Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

Why wouldn't he just leave? If Monica stirred, the priest was in danger. Nikki doubted if his robes would offer much protection. “Yes, she's dangerous."

"Then I think we should call the police."

She glanced back to the dark cellar. At least the priest would be out of the way if he went to call the police. And maybe it would be better if the cops were the ones to drag Monica into the sunlight and death. As long as they arrived well before sunset, there shouldn't be any sort of danger. With Monica out of the way, the only nightmare left would be Jasper. Foreboding pulsed across her skin. “Call them, then. Tell them Monica Trevgard is trapped in this basement. I'll stay here to ensure she doesn't escape."

His gaze widened at the mention of Monica's name, then he nodded and moved back up the stairs. Nikki watched his retreat. Did he know Monica? Maybe she should warn him what might happen ... She shook her head and leaned against a wall. Priest or not, he wouldn't believe her. The minutes ticked by, and the silence grew heavier. She glanced at her watch. Perhaps the priest had decided to call the loony bin first, just to ensure she wasn't an escaped nutcase. She cast her senses into the basement, checking that Monica was still there. The wash of evil was answer enough.

A few minutes later she heard the sirens. Yet she couldn't escape the notion that something was wrong, that she was doing something she shouldn't. But they had to get rid of Monica, for everyone's safety. Didn't they?

Footsteps pounded down the hall. She rubbed her arms, wishing they'd hurry. MacEwan clomped down the steps and stopped beside her. “This better not be one of your tricks." His breath washed over her, and she screwed up her nose. Too bad garlic didn't effect vampires. “It's not. She's all yours."

She offered him her flashlight, but he shook his head and produced one of his own. “Jenkins, make sure she stays put. You other two, follow me."

The three men stepped into the basement. The darkness closed around them; only the bobbing light gave away their position. She clenched her fists, half-expecting Monica to wake and try to escape. But no sound broke the silence except for the occasional footstep.

Minutes later, Jenkins’ two-way buzzed.

"Call the paramedics in, Jenkins.” MacEwan's voice sounded annoyed, even over the two-way. “And get them to bring down a stretcher. The girl isn't looking so good."

"And Miss James?"

"Tell her to stay put, or her ass is mine."

The young officer glanced at her. Nikki smiled sourly. “Message received. My ass ain't moving." He grinned slightly then headed back up the stairs. Nikki shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting uneasily in the darkness. She wanted to go into the cellar and see Monica for herself, but knew MacEwan had meant what he said.

Though with Jasper still on the loose, maybe jail was the safest place to be. Jenkins returned a few minutes later, but Nikki felt no safer with his large presence next to her. She glanced at her watch. If MacEwan didn't move Monica soon, he might well find himself trying to control a very angry, and very awake, vampire.

Footsteps sounded down the hall. Two paramedics pounded past them and disappeared into the darkness. More minutes ticked by.

Finally, MacEwan reappeared. The two paramedics carried Monica on the stretcher just behind him, with the two police officers following them.

She let the five men pass then followed them up the stairs. The teenager looked more dead than alive. She was limp, boneless, her skin pallid and unhealthy looking. Nikki frowned. Something didn't feel right...

She crossed her arms. However Monica might look, she was still a monster. Like the fiend she called a lover, Monica enjoyed the terror she inflicted on her victims. It had been all too obvious in her eyes when she'd attacked both her and Jake.

But evil's mistress was about to meet her deserving end.

MacEwan glanced over his shoulder. “I don't want you disappearing anywhere. I'd like a word with you first."

She nodded. She had no intention of leaving, anyway. Not until she was certain of Monica's fate. She followed the men down the hall, then stopped as the first paramedic stepped outside. Beams of sunlight touched Monica's still form, washing her skin with warmth. Just for an instant she looked like the Monica of old—a carefree, innocent teenager. Nikki bit her lip and half reached out to stop them. Then she dropped her hand to her side and watched the two men carry her fully into daylight. Monica screamed—a high, tortured sound that ricocheted through Nikki's mind. This is wrong. I'm wrong. Oh Christ ... She took a step forward. Fire leaped through her brain, stopping her. She doubled over, gasping in pain, eyes watering as she struggled to see Monica. The teenager kicked and twisted against the straps holding her captive. She screamed and cursed and called for her father, over and over and over. The two paramedics swore and struggled to keep hold of the stretcher as the convulsing became more violent. There was a tearing sound, then suddenly she was free and on the ground. Her eyes flew open, revealing a sea of red where there should have been white. Tendrils of smoke began to rise from her flesh. She hissed, a low inhuman sound, and began to crawl towards the doorway and the safety of the church interior.>Or was she? Nikki frowned and walked into the kitchen. Last night she'd seen the enormous power behind Michael's gifts. He'd never said he couldn't find Monica. She stopped in sudden horror. Had last night been little more than a convenient way to tire her and make her sleep?

Pain stabbed through her heart. That last time couldn't have been a lie. Their minds had entwined too closely for any lie to survive.

And yet, with the strength of Michael's gifts, how could she ever be sure? Tommy had been able to make her believe he cared, and he'd only possessed a tenth of Michael's abilities. She crossed her arms and stared at the smoke-stained wall. Why did it matter so much anyway? One night, that was all she'd asked for, all she'd wanted. One night free from Jasper's taint. Michael had surely given her that.

So why did she suddenly feel so cheated? Especially when she'd been the initiator? She'd only seduced Michael to run Jasper's dark whispering from her mind. But something in his touch had made her feel cherished. Loved, even.

She closed her eyes at the thought. Because it was nothing more than a lie. He'd warned that he couldn't love her and that he couldn't stay. He'd given her last night, but he couldn't give her anything more. It was totally foolish to even want something more. People died when she cared too much, and she didn't want to see him dead.

The kettle whistled shrilly into the silence. She made a cup of coffee then picked it up and walked back into the living room. The newspaper lay on the sofa, and headlines leaped out at her. Three more dead in Highgate!

She took a gulp of coffee, almost scalding her throat in the process. Monica had to be stopped, before she could slake her thirst on more innocents. She put the cup down and shoved a hand into her pockets, dragging out the locket she'd swiped from Trevgard's. Obviously, Jasper hadn't bothered searching her when he'd stripped her.

Dark laughter flickered through her thoughts, and her pulse rate jumped. She swallowed uneasily, but knew she had no choice. Monica had to be found. She wrapped her fingers around the locket. A chill chased horror through her mind. Monica's evil had grown. Images pushed forward, but she held them at bay and sat down.

Only then, after taking a deep breath, did she open her mind to hell. Darkness flooded her senses. Through it, she heard the faint strains of music ... an organ . Frowning, she tried to broaden the view. She needed an exact location, not merely the sounds and images of Monica's den.

A man dressed in black ... the cross. Two old cypress trees dusted with snow ... the pictures gradually formed into an area she recognized. Monica hid in the bowels of an old church up in the hills. She smiled at the absurdity of it. Yet what better hideaway could Monica find? No one expected a vampire to hide in such a place. Not even Michael...