Kiss The Night Goodbye

"You don't want to know,” Michael commented, his lips caressing her ear as he spoke. “Are you okay?" She nodded, wondering if he even realized he'd read her thoughts. “What's that dripping?"



"Water.” He lifted himself off her and touched her arm, gently assisting her into a sitting position. Despite his warning, she couldn't help looking. What was left of the woman didn't really resemble anything human. Just a bloody, shapeless, mass.



She briefly closed her eyes, then opened them and took a deep breath. “At least it would have been quick."



"Yes.” His confirmation didn't ease her conscience any. His thumb brushed at the moisture on her cheek, a gesture as gentle and as caring as the look in his eyes. “You gained a few cuts in the explosion."



"So did you.” She carefully wiped away the smear of blood from his chin. “Are you hurt anywhere else?"



"My back.” He shrugged. “Nothing major."



She gave him a deadpan look. “I saw your version of nothing major with your shoulder. Turn around."



"I do not think this is the time or—"



"If you'd just stop arguing about everything and do as I ask, it would have been over with hours ago."



"As usual, you exaggerate.” Amusement gleamed in his dark eyes as he turned around. His shirt was crisscrossed with tears, revealing bloody skin underneath. Nothing deep, as he'd said, but some of the cuts did go through the runes on his back, slicing them apart. Was that why he'd been able to read her thoughts? Was one of the cut sections responsible for the shut down of the link between them?



"You're right. There's nothing here that won't wait until later."



"Maybe next time you'll believe me."



"Not when you have a history of understating wounds." She looked past him. The black rocks were no longer in an orderly circle. Of the eight that had been present, she could see only six. Hopefully, the explosion had blown up the other two. Hopefully, it meant Dunleavy wouldn't be reusing this sacrifice site anytime soon.



She glanced at the roof, this time following the dripping water until she found the source. A fissure had opened up near the southern end of the circle, and the water was pouring steadily from that, washing across the star etched into the rock, bathing away the barely congealed blood. Though she doubted it would ever erase the deeper, darker stains.



Little rivulets of moisture were beginning to work their way towards her. She pushed to her feet, glad of Michael's support as the cavern spun briefly around her.



"I don't think Dunleavy will be able to use this place again,” she commented. “The water will make it too difficult."



He nodded. “I dare say he has other places ready to go."



"Yeah.” She dusted off her palms on her skirt. “And if they're anything like this, we'd better try to find them."



He raised an eyebrow. “And what of the two sacrifices you were told to halt?"



"I'm beginning to think they were merely a means to keep me occupied and off the trail."



"Believe me, Dunleavy will kill those people if he said he will."



"I know. But I think we're better off trying to find the source of all his power—and destroying it—rather than running around trying to figure out who is next on his hit list.” After all, they were probably all on his hit list. She was certainly under no illusion that he'd let her and Michael go.



"We could spend days searching through these tunnels,” he said. “It's literally a maze down here." And they didn't have days. Only hours. Forty seven of them to be precise. They had to narrow the search area down. “Where is this cavern in relation to the town?" He hesitated. “Somewhere near the eastern edge."



Meaning that they'd ended up heading away from the Standard mine rather than towards it. “So, if the Standard mine is west, and we know for certain there's a sacrifice circle there—"



"We haven't actually seen it, so you can't say that for sure."



"Yes, we can.” Her gaze met his. “He's using compass points."



"If the magic being used is as large as you say, he'd probably have to. I doubt whether he'd be able to feed it all from one central point."



She raised an eyebrow. “You think there's a central point as well?" "We've already found it. The roof of the whorehouse." She closed her eyes and fought the rush of memories, although the man on the roof had died a cleaner death than the woman here. “Would they use it again? They surely must know we've discovered it.”



Hadn't that been the whole point in the first place?



"I think they'll have no choice. Dunleavy probably figures we have enough keeping us occupied to be keeping a close watch on that roof."



And in reality, he'd be right. “If this place is the maze you say it is, then it might be better if you search alone. Once you find something, you can come back for me."



"I don't fancy leaving you alone, after what I discovered in Kinnard's hole." She raised an eyebrow and mentally asked, Why?



Energy stirred the air, and his gaze narrowed in sudden concentration. Fighting the spell, Nikki thought. Fighting the commands being placed on him.



Because it seems Kinnard has taken quite a fancy to you. He answered her question through the link without even seeming to realize he'd done so. Nor did he seem to realize he'd basically recognized that she was the women in the photos and not the woman whose image she still wore. And though she felt like dancing at the breakthrough, she controlled the urge. There was still a ways to go yet before he was totally free of the effect of the runes. And until he was, she had to play it carefully. They couldn't afford to have Dunleavy realize she wasn't Seline.



"I can protect myself. Dunleavy may think he holds all the aces, but I hold one or two little surprises up my sleeve."



"Yeah, both of them silver.” His tone held a teasing edge. “But those little stickers aren't going to be of much use if Dunleavy decides to send his goons after you."



"But he won't, because he needs me alive for the ceremony." Michael raised an eyebrow. “You willing to bet your life on that?"



"Yes.” Seline killed Dunleavy's twin. Killed him in the midst of the ceremony and consigned his soul to hell. Which meant Seline had to be at Weylin's ceremony so that he could reverse the spell and bring his brother's spirit back to life. And she was Seline's doppelganger. All they had to hope was that Seline was correct in her assumption that the ceremony would fail simply because she wasn't Seline.



"I'll escort you back to the entrance."



"No. I can go by myself. We need to find the other sacrifice sites before Dunleavy has a chance to protect them any further."



His concern whisked through the link, warming her soul. “I don't think—" She placed a finger to his lips, stopping him. “Trust me. I can look after myself." It was a phrase she'd repeated often enough, and something sparked in his eyes. Amusement or memory, it didn't much matter which, because he was getting closer and closer to breaking the chains around his memories.



"Okay."



He brushed a hand down her cheek, slid it around her neck and pulled her towards him. His kiss was both demanding and passionate. Despite knowing the danger of doing this here, she couldn't help responding just as intensely.



And with their bodies crushed so close, she was fiercely aware of every part of him. From the rush of longing burning through the link, to the way her breasts crushed against his chest, right down to the restrained hardness pressing luscious heat against her abdomen. His body remembered her, even if his mind was still chained.



He pulled away with a suddenness that made her gasp softly. Then she saw the fiery glint in his eyes. It was passion and something else. Something far deadlier.



"There was blood on your mouth, just a smear,” he explained, his voice soft yet strained. Yet his teeth weren't extending, even though his demon had risen to the surface. He was gaining control again, despite the spell on his back. She nodded. “I'll meet you back at the house later." He stepped away, then stopped again, reaching out to brush a thumb across her mouth. “Be careful."



"I will."



He wrapped the shadows around his body, disappearing from normal sight, but not her enhanced sight. He was a whitish blur that ran quickly towards the tunnel and disappeared. She bent to retrieve her knife. The blade was nicked, the end broken. Even so, it was a useful enough weapon against a vampire or shapeshifter. She shoved it back into its sheath, walked around the star and headed for the tunnel.



And tried to ignore the weight of the earth pressing down on her as she made her way back to the entrance.



When the beams of sunlight began filtering through the darkness ahead, she gave a huge sigh of relief. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and tried to convince herself her reaction was due to the clingy atmosphere in the tunnels rather than fear itself.



She'd been in tunnels in San Francisco and hadn't felt like this. Nor had she when she and Michael had traveled to Jackson Hole and confronted the dead and his past. But those tunnels hadn't really reminded her of the tunnel that had trapped her. This one did.



She leapt up, grabbed either side of the opening, and hauled herself up, wriggling and cursing and wishing her butt was a little less heavy.



When she finally reached the surface, she collapsed in an ungainly, sweating heap, trying to catch her breath and wondering why her muscles were aching so much when she was supposedly so fit.



"That has to be the most inelegant exit I've ever seen,” a voice said dryly. She bit back the urge to curse and looked around. Kinnard was sitting on the steps of the dead ranger's house, idly twirling a long reed of grass in his hand.



"What are you up to, Kinnard?” she snapped, hauling herself into a sitting position before dusting off her hands.



Kinnard's gaze slithered up her exposed legs. She snapped her skirt down, and he grinned.



"Just waiting for you to come up for air, girlie."



"Were you down in that darkness, spying again?"



"Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't.” He flicked the blade of grass away and stood. “That vampire of yours won't be able to fight the creatures waiting at other sacrifice sites alone, you know." She raised an eyebrow. “And just how do you know we found the sacrifice site?"



"Half the town heard the explosion. I'm surprised you and the vamp weren't more seriously hurt."



"We run fast."



"You must. Just be warned—the next time, it could be deadly." She rose to her feet. “Or so you would like me to believe."



"Oh, I didn't mean deadly to you, girlie."



"Then what did you mean?"



His gaze slid to the town. She grabbed his arm, wrapping her fingers around his cold, almost slimy, flesh and called to the fire deep within. Flames responded, leaping from fingertip to fingertip, touching, but not really burning, his skin. Kinnard's eyes widened in surprise and, perhaps, a touch of fear.



"You hurt any more of those people down in that town,” she said, keeping her voice flat, “and I'll hunt you down and burn you to cinders."



He jerked his arm free and stepped back. His flesh was white were she'd touched, her fingerprints seemingly burned into his arms.



"You try that, and your vampire lover dies."



"I don't think your master is going to be too impressed if you kill one of the two vital elements he needs to bring his brother back to life."



Kinnard snarled at her. It was her turn to grin. “Yeah, I figured it out. I may be blonde, but I ain't dumb."



"Aren't you?” He snorted softly. “Then why are you here, rather than finding the man who will die in an hour's time?"



She stared at him, her heart racing. No one else was supposed to be killed. Dunleavy had only set that task to keep her occupied—hadn't he?



Yet, Seline had warned five would die. Surely though, the sacrifices would be in that number. Unless, of course, Emmett Dunleavy had killed more people than Seline was aware of. But if that were the case, how did Weylin know? He'd been nowhere near Hartwood when his had brother died. Or had he?



Realizing Kinnard was waiting for a reply, she said, “Dunleavy's changing the rules already? We must be closer than I thought."



Kinnard hawked and spat. She shifted her foot, and the glob landed in the dust near her toes.



"It's Dunleavy's game you're playing. He can do what he wants."



"Not for much longer."



The old man merely grinned. “You wanna bet, girlie?"



"Not with a lecher like you."



"And not when you know the odds are on our side."



She stepped back. She wasn't about to get into a war of words with this man—not when she had a feeling that's exactly what he intended. “Remember what I said, Kinnard. You kill someone else, and you burn."



She turned and walked away, but his gaze followed her down the slope—piercing her spine and sending chills racing across her skin.



And yet, when she looked over her shoulder, Kinnard was gone. His stare had been imagination, nothing more.



Hadn't it?



Somehow, she suspected not. He was still watching her, even if she could no longer see him. The foul caress of his gaze still burned deep.



She turned a corner and, finally, the sense of him watching disappeared. She blew out a relieved breath and let her gaze roam across the old buildings crowding the main street. It was extremely quiet. Either everyone had finally passed out from all the booze they'd consumed over the last few days, or Dunleavy had decided it was better to keep them docile and conserve his strength in the process. Her gaze went to the two-story building at the end of the street. Though the day was still reasonably bright, the whorehouse's roof seemed oddly locked in mist. It was as if the clouds that raced the threat of rain towards them had paused for breath over that particular building. Even from where she stood, she could feel the tremble of electricity in the air.