Where?
Ahead. Can't you see the pearl of light?
His frown slid down the link. No, I can't .
Ginger had warned her this would happen. She'd said that even Cordell couldn't see them—he could only feel their power. It's about twenty feet in front of us . Its light glowed a gentle gold across the cavern walls, whisking brightness from wall to wall, gleaming brightly off the thin strand of wire stretched taut across the path. She stopped and yanked Michael backwards. Trip wire . She pulled her flashlight from her pocket and shined the beam on the wire.
How in the hell did you see that? I couldn't, and I was using my vampire vision. He squatted, intently studying the wire, then the cracked cavern walls on either side. The flame imp showed me.
So they're on our side?
She glanced at the pearl. It was hovering near a slight curve in the tunnel, its shade a green-tinged blue—colors that hinted at sadness. But why were the flame imps sad? Had another of their number died?
Cordell's killing them. We're their only hope.
He nodded absently, then reached over the wire and gently pressed his fingers against the ground on the other side. Something clicked. For a second, nothing happened, then there was a sigh of air and stakes stabbed in from either side of the wall. Michael fell backwards, barely avoiding having his arm skewered.
"Cordell's playing with us.” He rose and dusted off his jeans. Though there was a touch of amusement in his voice, anger stirred through the link. “Those stakes were never meant to kill us." They certainly looked deadly enough. She frowned at him. “What makes you think that?" "Two things.” He began snapping the stakes, creating a hole for them to walk through. “First off, the wire is attached to nothing more than rock. It was meant as a warning not a trigger. Second, the delay between pressing the real trigger and the stakes stabbing in was enough that we would have been safely past."
She rubbed her eyes. “But that doesn't make sense. Why would he do something like that? Why play games?"
"I don't know.” He captured her hand again, his fingers so warm compared to hers. “Let's continue." They stepped past the broken stakes and the pressure plate and continued down the tunnel. The flame imp kept its distance, hovering a good twenty feet away. Muted light fanned across the walls, enough to see but not clearly. She kept the flashlight's beam trained on the ground, just in case Cordell had more trip wires waiting.
The sound of water splashing became clearer. It seemed quite strong—a stream more than just water dripping off damp rocks. The cold was increasing, reaching icy fingers through her skin to chill her bones. She shivered, wishing she'd worn something warmer than a cotton sweater. They rounded the curve in the tunnel. Ahead was a heavily padlocked wooden door. The flame imp hovered above it, but its color was still dark, and it was difficult to see. Rodeman? She asked.
Behind the door. He stopped, eyeing it with a frown. This is too easy. Maybe Cordell is simply overconfident. Even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren't true. Cordell wasn't a fool. Angry and somewhat demented, yes, but no fool. There would be traps waiting here somewhere.
Maybe. Wait here.
He released her hand. She bit her lip and fought the instinctive urge to reach for him again, to tell him not to leave her. Instead, she clenched her fingers and felt the tingle of energy flow across her skin. Tension rode his shoulders as he tested each step. But he reached the door without incident, and she sighed in relief.
Rodeman's inside. Drugged, by the feel of it. He skimmed his fingers across the door frame. Anyone, or anything, else?
Not that I can see. You?
Nothing. And it didn't feel right. It had been far too easy to get this far. There had to be some sort of trap here somewhere. Had to be.
She again rubbed her arms. The chill air had settled deep inside, and her bones were beginning to ache. Michael finished his inspection then reached for the door handle. Turning it quickly, he thrust his shoulder against the wood, shattering the lock and pushing the door open. Kinetic ability was somewhat superfluous when you had the strength of a vampire, she thought. He squatted on his heels, studying the ground.
She moved up behind him. The cell wasn't dark. A lone candle sat in one corner. In the wash of its flickering light she could see the end of a metal-framed bed and a foot encased in a shiny leather shoe. A rope was looped around his ankle and tied to the bed.
Rodeman. He hadn't moved, so he had to be either drugged or unconscious. She shivered, hoping that Elizabeth hadn't paid him a visit like she had Matthew.
Heat tingled across her skin. She glanced up. The flame imp hovered several feet above her, its color pulsing between blue and red. Did that mean that danger waited for them? She wasn't sure, and it worried her. She wished Ginger was here to translate.
Can you see anything?
I'm not sure. He hesitated. There is magic here somewhere—I can feel the tingle of it across my skin. But I'm not sure where or what it is.
He leaned sideways and scooped up a handful of stones, then tossed them one by one into the cell. Nothing happened.
Maybe the trigger needs something heavier.
Probably. I guess we have no other option, then. He rose and gave her a quick hard kiss. Remember me if something happens.
She glared at him. That is not funny.
Sorry. He shrugged, then brushed the hair from her eyes, his fingers warm against her chilled skin. Don't you move until I say it's okay—okay?