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"Thanks, but I'd better not. You need to rest."
"True.” She gave him a smile that was more nerves than warmth, but her gaze went beyond him, studying the night.
He knew then she'd sensed Jasper's presence.
"Nikki.” He touched her arm lightly, felt the tremor that ran through her body. “I'll stop him, whatever it takes. He will not touch you. Ever."
Empty words, when Jasper's darkness had touched her already. He couldn't prevent it happening again, and in many respects, didn't want to. She was still his best hope of getting Jasper quickly. Her gaze searched his face, curious and afraid. “Why do you do this? Why do you risk your life for me?"
He shrugged. “I don't really know."
She sensed the lie. He could see it in her eyes. But he couldn't tell her the truth—that he was using her to find Jasper. He didn't want to hurt her that way.
He ran his hand down her arm and gently clasped her hand. Her pulse skipped a beat, then began to race. Fear had no part of this reaction, just as it had no part in his own. “I shall see you tomorrow evening."
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. She smelled of honey and cinnamon. Of life. Everything he longed for but had long ago lost. He released her hand and stepped away, moving back into the darkness of the ill-lit street. Her gaze followed him for a while, then she turned and moved silently into the house.
He stopped and spun his senses into the night. Jasper was a half block away. Michael smiled grimly and cast a final glance at Nikki's apartment. He doubted Jasper would risk an attack with the remaining two zombies, not with dawn so close, and despite his efforts earlier this evening, Jasper hadn't succeeded in getting a firm enough grip on Nikki's mind to exert any sort of control over her. Not enough to force her to utter the words that would give him access to her home, anyway. For the moment, she was safe enough.>"It is for the best,” he said after a moment.
Once again he wasn't telling her everything. “Best for whom? You, or Monica? What right have you to declare such a judgment on her?"
"I am a hunter of evil, Nikki. I track it and kill it, and in the process make the night a safer place for people like you to walk."
"Don't give me that sanctimonious crap. You haven't the right to touch Monica."
"I must, or she will rise to aid Jasper.” This time a hint of impatience colored his quiet words. Her anger rose another notch. “That is, I gather, the name of the man who is after me." He hesitated again. She swore and pushed upright, moving to stand near the wall. Wintry air rushed through the shattered window above her head, but it failed to cool the anger heating her cheeks or the turmoil churning her stomach. Michael knew more than just her hunter's name, so why wouldn't he divulge what he knew? A lack of trust, or something more?
She studied Monica again. At rest, the teenager looked untouched by evil. It was easy to understand why Trevgard refused to see his daughter as anything more than innocent. What would she say to him?
Or to Jake? How could she face them if she allowed Monica to be mutilated? How could she face herself, in the long years of nightmares left ahead?
"I can't,” she stated quietly, finally meeting Michael's watchful gaze. His anger seared her mind.
"You can't stop me,” he warned quietly.
The threat behind his soft words shook her. Though he hadn't moved a muscle, he suddenly seemed so much larger, more threatening. The shadows moved in around him, half hiding his form, making him one with the night and the sense of evil that still haunted the old warehouse. In the blink of an eye, death had stepped into the room and become her companion.
She clenched her fingers, felt energy tingle across her skin. Michael wasn't evil, not in the same sense as the man he'd called Jasper. Yet she couldn't escape the feeling he wasn't entirely on the side of the angels, either.
"Are you willing to kill me to get to Monica?” she said.
His eyes were chips of ebony ice. “Are you willing to die for the sake of evil?" No. But she refused to stand by and let him mutilate Monica's body, either. She owed her that much, at least. “If that's what it takes, yes."
Anger danced around her. She fought to breathe normally, trying not to show the fear tying her stomach into knots. She had a feeling Michael had spent too many years on his own, owing council to few. Sensed he was a mixture of shades—light and dark, good and bad. She just had to hope the shadows in his soul didn't win here tonight.
"Nikki, if this child becomes a vampire, she will be more dangerous than the man who hunts you. Can you live with the death of innocents?"
She stared at him. How could anyone be more dangerous than the man he'd called Jasper?
"I've been hired to find Monica and take her back to her father—in one piece. I'm just trying to do my job."
"And if she does turn?"
"I'll deal with it if it happens."
A wave of fury rocked her back on her heels. The darkness crackled with energy and the sense of impending doom. She stood her ground, not giving in to fear.
"You have no real concept of what you're letting loose,” Michael said, dark eyes glacial. The shadows around him began to retreat, but not the immediate feel of danger. “Perhaps it is time for you to learn." For an instant he became something more than human, something akin to the evil that stalked her. Her heart began to pound rapidly, a cadence that filled the tense silence. Something glimmered in his eyes, an echo of the depravity she'd seen in Jasper's vibrant gaze.
