Kiss The Night Goodbye

Page 4

"You must have been paying Lenny a decent salary if he could afford an apartment in this place,” Nikki commented, regarding the old but classy-looking apartment block dubiously.
"Apparently so.” He walked through the old-fashioned concrete arch and approached the security doors. He directed a lance of kinetic energy at the locks, and the door opened with little protest.
"You would have made the best cat burglar,” Jake commented.
"I was, once."
Nikki's gaze jerked to his. “You? On the wrong side of the law?" His smile was wry. “Often."
Though his clashes with the law had more to do with the darkness within him gaining the upper hand than anything else. He'd walked the edge for more years than he cared to remember. If he hadn't met Seline, he might not have been around to find Nikki.
They took the stairs to the fourth floor. Michael checked the corridor and motioned everyone out of the staircase. Lenny's apartment was the third from the end. Though the echo of heartbeats came from the apartments on either side of Lenny's, no life beat in his.
Michael stopped and switched to the infrared of his vampire vision. No life at all inside, human or otherwise.
He stepped back and glanced at Nikki. “Your turn."
She pressed a hand against the door. Energy shimmered through the air, dancing lightly across his skin. The door opened without a creak of complaint.
There was little furniture in the living room—a chair, a TV, and a ratty looking coffee table dotted with dried coffee rings.
"What are we looking for?” she asked, stepping through the doorway.
"I don't know. Something unusual. Something out of place." She nodded and began searching. Jake followed her in. Michael leaned against the doorframe and watched them explore.
They were going through the drawers, when he heard the distant sound of footsteps in the stairwell, footsteps that were moving up towards them. He looked toward the stair door, his gaze narrowing as he listened. Two sets of steps. Two sets of heartbeats. One human. One not. He pushed away from the doorframe. Nikki, someone's coming. She looked over her shoulder, expression pensive. Shall we leave?
No. Warn Jake, then close the door. I'll go check it out.
Be careful
Definitely. We have a date I have no intention of missing.
The warmth of her smile ran through him, stirring the very heart of him. Good. He turned and walked toward the stairwell. The footsteps stopped, and for several seconds, all he could hear was the drumming of hearts in the apartments around him. Then the footsteps echoed on the stairs again, this time heading down in a hurry.
They've sensed me, Nikki. Stay in the apartment until I get back. Be careful.
Always.
He slammed through the stairwell door and took the stairs two at a time. The two men were several floors below him, their footsteps as rapid as their hearts. The second man had the feel of a shifter rather than a vampire. Had they been intending to visit Lenny? If so, why run when they sensed his presence?
The fact that they did might mean they knew who he was. Might know something about Lenny's attack on Nikki.
He heard a door open and close, and he swore. He couldn't afford to lose them now. Leaping over the banister, he dropped to the floor, jarring his spine for the second time in an hour. He pushed through the door and saw the men running down the street.
He ran after them. The sun caressed his skin, warming without burning. It was well after two now, and the sky was clear. Once upon a time, it would have proven his death to be out in the sun like this. But sharing his life force with Nikki had somehow improved his immunity. These days, it was only the hours between eleven and two that he had to be truly wary.
The men took a left at the first street and disappeared. He followed them with his vampire senses, all the while closing in. They were fast, even the human, but not fast enough. He turned the corner. Saw the two of them just ahead. One long and lanky, similar in appearance to Lenny, and the other bald and thick set like a boxer.
A slight hiss cut the air, approaching fast from his right. He dodged, but something hit his shoulder, the force of the blow spinning him around. Warmth flooded his back and side, and fire began to burn through his veins. It was no ordinary bullet he'd been shot with, but one made of silver. Dizziness hit him. He staggered for several steps then pressed a hand against the nearby wall. Sweat broke out across his brow, and the pavement seemed to be doing a drunken dance. He blinked and looked ahead. The two men were dark shapes that danced as erratically as the pavement. But they were looming closer rather than running away.
He swore and spun round. Only his feet wouldn't obey his orders and he found himself falling nose first to the pavement.
Pain smashed through the confusion, swamping his mind, swamping his senses. As darkness closed in, two thoughts crossed his mind.
The bullet had been tipped with some sort of drug.
And he wasn't going to make his date with Nikki.
Chapter Three
Michael's pain clubbed into Nikki, the force of it dragging a gasp from her throat and driving her to her knees.
She couldn't move, couldn't think, for too many vital seconds. Fire burned through every fiber of her being, and her shoulder was an explosion of agony.
Michael? She thrust open the link and called with every ounce of strength she had. There was no answer beyond pain. Endless, endless, pain. Oh God . A sob tore up her throat, and tears blurred her vision. He couldn't die on her. Not now. Not when they were only just beginning their life together.
"Nikki? You okay?” Jake's question broke off as he swore softly and raced to her side. He knelt down beside her, his grip fierce on her shoulders. “What's happened?"
"Michael,” she somehow gasped. “Oh God—"
Jake shook her. “Break the connection, Nik. We have to get moving if we're going to help him." She took a shuddering breath and forced a shield around her mind, blocking his pain as she'd been taught in psi lessons. “Okay,” she said, as the pain eased to a muted, constant ache. Jake helped her upright. “Where?"
She gulped down fear and swiped the tears from her eyes. “Outside. To the left." He grabbed her hand, and they raced into the corridor and down the stairs. Her heart pounded as fast as her feet, but deep down she knew she was never going to be fast enough to rescue Michael. Already the sense of him was being stretched, suggesting he was moving away, fast. Given the pain and the curtain of darkness that billowed across the link between them, she didn't think he was moving under his own steam.
They raced down the pavement, slowing as they neared a side street. Nikki pulled Jake right, then came to an abrupt halt.
There was blood all over the concrete.
Her eyes widened, and she had to shove a hand to her mouth to stop her scream. She'd seen some horrible things in her time, but this was worse than anything.
Because it was Michael's blood.
Because there was so damn much of it.
"Hell,” Jake muttered. He squeezed her hand then released it. “Wait here." Nikki took a deep, shuddering breath. “No."
Jake's gaze was rich with concern. “You don't need to see any more than you already have."
"That's his blood, Jake. It might provide some clues.” She hesitated and closed her eyes. Michael's presence was moving farther and farther away. If they didn't give chase soon, they might lose him. “Get the car. I'll look around here."
Jake studied her, as if trying to decide if she was okay, then shrugged and jogged back around the corner to get the car. Nikki cautiously approached the blood and tried to keep a tight lid on the force of horror coursing through her. Don't think about the blood. Don't react to it. Just find Michael. It was a mantra she repeated as she knelt beside the dark stain. Lord, so much ... She took another deep breath and looked beyond the pool of wetness. No sign of a bullet, or whatever else had torn apart his shoulder. No sign of a fight. He must have gone down straight away. She glanced back to the blood. Camille had once said that clairvoyance was a strange gift and often bore fruit in the oddest places. If she touched the blood, would her second sight spring into action? Or would it be her psychometry that delved whatever secrets the blood might hold? Or would she simply end up with nothing more than bloody fingers?
There was only one way to find out.
She blew out a breath, closed her eyes, and slowly, carefully, dipped two fingers into the warm, sticky pool.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then heat burned up her arm, and her senses leapt away, following the trail that led to Michael. Shapes began to form in the darkness of her mind, human shapes, and strange-looking boxes She reached for them psychically—and was swept into Michael's presence. But unlike the previous times she'd used her psychometry skills to find people, this time she didn't become one with him. Instead, she seemed to hover above him, a frightened phantom who could do nothing more than observe. They were in a van that smelled of grease and metal. Michael lay on the floor, pale and unconscious. Rivulets of blood trickled from beneath his shoulder, pooling near his head, matting his dark hair. Fear swelled through her, along with psychic energy, but in her phantom form, there was no release—nothing she could do beyond look.
Toward the front of the van, two men squatted near his feet. One was brown-skinned, thickset, and bald. The other reminded her of a scarecrow, with lank, long brown hair and ragbag clothes. She drifted forward. The driver was tall, with thinning brown hair and a face that looked to have seen more than a few harsh winters. The hands that clenched the steering wheel seemed oddly blurred, shifting between human fingers and wolf's claws.
He was a shape changer, she realized, and turned her gaze to the man in the passenger seat. He was of average height, with thick black hair that contrasted sharply against his pale skin. His profile was aristocratic, arrogant, his body slender. He was dressed in black, his suit and shoes expensive looking. He shifted, and suddenly she found herself staring into his eyes. Eyes that were a smoky, ethereal gray. Eyes that held no humanity whatsoever, only anger so deep-seated it could almost be called madness. He raised an eyebrow, a smile touching his thin lips. “Well, well, who do we have here?" A hand touched her shoulder. The vision disintegrated, and she jumped back to herself with a squeak of fright.
"Nik? It's me, Jake."
She put a shaking hand to her chest. Her heart thumped so hard it felt like it was going to jump out.
"You all right?” Jake continued.
"Yeah.” She rose and brushed her bloody fingers on her jeans. “I was just trying to find out where they might be going."
"With his blood?” Jake's voice was as incredulous as his expression.
"I haven't been sitting back and twiddling my thumbs during my lessons these last few months,” she said tartly. “They're headed south."
"Then so are we."
They climbed in to the Mercedes. Jake slammed the car into gear and took off with a squeal of tires. She grabbed the cell phone from the glove compartment and called the Circle, asking to be put through to Camille.
"What's happened?” The old witch's voice was nail-grating sharp.
"Michael's been shot and kidnapped. They're heading south in some sort of van.” She hesitated, frowning as she tried to remember what she'd seen. Images rose—blood glistening to widening pools near dark hair. Her stomach curled. She swallowed heavily and added, “The van is gray. Probably a mechanic's van or something like that. We're following in Jake's car."
"We'll get people in the air immediately.” Camille hesitated. “We'll get him back, don't worry." No, they wouldn't. A sob escaped. She bit her lip and hung up. Jake leaned across and squeezed her knee. “He'll be all right. He's tough, remember that." She nodded, not daring to speak lest she lose it right then and there. She had to keep it together. Had to find him.
Because if she didn't, no one would.
She reached for the link between them again. There was no response from his mind, and the sense of him was growing more distant. “Left at the next street,” she said. “And hurry." The car slid around the corner. The tires squealed in protest and the Mercedes fishtailed several times before Jake brought it back under control.
"They can't be heading for the airport,” he commented. “It's in the opposite direction." She fought the urge to close her eyes as Jake wove in and out of the traffic. “They wouldn't get an unconscious person past security, anyway."
Ahead, the lights changed to red. Jake pressed his foot on the accelerator rather than the brake. Nikki tensed, her knuckles white with the force of her grip on the side of the seat. Cars moved into the intersection. Jake swore and slapped his palm against the horn. Then he gunned the engine, and the big car surged forward.
She closed her eyes and prayed that someone upstairs was looking out for them. Tires squealed. Other horns blasted. Something hit the back of the Mercedes, and they slewed sideways. Jake swore, his hands slamming against the wheel as he fought to keep the car going forward. Then they were through the intersection and speeding up the street. She blew out a breath, but her relief was short lived. A car flew out of a side street and arrowed towards them.
She barely had time to scream a warning before the car hit and blackness swamped her.
* * * *
Nikki drifted in and out of consciousness, as if caught in a fragmented dream. Pain was a beat as steady as her heart, pounding through her veins like blood. Her throat burned, and for what seemed like ages, she couldn't swallow. Could barely even breathe.
Voices swam around her. Many voices, except for the one she really wanted to hear. Lights as bright as any sun burned into her eyes. She tried to blink, felt the touch of heat against her cheek and eyelid. Realized someone was holding her lid open, pouring light into her eyes. Something bit into her arm, sharp, stinging. The pain began to ease, and for a while, there was nothing but peace.