"A sewer tunnel, by the look of it."
"Wonderful,” she muttered. “And here I am wearing only sneakers." He smiled. “The nasty stuff is all piped."
She snorted. “A lot of shit flows down the storm drains, you know, and I'm not just talking about human waste."
"You could stay here if you want."
She raised an eyebrow. “One of these days you're going to get sick of hearing the answer to that question."
"Never.” Nor would he stop asking it. Her safety would always be a priority, whether she liked it or not. He threaded his fingers through the warmth of hers again. “Let's go." They climbed carefully through the gap. The brick tunnel beyond was little more than three feet wide and five feet high. Not much room for maneuvering if they were discovered.
"They've gone to some trouble to conceal that sewer entrance,” Jake said, sweeping the light left and right as he came through the hole. “Wonder why?"
Michael shrugged, his reply almost absent as he listened to the silence for movement. “It would suggest the hotel has some major part to play in their schemes."
"But they haven't yet hit the same place twice, so why go to the bother of building a false wall?"
"Maybe they haven't hit the same place twice simply because they haven't yet needed to." Through the hushed darkness came the tremulous sound of a heartbeat. It was distant, full of fear, full of pain. If it was Mark Wainwright's wife, then she needed medical help fast. Even from this distance it was evident her heart was struggling.
"This way,” he said, leading them to the right.
"Are there any vampires nearby?” Nikki's soft question seemed to melt into the darkness, a hushed sound edged with apprehension.
He glanced back at her. Her eyes gleamed with a cold, gold fire in the shadowed darkness that surrounded them, looking almost otherworldly. His uneasiness rose several notches. He wished he'd taken a chance and talked to Elizabeth about thralls. She probably had forgotten more than they could ever discover in the old texts. But Elizabeth was dead, and it was too late now for regrets. He just had to hope Seline could find some clue as to what might be happening to Nikki. And him. "Not yet. Why?"
She hesitated. “There's something here. An essence, watching us. And I hear voices. Lots of voices." He couldn't hear anything, which in itself didn't mean anything. If she was sensing the other vampire, maybe she was also hearing what he could hear.
And if the vampire behind all this was clairvoyant, he could certainly be watching them through psychic means. It would explain how he'd known about Nikki, and why he'd sent someone to kill her. But it still didn't explain how she could sense him. “We'd better hurry." Because if they were being watched, they'd undoubtedly face opposition as soon as they got anywhere near Dale Wainwright. That he couldn't hear or smell another vampire just yet didn't mean anything—not when even the youngest of vampires could move faster than the wind. They continued on, quickly making their way through the damp, dirty darkness. The twin beams of the flashlights danced across the path ahead, highlighting the rubbish swept down from the streets above.
"Is it true alligators can be found in sewers,” Jake asked, swinging his light not at the water near his feet but toward the slimy roof they had to bend to avoid.
They came to a junction, and Michael stopped, studying each tunnel arm. “I've traveled through a few sewers in my time and have yet to come across one.” The heartbeat was coming from his left. He tugged Nikki in that direction.
"That's almost disappointing,” Jake said. “I rather liked the myth of giant alligators roaming the sewers, munching on the unwary."
"There's something much worse that alligators roaming these sewers ready to munch on the unwary,”
Nikki said. Her gaze met Michael's, filled with the fear beginning to explode through the link. “They're coming."
He still couldn't sense anything other than Mark Wainwright's wife, but he didn't doubt her. In many ways, her senses were far more powerful than his. “We haven't got that much farther to go. Let's move it."
They splashed through the shallows, the twin beams of light creating crazy patterns across the darkness ahead. The tremulous sound of the heartbeat got stronger, but across it, he could now hear others. Six of them.
They came to another junction and skidded to a halt. In the middle of the intersection lay a scantily-clad body. She hadn't been dead long—a little less than an hour, if the heat still dying in her body was any indication.
Jake's light swept across the sad form. “Hooker. Probably hasn't even been missed yet."
"No.” Michael released Nikki's hand then stepped over the woman's body. The tunnel directly ahead had been walled off except for a doorway. The unsteady heartbeat was coming from inside.
"No woman deserves to die the way this woman did,” Nikki said softly. “Not even a prostitute." Michael glanced back at her. She was still standing near the body, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of horror and sorrow. But as much as he wanted to walk over and take her in his arms to offer the comfort she so clearly needed, he didn't. Maybe it would convince her of the futility of her quest to share his life, because this death was far from the worst she would ever see if she did.
"Death is an ever-present danger of the trade, and every client a potential nut case,” Jake said with very little sympathy in his voice. He moved around the body and centered his light on the door. “Odd place to build a wall, isn't it?"
"It's a cell. Dale Wainwright is in there."
Michael twisted the handle, but the door was locked. So he leaned a shoulder against it and pushed as hard as he could. The door had been built to withstand the strength of a human, not a vampire, and it gave way with very little resistance.
"It's a wonder the Department of Public Works hasn't done anything about this,” Jake said. “It would surely be stuffing up the storm water flow."