hurt yet.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She swallowed heavily and looked away.
Michael squeezed her fingers lightly and turned. “Tell me, Mr. Harris, just how did those men get in here this morning to kidnap your wife?"
Harris shrugged. “I'm not sure. Anne apparently left a window open in the dining room, and the police think they may have climbed through there."
Michael didn't glance at her, but she knew he was thinking the same thing she was: Vampires couldn't enter a private residence unless asked, so there was no way in hell they could have climbed through that window to kidnap her.
"Did you have any odd callers during the week? A salesman, perhaps, that insisted you invite him in?”
she asked.
Harris shook his head. “Though we did have to call the plumber during the week because our hot water heater stopped working."
She shared a glance with Michael. “What time of day did the plumber arrive?" Harris frowned. “Evening. We were both out during the day, and it was dark by the time we got back."
"And he was the only stranger you let into the house?"
"Yes."
"Do you keep your hot water heater in the house or the garage?” Michael asked.
"The house. Why?"
"Do you mind if I take a look?"
Harris’ frown deepened, though he shrugged. “Sure. It's through that door there.” He pointed toward a door to their right.
Michael squeezed Nikki's fingers then released her hand and headed for the door.
"Hey,” a police officer said, “Where are—"
Power slithered through the air. The officer's words died, and he turned and walked to the window, staring outside. Michael's gaze met hers, almost challengingly. She didn't say anything, and after a moment he disappeared through the door Harris had indicated.
A blue suit approached. If he noticed Michael's absence, he made no mention of it. Maybe Michael had touched his mind, too. She crossed her arms and tried to ignore the rising tide of annoyance. He was right. There were times, like this, when it was simply easier to control everyone's thoughts. It sure beat answering difficult questions.
"There's no way you could define the search?” the Fed asked.
"As I said, not unless I take you there—and I'll need the necklace as a guide. I feel her vibes through it.”
She glanced at Harris as the older man looked set to protest. “I'll return it, of course." He shut his mouth and nodded. She looked away, disgusted. God, what did he think she was going to do? Run away with the stupid thing? How idiotic would that be, especially when she was going to be surrounded by Feds and cops?
There's no entrance into the room with the water heater, Michael said. Though I'd bet the plumber was a vampire.
"Miss James, are you able to try locating the tunnel for us now?"
"Yeah, sure.” She pushed away from the sink and headed into the living room to retrieve the plastic bag she'd dropped earlier. Michael? What are you going to do?
I think I saw a sewer grate just up the street. When you go outside, lift the lid. I'll dive into the sewers and try to navigate my way to wherever you end up.
What about the police?
I'll move too fast for them to see me.
And the sun?
He hesitated . You'll have to treat me gently tonight. I'll be sunburned. What about using sun block?
Sun block?
Yeah, you know, that greasy white stuff we human's smear all over our skin to prevent sunburn. Harris is bound to have some in his bathroom.
I'm on my way to check.
She smiled. You mean to say that in over three hundred years of existence, you've never thought to use sun block?
Sun block has not been around for three hundred years.
Well, no, but it's got to have been around for at least fifty. I would have thought you'd have experimented by now.
I've had no need to before now. Besides, running around in the sun to test the feasibility of sun block is not something I'm inclined to risk without reason. Couldn't argue with that logic, she supposed. She picked up the bagged necklace and followed the suits out the door. She went down the steps slowly, studying the street either way. The sewer grate was several houses up to her right.
Power surged, tingling across her fingertips. One of the Feds took her arm, guiding her toward a car parked just down from the grate. You ready?
Yes.
The Fed opened the door. She climbed into the car and studied the grate through slightly narrowed eyes. As the two agents climbed into the car and started the engine, she reached out kinetically and lifted the grate. It was heavier than she's expected, and she had to reach for a little more energy. She slid the lid toward the shadows of the car in front of them.
Go.
Nothing happened for a heartbeat, then a shadow flowed into the sewer hole and disappeared. She slid the grate back into place quickly to ensure any stray beams of sunlight couldn't touch him in the sewer's darkness.
You okay? No answer came and fear stirred. Michael?
I'm okay.
His words were a sigh in her mind, and she closed her eyes in relief. Are you badly burned?
Not as burned as I could have been. The sun block did take some of the sting off the sun. But ... ?
But it's nearly eleven, Nikki. A deadly time for me, no matter how many layers I wear. Can you move? She'd been burned badly herself once or twice and knew how painful it could be. Yes. The vampires came down this way. I can smell the scent of their evil. So you should be able to find the tunnel easily enough?
Hopefully. I'll meet you there.
Don't go out in the sun again.
His smile spun through her mind, a liquid caress that stirred her senses and made her body ache. Never fear, my love. I have no intention of getting a tan deeper than the one I already have. She wrapped her fingers lightly around the necklace. “Head downtown,” she said. “Toward the Civic Center area."
They pulled away from the curb and joined the slow crawl of traffic. They were past the Federal building and closing in on Market Street by the time the necklace began to burn white-hot in her hand. “Pull over and stop,” she said.
"Thought they were in a train tunnel,” one of the Feds said as he opened the car door for her.
"No.” She climbed out and for a moment wished she could simply relax under the cool canopy of trees in the nearby gardens. “They're in an underground room of some sort, accessed through the sewers. It's close to a train tunnel, though."
"Sewer rats,” one of the cops muttered. “There are hundreds of them down there, and hundreds of places they can run."
"I doubt if we're after homeless folk,” the blue-eyed FBI agent said. “This is too well organized for them.” He handed her a flashlight, then added, “Which way?" She took a deep breath and fought the pull of the images pulsing from the necklace. One little push, one tiny reach, and she'd be with Anne Harris, sharing her pain, sharing her fear. She swallowed back bile and nodded up the street. “That way."
They were close to a hall of some kind when she stopped. “Here,” she said, pointing to a grate. “We need to go down here."
Several cops glanced at each other, then bent and levered free the grate. A ladder led down into deeper darkness.
"Down there?” The cop pointed his flashlight at the rusty-looking ladder.
"Yep. You want me to lead the way?"
"I'll lead the way,” Blue Eyes said. “Mitch, Davidson, you follow me down. When we know it's safe, the rest of you follow."
They disappeared into the darkness. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, needing to move, needing to chase the images flashing through her mind. She crossed her arms and reached out to Michael instead.
You near?
Close. I'm not alone, though.
Fear tripped through her heart. What do you mean?
I mean there's a Loop of vamps nearby.
What in hell is a Loop?
It's a term for fledglings who were all basically created around the same time. They tend to flock together.
I thought fledglings couldn't control their bloodlust enough to hang around with anyone but their master?
The newly risen can't. But these have a few years on them and, while the bloodlust still reigns, common sense is beginning to reassert itself. There is safety in numbers. What sort of numbers are we talking about?
Five.
We've already destroyed six of his vampires. How many of these so called Loops has he made?
Quite a few, by the look of it. Our boy appears to like his harems. Bile rose in her throat. What are we going to do?
Nothing much we can do. I doubt if the police will be too pleased if you suddenly lose direction. Besides which, we have to free Anne Harris.
Yes. He hesitated. She lives. I can hear the frantic sound of her pulse. So could she, through the necklace. Only the sensation came with flashes of horror—fragmented memories of what the vamps had done to her. Repeatedly.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Could you go rescue her before we get there?
I could—but I prefer not to. I don't think Farmer has realized you're not working alone. I prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Why?
Because he'll undoubtedly change his method of attack once he realizes you have a vampire protecting you.
"All clear down here,” a distant voice said. “Start climbing down. You first, Miss James." She did. She stepped off the ladder and into inch-thick muck. The air had a slightly damp, fishy smell, and the darkness was lifted only by the lonely flashlight beams. She clicked hers on and swung it around. Graffiti greeted her—angry scrawls and disjointed pictures—representing God knew what.
"Where now?” the Fed said once the last of the officers was down.
"That way.” She pointed to the darkness on her left.
In single file, they began moving through the darkness. Some of the tunnels were so damn small they had to almost bend over double. Others seemed to soar high above them. And all the while the pulsing got stronger, until the agitated beat of Anne's heart was a rhythm that matched her own.
Michael?
Here. His mind voice was a whisper that breathed warmth past her ear. Darkness brushed across her fingers, searing heat deep.