"So what do you plan to do?” Jake asked into the silence.
"I plan to kill Jasper before he can kill again."
"Not exactly legal."
"With Jasper, we have no other choice. And you know it,” Michael said quietly. “You had a taste of what he will be like last night in Monica."
"Then she is a vampire."
There was no disbelief in Jake's quiet statement. Only an edge of fear she could well understand.
"Yes,” Michael answered. “As Jasper is."
"Shit,” Jake muttered and took a gulp coffee. “So how do we kill a vampire? Chase it with a stake and cover it in crosses and garlic?"
Michael smiled, though no humor touched his eyes. “The cross works as a deterrent for vampires only because, historically speaking, they have always been made of the purest silver. The metal can burn vampires that touch it, particularly the newly turned. As for garlic, I suspect it is only a deterrent for those with weak stomachs."
"So what's the proper method of killing vampires?” Jake asked. “And how do you know so much about them?"
"As I've already told Nikki, a stake through the heart and decapitation are the best bet. Exposure to the noonday sun works, too. Either way, you must first find their daytime resting place."
"Why the noonday sun? I thought exposure to any amount of sun would kill?” she said in surprise.
"In most cases, yes.” He paused, and shrugged. His quick look told her he wished this subject had never been brought up. “Age has a lot to do with it. The more years you have behind you, the more tolerant you become to silver and the sun."
"So how old is this Jasper?"
"As near as I can gather, just on ninety-eight years old. Not enough to give him much immunity." And he still looked fifteen, she thought, feeling ill. “Then what about the zombies?"
"Kill their master, and they will die,” he said, voice grim. “It's his life-force keeping them alive."
"Does putting salt in their mouth work?"
A shimmer of amusement spun around her. “I suppose if you shoved enough down their throats, they're likely to choke to death."
She scowled at him. “I'm being serious, here."
"So am I.” His amusement fled. “Break their necks, and they will die. Otherwise, they cannot. Not until Jasper dies."
"How in hell is that possible?” she said. “How can he raise the dead and make them his slaves?" Michael shrugged. “The ability to call the newly dead back to life—to reanimate their limbs—is a black art that often runs in families. From what we know of Jasper, both his father and grandfather were animators, as well."
Great, she thought, and wondered what other unknowns walked through the darkness, hiding from the sunlight and humanity's sight.
Be careful what you ask, Nikki, or you might just discover the answer. A chill ran across her flesh. A premonition that perhaps it was a warning that came too late. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
"So what do you suggest we do next?” Jake said into the silence. Grim acceptance ran through his voice. He'd finally accepted both the situation and Michael's presence.
"We must find Monica first. The newly turned tend to be unbalanced and dangerous, especially those who, when alive, had no real love for their fellow humans.” Michael smiled grimly, then added, “As you've already discovered."
"Which is where Nikki comes in. Just as well we nabbed that locket." Michael nodded. “Once Nikki finds Monica's hideout, we wait for dawn then go deal with her." Kill her, he meant. She shuddered then frowned, studying him. She suddenly had the odd notion she had not been included in the we .
"Meaning we introduce her to the delights of sunshine.” Jake frowned. “I don't know if I—"
"I'm not asking for help here. I can handle her alone."
"Monica is our client's daughter,” Jake said, his voice flat. “And our responsibility. Go without us, and I'll call the cops."
If the threat fazed Michael in any way, it certainly didn't show. “Then come. Either way, I care not." His gaze met hers. Here it comes , she thought. The statement she wasn't going to like.
"We should be relatively safe from attack during the day,” he continued, his voice as neutral as his face.
“But all the same, I think for safety's sake, that Nikki should go home and stay there." Jake stood quickly, forestalling her anger with raised hands. “Vampires I can handle. This is beyond me. I'm off to eat.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He reached for the door handle, then paused and looked at Michael. “I wish you luck. After a statement like that, you'll need it." Michael restrained the automatic urge to stop Jake's retreat. As much as he'd counted on having the other man's support, any sign of psychic intrusion would only inflame Nikki further. As the door slammed shut, he took a sip of coffee, then braced himself to face the storm brewing on the other side of the desk.
"Who in hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?” She glared at him, cheeks flushed.
"You're a liability,” he said flatly. A liability he willingly used, granted, but that didn't mean he was willing to risk her safety merely to catch the teenager. “Monica is not Jasper, and in many respects, she's more dangerous because her behavior cannot be predicted."
"So? I managed to survive her fury last night. I can do it again. Jake's more a liability in that respect than I am."
"Yes, but Jasper's not after Jake. He's after you."
"So I'm supposed to cower at home while you take care of the problem? I don't think so." He couldn't imagine her cowering anywhere, but that wasn't what he was asking her to do. “We could walk into a trap, Nikki."
"And you'd rather risk Jasper getting his hands on Jake than on me.” She snorted softly and sat back in her chair, amber eyes narrowed. “You're a cold bastard, you know that?" Yes. And had been told it, many times. “Are you so eager to die, Nikki?"
"No."
She hesitated slightly, and something flashed through her eyes. Death, he thought, was no stranger to her, and perhaps something she would welcome, were it not for the possibility that Jasper would use her.
"And I'm even less eager for Jake to die in my place."
"I have no intention of letting that happen.” If only because he didn't trust Jake's sense of honor—an honor that lay with the client, not with him. He wouldn't put it past the man to step in and stop the killing stroke in some vague attempt to reconcile the girl with her father. “I plan to use him as a guard, nothing more."
"Then why not take me? My abilities make me more useful in that department. At least I'd be able to sense the zombies before they approached."
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. She was making perfectly good sense, and they both knew it.
“Nikki, I had a premonition—you come with us today, and you could fall into Jasper's hands."
"At last, some honesty.” She hesitated, face grim. “How safe am I at home? Jasper may not be able to cross a threshold uninvited, but the zombies can, can't they? What if he uses Monica as bait to lure you away?"
He had to acknowledge it was a possibility, however unlikely. “I doubt whether he would make such an attempt in daylight. If things went wrong, there would be little he could do to help the situation."
"Monica is my responsibility. It's my fault she's out there now. I won't be left behind on this, Michael." He stared at her for a long minute, then slowly, almost unwillingly, reached out, lightly cupping her cheek. She closed her eyes for a second, as if savoring his touch, then turned, brushing a kiss across his palm. Fire tingled where she touched, flared like pain deep in his heart.
"Why, Nikki?” he said, softly. “What is it about Monica that raises guilt in your heart?" She snapped away from his touch and rose angrily to her feet. “Keep out of my goddamn mind."
"It doesn't take telepathy to realize Monica reminds you of someone. You followed her beyond all good sense the other night. There has to be a reason."
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Maybe I'm just dedicated." And maybe she was just plain crazy. He met her gaze. “Who's Tommy?" She swore and spun away. She stopped at the windows, arms still crossed, shoulders tense. “Tommy died a long time ago. He has nothing to do with any of this." The rising tide of guilt in her suggested he had everything to do with it. “Monica reminds you of him, doesn't she?"
Though she still had her back to him, her bitter smile was an ache in his heart. “Actually, Monica reminds me more of me."
He couldn't see why. They were nothing alike. “Tell me about Tommy, Nikki." She shivered slightly. “There's nothing much to tell. He was the head of the street gang I ran with. He died when I was nearly seventeen. End of story."
Not if the pain in her heart was any indication. “Why were you on the streets? Did you run away?" She snorted softly. “No. My parents died, and I didn't like the home the authorities tried to shove me into."
The tide of guilt rose. So her parents’ deaths were also part of the reason she went after Monica. But why, if they had died before her life on the streets?
"How long were you a part of this gang?"
"Only four years.” She hesitated and rubbed her arms. “It seemed an eternity longer."
"Why didn't you stay with relatives?"
She snorted softly. “Because they thought me a witch, much the same as they thought my mother. They want nothing to do with me, even now."
He scrubbed a hand across his chin. None of this made sense. He'd met street kids many times over the years, and they all had one thing in common—a fierce, do anything to survive, nature. Most had been little more than feral animals, humanity almost lost in their quest for survival. As she'd said, four years was a long time on the streets; it was an experience that should have scarred her for life. Yet there was very little evidence of it, in her words or her actions.
"How were you involved with this Tommy?"
She stiffened. “That is none of your damn business."
Her voice was curt, thoughts suddenly chaotic. In many respects, that told him all he needed to know. Her relationship with Tommy had been sexual, and for some odd reason, she felt responsible for his death.
"Why does Monica remind you of him?"
"I told you, she doesn't."
"And yet you chase Monica because of Tommy."
She didn't deny it, just stood at the window, staring out.
"Why, Nikki?"
For a moment, he didn't think she would answer.
"Because I let him die.” Her voice was so soft it was a more a whisper through his thoughts than anything he could actually hear. “Because I vowed never to let it happen again."
"There was nothing you could do to save Monica. She chose her fate long before you came onto the scene."
Nikki glanced at him. “You're wrong, Michael. I could have stopped this." The certainty in her voice made him frown. “Monica performed the ceremony over a week ago. From that point on, her fate was ordained. It was just a matter of when."
"And it was the when I could have changed.” She hesitated, then turned to face him. “Everyone has some good in them. Sometimes all it takes is one person's belief to change the tide." He had an odd feeling she was talking more about herself than Monica. He wondered who had turned her tide. Jake?
She lifted her chin slightly. “None of this alters the fact I will not be left behind tomorrow." He scowled. Her tenacity annoyed the hell out of him, yet he couldn't help admiring her for it, either.
“You're a stubborn wench."
"I never claimed to be perfect, Michael. And nothing you can do or say will stop me from going with you."
"I can tie you up and lock you away,” he muttered.
"And I can use telekinesis to escape, then come after you." He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm only trying to keep you safe, Nikki.” Taking a sip of coffee, he watched her over the rim of the cup. If he couldn't stop her, he'd just have to find a way to keep her out of harm's way. And that wasn't going to be any easier than trying to talk her out of accompanying them. She shrugged and gave him a rueful smile. “I know. But I've been looking after myself for a long time now. I have to finish what I start."
In that, they were very much alike. He glanced at the front door, aware of Jake's approach. The door opened, and Jake peered around at them.
"It appears safe to enter,” he commented, doing so. “But it's hard to judge a winner here. The black looks are almost identical."
"Quit clowning around,” Nikki growled. “I'm going."
"Ah.” Jake glanced at Michael sympathetically. “She can be really difficult when it comes to doing something she doesn't want to do."
Michael smiled grimly. “I noticed."
"So, we stick to the daylight raid plan?” Jake moved over to his chair and sat down. Michael took another sip of coffee then nodded. “It's still the safest time to try to find Monica." Jake nodded and leaned forward, fishing through the mess in his desk. “Anyone for blackjack?” he said, producing a pack of cards.
"Just as long as you're prepared to lose your money, friend,” Michael replied with a light smile. Playing cards had to be better than sitting alone with his thoughts. He could do that anytime.