Kiss The Night Goodbye (Nikki & Michael 4)

And here I was thinking you'd forgotten the little detail of our wedding. Amusement bubbled through the link, wrapping warmth around her heart. Thinking or wishing? Maybe you've had second thoughts about marrying such an old man.

As long as that old man keeps loving me as well as he did today, I'll have no complaints. Then I shall endeavor to—

His words cut off suddenly, and he stopped. She followed suit, listening to silence, hearing nothing but the steady gurgle of water. The air was thick and cold and moved easily past her cheek, indicating there was an outside entrance somewhere up ahead.

What? she asked eventually.

The heartbeats have ceased.

Her stomach began to churn. Oh God ... He's killed them?

I don't know. I certainly can't smell blood, and if he's killed them, I would. Could they have moved back up top? The air is moving, and it wasn't before. Maybe. He tugged her forward again. I've a feeling we'd better get to that pentagram while we can. Dunleavy is weaving his net around us.

It's been around us the whole time.

Yes, but now it grows tighter.

They hurried through the darkness. Though Michael made little noise, her steps echoed, the sound slapping off the wet walls loudly enough to make her wince. One thing the Circle hadn't taught her was how to run without noise. Maybe she'd suggest it when—if—they got out of here. They reached another junction. He barely hesitated before pulling her right. She had no idea where they were in relation to the mine or the town, having lost all sense of direction about twenty steps in. They'd barely gone three steps when noise scuffed across the silence. She glanced over her shoulder. Michael.

I know.

But—

I know. His mind voice was terse. They've been there for a few minutes now. So why didn't you mention it?

Didn't want to worry you.

I thought you were going to stop doing that?

I said I'd try. I didn't say I'd stop completely.

Now, that was definitely the vampire she knew and loved. So when were you going to tell me we were being tailed? A heartbeat before they attacked?

Give me a little more credit than that.

Okay. Two heartbeats, then

Amusement shimmered down the link. That's more like it.

She shook her head. So, is there anything else I should know?

Have I mentioned there's something ahead?

No. Her thoughts were more acerbic than annoyed. What?

There's one heartbeat. I think it's the last shifter.

Can we go around him?

I'm trying, but he's shadowing us. Remember, they know these tunnels. I'm only following instinct. He tugged her right again. The walls began to close in, and the rough-hewn support planking gave way to natural rock. The air became danker, thick with the scent of age and disuse. Ghostly tendrils of slime appeared, sprouting from the ceiling like a living thing and slapping wetly across her face. It felt like the fingers of the dead grasping for her.

A chill ran across her skin, and she edged a little closer to Michael's back. This tunnel was way too similar to the one that had almost claimed her life.

Stone rattled behind them, the noise echoing harshly. The men were closer than before, and fear scooted through her. While she really did believe ten men weren't much of a match for her and Michael, the situation they were in now was far from normal, and she was without the benefit of her basic abilities. Sure, she had her fire, but she didn't particularly want to hurt any of those who followed them, and that would hamper her actions and perhaps make it more difficult to protect herself. The tunnel twisted and turned, leading them deeper into the darkness. The walls closed in, brushing her shoulders, tearing at her shirt. She bit her lip and hoped like hell they weren't being herded into a dead-end.>The spawn was finding shape, gathering substance. They didn't have much time left to decide what to do. On the shelves, no. But the pew I threw at the door is lying to our right. That might do the trick.

That thing is going to attack the minute you move.

It certainly was. Right now, it was simply hanging there, a twisting boiling mass of smoky evil waiting for something to happen. I don't suppose there's any water on that shelf?