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Michael squeezed her fingers. “Where to?” he murmured.
"Left,” she said. “Down toward the Health Center."
A young woman glanced up as they entered. Her welcoming smile faded almost immediately, and her brown eyes narrowed slightly. “How may I help you?” The look she gave Michael was cold, almost hostile.
He was right. People did think he'd hit her. “Just thought we'd look around, if that's okay?"
"Sure. Feel free to use any of the facilities, although private gym sessions, massages and facials do have to be booked. We're open until midnight every night."
Michael accepted the woman's brochures with a smile. The ice, Nikki noted wryly, began to thaw at that precise moment. She wondered if he'd touched the woman's thoughts and erased her suspicions. The throbbing in the watch became stronger as they headed toward the treatment rooms. There were few people around, and little noise. Unease began to creep up her spine. Something didn't feel right. Michael stopped at a tee in the corridor. “Which way?"
She looked left and right. Both corridors lay in semidarkness. There were four doors to their right, two to the left, and not a sound to be heard from either direction. Even the air seemed still, as if the air-conditioning wasn't working in this section of the center. She closed her eyes, briefly clenching the watch. “Right,” she said after a moment. “End room."
Though they walked on carpet, her footsteps seemed to echo across the hush surrounding them. Michael made no sound, as silent as a ghost. Goose bumps crawled across her skin, and the sensation of danger churned her stomach. Or maybe it was just nerves.
They stopped in front of the last door. Michael twisted the handle. “Locked,” he said, then smiled. “Not that it has much hope against you."
"Haven't met a lock yet I can't master,” she said lightly and directed a bolt of kinetic energy at the handle.
The door clicked open. The room beyond was empty and dark, and the air even mustier than the corridor. Obviously, this particular treatment room hadn't seen a lot of action recently. He ushered her through the door, then closed it behind them. The darkness was blanketing, and yet the chairs and tables in the room seemed to glow almost luminously. What in the hell was going on with her sight? Why could she see them so clearly?
"Where now?” His voice, though soft, seemed harsh against the sudden edginess that seemed to fill the unlit room.
She frowned. “Straight ahead.” Which didn't make much sense. The only thing straight ahead was a concrete wall.
"It's not solid, though.” He brushed past her and ran a hand down the blocks. She touched it. It sure felt solid. Her frown deepened. “Why do you say that?"
"Because I can see the space beyond it.” His reply was absent, his concentration focused on the wall. She raised her eyebrows. “You can? How?"
"Vampire sight is somewhat similar to infra red. It allows me to see through most walls."
"Really? Bet that was handy in your youthful, wild days." He glanced at her, smiling again. “I can't see flesh, as such. Just the heat of blood. Here we go,” he added, pressing his palm against the wall.
For a second, nothing happened. Then a crack appeared in one section of the wall, accompanied by a sound that could almost have been a scream. It snaked along until it formed the shape of a door, then slowly opened.
"It is a door,” he said. “Only it's been disguised by magic." The magic was obviously active, because it still looked like a concrete wall. She reached out again. This time rough timber met her fingertips. The wood felt warm and somehow oily. She shivered and jerked her hand away.
"Can you see anything beyond the doorway?"
He shook his head. “Just a set of stairs, leading down.” He hesitated and raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay here while I investigate?"
She snorted softly. “I think you can guess the answer to that question." He grinned and held out a hand. “Shall we go as one?"
If only, she thought, and placed her hand in the warmth of his. He tugged her forward, his movements sure despite the black cowl that surrounded them. The steps were wooden and seemed to bend under her weight. It reminded her of the warehouse and the trap Jasper had set. A trap that had very nearly killed her.
"Last step,” Michael said after several minutes.
She tensed, but her feet hit rock, not wood. At least it wasn't likely to collapse underneath her...
"We have a choice of three tunnels,” he continued. “Which one do we go down?" They did? She frowned at the blackness. Why could she see so clearly before and not here in the tunnels? It made no sense. She wrapped her fingers around the watch again. “Straight ahead." They continued on. The air was fresher here, stirred by a faint breeze. There had to be another opening somewhere, which was only logical. Whoever was behind the kidnappings wouldn't be able to risk using the entrance through the treatment room all the time.
Ahead in the darkness, something stirred. She bit her lip. It was nothing she could see or hear, just a whisper of evil that trailed across her senses.
Michael stopped so abruptly she ran nose-first into his back.
"I do wish you'd give me a warning before you do that,” she muttered, rubbing her nose. Nikki, hush.
The command ran through her mind, sharp with concern. Her stomach turned. What's wrong?
