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Then you still have no idea who is behind the attack?
No. Seline hesitated. But I've had more visions, and I'm more than certain my suspicions are correct.
And those suspicions are? In the room below, Nikki took another step. Michael found himself clenching his fists again, and he flexed them, trying to relax. Which was hard to do when her fear was all but smothering.
He was tempted, so very tempted, to stop the test, run down there, and ask what the hell was wrong. Only the knowledge that she'd be furious, that she'd think he was still trying to prevent her from joining him on his missions, stopped him.
Remember Hartwood? Seline asked.
Of course. We watched it burn together, remember.
Then you remember Emmett Dunleavy?
He smiled grimly. How could he forget him? The bastard had killed Christine, one of the few people Michael had cared about in those dark years, a woman he'd spent ten years loving. Worse still, Emmett had turned her into one of the living dead.
He'd spent twenty years hunting Emmett down and a week making him pay. I killed him, then I burned him, and then I consigned his soul back to the hell it came from . All of which Seline knew, because she'd been by his side during the hunt in Hartwood. What neither of us knew at the time was that Emmett had a twin—Weylin. Emmett died just over a hundred years ago. Surely if Weylin Dunleavy intended revenge over his brother's death, he would have done something before now.
I fear revenge is not his only intention.
"Temperature has jumped again,” Jake said, voice edged with concern. “If Nikki's doing this, something is wrong down there."
Camille glanced at Michael. “One more degree to go, and then I'm stopping it, whether you like it or not."
"Fine.” Nikki wouldn't like it, but Jon and Marcus were still in the room, and the heat was reaching levels that suggested Nikki didn't have it under control. And if it wasn't under control, then anyone in that room could become a target of the flames.
To Seline, he said, When we were in San Francisco, you had a vision that mentioned someone seeking revenge for what I did to his brother. You said he was a brother who had kissed the night good-bye. I take it this is Weylin Dunleavy? And that he's a vampire who can walk in the sun?
Yes. He's also a sorcerer, and he plans to make us pay for what we did—pay in pain, as that vision warned.
The shadows moved in on Nikki. She backed away, ducking Lenny's blows and throwing several of her own. The vampire might be little more than an indistinct blur, but she was just as fast. He's had a hundred years to plan, Seline continued, and now the time for action has come. The words seemed to echo through Michael's mind. On the monitors, Lenny backhanded Nikki, the force of the blow enough to send her staggering. Somehow, she kept her feet, and she wiped a hand across her mouth. That's when he saw the blood.
That's when her fear crystallized in his mind.
Lenny was another plant.
"Get that door open!” he shouted, and then he turned and ran for the stairs.
* * * *
Nikki hit the wooden box nose first. She grunted in pain, but she pushed quickly away, dropping to her knees as the scream of air warned of another blow. As his fist stirred the hairs on the top of her head, she lashed out with a foot, trying to hook his leg and bring him down. He jumped her leg, then pivoted, his heel smashing into her jaw. She flew backwards, hitting another box before sliding to the floor in an ungainly heap. The room whirled around her, and her face throbbed, the bitter taste of blood filling her mouth. She took a shuddering breath, but it did little to ease the sick churning in her stomach. Her heart raced so bad it hurt, and energy surged in response, the sheer force of it making every muscle shake. Or maybe that was fear. But across her trembling fingertips fire flickered, casting bright shadows through the dusky light.
It shouldn't be happening, not in this room.
She felt rather than saw movement, and she scrambled away on all fours. A hand twined through her hair, yanking her viciously back. She yelped, fighting fear, fighting the flames that burned brighter through her veins.
"Hey,” Jon said behind them, “I think that's enough."
"No, it's not,” the vampire snarled. He twisted the fistful of hair so tight she yelped again, and he dug what looked like a small crossbow out of his pocket.
"Look out,” she screamed, lashing backwards with a fist.
She hit his arm just as he pulled the trigger. There was a hiss of air, then Jon's harsh curse and the smell of burning flesh.
White ash, she thought. Had to be, because it was the only thing that could stop a shapeshifter. She knew then that this man didn't just intend to test her. He intended to kill her. And he'd come prepared to kill anyone else who got in his way. She twisted again and swung her fist, this time sinking it deep into his groin. He grunted, his grip on her hair relaxing enough to pull free. She scrambled to her feet and turned to face him, but suddenly there was another body between her and the vampire.
It was the first vampire, the one she'd defeated after Delphine.
"Enough, Lenny. You've drawn blood.” His voice was soft yet cold. “That is beyond the rules."
