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"The problem being we have no idea where he is, while he has every idea where I am.” And until Seline came through with this charm Michael was talking about, there wasn't much they could do to alter that situation.
"Wish there was some way we could make that work for us,” Jake muttered. She bit her lip for a moment, mind racing. “Maybe there is,” she said slowly.
"What?"
"How's Dale?” she said, by way of answer.
"Not good. She's still in intensive care, and the doctors are not saying much."
"Is she conscious?"
"Apparently not. Why?"
"Do you think you could convince Mark to get us in there?"
"I'm not sure we'd be allowed. He could try I suppose. Why?"
"Because going to the hospital is not likely to raise any major alarms in Farmer's mind. And if we can get in to see Dale, I might be able to touch her mind and see if she's retained any memories of how she was snatched, and how she arrived at her cell."
Jake was silent for a minute. “I don't think Michael will be too pleased about you trying something like that."
Annoyance surged through her, and she struggled to keep her voice even as she said, “Right now, I don't really care what Michael would or wouldn't be pleased with. And since when did it matter to you if it means solving the case?"
"He said it's dangerous, Nikki."
"So you'd rather sit on your hands doing nothing while this madman runs loose?" He sighed. “No. But I don't want anything to happen to you, either."
"I'll be fine. Really.” She forced her voice to be positive, even though she was far from certain. “I'm walking up Hyde Street now. You want to talk to Mark, then zoom by and pick me up?” She hesitated and glanced at the street sign. “I'll wait near the corner of Ellis."
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
She hung up, then sat down on the nearest fence to wait.
* * * *
The scent of evil was distant but powerful. Michael ran swiftly through the darkness, keeping the shadows locked around him. It wasn't Farmer he was following, but rather his fledglings. The scent wasn't evil enough or strong enough to belong to a master vampire. Though why he thought of Farmer as a master when the vampire was obviously a lot younger than he himself, Michael wasn't entirely sure. But only masters could control the minds of other vampires—or a very strong telepath.
Farmer certainly wasn't what he'd term strong when it came to psychic gifts—at least not when compared to Nikki or himself.
So how could one so young become a master?
He wasn't sure. Even he, despite his years and experience, could barely be classed as one. Elizabeth had been a master, though. She'd been comfortable with what she was, comfortably aware of her strengths and weaknesses. Had he wished, he could have taken that knowledge, that skill, from her mind when he'd killed her. It was his right as victor.
And perhaps that was his answer. Perhaps Farmer had killed the vampire who'd turned him and sucked all the knowledge from his mind. But he was still too young in vampire years to process all that information and use it to full advantage.
For which they could be extremely grateful.
He slowed as the scent of evil grew stronger. Night stirred ahead, and the languorous beat of half a dozen hearts filled his ears. He'd found a nest that contained yet another loop. Farmer himself was nowhere near—which wasn't unusual. Fledglings could never be entirely trusted, even those mostly over the initial blood frenzy. It usually took ten to twenty years before true sanity returned—if the turning hadn't made them completely crazy.
He slowed and switched to the infrared of his vampire vision. The vampires were blurs of red heat in the small chamber just ahead. They were all asleep—the sun was high, and vampires this young had no choice but to slumber during the day.
If he killed them, Farmer would know. But if he didn't, these six would kill again and again and again. Their evil stained the very air. There was no goodness left in them—if there had been any in life. He had no choice but to destroy them.
He moved into the chamber and began his bloody task. It didn't take long. Once he'd finished, he carried their bodies to the nearest sewer cover, piling them underneath it. Then he kinetically lifted the cover, stepping back quickly so no stray rays of sunlight caught him. He'd been burned enough for one day. The fledglings flamed instantly, and the smell of burning flesh stung the dank air. He watched until they were nothing more than ash then stepped back into a small chamber to wait. Farmer would have felt them burn. It would be interesting to see if he came to investigate. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the cold brick wall.
Seline?
Here. Her mind voice was decidedly cheerful. You'll never guess what has happened—Jon and Maddie have finally set a wedding date. The invitation just arrived in the mail. They've sent one for you, too.
