It wasn't a zombie.

It wasn't anything, human or non human.

Just a bunch of flowers.

Michael stared at them for a heartbeat, then leaned out the door and studied the hall. Nothing. No smell, no sign of anything human. Whoever—or whatever—had delivered these flowers had disappeared as fast as they'd arrived.

He glanced down at the flowers again. Why would anyone deliver flowers ... A chill ran up his spine. Maybe they were meant as a gift—but not a gift of life.

He whirled, his form blurring as he raced towards Nikki. He swept her up in his arms, not stopping as he raced toward the bathroom.

What the hell ... ?

I think it's a small bomb.

Her fear swirled around him, sharp and acrid. He jumped into the large tub and pushed her head down, then covered her body with his own. A half second later there was a rush of almost deafening noise. Heat and dust swirled through the air, covering them in a fine blanket of grey.

Alarms sounded, and the sprinklers dropped down from the ceiling, the fine spray quickly soaking them. He glanced down at Nikki. “You okay?"

She nodded and wiped the muddy droplets from around her eyes. “He's crazier than we thought. He could have killed everyone in the hotel with a stunt like that."

"Unlikely.” He pushed upright, then offered her a hand. “The explosion wasn't large enough. I think he only meant to blow up the person holding the flowers."

She shivered. He pulled her into his arms and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Then he simply held her close. Held her tight. Her heart raced so hard it felt like his own, and the fear that tainted the link was as much his as hers. If he hadn't been here, she might have picked up those flowers. Might well now be dead.

"If we can find that woman today, I will kill him tonight.” Though he tried to keep his voice flat, anger reverberated nonetheless.

She shifted slightly, looking up at him, amber eyes sparkling gold in the morning light. “You can't kill him in the middle of a crowded restaurant."

He could. And had done so—twice in the last hundred years. Why people thought there was safety in numbers he never knew. In most cases, a crowd only made it far easier to both kill and escape.

He caressed her cheek with his fingers and journeyed down to her full lips. “I'll do what I have to do."

"He's not a fool, Michael. He may not have suspected last night that you were with me, but he'll put two and two together soon enough."

"Perhaps.” But it was still a risk he had to take.

The heavy tread of footsteps approached their room, hearts beating fast. Jake and others. He kissed her. Her mouth was so soft and sweet against his own that he just wanted to keep on tasting her forever. But he couldn't—not right now, anyway. She sighed when he pulled away, a sound he felt like echoing.

"We have guests,” he said, stepping out of the tub.

"Nikki! Michael!” Jake's voice, edged with panic.

"Here,” he said, helping Nikki out of the spa.

Jake came in, grinning when he saw them. “You both okay?"

Nikki nodded and ran her fingers through her sodden hair. The sprinklers had stopped their rain, but every inch of her was soaked, and the chill was creeping past her skin and settling deep inside. But she suspected it wasn't so much an effect of the cold, but rather the fear of what this madman would try next. “Better than the living room, I suspect."

"Actually, the damage is constrained to the door and a bit of the wall. What was it? A bomb of some sort?"

"Of some sort.” Michael's reply was grim. “Meant to destroy nothing more than the person holding the flowers in which it was delivered."

A security officer dressed in the hotel's uniform stuck his head around the corner. “Police and Fire Services are here, Mr. Morgan."

"Tell them we'll be out in a minute.” Jake glanced at Michael. “It might be better if you remain hidden."

"I agree."

Power surged, and Nikki knew without asking Michael was adjusting the guard's memory so that he remembered seeing only her. She bit back her instinctive annoyance, knowing he wouldn't listen, and wouldn't care.

"I'll keep to shadows in the bedroom,” he said once the surge of power had faded. He hesitated, then added, “Hadn't you better contact Mary?"

Jake swore and thrust a hand through his thinning blonde hair. “Damn it, yes."

His expression was filled with annoyance—at himself, more than anything else, she suspected. He usually kept Mary up-to-date with what was happening. But when a case got as nasty, as this one was, she was never his highest priority, unless the case threatened to backwash and involve her as well.

"I guess this'll be another black mark in the book,” he continued, a touch bitterly.

"Mary will understand,” she said, even though she knew the lie. Mary was past understanding. Or perhaps tired of understanding. She hungered for something Jake couldn't—or wouldn't—give her, and though Nikki didn't really understand what that something was, she could certainly understand Mary's frustration. And she'd only put up with her own frustration for four months. Mary had been battling it for thirty years.

Official-sounding voices drew close. Michael squeezed her fingers lightly, then stepped past Jake and disappeared into the shadows still filling the bedroom.

She glanced up at Jake. “We're not going to make it to Harris’ place by nine-thirty."

"No. I'll give him a call and let him know what's happened. We'll just have to get there when we can."

He touched a hand to her back and ushered her out into the living room. As he'd said, there wasn't much damage to the room as a whole, except for the fact that everything was soaked. A gap stood where the door had once been, but other than a chunk of missing plaster on either side of the door and scorch marks, there was nothing else to really indicate someone had tried to blow the hell out of her.

The police turned as they entered, notebooks in hands and questions she could almost read evident in their eyes.

She rubbed a hand across her eyes. Talking to the police had never been a favorite pastime, but it was something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately.

Sighing softly, she plopped down on one of the sodden sofas and got herself comfortable for a long few hours.

Michael crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. From his position in the bedroom, he could see Nikki and not much else. She was sitting on the sofa, legs tucked underneath her, dark chestnut hair drying in waves that fluffed around her expressionless face. She looked absurdly young and almost delicate—neither of which she truly was.

A cop sat in front of her, writing notes and occasionally asking a question. He didn't appear inclined to hurry. Michael bit down on his frustration. Needing to do something, he reached out to Seline instead.

'Bout time, she grumbled. Been waiting for hours.

What, the cat's suddenly grabbed your tongue, has it? Actually, knowing her cat, it was more than a possibility. It was a big black-and-white monstrosity that only possessed one eye and half a tail, and was the meanest thing on four legs he'd ever met.

I was being discreet. Didn't want to interrupt you and Nikki at a delicate time.

He smiled. You and discreet are not two words I've ever associated before.

Her amusement swam down the mental line. That's because most times I don't want to be. It's more fun being a pushy old witch.

And you do it so well.

Thank you. Her voice was prim. Schoolmarmish. Which she had been, at one point in her life. We've discovered there are eight women who attended Boston High currently either living or visiting San Francisco.

I gather the first three victims were from this eight?

Yes.

And would one of the remaining five be Mary Morgan?

I'm afraid so.

Which meant they had to get Mary out of San Francisco, and the sooner the better. No easy task when the only other place she wanted to go appeared no safer. Did you run a check to locate the other classmates?

Certainly did. One disappeared in Boston last year and has never been found. Two disappeared from New York, though the body of one was found floating in the river. Apparently she bore mutilations similar to the first two victims in San Francisco. Another woman was found drained of blood in a hotel room in Albuquerque two years ago.

But not mutilated?

She hesitated. Not to the extent of the rest. The police put it down to rough sex.

Any before that?

No. She was the first.

So what was the trigger? What did this woman do that started a madman down his bloody path? Did the police reports say anything else?

Yep. Apparently, she'd lost her husband a few months before and decided to do the tour they'd always planned. She'd stopped at the hotel for the night, and the manager said that while she booked in alone, she came back later with a man.

She picked up her killer?

So it would appear.

But was that man the same man who was now kidnapping and killing women here in San Francisco?

Was there a description?

Medium height, medium build, brown hair.

Mr. Joe Average, in other words.

Well, that's what he made the manager see, at least.

Is there any connection at all among these women, other than the fact they all attended the same school?

None that we can see, beyond the fact the current three victims all attended that fundraiser. But he's not going after all the women who attended that year of school, though. There are still at least one hundred girls living in or around Boston, and none of them have been attacked.

So what is it about these women?

Discover that, and we'll discover our motive, I think.

Nikki glanced his way, an intent look on her face. Listening in again. He raised his mental shields a little more, and annoyance rumbled through the link, a distant but threatening thunder.

When you were going through the Boston High records, did you find any reports about a couple of girls suiciding on a prom night?

Yeah, I did. Curiosity swam through Seline's mental tone. Why?

Just a feeling I've got. When I was talking to Mary, she said there was no alcohol in the building, yet both girls were apparently drunk. Might be worth investigating.

Seline paused. Michael, when did you start developing precognition?

He raised his eyebrows. I haven't.

You said you had a feeling.

It was just an insight, a guess, nothing more.

It was more. I can see it in your thoughts. Has Nikki any precognition skills?

He hesitated. She can sometimes sense danger or evil, but beyond that, no.

Which could mean this merging is bringing out latent talents in you, as well.

All I've ever had are telepathy and telekinesis. And his telekinesis wasn't anywhere near the strength of Nikki's.

That doesn't mean there aren't more talents. It only means they're the only ones you've acknowledged.

You've tested me more than once over the years, Seline.

But you are a far stronger telepath than I'll ever be. It's possible that you could have been subconsciously blocking me.

Why would I want to do that? You know more about me than any man or woman ever has—alive or dead.

But still I don't know all your secrets. You were a man used to keeping his own council when we met. I doubt whether that man has entirely disappeared, even after I've spent over a hundred years civilizing you.

He smiled. According to Nikki, that man had not disappeared at all. I met a vampire last night. He was psychically using a young couple in an attempt to kill Nikki.

Seline's amusement shimmered around him. She was well aware he was steering the conversation back to more comfortable topics. And he still lives? Michael, you're slipping.

I never had much hope of finding him in a city this size—he could have been anywhere in a one or two block radius, and his scent was nowhere to be found. But I am meeting him tonight, and if he is our kidnapper, I'll kill him if I can.

If? You sense problems?

A fourth woman has been kidnapped.

Damn. She hesitated, her anger heating the link. Which one?

Her married name is Harris.

Anne Harris, that would be. She's one of the eight I mentioned. Her husband is involved in shipping.

It's not her present that's the problem. It's her past.

Perhaps you'd better talk to Mary some more.

I've probed her memories. As far as she's concerned, nothing unusual happened.

Then probe deeper. Obviously, something else happened either that night or during the year—something that involved these twelve women.

I'll try. When Nikki wasn't around to protest. He wasn't up to any more arguments right now. If you give me the names and addresses of the remaining women, I'll visit each of them and impress upon their minds the urgent need to leave.

Good idea. Seline's thoughts touched his more fully, burning the information into his memory. Though it may drive our killer underground again.

Better us chasing him than him chasing these woman. And at least now we have some idea of who his targets are.

True. And instinct tells me it'll end here in San Francisco, anyway.

He didn't bother asking which way it would end. If she knew, she would have told him. Listen, have you got a charm or spell or something that will stop this vampire using his clairvoyant abilities to track Nikki? We have to use her skills to find these women quickly, but he basically knows our every move, thanks to the lock he has on her.

Seline's frown was something he felt—a wash of darker light through the link. A tricky one. I think I remember a spell that'll create a sort of dead zone around her. He won't be able to track her psychically, but you may not be able to, either.

I don't think it'll matter. The link we share works on a far deeper level than telepathy.

Which only provides more evidence of the merging. Everything I've read on thralls suggests it's a one-way street. The thrall usually only has basic telepathy skills with its master.

We had this link before she became a thrall.

Yes, but now it's deepened. She hesitated. You know, you both really should come into headquarters so we can test what's happening. I've got a feeling it could be very interesting.

And he had a feeling that if he let Nikki anywhere near the Circle's headquarters, it would be the end of any hope he had of stopping her from joining them. Let's concentrate on getting this case solved first.

Do you have a name for this vampire you're meeting?

Farmer.

I'll check through the records and see what we find. I'll also check out that suicide incident.

And the charm for Nikki?

I'll work on it this afternoon and have it couriered across. It'll be tomorrow morning before it gets there, so be careful until then.

I will. Thanks Seline.

The link between them died. He glanced up and met Nikki's gaze. She raised an eyebrow, expression annoyed.

Why do you keep locking me out?

Why do you keep listening in on private conversations?

Heat touched her cheeks, and the thunder in the link rumbled closer. I thought we were going to work together on this case?

We are—though if I had any choice in the matter, I would make you, Jake and Mary leave San Francisco so you'd all be away from this madman's grasp.

Don't I know that. Her retort stung his mind. She considered him for a moment, gaze narrowed. Tell me—were you and Seline ever lovers?

The question caught him by surprise. He barely managed to keep his laugh in check, but his amusement echoed down the link, momentarily drowning the sound of thunder. No, we were never lovers. Why do you ask?

She gave a mental shrug. You don't want me to meet her. You don't want me to listen in on your conversations with her. It's the sort of secretive behavior of two lovers, isn't it?

Perhaps it is. But we are not, have never been, and never will be. They were friends. Good friends. He trusted her more than any person on Earth, except Nikki. Yet he had never once felt the slightest bit of sexual interest in her. And it was a disinterest that was shared.

Why?

He shrugged. He'd never psychoanalyzed his relationship with Seline. He'd simply enjoyed. After two hundred years of darkness, distrust, and entrenched loneliness, she was the true beginning of his path towards the light. For too many years beforehand he'd walked the knife's edge, not quite falling on either side, yet slowly slipping back into the darkness from which he'd emerged after his years with Elizabeth. He might never have found Nikki had it not been for Seline.

I do not know, and I do not care. But I think the friendship Seline and I share would not have been as strong had we been lovers.

Because lovers cannot remain friends once the relationship falls apart?

There is always an undercurrent of tension in such situations, whether it is acknowledged or not.

She bit her lip, expression clearly troubled. He could tell her thoughts without having to read her mind or taste the uncertainty in the link. Her fears were evident enough in her eyes.

What hope does that offer us, then? she asked eventually. We are lovers, and we are friends. Are you saying it's inevitable that we'll eventually drift apart?

He sighed. No. We are far more than just lovers, Nikki. We are two minds, two souls, one heart.

But—

No buts. Simply trust in the fact that what I feel is every bit as strong as what you feel.

Tears washed through her dark amber eyes. She bit her lip, blinking as she looked away. But emotion surged through the link, a wash of love that almost drowned his senses. It was a drowning he could have endured forever.

Jake stepped through the doorway as the police began making moves to leave. “I've arranged for you to be moved back into the other suite. This room won't be useable for a few days yet."

Though his words were addressed to Nikki, his gaze sought the shadows still haunting the bedroom. Looking for a vampire, Michael thought with a smile.

She nodded. “And what about Mr. Harris?"

"Expecting us as soon as the police will let you go."

"She can go now,” an officer said. “We know where to find you both if we have any more questions."

Nikki glanced his way. How are you going to get out of the room?

I am the wind, remember?

Amusement swam around him. So you're going to fart your way free?

Vampires don't get wind.

Her eyebrows raised. Really?

Really. My diet does not lead to an excess of gases.

And here I was thinking you were simply being polite these past four months. She rose. I'll call the elevator and wait for you there.

Good.

She and Jake left. Michael waited until he heard the ding of the elevator arriving, then pushed away from the wall. He glanced at each of the police officers, focusing their attention on whatever it was they were working on. Then he ran for the door, the room little more than a blur as he moved through.

"We have a problem we have to deal with before we head over to Harris’ place,” he said, reappearing beside Nikki as the elevator doors closed.

Jake jumped. “I wish you wouldn't do that. Not good for the old heart.” He paused, then added, “What problem?"

He hesitated. “Mary. I'm afraid she could be on the killer's list."

"What?" Nikki stared at him, face suddenly pale. “Why would you think that?"

"Because the kidnapped women all had one thing in common—everyone but Dale were in the same year at Boston High."

Jake punched the button for the sixth floor. “So were a couple of hundred other people.” Though his voice was flat, the acrid smell of his fear hung heavy in the air. He believed, even if he didn't want to.

"True. But there is no other link among these women."

"Who says these attacks aren't random?” Jake said. “This guy obviously isn't sane. He may not have—or need—a motive."

"But he has got a motive—revenge.” Nikki's gaze was thoughtful, distant. “For what they did to him in school. For what they did to him at the prom. Dale was one of those who taunted, even though she wasn't in the same year as the other ladies."

A chill ran through Michael. She was reading the killer's mind—or at least, his memories—as easily as she breathed. He touched her back, and she jumped, her gaze leaping to his.

"It's getting stronger,” she said.

"It is.” Both her clairvoyant abilities, and this odd link between the killer and her. “Seline's making a charm, which she'll courier over by morning. It'll stop him using the connection between you to track us."

Her eyes widened as the implications of his words sunk in. “Meaning, when we go down to rescue Harris’ wife, he'll know?"

"And more than likely be waiting. Which is why—"

"No,” she cut in. “Don't say it. Don't even think it."

"What about Mary?” Jake cut in harshly. “What are we going to do with her? We can't protect her twenty-four hours a day—not from this madman, and not if we want to save the other woman."

"No. Which is why I suggest you send her away. She's one of four other women currently living or visiting San Francisco who attended the same year of school as the first four kidnap victims. If Mary disappears, the killer will simply turn his attention to the remaining three.” And if Seline was right—and she usually was—it was all going to end here in San Francisco, anyway. Mary should be safe just about anywhere else in the country.

Jake swore softly. “She's going to assume this is some sort of scheme I've come up with to get her out of San Francisco."

"I'll talk to her,” Michael said.

Nikki's glance was sharp. “Just talk?"

He hesitated again. “No."

"Damn it, you know—"

"And you know,” Michael cut in, anger touching his voice, “That it could be the fastest and easiest way of discovering what is going on."

"Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?” Jake cut in impatiently. “There's a whole level of conversation I'm missing out on here."

"Michael's intending to probe Mary's memories,” Nikki said.

Jake's gaze met his. “You can do that? To anyone?"

"Anyone I choose. And most times, they're not even aware of it."

Jake's gaze widened a little. “Would Mary be aware?"

"No."

"Then do it.” Jake glanced at Nikki. “If Mary's in the firing line, then we need to do everything we can."

The elevator doors slid open. Jake strode down the corridor and swiped his key card through the slot at the last of the half dozen doors.

Mary turned around as they entered, relief etched on her drawn features. “Nikki, Michael, are you all right?"

Nikki walked over and gave the older woman a hug. “Just a little wet,” she said softly.

Jake took his wife's hand and led her toward the sofa. “We need to ask you a few questions."

Mary's gaze jumped from person to person, finally coming to rest on Michael. “Something's wrong."

He nodded and sat down on the coffee table beside Nikki. “You remember when we were talking earlier, you mentioned Boston?"

Mary nodded. “What has that got to do with what happened this morning?"

He touched her thoughts, pushing deep into her memories. Controlling, but not intruding any more than necessary. “You were telling me about the prom where the two girls died."

"Yes.” Mary's voice was flat, remote.

Jake, who'd never really seen him in action like this before, stared at him, a touch of fear in his eyes.

"Did you know them?” Michael said softly.

"Yes."

"They were your friends?"

"Yes."

"Did you see them drinking alcohol anytime during the night?"

"No."

"Was anyone else drinking alcohol?"

"Not that I know of."

"Did anything unusual happen during the night?” He'd asked that question before, but this time his control was deeper.

She hesitated. “No."

The mere fact she hesitated suggested something had happened. “So what did you do that night?"

"We teased Billie."

"Billie?” He glanced at Jake, wondering if it was a name he knew. Jake shrugged. “Who's Billie?"

"Local nerd, and a bit of a loner. He turned up in his dad's blue suit."

"And you taunted him?"

"Yes."

"Is it something you often did?"

"Yes."

"How many of you were there in this group?"

"Twelve."

No real surprise there. “Who were the main instigators?"

"Rachel and Monica."

"And they were the two who jumped off the roof?"

"Yes."

"What was Billie doing at the time?"

"I don't know. I never saw him again after he ran off."

"Did anyone see him again that night?"

"The police interviewed him, apparently, but nothing came of it."

"Does Billie have a last name?"

"Farmer."

"The name of the guy who attacked us last night,” Nikki murmured, glancing at Jake. “Lord, how bad could their teasing have been for him to seek revenge forty years later?"

"Just think back to your own teenager years,” Jake said, voice grim. “And multiply that by twelve."

"I never had a normal teenage life."

"No, but you were certainly a normal teenager, just carrying a bit more angst than usual. Just ask our favorite police detective."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I wish we had MacEwan with us now. The man has a knack for being in the right place at the right time.” She hesitated and nodded towards Mary. “What are we going to do?"

"I can put a compulsion on her.” Michael ignored the rush of irritation through the link and held Jake's gaze. Not quite compelling. “Make her leave right immediately, without fighting."

"Will she remember it?"

"You can't do this, Jake,” Nikki said. “It's wrong to control another's behavior like this.” Damn it, Michael, don't do this to her.

Stop letting your own fears override common sense. You agree Mary has to leave San Francisco, don't you?

Yes, but—

You agree that she won't go willingly, don't you?

She didn't reply, just glared at him. He was right, and she knew it.

He looked back at Jake. “No, she won't feel the compulsion. Where do you want me to send her?"

"Not to Boston, that's for sure.” Jake hesitated. “What about Long Beach? She has a friend down there—a recent friend, not one from Boston. Mary said some time ago she'd like to see her again."

"This friend's name?"

"Anna."

"Then that's where we'll send her. You want to go call the friend and make arrangements? I'll hold Mary until you come back."

Jake walked into the bedroom. Michael glanced at Nikki. She'd crossed her arms and was carefully holding herself away from him. The anger he could feel in the link was evident in the glitter in her eyes.

"This is part of what I do,” he said, keeping his voice even, unapologetic. “It's also probably the least of my sins when it comes to getting a job done. It's not something I intend to stop just because it bruises your sensibilities."

"Damn it, she has a right to choose her own destiny."

"So you'd rather she stay here and die?"

"No, and that's not—"

He touched a hand to the warmth of her lips, stopping her words. “The point is, I'm trying to stop a killer, and I will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. I don't care whether you like it or not. It's what I do. Accept it and get past it."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Fine,” she muttered. “I'll say no more about it."

The stubborn look on her face suggested that while she might not say anything more, she'd definitely be thinking it. He smiled and touched her chin, gently directing her gaze back to his. “One of the things I love about you,” he said softly, “is the ungracious way you give in when you know you're wrong."

He brushed a kiss across her lips. Her mouth was warm and pliant under his, and the kiss deepened. Heat simmered through the link, a yearning that could not be quenched for some time yet. Eventually she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And one of the things I love about you,” she said, eyes dancing with amusement and desire, “is the way you make me want you, even when I'm so damn mad at you I could spit fire."

Jake came back into the room. “All arranged,” he said. “I've booked Mary onto the eleven o'clock flight."

Michael nodded and began rebuilding Mary's memories, imprinting on her mind the exuberance of her seeing her friend again and making sure there were no doubts about the trip and leaving Jake for the next week. Then he released her.

"You'd better be getting ready if you want to make the plane,” he said, prompting her.

Mary glanced at her watch and surged to her feet. “Ohmigod, you're right. Jake are you going to take me to the airport or not?"

"The limo has been booked, but I'll be escorting you out there.” He hesitated, waiting until Mary had left the room, then added, “I'll meet you two at Harris's later."

Nikki rose. “I'll just go say good-bye, then we can get going."

Michael nodded and glanced at Jake. “You got the address?"

Jake handed him a card. “From what he said, she was snatched from her bedroom last night."

He frowned. “Were they at a hotel or a bed and breakfast?"

"No. Private residence."

His frown deepened. “It can't be vamps snatching these women then."

"Well, it isn't human, that's for sure. Harris took a swing at the man and said he simply stepped back into shadow. If that doesn't sound like a vamp, then what the hell is it?"

It certainly sounded like a vampire. The question was, how were they getting into the house in the first place? One of the few myths about them that was true was their inability to step into a private home unless invited. It couldn't be forced, but had to be freely given.

It was doubtful if any man or woman would give such permission in the early hours of the morning.

So how were these vamps getting in?