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Then he saw the slash in her sweater, the raw welts on her skin. Cordell had tasted her, fed off her. Fury washed through him. For that alone, the bastard would die.
He rose and hobbled towards Cordell. The fiend moved. Lightning split the night, arcing towards him. Michael dove away, landing with a grunt on his left side, jarring his broken arm. A sea of red swam before his eyes, and a scream tore up his throat. He gritted his teeth, and the scream became a hiss of pain. Sweat rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He blinked it away and, supporting his right arm with his left, rolled back to his feet.
Cordell had propped himself up against a rock. His breathing was labored, his face little more than flesh stretched over a death mask. The magic was sapping his strength, taking him beyond the restorative powers of his vampire heritage. Maybe it was only the flame imps’ energy that had kept him alive this long.
"You cannot defeat me, vampire. My magic will outlast your strength. When you collapse, I will feed off you. Then I will use the blood of your woman to complete my ceremony."
"I will see you in hell first, Cordell.” He walked towards him, watching the fiend's eyes, waiting for the next attack. The more Cordell used his magic, the weaker he became. All he had to do was stay out of the path of the lightning and wait for Cordell's collapse.
Lightning split the air, weaker than before. Michael dodged, felt the sizzle of energy burn past his ear. Cordell raised his hands. “Any farther, and I blast your girlfriend." Michael clenched his fists but didn't stop. Cordell's last blast had been weak and wouldn't have held the strength to even reach Nikki, let alone hurt her. The man was bluffing. Cordell's eyes widened in fear, but he wasn't staring at Michael but past him.
"Stop."
The voice was Nikki's and yet not. He stopped and turned. She stood near the waterfall, her skin glowing with heat, eyes afire. Two flame imps rotated above her head, their color a deep, dark red. The color of anger, he thought.
She looked ethereal, otherworldly. This wasn't his Nikki. The flame imps had taken over her body, using her now as they had used her once before. Quelling his fear, knowing there was little he could do anyway, he reached for the link. An inferno greeted him, but deeper than the flames he felt peace. Nikki wasn't afraid of the imps or their intentions.
He wasn't so certain of them. But they hadn't hurt her the first time, and he just had to hope they wouldn't hurt her now.
"Step away from him,” she continued, her gaze not wavering from Cordell. “Move to the table. Use it as cover.” Though her voice was flat, her amber eyes glowed with heat. Flames danced across her finger—real flames, not just the sparks of kinetic energy.
He stepped back to the cloth-covered table. Cordell made a strange sound in his throat and raised his hands. Lightning cut through the night, but its force was weak, fading long before it reached Nikki. She didn't react. “In memory of those of who will no longer dance under the orb of life, we sentence you to death. In memory of the two legs that you have used, we sentence you to death. You will burn in the heat you seek to empty us of, and we will scatter your ashes on the wind so that you will never know peace."
Cordell whimpered and pushed away from the rock, dragging his half-dead body across the ground in a useless attempt to escape.
Nikki raised her hands. Fire leapt between her palms, pulsing brightly as it found form and became an orb that flamed as bright as the sun.
Michael threw up a hand to protect his face from the glare, but the growing ball raced heat across his flesh. Her words hit him—the heat of the sun was one of two things that could kill a vampire, and that was what the imps were attempting to create here now.
He ducked under the table and hoped the tablecloth was thick enough to protect him. Heat burned through the air, and Cordell screamed, a high-pitched sound of agony that quickly died. Flames crackled, and the smell of burning flesh rent the air.
The heat died. Michael climbed out from under the table. Cordell was little more than a patch of black soot. Even as he watched, a wind stirred his remains, spiraling them toward the roof and out of sight. Nikki was still standing near the water, but her arms were by her sides, and the fire seemed to have left her flesh. Even the imps rotating above her head looked gray and lifeless. He hurried towards her. She looked at him. Fire crackled through her amber gaze, but its touch was distant. “We thank you both for your help. You have released those who were bound, and now we are free to continue our dance. For that we rejoice. Tell this one good-bye. Tell her our flames will forever be a part of her." The spark in her eyes died, and Nikki collapsed.
Chapter Twenty-three
Nikki woke slowly, but was aware almost instantly that things had changed—and changed for the better. She felt safe and warm, and the stink of evil no longer filled the air. In its place were the rich scents of coffee and cinnamon toast. Her stomach rumbled hungrily. She stirred and opened her eyes. Silk whispered against her skin, running down her arm.
Pajamas, she thought in surprise, then felt her legs. Pajama top, she amended with a grin. She flicked the sheet away from her face and looked around. What she expected was the luxurious surroundings of their room at the resort. What she discovered instead was the homey warmth of rough-hewn log walls and, to her right, French windows that opened out onto a balcony and a view filled with cottonwoods and pines. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Where in the hell was she?
"In my home,” Michael said from the doorway. He walked towards her, awkwardly balancing a tray in his left hand. His right arm was splinted and supported in a sling.
"Is your arm okay?” She grabbed the tray from him and placed it on the small table near the bed. “Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Another day or so, and my arm will be fully healed and out of this damn cast.” He sat down on the bed, his gaze searching hers. His hair was dishevelled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in a week. “How are you?"
"Actually, I'm feeling a whole lot better than I should, considering what happened.” Not that she was entirely sure what had happened once she'd tipped Cordell into the water, but she had a feeling both she and Michael had been lucky to escape with their lives. “How did I get here? What happened to Cordell?
And what happened to the flame imps?"
"Cordell is dead. Burned to hell and beyond by the imps’ flames." She raised her eyebrows. “How? I was under the impression they couldn't defend themselves."
"They can't unless they have someone to focus their energy through. You were that focus, Nikki."
"I can't remember it happening.” She frowned, glancing at her hand. Warmth tingled across her fingers, a fire similar to and yet different from the heat raised by her kinetic energy. Perhaps the energy of the flame imps still lingered in her body.
"You wouldn't remember. You were unconscious.” He caught her hand, entwining his fingers in hers. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant. If he felt the heat in her flesh, he made no mention of it. “You've been unconscious for nearly a week."
She stared at him in disbelief. “No. I couldn't have been."
