The entrance soon loomed before them, a cavernous hole framed by timber that looked older than Lyndhurst. Older than Michael.
"The timber's not that old,” he said, half smiling as he handed her the flashlight. “Here, hold this."
She shined the beam at the entrance. The light penetrated only a few feet of darkness before being swallowed. But it was enough to see the footprints. Michael squatted on his heels and ran his fingers around the outline of the prints.
"Zombies,” he said, indicating a scuffed section on one print. “See? Their step is heavy, and they drag their feet. Jasper would leave no prints, and he would have carried Jake in."
"We knew he'd have traps waiting.” So why hadn't her psychic senses kicked in and warned her?
"They won't.” Michael stood and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Jasper's using the psychic net again—I can feel it pulsing. It's shielding this entire area, and probably interfering with your abilities."
Yet the watch still beat between her fingers. “I can still feel Jake."
"Only because Jasper wants you to find him."
She shivered. “Then the rest of my abilities will be useless?"
"Probably. You can't find out without trying, and the net will catch you if you do."
Her stomach twisted. While she'd often wished to be normal, to be free of the gifts that had somehow always set her apart, she'd known deep down that she relied on them too much to ever let them go. And her brief time with Jasper had proven just how useless she was without them.
Michael wrapped his fingers around hers. “You're not alone, Nikki."
She closed her eyes, fighting the warmth that sprang through her body. It wasn't right to want someone as much as she wanted Michael. Wasn't right to need his touch, the comfort of his arms to chase the demons away.
"I'll always be alone,” she said, and stepped away from him. It couldn't be any other way. Not when her love was a curse of death. Michael might be a vampire, but that didn't make him invincible. Monica had proven that vampires could die as fast as any human. “Let's go."