Kiss The Night Goodbye (Nikki & Michael 4)

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “How?"

"Vampire's can move with the speed of the wind. I could very easily check out the five mines for the presence of humans, and then come back here.” And, in the process, he could check out Kinnard's disappearance while keeping her at a safe distance from trouble, should it arise. She stopped, crossing her arms as she looked up at him. “We both know you could have suggested that when we were standing in the middle of the Mill, so what's suddenly made you change your mind?"

"I merely wish to make your search easier."

"Crap. You've seen something, haven't you?"

The woman had to be a witch—either that, or she had some form of telepathy that somehow breached his shields, allowing her to read his thoughts. “If we continue as we are, we will not have time to search all the mines before your midnight deadline."

"Fine.” Her voice was flat, angry. “Go."

He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, inhaling her intoxicating scent as he kissed her fingers. “I won't be long."

"I believe that as much as I believe the reason you're going,” she replied tartly. He smiled, stepped back and let the night cover him.

For several seconds Nikki glared at the spot where he'd been standing, and she silently cursed him. She'd forgotten just how frustrating he could be—which really only showed how much he'd changed in the time they'd been together.

But, thanks to the spell he was under, he was back to telling her nothing and trying to get rid of her the minute anything dangerous appeared on the horizon.

While she had no doubt he would check the mines, she also suspected he was going to check what Kinnard had been up to. If she'd noticed the old man foraging around in the shrubs, Michael surely had. And he was about to learn yet again that she wasn't going to be left behind, where it was supposedly safe. She hitched up her skirt and walked back towards the pond. Just as she reached the old pump-house building, a scream rent the air. She froze, a chill racing across her skin as she stared towards the town. It had come from the direction of the whorehouse and had been a sound of sheer terror. Someone was dead. Horribly dead. Of that she was certain. And Seline had warned her about ... There will be five people killed, the old witch had said , two on the first night. Stop them, if you can.

Nikki had fallen into a trap, all right, but it wasn't the wolves. It was believing what Kinnard had said about the rangers and thinking that the rangers were the two who would lose their lives tonight. God, she was a fool.

She turned and raced down the hill. People were out in the streets, some simply standing there, some running towards the whorehouse.

She pushed past the small crowd standing in the doorway, then hesitated, glancing around. Sobbing was coming from the room to her left, but it was the stairs that drew her attention. Blood that was fresh and bright dribbled slowly down each step, its source an unknown well at the top. Nikki swallowed, then lifted her skirt higher and carefully made her way up the stairs. It wasn't until she reached the landing that someone tried to stop her.

A big man with red hair and matching cheeks stepped forward, one large hand outstretched. She sidestepped the pool near the top stair then came to a halt, her gaze unwillingly following the needle fine trails to the doorway on the right. The door was closed, but that wasn't stopping the blood. God, what had happened in there?

"Sorry, Miss, it's better that you don't go any further.” His voice was gravelly, but gentle. “It's not very pretty."

There was a sheriff's badge on the left pocket of his khaki shirt, but it was the plastic kind they sold in toy shops. His pants were also khaki, and Nikki very much suspected she'd just found one of the missing rangers. But did that mean the others were also in this crowd, or was this another of Dunleavy's little games?

"I've had medical experience,” she lied. “I might be able to help."

"There's no one left alive in there to help, Miss. Best you go back down the stairs."

"Sorry, can't do that."

She tensed, expecting him to react, to try and force her back down the stairs, but all he did was shrug and step back. “Then let it be on your head."

Nikki's gaze went from the ranger to the door, and her stomach clenched. She didn't want to step through that doorway—no sane person would—but she had to. She was here to do a job, to stop a killer, and something in that room might provide a clue.

Gathering her courage, she stepped to the door and wrapped her fingers around the handle. After taking a deep breath to calm the churning in her stomach, she carefully opened the door. For a moment, she simply couldn't believe what she was seeing. It looked for all the world like some youngster had gone crazy with a can of paint. Red was sprayed across the walls in insane patterns, and dripped steadily from a thickening blotch on the ceiling. Two men were covering body parts with white sheets, a tough task when there were so many parts, many of them no longer resembling anything human. Her gaze went to the window. When she saw what was sitting on the sill, she put a hand to her mouth, holding back a scream that seemed to stick somewhere in her throat. Then her stomach rose, and all she could do was run—from the horror of the room, from the overripe smell of blood, and from the grotesque remains on the sill.

Remains that were the image of her .

Chapter Seven

Nikki got as far as the side of the building. Once there, she lost what little she'd eaten over the day. When there was nothing more than dry heaves left, she stumbled to the back of the building and sank to the ground, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

Dunleavy was sick.

Though she'd never doubted it, she now had proof positive. What manner of man could do something like that? God, he had to be insane. Inhuman...

The thought stopped her cold. Dunleavy wasn't human, and he couldn't be judged by those standards. He was a vampire, a worshipper of dark Gods, and a shape changer. A monster.

And monsters didn't think like the rest of humanity. Jasper had certainly proven that .