"It is for the best,” he said after a moment.
Once again he wasn't telling her everything. “Best for whom? You, or Monica? What right have you to declare such a judgment on her?"
"I am a hunter of evil, Nikki. I track it and kill it, and in the process make the night a safer place for people like you to walk."
"Don't give me that sanctimonious crap. You haven't the right to touch Monica."
"I must, or she will rise to aid Jasper.” This time a hint of impatience colored his quiet words. Her anger rose another notch. “That is, I gather, the name of the man who is after me." He hesitated again. She swore and pushed upright, moving to stand near the wall. Wintry air rushed through the shattered window above her head, but it failed to cool the anger heating her cheeks or the turmoil churning her stomach. Michael knew more than just her hunter's name, so why wouldn't he divulge what he knew? A lack of trust, or something more?
She studied Monica again. At rest, the teenager looked untouched by evil. It was easy to understand why Trevgard refused to see his daughter as anything more than innocent. What would she say to him?
Or to Jake? How could she face them if she allowed Monica to be mutilated? How could she face herself, in the long years of nightmares left ahead?
"I can't,” she stated quietly, finally meeting Michael's watchful gaze. His anger seared her mind.
"You can't stop me,” he warned quietly.
The threat behind his soft words shook her. Though he hadn't moved a muscle, he suddenly seemed so much larger, more threatening. The shadows moved in around him, half hiding his form, making him one with the night and the sense of evil that still haunted the old warehouse. In the blink of an eye, death had stepped into the room and become her companion.
She clenched her fingers, felt energy tingle across her skin. Michael wasn't evil, not in the same sense as the man he'd called Jasper. Yet she couldn't escape the feeling he wasn't entirely on the side of the angels, either.
"Are you willing to kill me to get to Monica?” she said.
His eyes were chips of ebony ice. “Are you willing to die for the sake of evil?" No. But she refused to stand by and let him mutilate Monica's body, either. She owed her that much, at least. “If that's what it takes, yes."
Anger danced around her. She fought to breathe normally, trying not to show the fear tying her stomach into knots. She had a feeling Michael had spent too many years on his own, owing council to few. Sensed he was a mixture of shades—light and dark, good and bad. She just had to hope the shadows in his soul didn't win here tonight.
"Nikki, if this child becomes a vampire, she will be more dangerous than the man who hunts you. Can you live with the death of innocents?"
She stared at him. How could anyone be more dangerous than the man he'd called Jasper?
"I've been hired to find Monica and take her back to her father—in one piece. I'm just trying to do my job."
"And if she does turn?"
"I'll deal with it if it happens."
A wave of fury rocked her back on her heels. The darkness crackled with energy and the sense of impending doom. She stood her ground, not giving in to fear.
"You have no real concept of what you're letting loose,” Michael said, dark eyes glacial. The shadows around him began to retreat, but not the immediate feel of danger. “Perhaps it is time for you to learn." For an instant he became something more than human, something akin to the evil that stalked her. Her heart began to pound rapidly, a cadence that filled the tense silence. Something glimmered in his eyes, an echo of the depravity she'd seen in Jasper's vibrant gaze.
Michael wasn't evil. Yet she couldn't escape the notion that her hunter and Michael were, in some way, connected. Damn it, she really had to find out more about both of them.
"What do you mean?” she asked quietly. Energy flowed across her fingers, yet she held her weapon in check. She was not about to fire the first shot and create a war she had no hope of winning.
"Nothing. We will wait, as you wish.” He shrugged and looked away. Hiding his eyes, she thought, as he rose. The shadows no longer wrapped themselves around his body, and the impending sense of doom had fled with them. Yet the night still ran with uneasy tension.
"Come,” he continued. “Let's go back to your car and call the police." Though there was no emotion in his voice, there was still an edge of violence in his actions. This man had saved her life twice, yet she knew nothing about him—nothing beyond the fact he could be very, very dangerous.
He turned to look at her, his eyes coal black wells that told her little. Yet a flicker of emotion from his mind suggested her distrust annoyed him.
"You have my word that I will not, in any way, touch or move Monica tonight. Is that enough?" His soft tone hinted at anger, yet she heard no lie in his words. She nodded. After tonight, Monica would be in police hands. There was little he could do to her then.
"I shall lead, if you wish,” he said, and offered her his hand. Why the sudden formality? Was it anger, annoyance, or something else entirely? The warmth of his fingers enclosed around hers, but a chill raced through her heart. This man was dangerous, in more ways than one. Yet she felt oddly safe with him.
She just had to hope this wasn't one of those rare moments when her instincts made a complete and utter hash of everything.
And that he wasn't right about Monica.
* * * *
Michael crossed his arms and watched the two men bag the body. Even from this distance he could hear the slow but steady beat of her heart. It was a gentle rhythm few humans would ever pick up, just a single beat every few minutes. His was much the same, except in times of stress or feeding. The lack of life flowing through one's body was one of the penalties of being a vampire. He had no doubt the teenager would soon rise. Though it usually took a minimum of forty-eight hours, Monica appeared to be taking the change faster than most. She'd probably wake with the onset of the new night.
He should have killed her. What on earth had possessed him to make such a rash promise? All too often he had witnessed the bloody rampages of the newly turned. When the depth of malice and hate were as great as those he sensed in Monica, it was sheer madness to let them live. But he'd given his word to Nikki, and he intended to keep it. Whatever the consequences.
He had a sudden image of Nikki, face white and eyes wide with fear, and frowned. He'd come too close to losing control tonight. Had he been alone so long that a simple act of defiance could tip him over the edge?
Or was he so used to forcing others to obey his will that it was something of a shock to find someone who could defy him?
He sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Whatever the reason, it didn't alter the fact he'd have to watch himself. He'd spent too long mastering the darkness. The last thing he needed right now was to let that control slip, especially when he was hunting someone like Jasper. The fiend would exploit any weakness he could.
The two men placed the teenager's body on a trolley and wheeled her through the door. He followed them into the alley.
Several police officers were still questioning Nikki. He moved to one side, out of her line of sight, but her awareness washed over him anyway. He leaned a shoulder against the building's concrete wall. How could she track him when few could? Was it just her extraordinary psychic abilities, or had the brief moment of their spirits touching formed a connection far stronger than he'd thought possible?
The sea breeze swirled, running chill fingers through his hair. Michael frowned and studied the distant shadows. A faint hint of evil mingled with the smell of the sea. Jasper had returned. He fought the urge to go after the fiend, and looked at Nikki. The police officers dwarfed her, but they'd be no protection when it came to Jasper. Or the zombies. Either of them could kill her before the cops knew something was wrong.
He glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was well after four. They'd been here for nearly three hours now. How many times could the police hear the same version of the same story?
Couldn't they see how tired she was? He was tempted, very tempted, to come out of the shadows and ask what in hell was going on—only the fact the police where bound to start asking him questions stopped him. His years of hunting evil had made him a lot of enemies. He wanted his whereabouts unknown to all except those he could trust.
The number of which he could count on one hand.
After a few more minutes, the two officers moved back towards the warehouse. He waited until they'd disappeared, then pushed away from the shadows and walked across to her.
"Have they finished?” He kept a careful eye on the old building. He didn't want the policemen suddenly returning and spotting him.
Dark rings shadowed her eyes, and her nod was barely visible. A stray wisp of hair fell across her eyes, and he had to restrain a sudden urge to tuck it back behind her ear.
"They asked me not to leave Lyndhurst. Looks like I'm a suspect, as usual."
"And a pretty grubby one, at that.” He smiled at her startled look. “Do you wish to go home, or to the office?"
"Home. They let me call Jake earlier and tell him what's going on."
"Shall I drive again?"
She shook her head. “No, I'm fine."
She looked close to exhaustion, but he handed over the keys anyway. She unlocked the passenger's door, then moved around to the other side. Michael climbed in, studying the distant darkness carefully. Jasper was still there, still watching. Hopefully, he'd follow. Nikki fired the engine and turned the car around. Across the silence came the sound of another car starting.
He smiled grimly. Jasper's behavior was sometimes too predicable. Once Nikki was safely home, Michael could resume his hunt.
"Penny for them,” she said softly.
He glanced across at her. Moonlight gilded her dark chestnut hair and softened the planes of her angular features. She was truly beautiful. A jewel he could not afford to touch. He cleared his throat and glanced out the window. “How safe is your house?"
"It's actually Jake's old house, which he divided into apartments. It has lots of locks, I can assure you." Which Jasper could pass with ease if she uttered the right words. “I was thinking in terms of help if Jasper's friends turn up."
She gave him a quick smile. “I can scream very loudly."
He controlled the impulse to return her smile and watched the amusement fade from her eyes. "I have my abilities,” she stated quietly. “I can protect myself." The hint of uncertainty behind her words suggested she wasn't as confident as she sounded. “And neighbors?"
"An old couple above me and a drunk below. Not what I'd term reliable help in this sort of situation." Not what he'd term reliable help in any sort of situation.
"I'll be fine,” she asserted softly. “I've been in worse situations, believe me." Her bleak tone stirred his curiosity. What could be worse than a vampire and his undead after your body and soul? “Such as?"
She glanced at him, amber eyes suddenly as unreadable as her thoughts. “When you tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine. We're here."
She stopped the car in the driveway of an old Victorian. Michael climbed out and studied the building. A good coat of paint and a gardener could have done wonders for the look of the place. But no amount of paint could help the rot setting into the windows or the door frame. Neither would hold Jasper back for more than a minute.
"Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? I've got some of the best Mocha you've ever...” Her voice faded, eyes widening slightly as she stared at him.
As if she'd suddenly realized her impulsive invitation had just given him unlimited access to her home. He smiled and reached out, tucking the stray stand of hair back behind her ear. She shivered slightly at the brief caress, but didn't retreat.
"Thanks, but I'd better not. You need to rest."
"True.” She gave him a smile that was more nerves than warmth, but her gaze went beyond him, studying the night.
He knew then she'd sensed Jasper's presence.
"Nikki.” He touched her arm lightly, felt the tremor that ran through her body. “I'll stop him, whatever it takes. He will not touch you. Ever."
Empty words, when Jasper's darkness had touched her already. He couldn't prevent it happening again, and in many respects, didn't want to. She was still his best hope of getting Jasper quickly. Her gaze searched his face, curious and afraid. “Why do you do this? Why do you risk your life for me?"
He shrugged. “I don't really know."
She sensed the lie. He could see it in her eyes. But he couldn't tell her the truth—that he was using her to find Jasper. He didn't want to hurt her that way.
He ran his hand down her arm and gently clasped her hand. Her pulse skipped a beat, then began to race. Fear had no part of this reaction, just as it had no part in his own. “I shall see you tomorrow evening."
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. She smelled of honey and cinnamon. Of life. Everything he longed for but had long ago lost. He released her hand and stepped away, moving back into the darkness of the ill-lit street. Her gaze followed him for a while, then she turned and moved silently into the house.
He stopped and spun his senses into the night. Jasper was a half block away. Michael smiled grimly and cast a final glance at Nikki's apartment. He doubted Jasper would risk an attack with the remaining two zombies, not with dawn so close, and despite his efforts earlier this evening, Jasper hadn't succeeded in getting a firm enough grip on Nikki's mind to exert any sort of control over her. Not enough to force her to utter the words that would give him access to her home, anyway. For the moment, she was safe enough.