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"So you would give up your life for your lover? Now that's commitment."
"I'm not stupid enough to believe you ever had any intention of letting us go."
"And yet you came here anyway. Why? Surely you do not expect to destroy me with a couple of silver knives and the gun your friend clenches in his pocket."
"No. I actually came here to reintroduce you to some old friends." She imagined that smoky plane and reached out with a psychic hand, calling the ghosts into being. Gossamer fingers of energy flitted through her mind, then four ghostly figures flowed from the trees and into substance between her and Farmer.
Fear touched the vampire's expression. “What trick is this?"
"No trick.” Energy flowed in a steady stream from her to the ghosts, and she knew it wouldn't be long before the pounding in her head began. “I just thought you might be interested in hearing a few final words from your victims."
The ghosts were gaining form, their skin becoming flesh-colored. Pain flicked through her head, the beginnings of the massive headache to come.
"Ghosts can't hurt me.” Despite the confidence in his tone, his expression was less than certain. Mary stepped forward. While she'd gained the most form, her feet were still ethereal trails of smoke that stirred the grass behind her.
"If you are so certain we cannot hurt you, let us touch you." He stepped back quickly. “No."
Jake moved, edging quietly around the clearing. He had the gun out of his pocket, his finger on the trigger.
"What are you afraid of?” Mary asked. “We're ghosts. Nothing but angry air. As you said, we can't hurt you."
Farmer retreated another step. “This is not real. Ghosts don't exist.” His gaze cut to Nikki's. “It's just some sort of mind game you're playing."
"If vampires can exist, why not ghosts?” Mary countered. “What's wrong, Billie? Don't you like the thought of being able to say a final good-bye to your victims?" Jake edged a little closer then raised the gun. Nikki saw his finger tighten on the trigger, heard the sharp sound of the retort. But in that moment, Farmer wrapped the shadows around himself and spun away. The bullet exploded into the tree where Farmer had been, showering the immediate area with shards of wood. Farmer ran through the flesh-colored figures, scattering their misty forms, his face furious as he headed straight at her.
She hit him kinetically and flung him back towards the ghosts. Hot lances spun through her brain, a warning she was beginning to push her limits—and still the ghosts continued to siphon her energy. The shadows unraveled, revealing Farmer's horror-filled expression as he stared into the faces of his victims. He jumped to his feet and leapt away, blurring his form as he ran at Jake.
"Nine o'clock left!” She grabbed the vampire kinetically, thrusting him in that direction. The sharp sound of a gunshot bit through the night, followed by a grunt of pain. Farmer reappeared, blood pouring from a wound to his shoulder as he slid down the trunk of an old redwood. Her psychic grip faded, and he dropped heavily the remaining few feet to the ground. She bit her lip, eyes watering as the pounding in her head sharpened. It felt like there were a dozen heated knives digging into her brain. But it wasn't over yet. Far from it.
There was nothing remotely amused or superior about the young vampire's expression now. His face was mottled, twisted, eyes narrow and sparking blue fire. He disappeared into shadows again, and again his evil rushed at Jake. She ran forward, slashing the night with the knife. Farmer dodged then hit her with an unseen fist, sending her sprawling backwards. She hit the ground with a grunt, her breath leaving in a whoosh of air and the knife flying from her hand.
Farmer's weight hit her, pinning her to the ground, the shadows fleeing his features as he bared his teeth. She thrust an arm between them and smacked the heel of her hand into his nose. Blood flew, but he didn't seem to notice, just shifted slightly so he could tear into her arm. She hissed in pain, her stomach rebelling at the sound of his sucking.
She reached again for kinetic energy. The lances grew sharper, but she ignored them, lifting his body from hers enough to free her other hand. Flicking the second knife into her palm, she clenched it tight and with every ounce of strength she had left, thrust into Farmer's side. He screamed. Silver flickered, running across his skin as the smell of burning flesh rent the night air. She hit him again with kinetic energy, thrusting him away. Another gunshot echoed, then came a heavy splat as Farmer hit the ground.
She didn't move. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything more than suck in great gulps of air in an effort to ease the burning in her brain.
Jake knelt beside her. “You okay?"
She nodded. He wasn't really looking at her, and he had the gun aimed to their left. “Farmer?"
"Being entertained by our ghosts.” He shoved a hand under her back and helped her into a sitting position.
Farmer was lying at the base of a tree, his knee as bloody as his shoulder. Three ghosts ringed him. Mary knelt beside him.
"Do you know,” she whispered. “What it is like to wish for death?" Farmer made a gargled sound in his throat. The shadows began to wrap around him, and Nikki hit him kinetically, holding him in place despite the fire in her brain.
"You said ghosts can't hurt you,” Mary continued. “Perhaps we can't. Perhaps if I reached into your chest and wrapped my fingers around your heart, it is nothing more than fear that constricts the organ so tightly."
Ghostly fingers slipped into his shadowy chest. Farmer's eyes went wide, his face changing from angry red to pasty white. Sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip, and his expression had a touch of horror to it.
But nowhere near enough for anyone—not after what he'd done.
"This is not real. You're not real. None of you.” He didn't seem to convince anyone he meant what he said, least of all himself.
"What if I squeeze your heart so tightly it bursts?” Though Mary's voice was conversational, there was nothing gentle in her expression. She'd been given the chance to avenge her death, and she was literally grabbing it with one hand. “What if I rip it from your chest and feed it to the first dog that passes by?
You've never had use for it, so what would it matter?"
