Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

What place?

She jumped. The question sounded so clear he might as well have been standing right next to her. She put her hand on her chest, and took a deep breath to calm the rapid pounding of her heart. Nikki, what place? Where is Monica?

In a church. An honest answer, but not one that would help him. There were at least twenty churches scattered in and around Lyndhurst. It would take them forever to find the right one. Where is the church, Nikki?

Annoyance seared her. She smiled grimly. Good. Maybe next time he'd think twice about leaving her behind ... But there wasn't going to be a next time, was there?

Nikki?

The sudden wariness behind his question made her wonder if he'd heard her thoughts. All I know is it's in the northwest, towards the mountains. Thank you. He sounded surprised, as if he hadn't expected an honest answer. We'll find her, Nikki. Maybe they would. And maybe she would. The bracelet would lead her straight to the teenager's lair. Stay in the hotel, Nikki. Stay safe.

Yeah, right. She rose and called for a cab. Her car was still parked in front of the agency, and, hopefully, she still had a set of knives hidden under the dash. Even if a knife wasn't an effective weapon against a vampire, she still felt safer with them strapped to her wrist. She glanced at the time. Two o'clock. She collected her jacket and went outside to wait for the cab.

* * * *

Two hours later, she stopped her car opposite an old church and climbed out. This was the place. She took off her sunglasses and leaned against the car to study the church. A priest puttered around in the front garden, tending to a few winter flowering plants. Two old cypress pines dominated the grounds on the right side of the old building, but the back and left side were bare and open. She squinted slightly and looked at the sky. It was after four, and the sun's strength was beginning to wane. Michael had said any exposure to the sun was dangerous to the newly turned, but she wanted to be sure of death. The later it was, the less likely that became. And it wouldn't wait until Michael arrived. She didn't question the certainty that he was coming. As he'd warned, the ties between them had been strengthened by their lovemaking, and he was using that connection to find her.

Maybe she should wait for him ... But something drove her on, told her she couldn't afford to. She locked the car door then crossed the road. The priest moved back into the old building. How could she rid the church of its unknown guest without raising the priest's suspicions? She frowned and turned down an old stone path that led through the trees. There had to be a second entrance around the back of the church. Maybe she could get in there.

Luck was with her for a change. She climbed over a small fence and approached the second door. It was locked. She looked around to ensure no one watched, then quickly zapped the door with kinetic energy.

It creaked open. The hallway beyond was dark, still. The murmur of several voices came from a room to her right, and someone moved around in another room further down the hall. Below them all, a sense of evil, sleeping.

Chapter Thirteen

Swallowing heavily, Nikki stepped inside. She reached into her pocket and dug out Monica's bracelet. It pulsed lightly against her palm, a muted beat that would lead her straight to the teenager. She moved forward quietly. There were no windows in the small corridor, and the gloom closed in. She resisted the urge to turn on the flashlight, knowing the proximity of the voices meant there was a chance they'd see it.

A cobweb trailed against her face, and she jumped sideways. Her yelp became a squeak as she bit down on it. Heart pounding unevenly, she stopped and listened. The soft murmuring in the other room continued unabated.

Sighing silently, she walked on. The corridor ended at a set of stairs. She hesitated, stomach suddenly churning. She'd climbed a similar set of stairs to escape Jasper's clutches. Oh God, was he here as well?

She couldn't feel his presence, only Monica's, but the fear that she was walking blindly into another trap was a cold weight in the pit of her stomach.

She turned on the flashlight and shone it into the gloom. The dust-caked steps showed no trace of footsteps, yet she could feel Monica's presence in the darkness below. Could vampire's fly? Bile rose in her throat. She closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. It was ridiculous to think vampires could fly. They didn't have to, when they could move faster than the eye could see. What if Monica was awake and waiting for her? The rhythmic beat in the bracelet spoke of slumber, but how could she be sure a vampire's heartbeat was in any way the same as a human's?

Sweat beaded her forehead. Biting her lip, she walked slowly down the stairs. Dust stirred, a cloud that stung her eyes and nostrils. She wrinkled her nose, fighting a sneeze. The door at the bottom of the stairs was closed. She touched the handle, then hesitated again. What if Jasper was here? What would she do?

Probably die of heart failure. If she was lucky.

The bracelet told her nothing. Nor could she really expect it to—it was Monica's, not Jasper's. Mouth dry, she turned the handle and opened the door. The air that rolled out to greet her was thick with age and a musty dampness that spoke of leaking pipes. She swept the light across the layers of darkness. It revealed the slimy floor but little else.

A hand came down on her shoulder, and her heart almost stopped. She screamed and spun, only to find the priest she'd seen earlier in the church grounds. She swallowed and gave him a somewhat shaky smile. “Father, you gave me a fright."

"It was not my intention, I assure you.” His voice was gentle, as if he feared he was talking to someone not quite sane. “I merely wanted to know what you were doing down here." Should she lie? She eyed him for a moment then decided against it. Something in his green eyes told her he's seen enough of life to know the truth from a lie.

"I'm a private investigator.” She pulled her wallet out of her jacket and shone the flashlight on her license.

“I got a tip that an escaped criminal was hiding in your cellar." The priest frowned. “I don't see how. The doors are kept locked, and I've seen no one strange about." No one but herself, she surmised from his look. “The side door and this one were both open, Father. Have you checked them lately?"

"Not this one."

"Then my informant may be right.” She glanced over her shoulder. Something stirred in the darkness—or was it only her imagination?

"Is this criminal dangerous?"

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."