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"Be careful, Jake. I really don't like the feel of this."
"Oh, great. Maybe I'll call the cops, just to be safe."
"And tell them what? I've a got feeling?” When it came to her psychic abilities, skepticism ran high within the police department. It was doubtful if a statement like that would get anything other than laughter. Jake grunted. “Don't do anything stupid until I get there." Meaning she could do something stupid after he got there? She grinned, though it didn't ease the tension knotting her stomach.
The street narrowed, and the warehouses on either side seemed to loom in on her. She skirted several Dumpsters and screwed up her nose. From the amount of rubbish overflowing onto the street, they hadn't been emptied for several weeks. Combine that with the heat of the last few days, and the result was stomach turning.
Matthew stopped. She ducked behind a stinking Dumpster and held her nose as she peered around the side. He was studying the buildings on either side, but after a few seconds he turned and ran at the fence on the left. She waited until he'd disappeared over the top and moved after him.
"He's just climbed a fence. Third warehouse from the end."
"Wait for me."
"I might lose him if I do."
Jake swore. “Damn it, be careful."
"You be careful. I'm not the one who can die here."
"But you're not immortal either, and I'm more than a little certain Michael didn't tell you everything about his gift of life everlasting."
She smiled grimly. Michael had never told her more than what he thought she needed to know. Bare facts, nothing more—especially when it came to anything concerning his past or what he did for a living.
"I'm heading over."
She grabbed the chain link and pulled herself over the fence. Dropping to the ground on the other side, she crouched, her gaze sweeping the darkness. It had to be some sort of produce warehouse—packing crates were lined in neat rows, those closest containing limp remnants of lettuce leaves. Matthew could have gone anywhere. She stayed where she was, listening intently. The wind moaned through the silence, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She rubbed her arms, then reached down, withdrawing a knife from her right boot. Made of the purest silver, it was one of two she'd had specially designed after her little dance with Jasper. If an old kitchen knife with only the smallest amount of silver in it could stop him , her new knives should stop just about anything. That's what she was hoping, anyway. From the right came a soft, metallic squeal. She rose, padding quickly through the rows of crates. An old brick building loomed through the darkness. She stopped at the end of the row and peered out. To her left were several large entrances, all shuttered. To the right, nothing but brick wall. The sound had come from around the corner.
She ran to the wall, then edged forward and looked around the corner. Matthew's sandals were disappearing through a window.
"Jake, Matthew has just entered the warehouse through a window on the right side of the building. I'm just about to follow."
"I'm almost with you, Nik."
Almost wasn't good enough. She couldn't afford to wait. The sensation of danger had risen tenfold and was threatening to stifle her.
She edged around the corner and made her way to the window. It was a foot or so above her reach, but there were several packing crates stacked close enough to use as a ladder. She climbed them carefully and peered through the window.
There was no sound, no light. Just a darkness thick enough to carve. Yet the warehouse was far from empty. Somewhere in the blackness, evil waited.
Fear rose, squeezing her throat tight. Nikki closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she didn't go into the warehouse after Matthew, Jake would. Though he was armed, they both knew from experience that guns weren't much of a threat to a vampire.
er One
The breeze whispered around her, its touch furnace hot. Sweat beaded her skin, staining her T-shirt black and dripping from her ponytail.
Around her the night pulsed, a bass-heavy rhythm that made her want to dance. The air was rich with the scent of sweat, alcohol and chlorine.
Nikki stood in the shadows of an oak and sipped a lukewarm soda. Below her, on the main pool deck, bodies writhed in time to the music, unmindful of the heat or the closeness of others. They had to be mad. If she'd had any choice, she would have been in the pool, allowing the cool water to wash the heat and sweat from her skin.
Instead, she was stuck here in the shadows with a lukewarm cola, awaiting the next move of a wayward teenager.
It was an all too familiar feeling. Six months before, she'd followed another teenager through the night, and had found herself caught in the middle of a war between two vampires. Pain rose like a ghost, stifling her. She bit her lip, blinking away the sting of tears. It was her own stupidity that had driven Michael away. Her refusal to trust, to admit what she'd felt, had worn him down as surely as the sea wears down a rock.
But what hurt the most, perhaps, was the fact that he'd left without saying good-bye. She crossed her arms and stared moodily at the star-drenched sky. She'd looked for him, of course. She'd spent the first two months after she'd awakened in the hospital doing little else. But America was a big country, with lots of places to hide. And when the man she was hunting was one with the shadows, what hope did she really have of finding him?
None. Not that it really mattered. She'd keep looking until she found him—though what happened then would very much depend on how he reacted.
The two-way clipped to her lapel squawked. “Nik, you there?" It was Jake—her boss and her best friend. He sounded as bored as she was. Nikki pressed the button.
