Kiss The Night Goodbye (Nikki & Michael 4)

He raised an eyebrow. “That is none of your business."

She smiled, and he couldn't help feeling her amusement came from a joke he should be able to share.

"You called me a whore, but I can count the number of men I've had on a couple of fingers. Can you say the same, vampire?"

He studied her for moment, wondering why this seemed so important to her. Wondering why the thought of her having had a couple of lovers tore at him so. “That depends on what you term a relationship."

"More than just sex. And more than a few nights."

"Ah, well.” He paused, thinking back through the long years of aloneness. “Maybe three." Her eyebrows raised. “Really?"

"Really.” His voice was a little sharper than he'd intended. “Watching someone you love grow old and die is never easy. Mostly, it's better not to love."

"Then why not make your lover a vampire?"

"Are you always this damn nosy, woman?"

"Yes. And I tend to nag when I don't get the answers I want."

"All women nag. It's an ability I'm sure you're born with." Amusement touched her eyes. “And it seems men are born with the innate ability to sidestep questions."

"Then let me answer yours. Turning your lover into a vampire almost never works, because the fledgling stage of vampirism is basically a madness that can last ten or twenty years." They skirted the old pump house situated on the southern edge of the pond and continued on. The scent of another person touched the air, and he raked his gaze across the night. The old man was rustling about in the bushes lining the far edge of the pond. Hunting or spying? Or something else entirely? Maybe he should check out those bushes once day had broken again. He wasn't sure why he thought daylight would affect Kinnard when he wasn't a vampire, especially when he'd seen Kinnard moving about in daylight, though not during the midday hours.

"And that,” he continued firmly, returning his thoughts to the blonde and her questions, “is all you're going to get out of this vampire."

She raised an eyebrow, amusement rich in her eyes. “You're very touchy when it comes to personal matters."

"You don't know me, so you can't say what I am or am not."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Michael."

Actually, he wouldn't bet on it, either. He had a vague suspicion this woman knew him better than anyone else alive. Maybe she was a witch.

"Any idea where this so-called ceremony might take place?" She shook her head. “I suspect it's probably happening in one of the mines, but there's so many, we could never check them all in one night."

He could. Or he could at least check which of the mines currently had life in them, and go from there. But Dunleavy would sense his presence the minute he got anywhere near those mines, and the fiend had proven adept at disappearing in the past. Which again left him with the woman and the possibility of using her as a decoy.

An option he didn't like, and one that had not worked well in the past. His gaze went back to the bushes. Kinnard had gone. Interesting. “Does Dunleavy intend to kill the men in some sort of ceremony, or does he merely execute them?"

"There's no ‘merely’ about an execution."

He glanced down at her. “If he merely kills them, it could take place anywhere. If he intends to perform a ritual, wouldn't that lessen the search area? Don't such ceremonies require specific locations?" She hesitated. “Yes."

Again, he got the impression that he knew more about magic than she did. “Such as?" She bit her lip, her expression one of fierce concentration. It was the sort of look an unprepared student might have when asked a question by a teacher. “It would need to have limited access. And depending on the type of ritual he performs, it would need to be big enough to cater not only to the protection circle, but a ritual fire and perhaps a sacrifice table."

Michael nodded. “Then that cuts down our search area. There are five mines that are big enough to cater to those requirements. One of them is the Standard Mine, which we just left." "It won't be that one. He intends to use that the night of the new moon." He raised an eyebrow. “Couldn't he use the same area twice?"

"He could, but I doubt that he will. He has to follow a set pattern."

"Why?"

Her gaze slid from his. “Because he has a ceremony to perform on the night of the new moon, and the lead up to that ceremony does not include killing anyone else on the site."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Despite the conviction in her voice, he very much suspected she wasn't sure. “There is one way we could easily find out."