He nodded. “By then, I'd had reasonable control of my blood lust, and I had left Elizabeth. Patrick had caught sight of me a few years earlier, and he told me he knew what I was. He made me promise to be by his deathbed, because the man who had turned him was dead, and he didn't want to hurt or kill anyone while in the fledgling stage."
She raised her eyebrows. Was he implying Patrick was gay? Was that why he'd been headed for San Francisco? Was the city so liberal in its thinking way back then? She didn't know, but even if it wasn't, it surely wouldn't have bothered a vampire all that much.
"So who turned him?"
"I don't know. He never told me."
"But it was a man?"
He looked at her again, answering what she hadn't asked rather than what she had. “Patrick's bisexual. He's the reason the Kelly line still lives on in Ireland."
"Then you never had kids?"
"No.” He raised an eyebrow. “A fact I suspect you already knew." She grinned. “Just confirming these things while you're under the influence."
"Of what?"
"A spell that has apparently frayed your natural reticence when in comes to speaking about your past."
"Woman, you speak in riddles."
"Yeah, makes a nice change, doesn't it?"
He shook his head. “Enough of this ridiculousness. Wait here while I check to see what waits below." She didn't argue, just watched him disappear down the hole. “It's not a very wide tunnel,” he said, after a few minutes.
"Rats don't need wide tunnels,” she commented, squatting down. The sunlight filtering into the tunnel barely lifted the gloom, and Michael was little more than a shadow. “Is it safe enough?"
"It appears so."
"Then move aside, because I'm coming in."
She hung her legs over the edge and eased herself down. Hands grabbed her hips, catching her weight and lowering her the rest of the way. It was further down than she'd first thought. He didn't release her immediately, his gaze burning into hers. “You will do what I tell you to down here, won't you?"
"Always."
He gave her the sort of look that said he didn't believe her. Grinning, she rose up on her toes, gave him a quick kiss and said, “After you."
For a moment, he did nothing more than simply look at her. Even though the sunlight filtering in from above barely lit the shadows, she could see the questions in his eyes. See the doubts. It didn't really matter whether those doubts were of the situation or of her. The mere fact he doubted was a start. And while there was no response in the link between them, he'd said her name while making love. Somewhere deep inside him, the spell was beginning to fade. All she had to do was keep pushing. Keep doing and saying things that were echoes of times past. Keep trying to wash the runes from his back.
"This tunnel probably runs down to the town,” he said, his soft tone echoing around them, mingling with the insistent buzz of energy. “If Dunleavy can't move far, he might need to be near his food source." "But the ceremony he'll perform to bring his brother back to life will be done in the Standard mine. If he can't move far, he won't be far from there."
"I doubt—"
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you actually have doubts, or is it the spell on your back making you think that way?"
"I do feel a pressure to go down rather than up the tunnel.” He hesitated. “So, up it is." He caught her hand, his fingers warm and strong against hers as he tugged her forward. The darkness surrounding them quickly faded as her eyes adjusted. It was like she was looking at a negative—the air was black, everything else various shades of gray. And while this allowed her to see in darkness almost as well as Michael, she wasn't about to let go of his hand. The last time she'd been in a tunnel like this, the damn thing had collapsed on her, and she'd almost died. And while sharing his life force now meant she couldn't really die, she wasn't about to go through a repeat of the pain. She pushed the memories away and peered past Michael. The walls of the tunnel were rough-hewn, the roof supported by aging beams of wood that were darkened by moisture and time. From a distance up ahead came a soft but steady dripping, and while the ground beneath them was dry, the air was stale and damp.
There didn't seem to be any sort of incline, suggesting the tunnel was burrowing deeper into the hill. The creaks and groans of the supports seemed to be growing louder, as if they were having trouble bearing the weight of the earth above them.
She shivered and somehow resisted the urge to glance upwards and inspect the roof. Michael stopped abruptly. “I smell blood."
The air smelled no different to her, but she wasn't as attuned to blood as he was. Nor did she ever want to be. “Old or new?"
He hesitated. “Both."
"A sacrifice site?"
"Possibly. It seems to be coming from the right, which means there's probably a junction in the tunnel up ahead."
"So let's check it out."
Something sparked through the link between them—a brief surge of resignation and amusement combined. She reached out, trying to touch that spark, trying to bring his awareness of her out into the open. For a moment, their thoughts combined, wrapping her in joy and love, then energy surged between them, and the spark died.
But not for long, she suspected, barely able to resist the urge to dance. Her Michael was closer to the surface than ever before.
"You should stay here,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “But I'm guessing you won't." "And you'd be guessing right.” She squeezed his fingers lightly. “Can you sense anything else?"
"At this stage, no."
He tugged her forward again. They'd barely walked a dozen steps when they reached a T-intersection. There was nothing to be seen either way but more rough-hewn tunnel.
"Still nothing?” she asked.
"There's a heartbeat. It's faint, but very fast.” He frowned at her. “Its beat is more one of pleasure than pain."
She raised her eyebrows. “There's a difference."
His smile was slow and sexy and made her heart do a dance.
"Oh, yes."
"How?"
"Now is not the time for an explanation,” he said, voice dry. “Perhaps we should see what's going on ahead, first."
"Then let's do it."
They moved quickly down the right-hand tunnel. The air became thick and chilled and slapped wetly across her skin. Water splashed into the silence, growing ever louder the closer they got to the source. The rough-hewn walls gave way to natural rock, and the beams supporting the roof became few and far between.
The tunnel opened into a cavern. Her footsteps seemed to echo, lending the cavern a feeling of vastness. Michael stopped, and his anger boiled through the link.
"What?” she said, even as she looked up.
And saw what he saw.
It wasn't water dripping.
It was blood.
Chapter Ten
Nikki could only stare, wondering if she'd stepped into some macabre version of the Twilight Zone . A woman hung from the ceiling. She was naked. Her torso was unmarked and her skin had a bluish tint and was covered with goose bumps. She was hanging upside down, her feet tied and somehow roped to the ceiling. Her arms were free, hanging limply past her ears. Her wrists bore several small cuts, but the blood dripped rather than pulsed down the woman's fingers. Some of the cuts had scabbed over, some hadn't, indicating, perhaps, that the wounds were being monitored and opened when necessary. The woman's eyes were wide open, but unfocused, almost dreamy-looking, and barely audible moans pushed past her bloodless lips.
They weren't moans of pain, but rather pleasure.
Nikki swallowed, forcing her gaze away from the obvious bliss on the woman's pale face and studied the thing covering half of her body. It was almost slug-like in form, and it stretched from breast to groin, where its body joined with the woman's. It was moving, squirming, in what looked like ecstasy, its actions matching the woman's pleasured groans.
"What is that ?” Though Nikki kept her voice soft, the words seemed to echo harshly around the cavern, again hinting it was larger than it looked.
The slug creature obviously wasn't bothered by the fact it was no longer alone. If its movements were anything to go by, the prospect of being watched seemed to excite it. She swallowed back bile and pulled her gaze away from the bizarre sight.
"I have no idea what that is,” Michael said, voice flat and cold. But there was something in the way he said it that made her look at him sharply. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and walked further into the cavern. She followed, trying to quell her desire to ask him what he knew. Trying to ignore the strange sounds of lust coming from above them. The woman's blood dripped into the middle of a star etched into the cavern's hard rock floor. While the blood glistened wetly, there were deeper, older patches that suggested similar sacrifices had been performed here.
Around the star was a protecting circle of stones. These were a burnished black, just like the ones that ringed the town, but they were much smaller.
Nikki put out a hand. Energy crackled through the air, a buzz that got steadily angrier as her fingers drew close to the unseen wall that protected the star. Flickers of blue cut through the air, lightning-like wisps that lashed out at her hand. It felt foul, somehow. Depraved, even. She clenched her fingers and dropped her hand back to her side. Michael looked up at the woman again. “I think we've found one source of Dunleavy's energy. Whether this sacrifice feeds his demented soul, his dark gods, or the circle you say rings this town, is anyone's guess."
She nodded, keeping her gaze on the stones rather than the happenings above them. “We can't leave her here."
"She won't live, even if we do manage to get her down."
"I don't care.” Facing death was one thing. Doing so while forced to endure the ministrations of something not even remotely human was another.
She walked past him, closer to the ring. The stones reacted, seeming to glow deep within their black hearts. Sparks crawled across her skin, an unpleasant sensation that made the tiny hairs over her body stand on end. Rubbing her arms, she swept her gaze around the circle, trying to remember everything Camille and Seline had told her.
There was always a key. Always one stone that could unlock or destroy. All she had to do was find that stone. Not easy to do when they all looked the damn same.
Her gaze came to rest on the stone on the north edge of the circle. It was a little smaller, a little less obvious, than the rest.
She walked around to it. There could be no finesse about this. She didn't know enough about magic to dismantle the power of the stones. And brute force certainly couldn't dismantle a circle of this size any more than it could a circle the size of the one that ringed the town. But she'd bet this circle was set up to protect the star and its sacrifice against someone who knew something about the ways of magic, not someone armed with little more than a silver knife.
Silver was the one thing immune to magic. The only thing that could cut through a magic barrier such as this with the ease of a knife through butter.
She flicked the knife into her palm and knelt, studying the stone. Wisps of blue arced through the air, their foul energy scorching her forehead.
"Do you know what you're doing?” Michael asked, from the other side of the circle. She met his gaze. “You'd better hope so."
The thing above them let loose a strange sort of squeal. Nikki's gaze jerked upwards. The slug had disengaged itself and was slithering around the woman's legs, heading for the ceiling. Nikki hefted her knife, in half a mind to throw it, but at that moment, the thing reached the roof and disappeared into a fissure.
"I'd take that as a sign,” Michael commented blandly.
"Maybe it's just had enough sex, and the retreat is its version of rolling over and going to sleep." A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “I still prefer that you don't do this."
"You know of any other way to get that woman down?"
He lifted a hand toward the circle. Energy buzzed, the sound a high pitched scream of fury. Nikki raised her eyebrows. That reaction was far stronger than the one that had greeted her. Maybe Dunleavy had expected Michael to get this far.
"No,” he said, “I'm afraid I don't."
"Well, I'm not leaving her there,” she said flatly. “And I don't care what trap Dunleavy has set, I'm going to spring it."
"Wait—"
She didn't. She slashed the knife toward the stone, backing the blow with as much force as she could muster. The air screamed, and energy lit the darkness, blue flashes of light that crawled across the blade and up her hand, burning deep. She bit her lip, ignoring the sensation, keeping her eyes on the rock. An invisible force pushed at the blade, momentarily resisting her blow. Then the knife hit the stone, and the force of it reverberated up her arm, jarring her spine.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was a blinding flash, the boom of an explosion, and a wall of heated air slapped across her face and threw her backwards. She hit the ground with a grunt and flung her hands over her head, trying to protect her face. Shards of stone bit through the air, tearing at her clothes, her skin. Then the weight of another hit her, protecting her from the worst of the energy borne rocks.
After a while, silence returned. Except the silence wasn't really silent, but filled with a dripping far stronger than before. Surely the woman couldn't have had that much blood left, Nikki thought, wanting to look, but at the same time not wanting to. If the force of that explosion had blown her off her feet and back a good ten feet, what had it done to the poor woman hanging above?