Chasing the Shadows (Nikki & Michael 3)

She slowly walked around him. On the back of his jean jacket were his gang colors— The Shadows. A somewhat appropriate name for a vampire gang. She finished her tour and stopped in front of him. His eyes were small and mean looking, his mouth thin and petulant.

He showed no sign of realizing she was there. She frowned, wondering why—then remembered she was wearing Seline's charm. She retreated, took it off, then went back into the bedroom. His image came to life almost immediately.

"So.” His voice didn't match his tough appearance, tending to be high, almost feminine. “We finally meet."

"We're not exactly meeting."

His smile revealed bloodied canines. A chill ran down her back. God, don't let that blood be Mary's ... or Michael's.

"I suppose, technically, you're right. But we will meet in person soon, have no fear of that." She had plenty of fears about that. She crossed her arms, suddenly glad this image wasn't real. At least Farmer couldn't taste her apprehension. Couldn't hear the rapid pounding of her pulse.

"What do you want, Farmer?"

"I suppose you know I have your lover?"

She nodded tightly.

"What you probably don't know is that I also have the woman you consider your second mother." She kept her face stony. Disbelieving. They needed to buy time. Needed to make Farmer believe they didn't believe. “Bullshit. We sent her away on a plane this morning."

"I'm afraid I just couldn't let that happen. Not when I had so many delicious plans for her." God, if Mary had been a captive of this madman since this morning, there was no saying what sort of condition they'd find her in now. He may have been taking his time with his earlier victims, but time was the one thing running out on him now. He may have decided to just do her quick ... Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed heavily.>"I'd offer you some sustenance,” Farmer continued. “But I'm afraid my fledglings and I overindulged, and there's not much left of the poor girl."

The smell of death mixed with a damp, slightly fishy odor, indicating they were in the sewers again. But beyond that, there was a sea-weedy, salty sort of tang. In the distance came a continuous, thumping roar, like that of ocean pounding against rocks. They had to be near an old outlet to the sea, even though those had been blocked many years ago.

But why here? Especially when it was such a long way from where they'd found the other two victims?

What was Farmer up to this time?

"I know you're awake,” Farmer continued, his tone less jocular. “Feigning unconsciousness in the hope of getting me closer will achieve nothing. You're chained, in case you didn't realize it." He shifted his right arm carefully. Heard the clink of metal. Normally, chains wouldn't hold him. Farmer knew that and so did he. Which meant he was hurt far more than the pain pounding through his body would suggest.

"This won't—” The words came out a cracked, almost unintelligible whisper. He stopped and ran his tongue around his mouth. Three teeth were chipped, his top lip was split, and the bottom half of his face seemed horribly swollen. Farmer obviously hadn't been overly careful on where he'd placed his boots. It hurt to breathe, let alone talk. “—get you anywhere,” he finished.

"Interesting you should say that, because I really did expect the witch to come rushing to your rescue. She hasn't, and I'm wondering why."

Because she's smarter than you think. Smarter than I think. “Argument,” he ground out.

"Well, that's just downright inconsiderate of you. How bad?"

"Split up.” It hurt to say those words. Hurt more than any of the wounds Farmer had inflicted on him. And if he got out of this situation alive, he was going to ensure she stayed in his life. There had to be a compromise that suited both of them. Had to be.

And if there wasn't?

Then he'd do what it took—even if that meant walking away from the Circle, from everything and everyone else he loved. Her leaving him this afternoon had allowed him to glimpse the future, and it was as he'd long suspected. Life without her was a long, dark tunnel. He'd been through that tunnel once. He had no intention of going back.

Farmer tsked. “Very inconsiderate. Still, maybe she has no idea yet that you're my captive. Maybe she failed to find that damn cross of yours."

She would have found it. Of that, Michael had no doubt. But why she hadn't yet tried to rescue him he couldn't honestly say. Maybe all the arguing they'd been doing over the past few days had actually done some good. Maybe she was thinking instead of simply reacting.

Which wasn't really a fair thought. Especially when it was part of what he loved about her.

"Perhaps I shall send her a little souvenir and let her know." Over his dead body. “Great ... idea."

The silence seemed to stretch. He could feel Farmer's confusion, even if he couldn't yet see it.

"It worries me that you so readily agree with me,” the younger vampire said eventually. It was supposed to. Obviously, Farmer wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and at least that gave Michael himself some advantage. Right now, he needed every little bit of help he could get. He shifted his right hand and carefully rubbed his face. Blood crusted both his eyes. He wiped it away and opened his eyes—or eye. The left one remained swollen shut.

Farmer was a blur of red heat fifteen feet away. Farmer's left arm was heavily bandaged, indicating Michael had been successful in at least one aim. Behind the younger vampire were four others—the fledglings he'd heard feeding earlier.

"Why do you want me to send her such a reminder when it is your flesh I'll be taking?” Farmer continued.