Chasing the Shadows (Nikki & Michael 3)

Oh God ... “Meaning?"

"Meaning you can walk this plane almost as easily as you walk the other. Meaning you can call forth those whose untimely deaths forced them to remain rather than move on." She stared at the woman for several seconds, mulling over the implications. Wondering if this was real. Maybe she was tucked safely in bed, with Michael's arms wrapped around her. Maybe—hopefully—this was nothing more than some strange nightmare.

"This is real, young woman. As we are real."

"You're a ghost. As are those who surround us."

"That doesn't make us any less real."

No, she supposed it didn't. And considering what she'd seen over the past four months, ghosts were way down on the list when it came to ghoulies to be wary of.

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. It didn't do much to ease the grip of fear squeezing her heart tight.

"So you're saying I can now see ghosts?” Just like the movie. Great.

"Yes.” The melodious voice was soft. Sympathetic.

"And you're saying I can talk to these ghosts if I choose to?"

"I'm saying you can call them and bring them into being. Give them the power to react with your world." She wasn't sure she understood what that meant. And right now, she really didn't want to know. “It's been eleven months since Michael brought me back from the dead. Why have you come to me now and not before?"

"On this plane, time is meaningless. A breath can take a second or a century. It matters not."

"That's not much of an answer,” she grumbled.

The old woman's toothless smile flashed. “No. But until now, the results of his actions had not begun to appear."

She remembered the whispers she'd heard down in the sewers. The nebula cloud that had briefly appeared before the vampires attacked. Ghosts? Or the imaginings of a fearful mind? Despite what the old woman was saying, she wasn't entirely sure she could believe it was the whispers of the dead she'd heard.

"So how am I supposed to empower these ghosts of yours?"

"Reach out psychically. They will connect with you and draw on your strength to gain substance."

"That sounds dangerous."

The old woman's smile was wry. “So is taking a walk across the park these days." True. But muggers she could cope with. She wasn't so sure she could handle nebula bits of mist sucking at her energy to gain form. It reminded her too much of vampires. The old woman climbed to her feet. “I must take you back,” she said. “You cannot remain long on this plane. Remember that in the future when you roam this world." Nikki frowned as she rose. “What do you mean?"

"I mean your soul was never destined to stay on this plane. You were meant for the light. The longer you remain here, the more it sucks your strength. The more it sucks his strength." She stared at the old woman as the implications of her words sank in. “What? How is that possible?"

"Your energies are linked. He is your strength, and you are his. You are two halves of a whole and function as such."

Oh god ... Michael was meeting with Farmer. And she was here. Sucking his strength when he needed it most. “You have to get me back. Quickly."

The old woman nodded and walked down the hill. The ghosts parted, an unearthly wave that made no sound and yet whose whispering filled her mind.

Then their presence gave way to the damp touch of real fog. The tingling hit her, burning across her skin, through her mind. Then she was stumbling forward, landing on her hands and knees, her fingers sliding against grass that was real and wet rather than ghostly.

She looked around quickly but couldn't see the old woman. But Nikki had a feeling she would be there, on the other side, if and when she chose to go back.

She thrust upwards, but at that moment, pain hit her, so thick and fast it snatched her breath and drove her face-first back to the ground.

Not hers.

Michael's.

Chapter Fourteen

For several seconds Nikki could do nothing more than lie there. The simple act of breathing had become a struggle, and fire burned through every fiber of her being. Her muscles thumped and quivered, as if someone was kicking and punching her. And she knew what she was feeling was merely an echo of what was actually happening to him.