Music thumped from the interior of the café. Michael stopped under the awning, eyeing the building in distaste. He'd never been a fan of rock music—in any of its configurations. Though he'd certainly heard a lot of it since Nikki had come to live with him.
Nikki ... God, what was he going to do with her?
He was only certain of one thing—he loved her, and he'd be damned if he was going to let her walk away from him when this case was over. Jake was right. There had to be a common ground somewhere. Had to be some compromise that would make them both happy. All they had to do was find it. And find it they would—even if he had to tie her to the bed to keep her in his life and talking to him. He took a deep breath and tried to push all thoughts of her aside as he entered the noise-laden building. His senses tingled with awareness—the fiend was inside, waiting.
"Table for Farmer,” he said, as a waiter walked up to greet him. The young man smiled. “Sure. This way."
Michael's gaze swept across the room and met the blue eyes of his foe. Farmer was everything he'd imagined—short, stocky, and balding. His face was hard, and tattoos covered what little skin there was to be seen. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a sleeveless jean jacket over that. Michael had no doubt his club's colors would adorn the back of the jacket—everything about this man said biker. Except, perhaps, his eyes. They were the eyes of a man lost in the wonder of his own little world. Which was odd, because Farmer had certainly seemed sane enough when he'd talked to him earlier. The younger vampire rose as he approached the table. “You would be the man I spoke to last night,” he said, offering his hand.
He was wearing fingerless leather gloves, the leather oddly damp against his palm as they shook hands. Farmer was as strong as the muscles bulging against the restriction of his jacket suggested.
"Michael.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Bill.” Farmer motioned to the bottle of wine that sat on the table, the movement almost feminine.
“Drink?"
Michael shook his head and ordered a bourbon from a passing waiter. Farmer poured himself a glass then raised it, sniffing the aroma. His behavior was so at odds with his appearance, Michael was hard-pressed to hold back his smile.
"How long have you been in the city?” He reached out psychically, carefully testing the other vampire's defenses. They were locked down tight, as he'd expected. He had no doubt he could breach them but was reluctant to do so here. There were too many innocents Farmer could use as weapons. And despite what he'd said to Nikki, he didn't simply walk in and kill. Not in crowded situations like this, especially when the target was ready and watchful for tricks.
Farmer leaned back in his chair and idly sipped his wine. “Two months. I like this place. Might settle here for a while."
"You living in the Castro area?"
He was careful to keep his voice neutral, and though Farmer's gaze narrowed slightly, Michael could sense no anger. Which again was odd, given the young vampire's history of retaliation when the suggestion of being gay was raised.
"No. But I might, if I decide to stay here."
Michael nodded. “And you were the maker of the fledglings down in the sewer?"
"Yes.” Farmer paused. “Why did you kill them?"
Michael snorted. “You have no need for a harem in a city this size. You start killing too many people, and the cops will begin to notice. We survive by being unnoticed." Farmer's sudden smile was derisive. “We survive by being stronger and faster. The cops are no threat to the likes of you and me."
"Don't ever underestimate humans. They'll do the unexpected every time.” Like walk out the door rather than settle for part-time happiness.
"I disagree. From what I've seen, humans are all predictable.” Farmer took another sip of his drink.
“Take that witch I'm chasing. I can tell you now, she'll do whatever she can to rescue her loved ones." Michael's gut clenched. He was suddenly glad Nikki was out wandering the night. Farmer's minions—if he had any left—would not be able to track her down. Even Farmer himself might have trouble, despite the odd connection he seemed to have with her.
"I think we all tend to do that, human or not.” His palm began to tingle, and he scratched it idly. “Have you managed to track her down yet?"
"No. But I won't have to. She'll come to me."
Michael didn't like the confidence in the younger vampire's voice or the smirk beginning to twitch his thin lips. He raised his eyebrow. “You sound extremely confident of that."
"That's because I am. I have someone she loves."
The itching was getting stronger, creeping up his arm. Michael frowned and looked down. His hand was red, as if burned. For a moment, his vision blurred. He blinked, but as he looked up, the room spun around him. The glove, he thought. There'd been something on the glove. He thrust upwards and hit the smirking younger vampire with every ounce of psychic strength he had. Farmer's eyes went wide with fear an instant before Michael surged into his mind and took control. He forced the younger vampire to rise and walk out the door, then he threw some money on the table and followed. He didn't have much time left. There was an odd buzzing beginning to run though his mind, and the room seemed to be drifting in and out of focus. He had to take care of Farmer before whatever it was that had been on that glove took full effect.
They walked out onto the street then down towards the Aquatic Park. The buzzing in his head was getting stronger, until it felt like there were hundreds of bees swarming through his mind. He gritted his teeth, battling to keep control as he marched Farmer in front of him. All the while he searched the buildings around them, looking for some place that was empty. Looking for some place were he could quickly and safely destroy Farmer without the risk of involving others. But every step pushed the drug further into his system.
Every breath became harder.
And though he was a vampire and didn't really need to breathe, his body still seemed to crave air. He blinked sweat away from his eyes and forced Farmer to the right. His gaze swept the buildings on both sides of the street until he found one that showed no life—a restaurant in the process of being renovated, by the look of it. He hurried them both toward it.
He thrust psychic energy at the door. It flew inwards, shattering as it hit the floor. People around them stopped and briefly stared, but none saw them enter. He had enough strength left to ensure that. The interior shadows wrapped around them. Michael stumbled as he came through the door, his feet suddenly blocks of ice that refused to obey his commands. His psychic hold slipped, and Farmer swung around, lashing out with a booted foot. Michael avoided the blow, but only just. His reactions were slow. Far too slow. It felt like he was moving through glue while Farmer danced around him on high speed. He tried to reach out and recapture his hold on Farmer's mind, but the bees were buzzing so loudly he could barely even think let alone control his psychic abilities. Farmer danced in close, fist swinging. Michael ducked again then lashed out with his fist, connecting with flesh with a satisfying thump. He stumbled forward, reaching for the younger vampire, trying to get a grip on his neck. He needed to break it. Needed to kill.