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answered it then glanced their way.
"Oh great. Just what we need right now—another of your little feelings.” Jake's voice seemed to be coming from the end of a great hollow.
She couldn't answer. Could only watch as a waiter bought the phone over to their table.
"Mr. Morgan? Phone call for you, sir."
Jake accepted the phone with a nod of thanks then said, “Hello?" There was a long silence, and in that brief moment, Jake seemed to age twenty years. She closed her eyes. Knew without being told what had happened. Jake hung up the phone and placed it on the table. For several minutes there was nothing but silence. It was as if the whole world had faded away, leaving an echoing void with only them in it. His chair creaked as he slumped back. She bit her lip, fighting tears.
"That was Anna.” His voice was remote. Empty. “Mary never made it to Long Beach."
* * * *
Voices whispered. Sharp, excited voices, heated by lust, spiked with desperation. At first, Michael wasn't sure whether they were real or just a result of the feverish pain pounding through him. More cries touched the night—the sound of fear mingled with ecstasy and lust and hunger. The darkness in him stirred and his canines lengthened. Anticipating. Wanting. He tried to force his eyes open, but they seemed glued shut. Tried to move his arms, only to have a red wall of pain rise up his left arm and knock him back into unconsciousness. When he stirred a second time, the voices were gone, replaced by the stink of evil.
"So the dead awakens.” Farmer's amused tones seemed to be coming from a great distance. “And here I was thinking I might have been a little too harsh with the boots." His voice was coming from the far left. Michael turned his head that way. Beyond the stink came the tantalizing aroma of fresh blood. The darkness in him came to life again. He needed to feed. Needed the sweet strength of human life to help him heal...
No, he thought. Not human. He could kill Nikki if he drank from her again... Nikki. Her image jumped into focus through the fogginess enshrouding his brain, and fear swelled. But she wasn't here. It wasn't her whose death he could smell. Wasn't her blood Farmer had all over him. Relief washed through him, a river that cleared some of the confusion from his brain. How much time had passed since Farmer had kicked him unconscious and dragged him down here? And where, exactly, was here?
"I'd offer you some sustenance,” Farmer continued. “But I'm afraid my fledglings and I overindulged, and there's not much left of the poor girl."
The smell of death mixed with a damp, slightly fishy odor, indicating they were in the sewers again. But beyond that, there was a sea-weedy, salty sort of tang. In the distance came a continuous, thumping roar, like that of ocean pounding against rocks. They had to be near an old outlet to the sea, even though those had been blocked many years ago.
But why here? Especially when it was such a long way from where they'd found the other two victims?
What was Farmer up to this time?
"I know you're awake,” Farmer continued, his tone less jocular. “Feigning unconsciousness in the hope of getting me closer will achieve nothing. You're chained, in case you didn't realize it." He shifted his right arm carefully. Heard the clink of metal. Normally, chains wouldn't hold him. Farmer knew that and so did he. Which meant he was hurt far more than the pain pounding through his body would suggest.
"This won't—” The words came out a cracked, almost unintelligible whisper. He stopped and ran his tongue around his mouth. Three teeth were chipped, his top lip was split, and the bottom half of his face seemed horribly swollen. Farmer obviously hadn't been overly careful on where he'd placed his boots. It hurt to breathe, let alone talk. “—get you anywhere,” he finished.
"Interesting you should say that, because I really did expect the witch to come rushing to your rescue. She hasn't, and I'm wondering why."
Because she's smarter than you think. Smarter than I think. “Argument,” he ground out.
"Well, that's just downright inconsiderate of you. How bad?"
"Split up.” It hurt to say those words. Hurt more than any of the wounds Farmer had inflicted on him. And if he got out of this situation alive, he was going to ensure she stayed in his life. There had to be a compromise that suited both of them. Had to be.
And if there wasn't?
Then he'd do what it took—even if that meant walking away from the Circle, from everything and everyone else he loved. Her leaving him this afternoon had allowed him to glimpse the future, and it was as he'd long suspected. Life without her was a long, dark tunnel. He'd been through that tunnel once. He had no intention of going back.
Farmer tsked. “Very inconsiderate. Still, maybe she has no idea yet that you're my captive. Maybe she failed to find that damn cross of yours."
She would have found it. Of that, Michael had no doubt. But why she hadn't yet tried to rescue him he couldn't honestly say. Maybe all the arguing they'd been doing over the past few days had actually done some good. Maybe she was thinking instead of simply reacting.
Which wasn't really a fair thought. Especially when it was part of what he loved about her.
"Perhaps I shall send her a little souvenir and let her know." Over his dead body. “Great ... idea."
The silence seemed to stretch. He could feel Farmer's confusion, even if he couldn't yet see it.
"It worries me that you so readily agree with me,” the younger vampire said eventually. It was supposed to. Obviously, Farmer wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and at least that gave Michael himself some advantage. Right now, he needed every little bit of help he could get. He shifted his right hand and carefully rubbed his face. Blood crusted both his eyes. He wiped it away and opened his eyes—or eye. The left one remained swollen shut.
Farmer was a blur of red heat fifteen feet away. Farmer's left arm was heavily bandaged, indicating Michael had been successful in at least one aim. Behind the younger vampire were four others—the fledglings he'd heard feeding earlier.
"Why do you want me to send her such a reminder when it is your flesh I'll be taking?” Farmer continued.
