But he wasn't real.
Wasn't actually there.
His image rippled, sparked, and energy caressed the air, raising the hairs along Michael's arm. Have you talked to him?
She shook her head. I was about to, when you came in.
Then do so. He released her fingers. I'll remain silent, so he doesn't sense I'm here. She walked into the room and stopped in front of the flickering image. “Who are you?" The man jerked, like a mannequin brought to life. Michael very much suspected that this wasn't the true form of the man behind the murders. And if the marks on the image's neck were anything to go by, he was also very dead.
"I'm sending you a warning. Leave this city now, or I will destroy you." The image's lips didn't move. The voice was disembodied but familiar. It was the man he'd talked to last night.
"And why would you want to do that?” She circled the image, studying him from all angles. She paused when she saw the man's neck and glanced across at Michael. This man is dead. By several hours, I'd say. He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the door frame. But he didn't entirely relax. This image might well be the forerunner of another attack.
"What I do is nothing more than justice,” the voice said. “You have no right to stop me."
"What you're doing has nothing to do with justice, and everything to do with revenge. Don't lie to me or yourself."
The image's mouth slid into the gruesome replica of a smile. “You are more intuitive than I'd originally thought."
"And you're sicker than I'd originally thought.” Nikki stopped near the front of the image again. “And I have no intention of going anywhere until I stop you."
No reply came. The image hung in the room, waiting for its master to give it life once more. It might not be wise to antagonize him, Michael advised. We're working with a sick mind, and it's doubtful his reactions will be predictable.
Antagonizing him might be our only way of stopping him. At least if he's coming after me, he's not kidnapping other women.
I wouldn't be too sure of that. This plan, whatever it was, smelled of precision. Their killer might be mad, but madness certainly hadn't incapacitated his brainpower. He's here for a reason. He's not here just to deliver a warning.
An image can't harm me.
It can if it's meant as nothing more than a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder. While he could hear no sound or movement, the awareness of ... something ... surged across his senses. She glanced at him, eyebrows raised. You think he plans another attack?
Yes.
But it's daylight, so his vamps can't move around. And the cops have the hotel monitored. Fledglings could take them easily enough. Yet it wasn't fledglings he could sense. It was something else, something undefinable.
Something that felt vaguely human, though he could neither smell blood nor hear a heartbeat. Zombie?
Remember what they smell like.
She shuddered. No disguising that .
No. He pushed away from the bedroom door frame and moved to the center of the main room, trying to get some sort of directional feel for whatever it was he sensed.
"Are you sure you just won't give up this madness and go?” the voice said. She glanced at Michael. He moved back until he was near the suite door, then nodded.
"Oh, I'm sure."
"Then I apologize, but you really leave me no choice." The image disappeared. For several seconds, neither Michael nor Nikki moved. Barely even breathed. The happy tune of a cable car bell mingled with the rumble of traffic rising up from the street below. On the floor immediately underneath them, people moved, talked or made love, the pulse of their hearts a distant but flavorsome beat.
Nothing and no one seemed to be approaching their room. Yet that sense of disconnected humanity continued to come close.
Get ready, Nikki. It comes.
She flexed her hands. Energy danced across her fingertips, brighter than he'd ever seen it before. Someone knocked loudly on the door. He glanced at her. She cleared her throat, then said, “Who is it?" No answer.
After several heartbeats, the knock came again. There was no heartbeat, no thoughts, nothing to indicate there was anything human, vampire, or anything else vaguely alive, standing on the other side of the door. It could almost have been a zombie, except for the fact there was no smell, and no shambling step. He nodded at Nikki again.
"Hang on a sec,” she called. What now?