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"That's better than nothing, isn't it?"
"Anything that weakens him is good."
He tugged her towards the old church. They climbed the steps and discovered the entrance had thick wire mesh padlocked across it.
"Stand back,” he ordered.
She obeyed. He gripped one side of the mesh, yanking back on it hard. His muscles rippled under his jacket as the locks gave way and the wire pulled free from the wall. He pushed the wire out of the way, opened the door and ushered her inside.
Sunlight glittered through the stained glass windows, sending sprays of red and gold across the harsh white walls and washing warm rays of sunshine through the gloom. Dust motes danced in the light, but she wasn't sure if it was an indicator that someone had recently walked through here, or whether it was merely an aftereffect of the wind whistling past her ankles. The faded polish on the floorboards wasn't dusty enough to hold footprints and offered her no clues.
She stepped inside. Pews were stacked up against the walls, and down at the far end stood a raised dais and table. To one side of that was a door. The air itself was cold, colder than it was outside, but the faint smell of lavender teased her nostrils. She walked towards the dais, her footsteps echoing loudly. She half expected a priest to come running out, telling her to hush. The church had that sort of feel—like it was occupied and waiting. Yet the thickness of the dust suggested the opposite was true.
"This church hasn't been used for some time,” she commented. Though she spoke softly, her words seemed to resonate harshly in the silence. “I doubt we'd find any holy water or anything else of use in here."
"Probably not."
The edge in his voice made her glance over her shoulder. “What?" He'd only taken a few steps into the church, though she knew the old legend about vampires being unable to cross holy ground was untrue. “There's something here." She stopped, her heart leaping to the vicinity of her throat. “What?"
"I don't know. It just feels ... wrong."
Usually, she was the one getting the sensation of wrongness. “How wrong?"
"Evil wrong, as you would say."
"Odd that you're feeling it rather than me.” Though it did still feel like something was waiting. She rubbed her arms and studied the small door to the right of the dais. Whatever the sensation was—whether it was good, evil, or something else entirely—it was coming from that direction. “There's no one in that room?” she asked, nodding towards the door.
He shook his head and fully entered the church, his steps echoing as harshly as hers. The air seemed to become colder. Tenser.
"But something is near."
He caught her hand, and she gripped on tight, drawing strength from his warmth, his calm. Together, they moved forward.
"It's the door,” she said, as they drew close. “It's coming from the door." He nodded. “We've faced something like this before.">"Get a blanket,” Michael said, releasing her hand.
She opened the nearest door, but the room wasn't empty. A man and a woman were on the bed, having sex. Nikki averted her gaze, grabbed one of the blankets that had been thrown onto the floor, and hastily exited. If the squeak of the bedsprings was anything to go by, the man didn't even miss a beat. Michael was kneeling beside the distressed woman. Nikki stopped beside him and eased the blanket around the woman's trembling body. She didn't react. Didn't speak.
"Traumatized.” He glanced up at her, his expression neutral. Only his voice hinted at the fury she could feel inside him as he added, “She walked into the middle of it."
"It's amazing she's still alive."
"Not really.” His fingers went to the woman's neck, catching the silver chain and pulling it around to the side, revealing a large silver cross. “Dunleavy had already been weakened by silver, so he probably wouldn't have wanted to risk getting close to it just yet."
"Which reminds me.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the small chain and cross she'd given him long ago. “You'd better put this back on."
He opened his hand, and she placed the cross into his palm. His skin didn't react to it—he'd been wearing the cross for some time now and had developed a certain amount of immunity to silver because of it. He put it on, then caught her hand and kissed her fingers. “I thought it had been lost when Dunleavy snatched me."
"You're remembering?"
"Bits and pieces.” His gaze went back to the woman, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Energy caressed the link. Obviously, her latest attack on the runes on his back had finally yielded some decent results.
"Dunleavy was in slug form when she walked in. There were two others in the room—one a man, unmoving, frozen, and the other a woman. Dunleavy was suckling the sole of the woman's feet, while part of him used her sexually, and the rest tore her apart.
Nikki closed her eyes, but it didn't stop the horror that crawled through her mind. Her stomach churned, and bile rose. She swallowed, thrusting away the violent images and fighting to remain calm. Even so, her hands were shaking as she knelt down beside him. The woman didn't even react when Michael's fingers moved from her neck to her forehead. “Dunleavy made her stand there and watch as he finished his bloody task,” he said softly. “Then he made her watch as he shifted to his true form and drank every drop of life from the man."
"Why do that, then let her go?"
"Dunleavy feeds on emotion as much as blood. Forcing her to watch him tear apart the woman then drain the man gave him a triple hit of fear."
