"You be careful. I'm not the one who can die here."
"But you're not immortal either, and I'm more than a little certain Michael didn't tell you everything about his gift of life everlasting."
She smiled grimly. Michael had never told her more than what he thought she needed to know. Bare facts, nothing more—especially when it came to anything concerning his past or what he did for a living.
"I'm heading over."
She grabbed the chain link and pulled herself over the fence. Dropping to the ground on the other side, she crouched, her gaze sweeping the darkness. It had to be some sort of produce warehouse—packing crates were lined in neat rows, those closest containing limp remnants of lettuce leaves. Matthew could have gone anywhere. She stayed where she was, listening intently. The wind moaned through the silence, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She rubbed her arms, then reached down, withdrawing a knife from her right boot. Made of the purest silver, it was one of two she'd had specially designed after her little dance with Jasper. If an old kitchen knife with only the smallest amount of silver in it could stop him , her new knives should stop just about anything. That's what she was hoping, anyway. From the right came a soft, metallic squeal. She rose, padding quickly through the rows of crates. An old brick building loomed through the darkness. She stopped at the end of the row and peered out. To her left were several large entrances, all shuttered. To the right, nothing but brick wall. The sound had come from around the corner.
She ran to the wall, then edged forward and looked around the corner. Matthew's sandals were disappearing through a window.
"Jake, Matthew has just entered the warehouse through a window on the right side of the building. I'm just about to follow."
"I'm almost with you, Nik."
Almost wasn't good enough. She couldn't afford to wait. The sensation of danger had risen tenfold and was threatening to stifle her.
She edged around the corner and made her way to the window. It was a foot or so above her reach, but there were several packing crates stacked close enough to use as a ladder. She climbed them carefully and peered through the window.
There was no sound, no light. Just a darkness thick enough to carve. Yet the warehouse was far from empty. Somewhere in the blackness, evil waited.
Fear rose, squeezing her throat tight. Nikki closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she didn't go into the warehouse after Matthew, Jake would. Though he was armed, they both knew from experience that guns weren't much of a threat to a vampire.
Why she thought it was a vampire who waited inside, Nikki couldn't say. Evil came in many forms—some of them human, some of them not. Maybe it was just Jasper's memory rising like a ghost to tease her fears to life.
But she'd let those fears get the better of her once—and had lost Michael because of them. They would never get the better of her again.
She pulled herself through the window then hunkered down, listening for any hint of sound. Beyond the harsh note of her breathing the silence was absolute—as absolute as the darkness. If Matthew was moving around in this, he had to have the eyes of a cat.
Keeping one hand against the outer wall for guidance and the other in front of her, she slowly moved forward. Five steps in she hit another wall and followed it out into the warehouse. A sound broke the silence—something heavy clattering across the concrete. A soft curse followed.
"Lizzie? You in here?” Matthew's voice held a combination of petulance, bravado and fear. “Why don't you stop playing games and come out?"
"You lied to me, Matthew."
Though the words were soft, there was something in them that spoke of death. Ice crawled across Nikki's skin.
"Only about my age.” The whine in Matthew's voice was more evident this time. “Only by a few years."
"Years matter, especially to someone like me."
The husky voice was drawing closer to Matthew. So was the sense of death. A chill chased its way across Nikki's overheated skin. She closed her eyes briefly, restraining the urge to scream for help. If she did, Matthew would die.
"So what if I lied about my age. It doesn't change who I am or what I feel." He was close, maybe only a few steps away. Nikki edged to her left, the knife grasped tightly in one hand, the other outstretched. She'd probably scare the life out of him if she touched him, but at least it was a touch he'd survive. He wouldn't be so lucky if his husky-voiced girlfriend got to him first.
"It changes everything. Your age means people will worry about you. Your age means people will follow you and attempt to protect you."
Nikki froze. The woman knew she was there. Knew she was following Matthew. Air stirred sluggishly, whispering past her cheek. Someone was moving. Someone she couldn't see or hear. Someone other than the woman Matthew had come here to meet. Sweat trickled down the side of her face. She ignored it, not daring to move, her breath lodged somewhere in her throat.
The sense of impending doom was so thick her skin crawled with it. Kinetic energy crackled across her fingertips. She clenched her hand, searching the cover of night, looking for the source of the movement. The air stirred again, and with it came the sound of a soft step behind her. Nikki spun, and hell broke loose.
Chapter Two
Michael, are you listening to me?
The voice edged through his consciousness, as sharp as fingernails down a blackboard. He opened his eyes, watching the flames dance in the hearth. Despite the fire, the chill of night sat heavily in the cabin. But outside the howling wind no longer rattled the windows, and the smell of rain was in the air. From down the valley came the soft calls of the cattle that were his main source of sustenance. Hunger stirred in his belly. He glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was just past six in the evening. He'd been asleep for close to nine hours and hadn't eaten in at least two days. It was a good sign that his demon was finally on the retreat.