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Ghostly tendons tightened. Farmer made a garbled sound, his lips turning bluish. Vampires couldn't die like this—but right now, he looked on the verge of a major heart attack. Mary looked their way. Jake rose to his feet and walked over, the gun held by his side.
"Beg for mercy, Farmer,” Mary continued. “Beg like you made us beg. Perhaps then I will let you live." His gaze swept across the ghostly forms. “Please.” His voice was hoarse, his breath rapid gasps of pain.
“Please."
Mary snorted. “You always were a sniveling little coward, Billie. Guess you always will be, no matter what plumage you wear."
Her misty fingers slid from his chest, and Farmer's expression seemed to collapse with relief. But a flicker of cold amusement shone in his eyes. He thought he had them all fooled. Thought he could yet escape and gain the upper hand. The shadows half concealing his body grew sharper. Sweat dripped down Nikki's chin and mingled with the blood running down her arm. She battled to keep her kinetic hold locked tight, knowing she had to keep him still until Jake got there. But her head felt like it was going to explode, and her whole body shook with effort. If she was siphoning Michael's energy, he was obviously in pretty bad shape, because she wasn't feeling any influx of strength. The three ghosts ringing the young vampire parted, allowing Jake through. He stopped beside Mary and raised the gun to Farmer's head. Ghostly fingers joined his on the trigger.
"She may let you go,” he said flatly. “But I never will." Together they fired the gun. The sharp retort echoed across the silence, and Farmer's body slumped. He was dead. It was over.
Jake lowered the weapon. For a moment, no one moved. In the distance, sirens wailed, drawing ever closer. The amphitheater looked suddenly brighter, as if a veil had been lifted. She hoped the dawn got here before the police. Hoped Farmer's body would burn where it lay, and his soul be consigned to an eternity of hell.
Mary's gaze met hers. Though she didn't say anything, Nikki understood the plea in her eyes. She took a deep breath, then reached for the last of her energy reserves and sent it Mary's way. The older woman's form solidified. “There was so much left we had to do. So many things we left unfinished.” She touched a hand to Jake's face, her smile sad, wistful. “So many angry words last spoken."
Jake made an incomprehensible noise in the back of his throat. He placed a hand over Mary's, his fingers shaking.
"I would never have really left you for long, you know,” Mary continued. “No matter what I might have said."
"I wouldn't have let you go for long.” He took a deep breath. “But there was no way in hell I was going to take the hotel job. I hate it."
"I know.” She hesitated. “But would settling here have been so bad otherwise?" He shook his head. “No. It was just the job that was too restricting."
"You would never have made a very good lawyer. You can't lie."
"No."
Mary smiled and leaned forward, brushing a kiss across Jake's lips. “Enjoy life while you still have it. Take care, my love."
Her body dissipated, became a shimmering mist that looked like a curtain of tears hanging in the rising light of dawn. But gradually that, too, faded until there was nothing left beyond memories. Jake's anguished cry filled the silence. It was the last thing Nikki heard as the darkness crashed into her mind and swept her into unconsciousness.
Chapter Eighteen
Michael sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair from Nikki's forehead. She stirred but didn't open her eyes, though the awareness flowing through the link told him she was awake. He skimmed a finger down her cheek to her lips. The alarming pallor of her skin had finally faded, but her cheeks still looked hollow. It was as if the ghosts had sucked every ounce of fat from her body—and she didn't have a lot to spare in the first place.
Three days had passed since she and Jake had battled Farmer and won. The police had arrived the same time as the sun, and by then the fog had burned off enough to destroy the young vampire's remains. It had been easy enough to touch the minds of the two young officers and make them believe the reported gunshots had been nothing more than cars backfiring. And that Nikki's wound was nothing more than a scratch from a fall. With the gun safely hidden in Jake's jacket pocket, and Jake himself sitting on a park bench calmly smoking and sagely nodding in agreement with everything they said, the ruse looked more than believable, even without him enforcing it. Farmer was dead. Jake and the ghosts had had their revenge. All that was left was the uncertainty that still stood between him and Nikki.
An uncertainty he had every intention of sorting out today. Now. He leaned forward and gently kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm, and her response one that invited further exploration. But he resisted the temptation. She'd once accused him of using sex to avoid difficult conversations. He had a feeling she was attempting to do the same right now. Her tension surged through the link, even if she looked so very relaxed.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said softly.
A smile touched her mouth, and she opened her eyes. In the amber depths, pain and guilt still lingered.
>"That's close enough, Farmer.” She flicked one of the knives down into her palm and held the point towards him.
He laughed. “You think I'm afraid of a little pig-sticker like that?"
"Given it's silver, yeah, I think you would be."
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You know a little about vampires, don't you?"
"I've been sleeping with one for months. Why in hell wouldn't I?" He grunted and shoved his hands into his pockets. His casual stance didn't fool her for a second. His arms and shoulders were tense. He was ready to move, ready to blur into night.
"Where's Michael?” she asked quietly.
His Cheshire-cat smile came back full force. “Safe. Alive."
"He'd better be."
