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He hesitated. “Because my brother was killed by one."
Jasper, Nikki thought. That would at least explain Michael's fierce determination to catch the man. Or vampire, as the case may be.
"Why didn't the wood kill her, then? I thought you said wood was deadly to vampires?"
"It is, but like any weapon, you have to hit something vital. You punctured her gut. A wound like that will be painful and can take a long time to heal, but it's definitely not deadly." Then next time she'd aim for the heart, she thought, and shivered. “Why aren't we chasing her now?
She's still back at her father's place."
"And how will you explain to the police the fact that you have stabbed Monica through the heart?"
"I thought vampire bodies turned to dust when staked?"
"Only in the movies.” He smiled. “The sun will burn a vampire's flesh to dust. Otherwise, it's just a body, like any human body."
"But can they rise again? I thought it was part of the legend that vampires can heal any wound?"
"Most wounds. Which is why it is best to also decapitate. Once the head is separate, there's no chance of rejuvenation."
They approached the restaurant. Michael opened the door and ushered her inside. A waiter approached, an apologetic look on his face.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've just closed."
"Surely you could reopen for half an hour?” Michael said, an odd edge behind the lightness of his words.
"I'm sorry—"
The waiter's words faltered. A sliver of power caressed the air, then the waiters’ eyes widened, became lifeless. A chill ran through her. It was Tommy, all over again. She dragged her arm from Michael's and punched him in the shoulder. “Stop—" He turned, and she took an abrupt step backward. Just for an instant his eyes held a darkness that burned her soul.
Then he blinked, and his gaze became guarded, wary. “Stop what?" She took a deep breath. “Release the waiter. I ... I don't like the meals here anyway." He hesitated, then nodded. Power whispered around her, then the waiter cleared his throat and gave them another smile.
"I'm afraid the chef has already gone home for the night. I'm sorry, but we can't help you." She spun and made a quick exit. The cold night air touched her fevered skin but wasn't responsible for the tremors running down her spine. Michael had controlled the waiter's mind too easily—as if it were something he did every day.
She stopped several houses down from the restaurant and took a deep breath. What kind of man so casually possessed the mind of another and then forced them to do as he asked? A man like Tommy, she thought, rubbing her arms. A man who just didn't care.
The back of her neck tingled with sudden awareness. Michael had stopped just behind her.
"I'm sorry,” he said softly.
His breath brushed warmth across the back of her neck. She tensed, but made no move to turn around.
“Why did you do it?"
"It's easier than arguing."
An honest enough answer. And so very similar to the excuses Tommy had used. “Could you control me as easily?"
He moved past her, his arm brushing against hers. Heat trembled across her skin. She rubbed the spot were their flesh had touched and watched him warily. His face was still, expressionless, but she sensed the turmoil beneath the calm exterior.
"I do not know,” he said. “I hope I never have to try." Tommy had tried, and sometimes succeeded.
The clock on the Town Hall tower down the road bonged into the silence. She counted the tones. Midnight, the hour when all things dark and dangerous came out of hiding. Things like Michael, maybe. She met his gaze again, the uneven pounding of her heart abnormally loud in the growing silence.
"If you ever do try—"
"You would never know,” he said quietly. “As the waiter never knew." She clenched her fists in impotent fury. The ease with which he'd taken the waiters’ thoughts made it clear his abilities were very strong. Where Tommy had haunted her dreams, and Jasper relied on traps to snare her mind, Michael would merely walk in and take. She could so easily become a puppet to his will. He swore softly and grabbed her arm, shaking her lightly. “I would never do such a thing to you." Yet he wasn't averse to reading her mind. She wrenched free of his grip. “Unless you had no other choice."
She could see the truth of her statement reflected in his eyes.
