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Now, Michael whispered.
Together, they thrust Jasper skywards, holding his struggling body up to the bright sunshine. He screamed, his white skin flaring red as he began to burn. Again energy pulsed, a thin strand of power wrapping tightly around Jasper's throat. Fear washed around them, his struggles becoming more violent as dark flames began to lick around his arms, his hands.
Nikki dredged up the last of her reserves, battling to hold her share of the psychic cage. The strand of power snapped tight, and there was a sickening crack as his neck was broken. Jasper's eyes went wide with shock an instant before death took his soul to eternal darkness. It was over.
The last of her strength ebbed away, and she dropped wearily to her knees. Everything hurt—her brain, her body and her heart, but it was worth it. Jasper was dead.
With the strength of the psychic cage gone, he flopped back to the pavement. His skin was slowly darkening, slowly burning where Monica had burst into flame. But it didn't matter. His neck was broken, and he would not rise again. The sun was only finishing what she and Michael had started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. They'd won—together they'd won. She reached out to link but it was little more than a void—as if Michael had never been a part of her. Fear slammed into her heart. She pushed upright and staggered to his side. He didn't move. She dropped to her knees and frantically felt for a pulse.
Nothing. No pulse, no sign of life.
"Damn it, Michael, don't you dare die on me!"
She rose and grabbed his arms, dragging him back towards her house. Every muscle was screaming by the time she reached the stairs. She hesitated, looking up in despair. Six stairs. It was all that stood between her and home, and they'd never appeared such a mountain before. He was too heavy to carry, too much dead weight...
If she gave up now, he would die. Just like Tommy, just like her parents. She reached for kinetic energy. Warnings beat through her mind—she'd done too much, pushed too far. If she kept pushing, she might lock her mind in an eternal band of pain, never able to use her gifts again. She closed her eyes and reached regardless. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered if Michael died. Energy came. She opened the door, then lifted Michael up and thrust him through. The world spun drunkenly. She grabbed the banister, holding on tight. Gritting her teeth, her breath little more than wheezing gasps, she eased him to the floor. She didn't know how much time he had left. She had to hurry if she wanted to save him.
She slammed the door shut then staggered over to the shattered window, pulling the blinds closed. If he was to have the slightest chance of life, she had to make sure there was no bright light to weaken him further.
She knelt by his side and picked up his hand, holding it close to her chest, close to her heart. Reaching forward, she gently brushed dark wisps of hair away from his closed eyes.
"Come back to me, Michael."
There was no response. Tears sprung into her eyes. I don't want to live alone any more, Michael. Please, don't leave me alone!
"Damn it, you promised me you wouldn't die!"
And lied when he'd done so. A sob tore past her throat. She couldn't let him die. No matter what the cost, she couldn't let him slip away from her now.
But maybe he was simply too weak to live.
She bit her lip, then pushed upright and ran to the kitchen. Michael might not drink human blood anymore, but she had a feeling he needed it to survive.
She grabbed a knife from the rack, then hesitated. He wouldn't thank her for doing this. She had a feeling his control over his bloodlust had been a battle not easily won. But her only other choice was to watch him die.
She walked back to his side.
"Forgive me if I'm doing the wrong thing, Michael, but I love you. I can't sit here and watch you die." Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead. Then she took a deep breath and sliced her wrist. She forced open his mouth and let the blood drip down his throat. He swallowed convulsively for several seconds, then jerked spasmodically. Lunging forward, he grabbed her arm, holding her still, his grip bruising as he sucked quickly, greedily, at the wound.
He wasn't awake, wasn't even aware of what he was doing. He could drain her without knowing, and she knew it wouldn't matter. As long as he lived, as long as he broke the curse of her love, she didn't care.
Through a growing haze of pain, she formed a thin lance of psychic energy. Touching his forehead lightly, she closed her eyes and thrust deep into the darkness holding his mind captive. She plunged down, deep down into his consciousness, deep down into the shadowed areas he'd kept well hidden when their minds had last merged.
>"No!” she screamed, raising her hands in front of her face, breaking the lock of his gaze and the force of his will.
The chains of power yanked tight, and she gasped, struggling to breathe. She threw a lance of energy at him, trying to thrust him backwards, but he barely rocked back on his heels. His laughter whipped around her, cold and mocking. Nikki blinked back bitter tears, and reached for another lance. But the black wings lashed at her, and fire consumed her mind, making it difficult to think, to breathe. If this is what Hell feels like, I definitely do not want to die...
But maybe the choice had never been hers.
Chapter Nineteen
Energy spun through the room, and the inferno died abruptly. Nikki waited, half expecting another of Jasper's games. She refused to look up, refused to give him the satisfaction of her fear.
"Nikki, get up."
Michael's soft order seemed more a shout in the heavy silence. She glanced up quickly, elation, relief and fear tumbling through her.
He leaned against a wall near the doorway, his arms crossed, face impassive. Yet fury and death filled his eyes, and it chilled her soul. It wasn't only Jasper's death she saw in his eyes.
