Nikki didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. For several seconds she just stared, taking in the bloody evidence of horror. Taking in the open, screaming mouth and the stump that had once been a tongue.

A sob escaped. She raised a hand to her mouth and put out her other hand to stop Jake. He pushed past angrily then froze. For several seconds neither of them moved. Then with a sound that was half groan, half anguished denial, he rushed towards his wife. Dropping to his knees, he touched her neck, feeling for the pulse Nikki knew he would never find.

He made another broken sound and gathered Mary's lifeless body in his arms. Nikki bit her lip, battling for control. She couldn't give in to anguish just yet. She had to stay alert in case Farmer returned.

She glanced at her watch and saw they had less than forty minutes to get back to the hotel. Or she did. She doubted if Jake would leave Mary's body so soon.

Tears trickled down her face. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then dragged her phone out of her pocket and called the ambulance and the cops.

"Jake?"

He didn't answer. Just continued to sob and cradle Mary.

"Jake, I have to go. I can't be here when the cops get here, or I won't get back in time to catch Farmer's message. He can't know.... “Her voice broke. She swiped at her eyes and continued, “He can't know we know."

"I'm going to kill that bastard,” Jake muttered.

"We'll get him, don't worry."

"Not we. Me.” He looked up. His face was ravaged, eyes bloodshot. “Promise me you won't go after him without me."

"Jake—"

"Promise me!” His voice was savage, his eyes intense.

"Jake, I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't. I'll kill him for this. And nothing, or nobody, is going to stop me from doing it."

She hesitated, then said, “Okay. I promise."

He nodded and went back to his grieving. From a distance came the sound of sirens. She had to get out while she could. She swiped at her eyes then walked forward. Jake didn't move, just continued to gently rock Mary back and forth. She brushed a kiss across Mary's head and bid her a silent good-bye.

A nebula cloud swirled past Jake, catching her eye. She frowned, wondering how the fog had gotten inside the room when there were no windows open. The mist drifted past again, briefly forming something almost human. Nikki's stomach dropped. It wasn't fog. It was a spirit—a ghost.

Mouth dry, she watched the thing, wondering if it was Mary's spirit or someone else's. She could find out ... but was either she or Jake really ready to confront Mary if it was?

"Jake?"

He looked up. “What?"

"I think Mary's spirit may be in this room."

He didn't react in any way, simply stared at her. She raised her hands. “Don't ask me to explain how or why, but it appears I'm developing the talent to see ghosts."

"Like the movie?"

"Not as graphic or as clear as the movie, but yeah."

"And she's here?” His voice was an odd mix of hope and apprehension.

"It may be her, or it maybe someone else.” The mist swirled in the one spot, as if listening to what she was saying. “I can't say for sure until I empower it."

"Then do it."

She met his gaze. “You sure?"

He nodded. “At the very least, it gives me the chance to apologize. To say good-bye."

It would give them both the chance to do that. She looked back to the misty form and took a deep breath. Its movements had quickened, as if in excitement. Closing her eyes, Nikki reached out. With her hand and with her psychic gifts.

Fog caressed her fingers, but it was warm rather than cold and damp. Something latched on to her psychic probe—she could feel the drain of energy flowing through her fingertips, though it was more a trickle than the rush that happened whenever she used her kinetic skills.

Jake made an odd, strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat. She opened her eyes. It was Mary who touched her fingers.

"I'm sorry,” Jake whispered brokenly. “I'm so sorry."

Mary brushed a hand across his head. His hair stirred, as if touched by electricity rather than flesh. “You did what you thought was best. It's not your fault this happened."

"But I could've—"

"No.” Her voice was gentle and somehow ethereal. Though her skin seemed to hold color, there was little substance to her flesh. “It was my time. Destiny cannot be changed. Only the location."

Michael had changed her destiny. He'd loved her enough to snatch her from death's arms, and yet here she was, ready to walk away because he refused to share one part of his life. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was a fool. After everything he'd been through, after everything he'd done for her, he deserved far more consideration than that.

Deserved far better than her.

"You asked for revenge.” Mary looked Nikki's way. “That is what I also wish. Let us be a part of this monster's death."

Fragile wisps of vapor stirred the darkness beyond Mary. More ghosts, probably. Nikki had no doubt it was the other four women Farmer had killed here in San Francisco.

"I'm new to all this. I don't know if I can handle more than one. Especially if I have to touch you all.” Not to mention the fact that standing still when someone like Farmer was around could be extremely dangerous.

"You don't have to touch us."

Nikki glanced down at their joined hands. “Then why do you hold my hand?"

Mary's smile was wistful. “Because you needed it. Because I can."

The tears spilling down her cheeks became a flood. Nikki drew another deep breath and somehow managed to say, “I'm sorry we weren't here sooner."

"So am I.” Mary brushed a gossamer finger across Jake's damp cheek. “Take care, my love. I'll be waiting for you when it's your turn to cross."

"No, don't—"

Mary faded. Jake made an anguished sound and hugged his wife's body fiercely. The sound of sirens was perilously close.

"Jake, I have to go."

He nodded. Her gaze swept the darkness, seeing mist shimmer in the corner. He wasn't alone, and of that she was glad. She turned and made her way down the stairs.

Police cars rounded the corner as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She walked down a couple of shops then stopped, watching the three cars screech to a halt and the officers pile out. The FBI agents were among those who entered the shop. At least Jake would be relatively safe now.

She headed to the limo and asked the driver to take her back to the hotel. She'd barely entered her room when electricity shimmered across her skin. Farmer was early. Or maybe he was just checking whether she was still here.

She slipped off the charm and walked into the bedroom. “If you've hurt her, you bastard, I'll kill you."

He snorted. “Isn't that what you intended anyway?"

"Yeah, but I'd intended it to be quick. You'll have no such luxury if you've hurt either one of them."

"I haven't hurt them. Just played with them a little."

Liar, liar ... God, she hoped Michael was still alive—surely she would have felt it if he'd died? He was a part of her, she a part of him. The two of them were bound together forever, so surely she would feel his passing ... and the very fact she wasn't sure scared the hell out of her. Farmer had already gone back on his word once. There was nothing to say he hadn't done it twice.

"Let them go."

He gave her a Cheshire cat sort of smile. “Have you chosen?"

She crossed her arms. There was only one choice now, but he wasn't to know she was aware of that. “No. And I have no intention of doing so."

"Then they both die."

"No!"

"Then choose."

"How will I know you'll keep your word?"

He gave her that smile again. “You don't."

"Bastard."

"Choose."

She took a deep breath. “Michael."

"Obviously, the fight he mentioned wasn't as deep as he'd feared."

If Michael had mentioned their relationship to Farmer, then he was in a bad way. He wouldn't talk to her about it, so why would he do so with a stranger—an enemy?

"Where is he, Farmer?"

"Somewhere safe. You'll have to come and get him, of course."

She snorted. “Yeah, that would be real wise, wouldn't it?"

Farmer raised an eyebrow. “If you don't, he's dead."

They were all dead anyway, unless she was very careful. And very lucky. “Where and when?"

He considered the question for several seconds, though she had no doubt he had this all planned to the very last detail.

"You'll find a park on the corner of Vincente and Twenty-eighth Avenue in Sunset. Meet me there just before dawn."

Why dawn? That was nearly six hours away. “Why not meet now?"

"Because that is what I wish, and that is what you will do."

He was a cocky bastard, that was for sure. She was going to enjoy wiping that smug smile off his face. “Michael had better be alive."

"He will be."

She didn't trust the light in his eyes. Didn't trust the smile that played about his mouth. He was up to something, though she had no idea what—beyond the fact that it boded no good for her.

Farmer's image faded. She retrieved the charm and slipped it back on, then made herself some coffee. Cup in hand, she walked across to the window and stared out on the foggy night.

She had to rescue Michael before that meeting. She didn't trust Farmer one iota, and if they could get Michael out and hidden before dawn, the advantage would fall on their side. They could walk in and confront him without having to worry about anyone's safety but their own.

The trick was finding Michael and getting him out. She placed the cup on the sill and reached into her pocket, drawing out the silver cross.

Warmth pulsed through her palm. She clenched her fingers around the cross and closed her eyes, reaching for any images that might lie within the cross's heart. Nothing. Michael was alive, but he was still mind dead. She couldn't connect with him, not through the cross and not through the link.

She opened her eyes, her gaze drawn to the southwest. He was there. And in need of help.

She grabbed a pen, scrawled a note to Jake then grabbed her coat and ran out into the night.

Michael eased over the enclosure wall and padded quietly toward the exit. Though his thirst was finally sated, he felt no more energetic. His body had taken a pounding over the last few hours, and it had pushed his natural healing capabilities to the extreme. It would be days before he regained full strength.

And they certainly didn't have days left. Farmer had to be killed long before then.

The guards were still near the exit. He wrapped the shadows around himself, but even that small task had sweat running down his face. Once outside and beyond the sight of the two men, he stopped and leaned back against the fence, sucking in great gulps of air.

Everything still hurt, his arm most of all. It would have to be reset, and soon, before the bone began to knit in its current position. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds washing across the darkness as he tasted the flavors of the cold night.

The slight scent of antiseptic told him there was a hospital close by somewhere, but between him and it came the smell of evil. The remaining fledglings were on the prowl and closing in. He'd never be able to outrun them. He didn't have the strength, and once they'd caught his scent, they'd be on him quicker than dogs on a bone.

He'd have to make a stand here. At least he could keep his back to the fence. He reached up, gripping one of the branches that dipped over the top of the fence and broke it off. Snapping it in two, he pulled off all the leaves and twigs until two jagged stakes were left. All he could do now was wait.

The seconds ticked by. His eyelids began to droop, and he forced them open again. But it was a battle he was bound to lose. A vampire healed mainly in sleep. Now that his hunger was sated, his body demanded rest. He shifted his stance and listened again to the sounds of the night. Footsteps whispered, drawing ever closer.

He gripped the stakes tighter and switched to his vampire vision. The shadows retreated, and three fiery figures came into view. The fledglings, moving in fast.

Sweat rolled down his face. Under normal circumstances, these three would be little more than nuisances easily swatted away. But given his current condition, the pendulum had certainly swung their way.

Two went high, one went low. He stabbed wildly, striking one in the stomach rather than the heart. The fledgling screamed in agony, his flesh smoking where it touched the wood. White ash was best, but any wood was dangerous to vampires as young as these.

One tore into his good arm, the second into his leg. He kicked it away, almost unbalancing in the process, then thrust his arm backwards, smacking the fledgling feeding on it against the fence. It did little more than ripple the chain links. It certainly didn't dislodge the fledgling. Pain became a wall threatening to topple him. He hissed, flipped the stake, and thrust it into the youngster's chin and up, through flesh and bone and brain. The fledgling was dead before he fell.

Which still left two others. He grabbed the hair of one and flung him away, but the second grabbed his broken arm and twisted it. White-hot lances of fire flashed through his brain, and a scream was ripped from his throat. He dropped to his knees, unable to stand, unable to do anything. Barely even conscious.

The fledgling's touch disappeared. This is it, he thought. This is the end. Nikki's image swam through his mind, and a bitter taste invaded his mouth. After three hundred years of emptiness, fate could have allowed him a little more time for happiness...

No attack came. Through the haze of agony he thought he heard the sound of fighting, but it might have just been the roaring in his ears. He stayed on his knees for what seemed like hours, fighting unconsciousness and waiting for death.

Hands touched him. Hands that were warm and smelled vaguely of cinnamon and vanilla. Wishful thinking, surely. With the link out of action and his psychic gifts blocked by drugs, she had no way of finding him so quickly.

"Michael?” Her voice was soft, edgy, as if she were crying. “Can you hear me?"

God, was there a sweeter sound on this Earth? He wanted to wake up to those tones for the rest of his days...

"You have to stay with me,” she pleaded. “I'm here alone, and you're too heavy to lift."

"Why?” His voice came out little more than a hoarse whisper, and even the effort of that one word had his head swimming.

Her laugh had a brittle sound to it. “Always questioning my decisions, even at a time like this."

It wasn't his intention to question her actions. He'd just wanted to know where Jake was. He couldn't force his eyes open, but he reached out, running his fingers down her cheek. It was as wet as his.

She leaned into his touch for a second, then her lips pressed into his palm. “No time for details,” she continued softly. Power surged, and the chains rattled as they dropped from his wrists. “We have to get you somewhere safe. You ready to move?"

He wouldn't be ready to move for at least several hours. But he couldn't stay here, either. Farmer would find him all too easily.

Might even be searching for him now. He would have felt the fledglings die.

"Not ... hotel,” he said. It was the second place Farmer would come looking for him.

"No.” She shifted, her arm slipping under his. “Ready?"

He nodded. There was little else he could do. She counted to three then thrust upwards. He helped the best he could, but the pain became a wall of agony that rushed through his body. His breath left in a hiss of air, and sweat rolled down his spine and legs. More drips ran past his fingers. Or maybe that was blood. The fledglings had torn into his battered flesh, so anything was possible.

"The limo isn't far away. You think you can walk?"

What other choice did he have? She couldn't carry him kinetically—it would drain her energy to a point where she'd be defenseless should Farmer attack. She shifted her grip, her shoulder sliding under his good arm. Together, they stumbled forward.

But her version of not very far away and his seemed to be vastly different. They'd barely moved ten feet, and the night was little more than a dizzy blur. His breath was a desperate gasp of air and his muscles were liquid heat, barely able to support his weight. If it wasn't for Nikki, he would have fallen.

Her breathing was as sharp as his, and the smell of her sweat and fear stung the night air. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her he'd be all right after an hour or so of sleep. But the words stuck in his mouth, refusing to pass his battered lips. Footsteps hurriedly approached, then another set of hands grabbed him, carefully easing him into the car.

"You'll have to take him to the hospital, Miss."

The voice was male, one he didn't recognize.

"No. It's not safe there for him at the moment."

"But his arm will need attention, and he's lost a lot of blood—"

"I'm a nurse.” Her voice held a steely determination, indicating she was barely controlling her anger. “I can take care of him. Please, just get us to the boat as quickly as you can."

The driver's grunt wasn't exactly a sound of agreement. A door slammed shut, then Nikki's scent surround him. He breathed deeply the sweet smell and allowed himself to relax a little. The need to sleep was almost overwhelming, but he refused to give in to it just yet. A moist cloth touched his face, gently wiping the muck and blood away. He forced open his good eye.

Her amber eyes were bright with tears. “You're a goddamn mess."

He would have smiled if it didn't hurt so much. “Yeah.” Even that one word hurt, but he couldn't leave it there when there were questions that had to be answered. “Jake?"

Tears washed her amber eyes, trickled down her cheeks. He raised a hand, thumbing them gently away. Something bad had obviously happened in his absence—though surely not to Jake. She'd be in a worse state than this if it was.

She dunked the cloth into water and gently wiped his mouth. “Mary's dead.” Her voice was flat, but the drugs blocking his psychic abilities had to be fading because her pain was a tide of agony that overwhelmed anything he was feeling.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She buried her face against his chest, her tears searing his skin. He held her while she sobbed, offering her no words of comfort simply because there were none that could ever erase such pain. Only time could dim it.

After a few minutes, he croaked, “How?"

She sniffed and pulled away from his touch. “He snatched her from the airport. I guess we have to be thankful it was relatively quick. He cut out her tongue so she couldn't scream, then he drank her dry.” She hesitated, swallowing heavily. “Jake's with the police at the moment. He'll meet us at the boat when he can."

"Why ... boat?"

She shrugged. “It belongs to a friend of Jake's. And we knew we couldn't risk leaving either of you at the hotel."

He nodded. If Farmer hadn't already discovered his escape, he soon would. And the hotel was the first place he'd look. Unless, of course, he'd reached out to Nikki. He might even now be tracking their movements. “The charm?"

"Arrived earlier this evening.” She shoved up her sleeve, revealing the coin-entwined rope charm. “When I'm wearing it, Farmer has no sense of me."

He frowned. “How do you know?"

She hesitated, her gaze suddenly evasive. “Long story. I'll tell you when you regain some strength."

"Nikki—"

She placed a gentle finger against his bruised lips. “Now is not the time for arguments or lectures. Besides, we're here."

Masts rose beyond the tinted window. The car stopped, and a few seconds later the door opened. The smell of the ocean swept in, followed by the gentle sound of lapping waves.

The driver stuck his head in. “I'll give you a hand to the yacht, Miss, then I have to go pick up Mister Morgan."

"Thanks, Henry."

Hands grabbed him, hauling him out of the car as gently as possible. The driver was a big man and basically carried him down the jetty to the boat. Nikki moved forward, disappearing briefly from sight. She came back with a key and unlocked the doors.

The driver deposited him onto a bed then straightened. “I'm off, now, Miss."

"Thanks."

The driver nodded, cast a dubious gaze his way, then retreated. Nikki took a deep breath then sat down next to him. “I'm going to have to reset that arm, aren't I?"

"I'll pull it straight, but you're going to have to splint and wrap it, because I'll be close to unconsciousness."

She bit her lip but nodded. “And blood? Your clothes are practically stiff with it. Will you need to feed soon?"

"I have, at the zoo.” He touched a hand to her lips, wishing he could kiss them. I really will be fine.

Her eyes widened slightly, then a wave of love flooded the link, drowning him in its warmth.

God, I missed this. She brushed a kiss across his fingertips. I didn't realize until the link was gone just how much I'd grown used to having you so close.

Nor I. But now was not the time to show her just how much he'd missed it. Missed her. I'm going to have to sleep soon, so my body can begin to heal itself. We'll have to hurry to set my arm before then.

She nodded. What do we need?

Bandages. Something to splint my arm so it can't move while the bones are knitting.

She nodded again and moved away. He closed his good eye, listening to her searching through cupboards and drawers.

"Okay, got both."

He took a deep breath and looked at her. Undo the makeshift splint.

That's certainly a novel use for socks. Though her mind voice held a note of amusement, it was countered by the trembling in her fingers. She didn't want to do this—but then, neither did he.

The socks and the bar supporting his arm slipped away and agony threatened. He took a deep breath, fighting the tide.

"Okay, what next?"

I'll set the bone into place using my vampire vision, then you'll have to quickly splint and wrap it.

She nodded again. He switched to infrared vision and looked at his arm. His flesh disappeared, became instead a glowing beacon of sinew, veins and bone. The break was fairly clean, despite the fact one end of the bone had punctured skin.

He took another deep breath then grabbed his wrist and pulled. A scream tore up his throat. He swallowed the scream and sucked down air, battling the urge to be ill, fighting the darkness and the pain that made his head swim and threatened to sweep him into unconsciousness. Sweat rolled into his eyes. He blinked furiously, staring at his arm, watching the bone slide back through skin and into place.

Now.

She quickly began to splint and bandage his arm. The darkness threatened again, but he forced it away, watching his arm, making sure the bone stayed in place while she worked on it.

But once she'd finished, he finally gave in and let unconsciousness sweep him away.

Footsteps echoed on the deck above them. Nikki rose and walked quietly to the door. The night air was free from the taint of evil, so it couldn't be Farmer or any of his fledglings. Though how they'd find them so quickly she didn't know. Still, she'd learned the hard way never to underestimate the bad guys.

She grabbed the broom handle she'd sharpened to use as a weapon and edged up the ladder. Shoes and jeans came into sight, then a torso. It was Jake.

"You want something to drink?” she said, backing down the ladder again.

He shook his head. He looked haggard, old beyond his years, and just about ready to drop with exhaustion. It was his thirst for vengeance getting him through this, nothing more. “I just want this all over with."

Didn't they all. She sat down at the table and wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “Did the police say anything?"

He shrugged as he dropped down on the bench seat. “The usual. The FBI wanted to know where the hell you were."

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?"

"Because I think they suspect we have every intention of going after this madman and administering our own form of justice."

"Their justice wouldn't stop a man like Farmer."

"No. But they don't see it that way."

"No."

Jake leaned back and scrubbed a hand across his bristly chin. It made a sound similar to sandpaper. “How's Michael?"

Her gaze went to the bedroom door. He hadn't stirred, hadn't even twitched, for the last two hours—not even when she'd stripped him down and bathed him. God, she'd never seen so many bruises on one body before...

"He's in a bad way. I doubt he'll be awake by dawn."

"So it's just you and me?"

You, me and the ghosts, she thought, and tried to ignore the chill that ran down her spine. “Did you bring the weapons?"

He nodded. “Left them up on the deck."

"What, exactly?"

"A couple of stakes, some silver knives, and my gun."

Not much considering they were going up against a madman. She glanced at her watch. “Dawn's in an hour. I'd suggest we get there early so we can check out the area."

"Get where early?” Michael said from the doorway.

"So much for not waking for a few hours,” Jake murmured dryly.

She twisted around in the seat. He was leaning against the door frame, the sheet wrapped around his waist and his face still white and bruised—though the swelling had at least gone down a little.

"What the hell are you doing up? You should still be asleep so your body can heal."

"I heard voices,” he said, a touch impatiently. “What sort of meeting have you arranged?"

"We've arranged to meet Farmer at dawn.” She threw up her shields even as she replied, knowing his anger would boil down the link at her.

"No. I forbid it."

"You can't forbid me, and you're in no damn shape to stop me."

"He's a vampire. You won't even see him coming."

"No, but I'll feel him coming. Smell him."

"Damn it, Nikki—"

"We've coped with far worse than Farmer,” Jake said softly. “Even if they were human."

Michael's gaze flicked briefly to him. “You told me once revenge would kill us all. I think that applies here, too."

"You keep asking Nikki to trust the fact that you can keep yourself safe and alive,” Jake said. “Why are you not willing to offer her the same?"

"Because this is different."

"No, it's not. And you keep forgetting one vital thing."

"I'm not forgetting anything."

"Yeah, you are. Nikki's no longer human. And she has skills that are more than a match for the likes of Farmer."

"She may have a vampire's life span, but like us, she can still die."

"But only if she is decapitated, right? How is Farmer going to know that? How is any villain going to know that?"

Michael took a deep breath, perhaps controlling the anger neither of them could see. Yet. “We don't know all there is to know about thralls. There could be other ways of killing them."

"If you don't know, how the hell would someone like Farmer know?"

"That's not the point.” The impatience was more noticeable this time and edged with anger.

"That's precisely the point. For Christ's sake, you two have something good going here. Don't let stupidity destroy that."

Nikki wrapped a hand around Jake's. “You couldn't have saved Mary, no matter what you did. As she said, it was her time."

"I know. But it's still too fresh, too hard to accept.” Jake's gaze met hers. “At least I had the chance to say good-bye and for that, I thank you."

She nodded and looked back at Michael. “You're the one in no fit state to confront Farmer. You can't even stand up straight."

"Dawn's an hour off yet. I'll be stronger by then."

"But not strong enough. Damn it, Michael, you're always berating me for acting foolishly. What do you call wanting to confront Farmer when your energy levels are so low you couldn't even kill three fledglings?"

He frowned. “What happened to the fledglings?"

"I killed the remaining two. And wasn't it you who told me fledglings were more dangerous than older vamps?"

His expression was as dark as she'd ever seen it. Except perhaps that one time in the warehouse when she'd forbidden him to decapitate Monica Trevgard to stop her becoming a vampire. He might have been right then, but he wasn't now. And he knew it, even if he hadn't yet admitted it.

"If you come with us, Farmer will sense you and disappear back into the sewers. And it'll be a whole lot more dangerous for us to try to corner him there."

"So where is he meeting you?"

"In a park. He offered me a choice—Mary's life or yours. But by then, he'd already killed Mary, and I knew it."

"Farmer knows I've escaped."

"But he doesn't know I know. He'll be there."

"And he'll try to destroy you both."

"Undoubtedly. But we won't be alone. We'll have the dead to help us."

He hesitated. “What are you talking about?"

"I'm reliably informed by a blind old ghost that when you pulled me back from death, one small part of me was left behind. That part allows me to walk death's plane—to see ghosts, and bring them into being."

He frowned. “I've never heard of anything like that happening before."

"How many times have you made a thrall before?"

He didn't answer. Didn't need to.

"That same old woman tells me that in giving me part of your life force, you connected our energies together. So, when I'm walking that plane, I suck energy from you. And when you're seriously hurt, you suck energy from me."

"So that's how—"

"You kept going,” she finished. “You were siphoning my energy."

"Did you feel it?"

No, she hadn't—beyond that brief time when everything had swirled. “Did you? I was walking death's plane when you were in that restaurant with Farmer. It's probably why he was able to get the better of you."

He shook his head. “He was wearing a glove with some sort of narcotic on it. It transferred when we shook hands, but I didn't realize it until it was far too late."

Relief swam through her. At least she wasn't wholly responsible for him getting so badly beaten. “My point is, the minute I bring the ghosts into being, I'm going to start sucking your energy. You probably won't be able to stand, let alone walk."

He studied her for several seconds, then crossed his arms. “You asked me a couple of days ago to compromise. I'll offer one now. You and Jake go to that meeting. I'll remain in the limo—far enough away to stop Farmer sensing me, but close enough to help should things go wrong. Fair enough?"

She nodded. It was certainly more than she'd expected—and offered her hope for the future.

"Now that that's finally settled,” Jake said. “Let's go get the bastard."