A slight hiss was all the warning he got. Michael dodged, but not fast enough. The dart hit his forearm, and spread fire through his veins. Silver ... the dart tip was made of silver. Swearing softly, he wrenched it from his arm. The zombies were close, moving down a tunnel that ran parallel to his. Monica was still ahead, still running away.

It made no sense. The wind sighed past him, velocity increasing with every second. A train approached. They were running out of time. He turned and headed back.

He'd barely taken a dozen steps when dizziness hit him. He staggered for several seconds then stopped, pressing his palm against the tunnel wall. It was real and solid, and most importantly, not moving. Frowning, he squinted into the darkness. Ahead, Nikki and Jake were blurred shapes; a muted wash of red he could barely see.

He blinked and swallowed. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and it had nothing to do with fear. The dart had been drugged!

The zombies came out of hiding. Nikki screamed and energy seared the air.

Something hit the side of his head. Michael dropped to his knees, battling to stay conscious as the night danced around him. Moisture ran down the side of his face. He licked it, tasting his own blood. The darkness within him rose, a demon that battled the lethargy overtaking his mind. He struggled upright, knowing time was running out. The train was almost upon them. He had to find Nikki and get out of this tunnel.

Her life force burned fiercely through the darkness. Her fear filled his soul and became his own. Michael lunged towards her, but his legs felt encased in glue. He couldn't move with any sort of speed. Jasper's distant laughter mocked him. Then darkness claimed the fire of Nikki's life force, taking her from his sight.

Taking the warmth of her thoughts from his mind.

He swore and swung around to meet the rush of a zombie.

Punching the creature in the face, he knocked it back several feet. It landed on its rear, shaking its head and growling in confusion. He turned and ran forward.

Jake was gamely battling against a second creature. Michael leaped, kicking it away, sending it staggering across the track. Grabbing Jake, he thrust him into the safety of the hole, and dived in after him. Two seconds later, the train screeched past, whirling dust and rubbish through the darkness.

Coughing, he pushed upright and leaned against the grimy wall. The sighing wind was cool, but it failed to provide any sort of comfort. He closed his eyes and sent his senses winging back across the darkness. There had to be some trace of Nikki...

Nothing. The drug slowing his responses played no part in his inability to find her. The zombies were easy enough to sense, huddled in tight balls just down the track. Hope the bloody train severs their heads ... He took a deep breath.

So. As he'd foreseen, Nikki had been captured. He had no doubt Jasper would kill her. Then he would be forced to re-kill her, just to give her the peace of absolute death.

He'd known it was a possibility, but it wasn't one he was ready to face. Not now, not ever.

He clenched his fists in the dirt, then slowly released them. What was the life of one more human if he gained Jasper's death?

The thought chilled him, and for the first time in years, he wondered at the cost of his quest—both to himself and to others close to him. People like Nikki, who was by no means close, and yet could have been, had either of them wished it.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. She wasn't dead yet, at least he had the comfort—or maybe that should be discomfort—of that knowledge. The connection she'd formed between them wasn't severed, just empty.

He wondered what Jasper was waiting for. He wanted Nikki's power, of that Michael had no doubt. The only way he could claim it was in her death.

"Where's Nikki?” Jake's question rasped across the silence.

Michael opened his eyes and studied him. The red haze of his blood heat was a muted glow in the night. Purple patches marred his face and torso, bruises in the making, but otherwise, he appeared unhurt.

"Gone. Jasper has her,” Michael replied flatly. He blinked and switched his vision back to normal. The return of darkness was, in some ways, a blessing.

"Why the hell didn't you make her stay behind?” Jake demanded angrily. “You knew what this man was like, yet you let her come with us. It's your damn fault she's gone."

"You're her boss. Why didn't you forbid it?” Although Michael understood Jake's anger was merely his way of coping with the situation, he couldn't keep the edge of annoyance from his voice.

Jake lowered his gaze. “I'm her boss, yes. But damn it, you care for her!"

Michael stared at him in surprise. Where in hell had Jake gotten that idea? He barely knew Nikki, and while it was true there was definitely an attraction between them, he had no intention of acting on it. And by all indications, neither would she.

"What I may or may not feel gives me no right to force her to do anything against her will.” And despite his noble words, he knew that had he been able to enter her mind and force her to remain behind, he would have. Even if it meant breaking his vow.

Maybe he and Jasper had a lot in common after all.

He listened to the sound of the zombies’ awkward footsteps fade away into the silence, then, using the wall as a brace, rose to his feet. The drug in his system would take hours to dissipate, and, with the sun strengthening towards noon, there was little he could do now but wait.

"The creatures have gone,” he said. “We'd better head back to the office."

"And make no attempt to find her?” Jake said incredulously.

"I have no other choice,” Michael bit back.

So much for control, he thought bitterly and stepped out of the hole. A glint of silver caught his eye. He walked across the track, and bent to pick it up. It was Nikki's silver cross. The small amount of silver within the charm tingled against his palm, but he ignored it. At least he had something of Nikki's to hold on to. Something to remember her by in the years ahead.

He glanced across at Jake then strode through the darkness. There was nothing more they could do in the tunnel, and Jasper just might try to contact them at the office—if only to taunt them.

Tonight he would search.

And Jasper would pay when he found him.

The darkness stirred, coming to life.

Shifted, then disappeared.

Nikki blinked, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. The night appeared silent, empty. Yet the more she stared into the darkness, the more certain she became that someone was there, watching her.

She shivered, but resisted the urge to rise from the cold concrete floor. Until she had an idea of where she was, there was no point in moving. Who knew what traps might wait in the darkness.

The minutes crept by. Sweat broke out across her brow, and fear crawled through her heart. Though there was no sign of Jasper in the uneasy darkness, he was there, somewhere. The foul scent of his evil filled the air.

She clenched her fists and tried to still the sudden rush of panic. She had to stay calm if she wanted to survive. Taking a deep breath, she tried to contact Michael through their link.

Only he wasn't there.

Nothing was.

Her psychic abilities no longer answered her call. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed heavily. What had Jasper done to her?

Laughter rolled across the night, a rich sound that made her skin crawl with terror.

"Your lover will not hear you."

Jasper's voice spun through the darkness, entwining her in corruption. She still couldn't see him, nor did she have any sense of him. What was wrong with her?

"He's not my lover.” Her voice was little more than a harsh whisper that burned against her throat's sudden dryness. She licked her lips and tried again. “And why won't he hear me?"

The night stirred, and Jasper appeared. There was an almost terrible beauty in watching his perfect body find shape from the midnight silence.

Then she realized he was naked.

Her heart skipped several beats. Closing her eyes, she tried to control the terror squeezing her throat. Despite the soreness of her limbs, she sensed Jasper hadn't touched her yet. But he would. She could feel his hunger.

He laughed. She resisted the urge to roll into a tight ball of fear and sat up instead. The concrete scraped harshly across her buttocks. Only then did she realize that she was as naked as he.

"When the form is as beautiful as ours, why cover it?"

To emphasize his point, he struck a pose, showing the muscular splendor of his body. Mad ... He has to be mad. She wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them close to her chest. “What do you want with me?"

"Many things.” The amusement fled his features. “Mostly, I want you to help me kill the man who murdered my brother."

"Never."

He laughed softly. “Oh, you will help me, pretty one."

She didn't bother refuting the statement. He smiled and walked to the far corner of the room, his movements grace itself. Nikki blinked, suddenly realizing she could see. The night had begun to lift, and dawn seeped through the boarded up window to her right. Freedom. Yet she didn't dare move. She had no doubt he would kill her if she so much as blinked the wrong way right now...

He turned, holding a syringe in one hand. Relief surged. That was why her head felt so fuzzy. He was drugging her.

"This won't put you out.” His smile made her edge back slightly. “Only stop you moving and cloud your gifts. I have no wish for you to call your lover so soon."

Fear held her immobile. He knelt and slid the needle into her thigh. His hand caressed her skin, his touch hot, possessive. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

Jasper laughed and rose. Her eyes jerked open, and she watched him move to the bed. He played with her, she realized grimly. Tasted her fear, fueling its flames. Savoring it.

She knew then that he wouldn't physically touch her. Not for a while, anyway. This man enjoyed violation of another kind more—the heart, the soul and the mind. Like a cat playing with its prey, he would toy with her until she broke.

Then he would use her to trap and kill Michael.

She had to escape this mad man's grasp.

Footsteps whispered through the silence. Laughter surrounded her, provocative yet chilling. Not Jasper's. Monica's.

She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the teenager's presence. Bedsprings squeaked as Monica joined her lover on the bed. After several more minutes came soft moans and the rustle of sheets.

All she could do was ignore the noise of their lovemaking and try to rest. Like Jasper's word games, she knew this was meant to be some perverted form of torture. But if they hoped to shock her, hoped to encourage the first tiny cracks in her sanity, they were in for a surprise. She'd seen and heard a lot worse during her years on the streets.

Yet she couldn't help the tiny hope that daylight would quickly drive them into oblivion. Or better yet, to hell.

Pain woke her. Her heart pounded, racing uncomfortably in her chest. She opened her eyes. Jasper knelt beside her, warm breath kissing her skin, his gaze burning with desire as he watched ... And sucked blood from her wrist.

Nikki screamed and tried to jerk her arm away. He held her still, his grip bruising as he drained her life away. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

As the realization of death hit her, he pulled away.

His razor-sharp teeth left her skin, and the hot ached eased. Smiling, still watching her every movement, he licked the remaining droplets away. His tongue danced sensually across her wrist, and the two small holes healed.

The horror of it filled every corner of her mind. It felt as if his depravity had somehow invaded her soul and left it stained. He laughed, white teeth gleaming, canines still tarnished by her blood. She closed her eyes, desperate to control the rising tide of hysteria. That's what he intended, what he wanted. It was just part of his tricks, part of his attempt to break her will.

She couldn't let him succeed. Not when Michael's life was at stake.

Jasper moved back to the bed. His bright gaze watched her steadily. There was no life, no emotion, in his eyes. It was almost as if becoming a vampire had robbed him of all humanity. And yet, she had an odd feeling that even when he had been alive, the look in his eyes would have been much the same.

She shifted uncomfortably on the cold floor, but her muscles were stiff and unresponsive. She still clasped her knees close to her chest, though the muscles along her thighs had long ago gone numb. While the protection it offered was only illusory, she didn't want her body exposed to this man.

"You have been missing for more than twenty-four hours. Do you think your lover is frantic yet?"

"He's not...” She stopped. What was the use? He'd never believe Michael and she were barely even friends, let alone lovers. Madness had control of his brain, and he refused to hear anything beyond the boundaries of what he believed to be true.

Jasper rested his forearms against his knees, face somehow more intense as he leaned forward. “He will suffer, as I suffered. And he will feel you die, as I felt my brother die."

His voice was flat, chilling in its lack of emotion. Yet his statement confused her. Why, if he was so desperate for psychic power, did he keep her alive? “I thought you wanted to get your hands on my abilities?"

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest move, asking a madman a question like that, but it was one she needed an answer to.

"I kill you now, and your lover will merely return you to death. There would be nothing to savor in such a situation."

Suddenly she understood. He thought them lovers, and wanted Michael to suffer the agony of the situation, of knowing she was a captive and yet not knowing what was being done to her. A good plan, had it not been for the fact she and Michael were little more than strangers.

Hell, Michael was probably sitting back right now wondering how to turn the situation to his advantage. She doubted if she'd waste more than a second or two in his thoughts.

Though he'd promised to keep her safe, and she had no doubt he would try and keep that promise.

"Why haven't you tried to hypnotize me again, then?” she asked after a moment. He'd come so close the first time.

"At the time, you were unaware and ripe for attack. Were it not for your lover, I would have had you. Right now, you would not be so easy a target, even with your mind so clouded. I have no wish to deplete my own reserves when fear and drugs can more easily break a spirit."

And the pain involved would give him more pleasure, she thought. He smiled, and fear curled in her stomach. There were a few too many teeth involved in that smile. She had to keep him talking. It was her only hope. Every second she could delay whatever plans he had for her was another second Michael had to find her.

"Was your brother a vampire, too?"

His gaze narrowed slightly. He knew what she was up to, yet she sensed he was prepared to play along. At least for a while.

"He was my twin. He was never strong, never certain about this gift of afterlife. He was an easy target. I've spent a long time tracking down his killer."

And probably a long time planning Michael's death. She moved her leg slightly, trying to ease the ache, but stopped when a hungry look flickered across his face. Holding still, she cleared her throat, trying to draw his attention away from her naked body. “Michael doesn't even know your name."

If he tasted her lie, he gave no sign of it.

"Then he will, before this is finished. And he will curse it long before he dies.” He rose and picked up the syringe. “I must go out. Your blood, intoxicating as it was, will not contain my needs."

He slid the needle into her thigh, and she bit back a yelp of pain. White fire flashed through her veins, and her pulse began to skip. Sweat broke out across her skin, though she felt chilled to the bone. The darkness began to move, began to moan and whisper ... And dancing images of every nightmare she'd ever suffered came to life in the night before her.

She closed her eyes, battling for sanity. It was only the drug. It wasn't real. Jasper's hand caressed her arm, his touch hot with desire. She shuddered, but didn't move. Didn't dare.

"Have fun, beautiful one."

His laughter rolled through the thickening night, stirring it into a passionate dance of madness.

"My name is Jasper Harding."

His voice broke the numbness. She flinched, holding her knees tighter, not moving. Sweat ran in rivulets down her body, despite the dense chill gripping the room. Every heartbeat was a shudder of fear.

The darkness writhed and danced with horrors unimaginable. They filled her with their madness, twisted her soul with their evil. She'd long ago given up telling herself it was only the drug. It was more than that now. He was back.

"Repeat it. Say my name."

She bit her tongue and ignored the urge to do as he asked. The darkness ran across her skin as lightly as a spider, scalding her.

"Repeat it, and the fear will go. Everything will go."

"NO!” She dropped her head to her knees and tried to deny the growing need to do as he asked. She'd rather face insanity.

Pain flared in her thigh. More drugs. She moaned and held her trembling legs tightly. She wouldn't give in. She wouldn't...

Her parents’ death replayed itself, over and over and over in the darkness. The look on their faces as they'd waved good-bye to her. The scream of metal as a runaway truck crushed them. Images of the twisted remains of the car entwined with blood and mangled body parts, none really distinguishable from the other.

Again and again she felt the caress of her mother's soul, her kiss of love, as she passed on.

She screamed and cried and denied the night's insistence they died because of her. Begged and pleaded for forgiveness, only to be mocked with vicious laughter.

And still the nightmare danced on.

Over and over she watched Tommy being beaten, her gaze hazy with the blood from a wound on her forehead. Unable to help him, her gifts useless with the pain pounding through her brain, she could only watch the three kids kick him.

Words mocked her. Her words, spoken the night before his death. A wish for his soul to be sent to hell. She cried a denial to the darkness. The words had been spoken in anger and fear, and never meant.

The night would not listen, and the madness danced on.

She heard the distant wail of the approaching police siren that frightened the thugs away. Suffered again the agonizing crawl towards Tommy. Felt the moment of his death as she held his bloody body in her arms, the touch of his soul as it passed on its journey towards eternal darkness.

Her curse, her fault. Over and over and over...

"Say my name."

The chant sang through her brain. She shook her head, the movement feeble. Everything ached—her head, her muscles, her heart. The night went on forever, and time became a frozen wasteland of madness.

Resist, resist. The weak litany overran his chant, helping her ignore it. Fire touched her leg, burned through her bloodstream.

The drug. Her heart shook with fear as the craziness danced in fevered delight.

"Jasper Harding."

The words were torn from her. She couldn't stop herself repeating his name, though her heart wept in bitter defeat.

The darkness stilled its dance. Sweet silence filled the void.

"Repeat it,” Jasper urged, elation running through his voice.

"Jasper Harding.” She croaked in reply. How long had she sat here? How long had she resisted the drug? It felt like forever, but it was probably little more than a day or so.

Fatigue trembled through every muscle, but that in itself told her little. Her head swam, though she wasn't sure if the cause was lack of food or the drug. Her throat was parched, and it hurt to swallow, let alone speak. Jasper would kill her if he weren't careful.

She studied the darkness wearily. She may have lost the battle, but not the war. Jasper couldn't guard her, or control her, twenty-four hours of every day. She'd beat him yet. If there was one thing she'd learned during her years with Tommy, it was that no matter how bad things seemed, you could never give up. Hope might only be a heartbeat away.

Jasper appeared out of the darkness, a presence she felt rather than saw. She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge him.

"Resistance is feeble,” he mocked quietly. “You are mine now."

She made no comment. The chill air caressed her sweaty flesh, making her feel colder than she'd ever thought possible.

"Open your eyes.” His voice took on a commanding tone. “Look at me."

She fought the order as hard as she could. Yet her head rose, her eyes met his. Tears tracked silently down her cheeks.

Monica stood behind him, her blue eyes full of hate. Behind them both, dawn's warm light danced through the shadows.

"Get the syringe."

Her pulse leaped at his command. Jasper laughed as Monica turned to do his bidding.

"This time we merely put you to sleep. You put up a long but useless battle, pretty one. We all need our rest."

Relief surged. At least the mad dance of nightmares was at an end. He stepped away as Monica knelt beside her. Motes of sunlight played across his flesh, raising red welts that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. She remembered Michael mentioning Jasper's lack of immunity to the sun, and wondered what time it was. Something told her it could be important.

"When we are all rested,” Jasper continued softly, “you will fully become mine."

She'd kill herself before she ever let him take her. But meeting his mocking gaze, she knew how futile the thought was. She had no means to fight him, for a start. The drugs they'd been pouring into her body still blocked her psychic gifts. And physically, she doubted if she'd pose a serious threat to even an ant right now.

"I shall enjoy taking your body, as I have enjoyed taking your mind."

The teenager jerked, and liquid sprayed across her leg. Nikki tensed, wondering if Monica realized ... the teenager met her gaze, her blue eyes dark with anger and hate. She glanced briefly at the needle, then back at Nikki. She knew it was almost empty. In her own strange way, Monica was offering a chance to escape.

But only because she feared losing the monster she called lover.

The teenager rose and threw the empty syringe on the shelf before joining Jasper on the bed. The arm she placed around his waist was possessive. Nikki wondered how much time the teenager had left—not much, if body language was anything to go by. Her gaze met Jasper's. Malice gleamed back at her.

"Has Michael told you his secret yet?"

Nikki closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear anything else from Jasper. But not because she feared more of his lies. No, this time she feared the truth.

"Michael is one of us,” Jasper said softly. “A creature of the night. A taker of blood."

"No.” The denial was torn from her. Yet she knew in her heart he spoke the truth. It explained the darkness she sensed in Michael, explained how alike he and Jasper were.

But Michael was not Jasper. Jasper laughed coldly. “Believe what you will, pretty one."

She ignored him, ignored the demons whispering doubts into her mind. It was just another game, nothing more. Sleepiness overtook her, and she welcomed its pull. She had to rest if she wanted the strength to escape and discover the truth.

Michael leaned wearily against the wall, impatiently watching the sun go down. For the last three days they'd followed every possible lead, yet had found no trace of Nikki or her captor. Everyone, even Monica and the zombies, seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth.

He touched the cross around his neck. The silver tingled against his skin and would, in time, burn him. He didn't care. It was Nikki's—all that he might ever be able to have of her.

He closed his eyes and reached again for the link. Darkness greeted him, a wall he could not traverse. At least she was still alive.

But until she was free of the chains holding her mind captive, there was little he could do to help her. Jasper had chosen his hiding place too well. It could take weeks to ferret him out. Indeed, the last time he had run for cover, it had taken Michael almost a year to track him down again. Nikki probably didn't have that much time left.

All he could do was wait until dusk and return to the hunt, however futile. He crossed his arms and continued to watch the late afternoon crowds rush past. A thick curtain of lace protected him from the main thrust of the afternoon's heat, but he didn't dare go any closer to the window. He wasn't suicidal.

Behind him, Jake paced the length of the office and swore into the telephone. It was a futile exercise. They both knew there was little the cops could do that the two of them hadn't already tried.

Hunger washed through him. He ignored it. There was no time to eat. The detour might mean the difference between finding some clue and not. He just couldn't take the risk.

He sighed and cast his gaze back to the skies. The day had been an appropriate one—wet and miserable. Only now did the sun begin to break the heavy blanket of clouds. He hoped it was a sign of better things to come.

Behind him, Jake slammed the phone down. “Damn those bastards."

"They're doing their best,” Michael said softly.

"Well, it's not good enough!"

Nothing was good enough, he thought in bleak agreement. Not the cop's efforts nor theirs. Nikki was still captive to evil, and God knows what he was doing to her ... He took a deep breath and shoved the thought away.

But he couldn't so easily escape the guilt. This was his fault. He should never have attempted to use her as bait. It had only led Jasper to believe she meant something to him. He was sure it was for that reason, more than the power of her gifts, that Jasper had gone after her. Though it was, perhaps, the only reason she was not yet dead.

Only now, when it didn't really matter, did Michael realize the fool he'd been.

"Damn it all, we should be out there ourselves.” Jake swung around and snatched his coat off the back of his chair. “I can't sit here any longer. I'm going to look for her."

"I cannot."

Jake turned to face him. “Why in hell not? I thought you cared for her!"

Michael clamped down on his temper. “Whether I do or not has no bearing on the matter. I simply cannot go outside."

"Why? Afraid of the sun or something?"

"Or something,” Michael muttered, then turned. It was not what he'd call an ideal time to be honest—but then, what time was? It would be so easy to just reach out and touch Jake's mind, make him trust—but he couldn't. Nikki would know.

"Jasper and I have one thing in common. We're both vampires. I'll die if I walk outside right now."

Jake stared wide-eyed at him. “You're kidding ... right?

"No. While I do not take human blood, I am a vampire."

"But ... you're standing in sunshine now."

"Diffused sunlight. Watch.” He reached forward, brushing aside the curtain to let the full force of the sun fall upon his arm. Instantly his skin began to turn red. He let the curtain drop back in place before the burn became too bad. “Because I have been on this earth a long time, I can stand some sunlight. Even so, if I went out there now, I'd only last ten minutes or so."

Jake leaned against his desk and ran a hand through his pale blonde hair. Michael could hear the struggle in his thoughts. Lord, it would be so easy to reach out ... He clenched his fists and waited.

"Does Nikki know?” Jake said after a moment.

It wasn't a question he'd expected. And though he could see fear in Jake's eyes, it wasn't the full-blown panic he'd half anticipated. “No. But I have no doubt Jasper will tell her."

"Hell of a way to find out.” He swallowed slightly. “You don't take human blood, you say?"

"No."

"Of course, I only have your word on that."

Michael returned his gaze evenly. “If I wanted to taste your blood, you wouldn't even have time to scream."

"Well, that's just great.” Jake shuddered, then ran a hand across the sandy stubble lining his chin. “In recent days I've seen zombies, and the dead walk from the morgue. I suppose it's not too much of a stretch to believe you're a vampire. Though I have to say, you don't act very vampire-like."

Michael raised an eyebrow. “And how many vampires have you met to make such a judgement?"

"Well, just Monica and Jasper, but I've seen countless Dracula movies."

"The Dracula legend was based on a man. It has very little to do with reality."

"Tell that to Monica and this Jasper of yours. They're pretty much matching the legend."

"Becoming a vampire did not make Jasper what he is today. His thirst for blood was evident well before his turning."

"But turning has made him more unkillable.” Jake hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why did he really snatch Nikki? To get back at you?"

"I believe so. He thinks I care for her—"

"Which you do."

"—and he wants to make me suffer before he kills us both."

"So you and Jasper have this personal vendetta happening, and Nikki and I were unlucky enough to get in the way."

Boiled down to basics, that just about summed it up. Michael rubbed his forehead, wondering again if all the years—and all the lives lost—were worth the effort of chasing Jasper.

Then he remembered his brother, Patrick, and his friend, Jenna. And people like Monica, who was by no means innocent and yet who had still deserved more than the path of death and destruction that Jasper's seduction and lies had led her to.

"As I said before, it's more than a personal vendetta. Jasper has to be stopped. It's my job to do it."

"Why?” Jake's gaze was shrewd. “You're not in this alone, are you?"

Both were questions he wasn't prepared to answer right now. Risking his life was one thing; risking the lives of his companions by revealing too much about their organization was another. Jasper was still loose, and Jake just might be next on the hit list. The less Jake knew, the better for them both.

"Sometimes it takes a vampire to hunt a vampire."

"In other words, mind my own business.” Jake flashed a toothy smile that held very little warmth. “I guess we wait, then. I hope you don't mind if I keep my distance. Being around a vampire might take a little getting used to."

Michael smiled. Jake was all right. No wonder Nikki depended on the man.

"I just feel so damn useless sitting here,” Jake continued with a sigh.

"We'll find her. Don't worry."

"Yeah, right."

The disbelief in Jake's voice annoyed him. Hope was the one thing they couldn't afford to lose. But the rebuke died on his tongue. It was fear that made Jake speak like that, a fear he could well understand.

An hour crawled by, then another. Night approached. Michael pushed away from the wall. At least now he could do something, instead of merely waiting.

Life suddenly sparked in the darkness of the link. He stiffened, reaching out swiftly. Turmoil, fear and confusion greeted him. Nikki didn't hear him, didn't acknowledge his presence.

It didn't matter. He knew where she was.

Jasper was a dead man.

Puddles of yellow light splashed across the floor but did little to take the chill from the room or her body. She'd watched the gentle progress of the sun for the last few hours, lethargy holding her immobile.

But time and daylight would not wait for her. She had to move, had to get out of here before the day disappeared. The sunlight's waning strength said it was already late afternoon. There was so little time left.

Gritting her teeth, she straightened out her right leg. Stiff muscles protested the movement, and her stomach churned. Head swimming, she gritted her teeth and slowly straightened her other leg.

Her arms were almost as difficult to move, stiff and leaden with cold. Her whole body felt numb with it, her skin icy to touch. But for the first time in ages, she felt stirrings of life in the void that had been her psychic gifts. Massaging her legs with stiff fingers, she glanced warily at the bed. Monica and Jasper lay still and silent, naked limbs entwined around each other. If they breathed, she couldn't see it.

But what interested her more was the door next to the bed. Until now, she hadn't even realized it existed. She bit her lip, then rolled over onto her hands and knees.

The effort sent the room into a swim. She took several deep breaths, her gaze never leaving the figures on the bed.

They didn't stir.

Slowly she turned and put her hands against the wall, using it for support as she stood.

No movement on the bed.

Sweat trickled down the side of her face. She turned around until her back was braced against the wall. Sick tension churned her stomach, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the padlock chaining the door closed. She lacked the time and energy for finesse; she hit the lock with all the psychic energy she could muster. It literally exploded, the noise reverberating around the room. She held her breath and watched the figures on the bed

Still no sign of movement. Maybe they were playing with her, toying with her hopes like a cat with a mouse. She had a sudden vision of reaching the door only to have Jasper reach out and grab her, destroying her last hope of freedom.

It would be the ultimate trick. The last straw. And there was nothing she could do but take the risk.

Her legs were like rubber. Every step she took felt like a mile. She kept her gaze on Jasper and prayed he didn't move.

She reached the door and pushed it open. Beyond lay the steep ascent of stairs. Her prison, and their home, was a cellar of some kind.

Gripping the handrail, she dragged herself upward. The ache in her leg muscles became a scream, and it seemed to take forever to reach the top. When she reached the final step, she collapsed, bruising her knees and battling to catch her breath.

After a few precious seconds, she rose and staggered on, finding herself in a kitchen. Dust covered the mess time and vandals had caused. If the thickness of the dirt was any indication, the house had been abandoned for years.

Her hopes of quick rescue plummeted. She walked on, skirting shattered glass and smashed floorboards, seeking an exit. She had to hurry. Exhaustion was a huge wall threatening to topple her over.

In the next room she discovered her clothes and shoes, thrown haphazardly in a corner. Her cross wasn't among her clothes—not that it mattered. Jasper had shown no fear of it when he'd ripped it from her neck.

She stopped long enough to throw on her jacket and jeans, and slip on her shoes. The rest she left. Time was moving, and so must she.

Panic crept past her guard and filled her limbs with energy. She ran down the corridor, no longer caring about the noise she made. The front door loomed before her—locked. She pushed with kinetic energy. The door exploded outward with enough noise to wake the dead.

She felt the urge to laugh insanely, and she clamped down on it hard. Madness was no escape—and of no use to her now.

Her eyes watered against the sudden glare of bright sunlight. She threw up a hand to protect them and staggered on. It didn't really matter where she ran, as long as it was away from the house and its occupants.

Stones scurried from under her feet. The harsh sound of traffic assaulted her ears. Blinking rapidly, she recognized shops, a mall milling with people. Safety. Jasper wouldn't find her in such a crowd. Wouldn't dare kidnap her with so many witnesses.

Wouldn't have to, when all he had to do was call her name...

Heart pounding unevenly, she ran, desperate to get lost in the evening crowds and the safe oblivion they offered her mind.

Dusk began to streak the sky with crimson sheets. She reeled like a drunkard and smacked into an old man. His curse followed her as she staggered on. She had to keep going, had to escape, before he came after her.

"Nikki!"

Her heart stopped. Oh lord, he'd found her! Without looking back, she ran on. Somehow, Jasper had found her. Terror lent her feet wings.

Nikki!

The shout reverberated through her. She bit back a cry of terror. He was after her. She had to keep on running.

Stop! Nikki, watch it...

A screech of tires filled her ears. Too late she became aware of the road, the traffic, and the red car rushing upon her.

She tried to dodge, but the car hit her. Agony exploded as oblivion swept in.