Nikki leaned against the patio railing and stared moodily at the distant mountains. Half an hour had passed since she'd left Michael, half an hour that had stretched like eternity. She so desperately wanted to go down there, to meet the woman he'd loved enough to give up life for. Yet she couldn't. If she was to have any hope of holding his affections, holding him, she had to trust him. Even if it meant she risked losing him.

He loved her. He might not want her in his life, but he loved her. Of that much she was certain. And she was certain, too, that under normal circumstances, he was not the type of man who gave his heart then roamed once he had.

But did normal rules apply when the woman in question was the vampire who had turned him? How much of a hold did this Elizabeth still have on his mind, his affections?

She bit her lip, then pushed away from the railing and went back inside the room. She couldn't stay here any longer. The same questions had been going around and around in her brain and were driving her crazy. She needed to do something, anything, to get her mind off what might be happening in the bar below.

Looking for Matthew was out. There was no way on this Earth she was going down into those tunnels alone—not at night, anyway. And if Rodeman was a captive down there as well, then he too would just have to wait.

She headed to her bag and dug out the bra belonging to MacEwan's niece. She'd had no real sense of direction from the few readings she'd taken, but maybe, if she concentrated enough, she might be able to get some hint of Rachel's location. And if it was down in those tunnels with the other two, then she might just raid the minibar and get plastered. Better that than sitting here letting her imagination go crazy.

She sat down on the plush leather sofa and opened the plastic bag. Holding the silken wisp of material in her hand, she closed her eyes and reached deep.

Images came, muted flashes of color and sound. She frowned, trying to focus on the where rather than the what. The images had a slight sense of distance—Rachel wasn't in the hotel, or the tunnels, but she was still somewhere nearby. Music swam around her, country music, alive with the sound of thumping feet. Boot scooting, she thought. Laughter mingled with the twang of guitars, accompanied by the melody of many voices. She reached deeper ... and suddenly she was with Rachel, becoming one with her thoughts and her actions...

The room was crowded, and the air a putrid mix of sweat and beer and lust. The scents rolled over her, churning her already agitated stomach. The heat was intense, washing in waves across her skin, as intoxicating as the echoing sound of a hundred hearts, all beating a rhythm only she could hear.

Her canines lengthened in anticipation. She kept to the shadows lining the edges of the room, looking for someone solitary, someone who wouldn't be missed.

He had taught her that much, at least.

Fear trembled across her skin. He wouldn't be happy that she was here. She rubbed her arms. She needed to eat so badly it was an ache burning through her stomach. She couldn't survive on his meagre rations any longer. She needed more.

In the deeper shadows near the band she saw a man watching the crowd and drinking a beer. There was loneliness in his thoughts and his eyes. His heartbeat was rich and strong, a siren's song that made her mouth water. Perfect.

She walked up to him. His pulse rate increased, and excitement lit his thoughts. She led him onto the dance floor, ignoring the ache, the need. Waiting heightened the thrill, the anticipation of the kill.

They danced. She tasted the sweat glistening on his neck, felt the rapid beat of his pulse under her tongue. Could feel his excitement pressing against her stomach as he pulled them together. Time, she thought, time.

She let him lead her outside. He took her to a truck and touched her, kissed her, loved her. Excitement thrummed. She waited, holding back, until he was deep inside, the waves of release shuddering through him. Then she took him, tasting his blood, draining his life, and relishing his shock and the realization of death, letting it wash over her until her own body shuddered in glorious release, and he was nothing more than a lifeless corpse beneath her.

But the hunger still stirred, as yet unsated. It had been too long. She adjusted her dress and walked back to the bar. Where there was one, there would be more...

...Nikki dropped the bra and scrambled to her feet, running for the bathroom. The next few minutes she spent hanging over the toilet, throwing up what little dinner she'd managed to eat.

When there was no more to lose, she slid down the wall, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. God, what was that? How was it possible that she could suddenly immerse herself so completely in another's mind that she felt every damn sick craving and desire as if it were hers? Her stomach churned, threatening to rise again. She wished she had something to wash the bitter taste from her mouth, yet still felt too weak to get up and get some water.

"Nikki?"

Michael's voice rose out of the silence, soft yet filled with concern. Wishful thinking, she thought. Surely he was still in the bar, with her.

"Nikki?” he repeated, voice and concern sharper.

Suddenly he was beside her, his fingers pressing warmth into her cheeks as he held her face. “What's wrong?"

She opened her eyes. He knelt next to her, eyes rich with worry. She touched his lips with her fingertips, trailing them down his chin and neck and pressing them against his chest. His heart beat a rhythm that could only be described as erratic for a vampire. He was definitely real, not some ghost her fevered imagination had brought into being.

"Damn it, woman, will you answer me?"

Her gaze jumped to his. The concern is his eyes was so strong she might have named it fear in anyone else. “I'm okay. I just need a drink."

He fetched a glass of water and sat beside her on the floor. His arm brushed against hers, and warmth pulsed through her body, erasing the chill.

"What happened?” he asked.

She rinsed her mouth with the water and spat it out in the toilet. “I tried tracing the whereabouts of MacEwan's niece."

"And?"

He didn't sound surprised. Maybe she was becoming predictable. “And I not only found her, but became a part of her.” She shuddered and took a hasty gulp of water, half wishing it was something stronger. “She's hunting, Michael. I was with her when she fed."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her toward him. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the steadying beat of his heart. She felt so safe, it was almost scary.

"You should have pulled out sooner.” He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “If you don't, you run the danger of losing yourself in the other person's desires."

She glanced up at him. There was a smudge of red on his cheek. Lipstick, from a kiss. This close, she could smell the other woman's perfume, a sickly-sweet scent reminiscent of orange and honey. But he was here, not with her, and for now, that was all that mattered.

"But why is this happening now? Is it some sort of fallout from you sharing your life force?"

"No. It's an ability you've always had.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ears.

Her skin tingled from his touch, and her heart began to accelerate. Deep inside, a familiar ache began. One she had no choice but to ignore. They didn't have the time. Or rather, Rachel's next victim didn't. “But it's something I've never been able to do until recently."

He raised an eyebrow. “Think about what you do. Psychometry is the ability to pull images of past events from certain objects, is it not?"

She nodded.

"But that is not what you do, is it? You use the objects to pull images from the present, to see where the owners are or what they are doing. Not strictly psychometry, more a light mind-meld, using the object in hand as a link."

Put like that, he was right. She'd never thought about it before. “But why is it showing up now?"

"It's probably a result of the mind-meld we did to find Jake. Up until then, you hadn't realized the full extent of your capabilities."

Another shudder ran through her. Touching someone's mind so intimately that she felt their needs and desires wasn't a capability she wanted. “We have to stop Rachel. And we have to stop her tonight, before she kills anyone else. But we can't kill her. Something strange is going on with her."

He rose, then pulled her up as well. “We may have no option.” He tugged her so close their bodies molded against each other, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “Have I ever mentioned the fact that you smell delicious?"

She grinned. “Even when I've been throwing my guts up in the toilet?"

"Even then,” he said and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Let's go capture this vampire of yours."

Right then, with her lips still tingling from his brief kiss and his arms around her waist so tight it felt as if he would never let her go, moving was the last thing she wanted to do. But move she had to if she wanted to stop Rachel killing again.

She sighed. “We'll have to rent a car. She's in Jackson Hole."

"The hotel has cars available for guests. It shouldn't be a problem getting one.” He released her waist and caught her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. “But just remember, we may have no choice but to kill her. She's newly turned and probably not what you'd call rational."

Nikki grabbed the bra as they headed out of the room, stuffing it quickly into her pocket. “But that's it,” she said. “Rachel wasn't acting like Monica. She hungered, but not insatiably so. She took the time to seduce this guy, let him make love to her, and didn't eat until he'd finished.” And had become orgasmic while doing so.

A chill raced across her skin. Maybe it was too late to save Rachel—if saving her had ever been an option.

He frowned. “Not the normal behavior of a fledgling."

"If Monica was a sample of normal behavior, then no."

They reached the concierge and made arrangements to rent a car. Five minutes later they were cruising toward Jackson Hole in a small sedan.

"Where to?” Michael asked as they approached the welcoming warmth of lights.

She wrapped her hand around the bra. Images teased her mind, lust and hunger mingled with rising excitement. Rachel had found her next victim.

She licked her lips. “Take the next left, then cruise down the street until you see a bar with lots of pickup trucks parked out the front."

He turned left and slowed. The bar was halfway along the street. He parked, and they both climbed out. The breeze tugged at her hair, whipping strands across her face. She pushed them back, studying the building across the road. It looked like a leftover from the eighteen hundreds, a big, old, ramshackle construction that should have had horses lined up out front rather than trucks. Music and laughter ran across the night, and the breeze was heavy with the scents of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Michael glanced at her. “Ready?"

Ready to maybe kill another human being? No, she thought. Never. She took a deep breath. Rachel wasn't human anymore, and the longer she stood here hesitating, the more chance there was that people would die.

"You can stay in the car, Nikki. You don't have to do this."

She grimaced slightly. “I owe this much to MacEwan.” Because he would want to know the truth of what happened, and would sense a lie.

Michael nodded and held out his hand. She wrapped her fingers in the heat of his, yet felt no safer for it. A chill crept down her back, spreading ice through her veins. The night air seemed suddenly heavy, thick with the scent of evil.

The same evil she'd sensed out in the field before the flame imps had attacked her.

"Something's here."

His gaze searched the darkness around them. “Yes. Come on, let's get inside and find Rachel."

He hurried her across the street and into the bar. Heat and smoke hit them the minute they opened the door, so thick they could almost carve it. Music thumped, and people stomped in time, the noise so loud it seemed to vibrate through her entire being. She coughed, her eyes watering as she looked around. The place was crowded, and it was hard to move without brushing against someone. It wasn't going to be easy finding Rachel.

"Maybe we should split up.” She glanced up at Michael. He was frowning, staring at the darkness that hovered near the band. Fear thrust through her. “What's wrong?"

He looked at her, his eyes midnight pools that held no emotion. Michael at his most dangerous. She rubbed her arms briskly, but the chill in her bones had seeped into her soul. It felt as if she'd never be warm again.

"There's a man cloaking himself with magic in the far corner of the room.” He squeezed her fingers, then let her go. “Stay here while I investigate."

"But what about—” She stopped. He had become one with the smoky darkness, and she was talking to nothing more than air. Cursing softly, she thrust a hand in her pocket and walked down the steps. Rachel was here somewhere. Someone had to stop her, and it might as well be her. A vampire who was little more than a fledgling she could cope with—hopefully.

The heat and noise seemed more intense on the dance floor. She pushed her way through the sweating mass of people, ignoring the curses or snide remarks, absently swiping away the hands that pinched or touched her.

In the middle of it all she saw a woman with strawberry blonde hair dancing with a tall, gangly young man. Rachel and her next victim. She was rubbing her pelvis against his, licking his neck and tasting his sweat, as she had with her last victim. Nikki's stomach turned. Death was a shadow grinning in anticipation over the young man's shoulder.

A hand grabbed hers, spinning her away. Nikki yelped and lashed out kinetically. A cowboy went flying, a surprised looked on his face.

"Hey, he only wanted to dance,” a woman wearing a floral shirt said. “You could have just said no."

"He could have asked first,” she muttered and spun around, looking for Rachel. The man was leading her toward a side exit.

She cursed and pushed through the dancers. Michael? He didn't respond. Maybe the link didn't work when he was little more than a shadow. She continued anyway, just in case he was listening but not answering. Rachel's heading out the side exit with her next victim. I'm going after her.

Silence shimmered down the line. Frowning and wondering what he was doing, she bounded up the steps and out the side door.

Rachel and her next meal were heading around the back of the building. Nikki closed the door, then hurried after them. The wind slapped against her as she came out of the building's protection. She hesitated, scanning the darkness, until she found them. The young man was fiddling with his keys, trying to open the door of a white van. No time, she thought and broke into a run.

Her footsteps echoed across the night. Rachel spun. Moonlight gleamed off her canines as she snarled. Nikki slid to a stop, energy dancing across her fingertips.

"Let him go, Rachel. You've had all you're going to get tonight, I'm afraid."

Rachel looked her up and down, a slight sneer touching her blood red-lips. “Who do you think you are, telling us what we can do? We can break you as easily as a twig."

"I think you're overestimating your vampire abilities.” Nikki glanced at the gangly young man. His eyes were wide, his gaze flicking between the two of them, as if trying to decide whether he should be scared or not. “Run, while you still can."

"Crazy. Both of you.” He backed away several steps then turned and ran.

Rachel leapt after him. Nikki hit her with kinetic energy, holding her still. She screamed in frustration, twisting and kicking in an effort to be free. Sweat trickled down Nikki's forehead, but her net held.

Finally, Rachel stopped moving and contented herself with glaring. “You will pay for this."

Nikki crossed her arms, trying to ward off a deepening chill. The scent of evil was beginning to saturate the night breeze again. It was coming here. Coming for Rachel. “No. You will. MacEwan sent me here, Rachel."

Surprise ran briefly through the other woman's eyes. “How did he know we were here?"

"That doesn't matter. What does is the fact he knows what you are. He knows what you are capable of. He will kill you if you continue down this path."

"He will never find us.” She shrugged. “And you will be dead the minute you release me."

Nikki frowned. Surely such confidence was out of place in a vampire only a few months old. Something was wrong. “Who is the man you refer to as he in your thoughts?"

Fear touched Rachel's expression, darkening her blue eyes. She licked her lips. “How do you know about him?"

"He's here, Rachel. Looking for you."

It was only a guess, but terror replaced the fear, contorting the young vampire's face.

"You have to let us go. Please. We can't stay with him. He makes us do things.” She wrung her hands, shifting from one foot to the other, her whole body quivering with the need to run.

Nikki bit her lip, battling for the strength to keep the leash intact. An all too familiar ache began in her brain. Sweat trickled faster down her face. “Tell me about him, then."

"We can't."

She frowned. Why was Rachel continually referring to herself as we rather than I? It was odd—especially given Ginger spoke in much the same manner ... Nikki stared at the young vampire in sudden realization. When she'd searched earlier this afternoon for Rachel, she felt heat, sorrow, and chains made of words. A flame imp had been bound in the young vampire's body. She shivered. What sort of monster cared so little for life that he destroyed two at a time?

"Then we wait for the man who comes,” Nikki warned, though it was the last thing she really wanted to do. Still, Rachel didn't know that.

"He's evil,” Rachel said, her voice little more than a desperate hiss.

"But does he have a name? What does he look like?"

"He is called Randolf Cordell. He is tall, with blonde hair and green eyes. Now let us go."

It sounded like the man she'd seen in those first visions, the man who had turned Rachel. Was their magician also a vampire? “Why is he using the flame imps? Why is he forcing them into the bodies of others?"

Rachel spat. “We don't know, do we?"

The sense of evil was a blanket threatening to smother her. Across the silence, she heard a door open. He was coming their way.

She couldn't stay here, nor could she let Rachel go. And she couldn't hold the kinetic net for much longer. Nikki bit her lip, knowing there was only one real option. Gathering what was left of her energy, she thrust Rachel back, smashing her skull against the car. The vampire slumped, her weight tearing at the net. Pain shot through Nikki's head. Blinking against the sting of tears, she released the kinetic cage and ran forward. Though unconscious, Rachel's pulse was as steady and as strong as a vampire's ever got. She hadn't really hurt her then. Good.

She rose and scanned the parking lot. There was a Dumpster near the back fence. Perhaps she could find something there to restrain Rachel—at least until Michael got here to help her.

She grabbed the young vampire's hands and began dragging her. The wind chilled the sweat dripping down her cheeks and back, and the sense of evil was so thick she could barely breathe.

It seemed to take hours to reach the bin. Her arm, leg and back muscles were all protesting fiercely by the time she got there. She leaned Rachel against some boxes that had fallen from the bin, then thrust a hand through her sweat-tangled hair and scanned the night. No sound, no movement. The sense of evil was unmoving, as if he too stood listening.

The flame imp in Rachel, she thought suddenly. They'd told her that he couldn't see them, that he could only sense their power. That's what he'd been following. When she'd knocked out Rachel, she'd also knocked out the flame imp, and the man Rachel had called Randolf Cordell had lost all sense of them.

But if he was a vampire, he only had to come around the corner, and he'd find them. Her heart was a rapid drumbeat that would call him toward them.

She stepped over Rachel and peeked inside the Dumpster. Luck was with her. The bin was not only filled with boxes but used packing tape as well. She grabbed as much of it as she could reach, then quickly wrapped it around Rachel's feet and hands. For good measure, she wound some around the vampire's mouth.

Then she squatted next to her, listening to the wind moan through the trees behind them. The sense of evil was still stationary, still centered on the left-hand alley. Why didn't he move? What was going on?

Pain hit her then, pain so fierce it burned through her brain and knocked her sideways. She gasped, holding her chest, feeling as if she'd just been hit by truck.

Only it wasn't her pain.

It was Michael's.