She wheeled the cart toward the parking garage. Darkness soon engulfed her, broken intermittently by the wash of brightness from the overhead lights. The noise and bustle of the airport faded, and the silence became blanket heavy.
Her gaze swept the silent rows of cars. Someone was close, even if she couldn't see them. Her skin was itching so fiercely it felt like it was burning. Noise scuffed to her left. She jumped slightly, half turning, then a prickle of awareness ran across the back of her neck. He was behind her. She swung, seeing only darkness, yet knowing the night lied. Air stirred, flushed with heat and anger, rushing toward her. Fear squeezed her throat tight. She jumped back, but before she could lash the night-cloaked vampire with energy, Michael dove in from the left. He hit the unseen vampire hard, driving him to the ground with a thump that made her wince.
The shadows abandoned the vampire almost immediately, revealing a gaunt, pain-ravaged face and wild blue eyes. He reminded Nikki of the feral kids she'd met so often in the days when she'd lived on the streets herself. He even fought like them, spindly arms and legs going everywhere but with little effect. There was no real strength or method in his movements, just desperation to get what he wanted—which in this case was her.
Michael sat on the vampire's chest, then grabbed his arms, crossing and pushing them toward the ground. The vampire had no choice but to stop fighting or risk breaking both his shoulders. "Why are you here?” Though Michael's voice was soft, there was a deadliness to it that chilled her. There was no compassion in his words, no life.
"I'm a chauffeur, man.” Sweat was beginning to bead the vampire's forehead. “What do you think I'm here for?"
"And does the resort often send vampires to greet their guests?"
"No."
"Then tell me why you are here.” Michael punctuated his soft words by pushing a little harder on the vampire's crossed arms.
The vampire yelped. “To meet with a guest and his wife and take them to the resort. I swear, that's all." Sweat was trickling faster down his face now, and his cheeks were beginning to glow with heat. She rubbed her arms. There was something more than fear happening here.
"And the name of this guest?"
The trickle had become a stream. Water dripped from the young vampire's face, pooling near the back of his neck. Dark stains were appearing under his arms and across his stomach.
"Rodeman,” he said, voice high and cracked with pain. “Some old dude and his new wife." She met Michael's glance and smiled grimly. “Want to bet that this Rodeman is number sixteen on the disappearing list?"
"Too much of a chance, given the publicity caused by Hutton's recent disappearance." The vampire's eyes widened even further at the mention of the actor's name. He looked like an owl—all white face and huge eyes. He also looked gaunter than he had in the terminal—almost skeletal.
"You some kind of cop?” he asked.
"Some kind,” Michael agreed. “Would you like to tell me what you intended to do with Rodeman once you'd picked him up?"
The vampire licked his lips—lips that were so dry they were beginning to crack and bleed. “Drive him to the resort. That's all, really."
"No stopping for midnight snacks along the way?” Michael said, his voice deepening sharply.
"No. I swear..."
Smoke was beginning to curl from the vampire's shoes, and the pungent aroma of roasting meat fouled the night air. Her stomach began to churn. Jasper had smelled that way the day the sun had burned him out of existence. A chill raced across her skin.
"Michael, get off him."
"I'm in control, Nikki.” Though his voice was even, his anger ran sharply through the link. Smoky tendrils had crept up to the young vampire's ankles and were creeping towards his knees.
“That's not what I meant. Get off him, now !"
He glanced at her, then released the vampire's arms and climbed quickly to his feet. She grabbed his arm, pulling him away. The vampire didn't move. Couldn't move. His eyes were wide and glassy, bloody mouth open, as if he were screaming. Water was pooled under his entire body, and the steam was rising from both legs.
She held a hand to her mouth. “It's like he's melting,” she said, swallowing heavily. “Like he's wasting away from the inside."
"I think he is."
Michael clasped her hand, but the warmth of his touch did little to ease the coldness creeping through her. “How is something like that possible? He's a vampire—I thought you guys were impervious to just about everything."
"We normally are, but I think we can safely say this goes beyond the realms of what can be considered normal."
The vampire's body was closing in on itself, collapsing as quickly as a tent. Steam was rising from most of his body, and the stench of burning flesh was thick enough to carve. Though his face was little more than a skeleton, his eyes were alive with horror.
Whoever or whatever was doing this to him hadn't had the decency to take that awareness away. He was little more than a puddle, and yet he could still think. Could still feel. Bile rose in her throat. She wrenched her hand from Michael's and stumbled away, losing behind the nearest car what she'd eaten on the aircraft. He touched her back, holding her gently until the shudders had passed, then offered her a handkerchief.
"You should have stayed in the terminal, like I asked,” he chided softly. She straightened and wiped her mouth. What she needed now was a drink and an explanation, not an I-told-you-so. “Did you honestly expect me to wait?” she muttered. He smiled, a warmth she felt deep inside, and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed heat across her chilled skin. “I guess I didn't."