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Chapter Six
Michael strode down the center of Main Street, scanning each hotel with the infrared of his vampire vision. For a town that only had a small number of inhabitants, there seemed to be an overabundance of drinking holes.
Unfortunately, Dunleavy didn't appear to be in any of them. Vampires had a slightly different glow under infrared, and all the people currently in the hotels were human. So, where was he? While the fiend was young in vampire years, dusk had settled across the hills, and it would be safe enough for Dunleavy to start moving around. Yet he was nowhere to be found. Again. Maybe he was hiding in one of the mines, though given Dunleavy's preference for all things fine, it was hard to imagine him putting up with living in the dark, dank tunnels for any length of time. The rat had to have a hole somewhere here in Hartwell. It was just a matter of finding it. His gaze went to the blonde's home, and he frowned when he saw the blur of life inside. There was no way she could have gotten past without him noticing, so it couldn't be her. And besides, the red blur was smaller, and it seemed to have an odd energy pattern. It wasn't a vampire. Wasn't anything he could remember seeing before. It was almost as if the creature in that house wasn't even something that lived and breathed, in the normal sense of the word.
Frowning, Michael quickened his pace, striding beside the old boardwalk rather than on it to keep down the noise of his steps. The red blur froze anyway, head cocked to one side, as if listening. Then it scurried towards the rear of the house. Michael smiled grimly and blurred into the night, racing around the buildings to the back of her home.>She crossed her arms, but made no attempt to cover her breasts. “Just why do you think I'm a whore?" He rose and dusted the hay from his butt. “Because the only women in this town are whores, and because no decent woman allows a complete stranger to undress her." One dark blond eyebrow winged upwards. “What if that woman knows the man in question will play a major role in her future?"
He laughed again. Maybe he should keep this woman around, just so her inane comments could lighten the darkness of his life. “I do not need, nor do I want, a woman in my life. Not as a partner, not as a lover, not even as a short-term bedmate.” Not until he'd avenged Christine's death, anyway. He owed her that much.
Her gaze skated down his body, and a smile tugged her lush lips. “Sections of your body are denying that statement."
"Something no decent woman would say out loud."
Her smile grew. “I never claimed to be decent, just that I wasn't a whore."
"Then, Miss Whatever-you-are, I suggest you return to your house and lock your doors. Night is coming on, and this town can get mighty unpleasant."
"I told you before. I need to rescue the two men."
"Then do it on your own.” He half turned away, then stopped. He couldn't let her go without tasting her again, even if every instinct said it was wrong. Wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her roughly into his arms and claimed her mouth as fiercely as he wished he could claim her body. Then he released her, spun and walked away.
* * * *
Nikki wasn't sure whether to throw something at Michael's back or run after him. Damn it, every inch of her thrummed with desire, a desire that was obviously shared, and yet he was walking away. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, but it did little to ease the ache. Seline had warned her this would happen—not so much the frustration, but Michael refusing her help. Apparently, he'd done much the same one hundred years ago. Which meant she was following the chain of events rather than breaking them.
But, damn it, she hadn't really expected him to refuse to help her. She had expected the love they shared to transcend the spell and make wanting her seem as natural as night following day. Yet he was resisting even that. Obviously, the spell that held him was strong, and she was going to have to work a lot harder to get him to accept her in any way.
She sighed and buttoned her shirt. Now what? Part of her wanted to follow Michael, but she sensed this would only anger him and make him even more reluctant to help her. Somehow, she had to prove she could be useful to him. Hard to do when the shield around this town had put a dampener on most of her psychic gifts.
Or had it?
Frowning, she glanced at the nearby pitchfork and reached for her kinetic energy. There was zip in the way of a response, and the fork stubbornly remained where it was. Yet, some of her gifts were working. She'd been able to sense that Kinnard wasn't human, had known where Michael was without looking. Maybe the shield around this town resembled the magic that had been in the Circle's testing room—and if that were the case, it meant she at least had her flames for protection. She hoped so, because the only weapons she'd dared to sneak in were two sets of knives—one set strapped to her wrists, the other currently strapped to her thighs. She hadn't dared risk anything else, just in case her packs had been searched. But as good as she was with her knives, she really didn't want to depend on them. Nor did she want to depend on the maneuvers she'd learned in self-defense. She had a feeling Weylin Dunleavy would be able to counter either of them easily enough. She tucked the ends of her shirt back into her skirt and walked to the rear door. Dusk was settling in across the sky, painting the clouds a vibrant red. No rain tomorrow, at least. She let her gaze slide across the houses that remained in the small back street, but she couldn't sense life in any of them. That didn't mean there wasn't life, just that there was no no-longer-human life, such as vampires. Given Kinnard's earlier warning, there could be shapeshifters and God only knew what else in the half dozen, sad-looking buildings dotting the street, and she wouldn't sense those until she got closer to them. Michael wasn't anywhere close, but that didn't surprise her. He was here for one reason—to reenact past events. She was here to disrupt them and stop Weylin—if she could. She thrust that thought away. Of course she'd stop him. She had a damn wedding half-planned, and she had every intention of finally going out to buy her wedding dress. Her gaze roamed beyond the buildings. The night crept shadowy fingers across the hills, and nothing seemed to be moving.
Where would Dunleavy sacrifice the two rangers?
Seline had told her that the sacrifices on the night of the new moon would be performed in a side shaft in the main mine, but Nikki doubted Dunleavy would risk using that site for these minor sacrifices, if only because some ritual sites needed purifying before reuse, and he wouldn't want to be doing that every night.
So, where else?
In its prime, Hartwell had had close to one hundred and fifty working mines. She'd never be able to search all of them, but then, many of them would undoubtedly be sealed up. This place was a State Park, and neither the rangers nor the local authorities would want people wandering at will into unsafe or unsound mines.
Which meant that, maybe, all she had to do was look for signs of recent use around the mine entrances. But where to start?
She bit her lip for a moment, then swung left. Dust stirred under her boots, swirling through the air. She sneezed.
"Bless you,” a cold voice said to her right.
Nikki jumped and swung around, but she resisted the impulse to flick a knife into her palm simply because she recognized the voice.
"You spying, Kinnard?” She eyed the old man warily as he walked from the shadows of a small lane alongside the barn.
"Of course.” He hawked and spat. Nikki quickly shifted her boot to avoid the blob, and suspected he did it purely to piss her off. Kinnard grinned. “The emotion of sexual awareness is almost as drink-worthy as anger. You and that vampire of yours fairly set the air alight."
"I'm happy for you,” she muttered. “What do you want?"
"I came to remind you that dinner is now being served." He came to spy, more likely. Obviously, he was Dunleavy's eyes and ears, and he had probably followed her simply to see if she was playing the game or not.
And maybe following Kinnard should be her plan of attack once she'd rescued the rangers. It might be the only way she was going to figure out where Dunleavy was. If he was a vampire, as Seline had said, then she should be able to sense him the minute she got near him. But he was also an adept of magic and would probably be wearing some form of concealment—if he hadn't totally changed shape. After all, his twin had been a shapeshifter. There was every chance that Weylin was one, too.
