The sound of the suite door clicking shut woke Nikki. She peeked out from under the comforter, watching Michael carry a tray of croissants, fruit and coffee over to the table. He'd pulled on some jeans but wore no shirt, and the warm morning light played lovingly across his well-muscled chest and stomach. He had good skin color, considering how little he saw of the sun.

"Are you getting up?” He flipped the cups right-side up and poured two coffees.

She yawned and stretched. She felt like a cat, all warm and contented and full. But that didn't mean she couldn't do with more. Especially when the meal in question was standing a few yards away, looking mighty sexy in tight-fitting jeans. “That depends."

"On what?” He watched her over the rim of his steaming coffee mug, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"On whether you're intending to bring that coffee over to me.” Not that she intended to drink the coffee once he'd bought it over. What she wanted was him in bed with her.

"Not a chance.” Grin widening, he sat down. “You need to get out of bed, because we need to talk."

"That sounds ominous."

"It is. The coffee is delicious, by the way, and getting colder by the minute."

"Never tease someone who hasn't yet had their first morning cup. It could get ugly."

"I can handle ugly."

But he hadn't yet seen her in a coffee deprived fit. Even Jake quailed. She thrust the covers aside and wandered over to the table. She didn't bother dressing. Their room was isolated enough, and it wasn't cold. And after last night, he probably knew her body better than she did. She smiled. Besides, there was something deliciously wanton, almost erotic, about parading around without any clothes on—especially when his gaze all but devoured her.

He cleared his throat. “If you intend coming to breakfast dressed like that all the time, I'll definitely have to keep you around."

"Play your cards right, and I just might stay.” She grinned and sat down next to him. “What do you want to talk about?"

His gaze ran over her, stirring heat where it touched. Her nipples hardened, aching for his caress. Whatever he wanted to talk about, he'd better make it quick, because she fully intended to do for him what he'd done for her last night—and she didn't think she had the strength to hold off touching him for much longer.

She picked up her coffee and sipped it. It felt cold when compared to the heat already burning through her body. She glanced sideways at him, a teasing smile on her lips. “You did say you wanted to talk, didn't you?"

He cleared his throat again. “Well, yes. Why don't you go put a robe on so I'm not so distracted?"

"Can't do that, because I'm enjoying distracting you. So say what you have to say.” She already knew what it was, could tell by the cautious feel to the link. He was going to tell her to leave.

Only what he said first wasn't exactly what she'd expected.

"Elizabeth was outside our room last night. Watching us. Waiting for me to leave you alone."

Fear stirred her stomach. She took another sip of coffee. “Why?"

"To understand that, you must know a little about Elizabeth herself."

The last thing she wanted right now was a discussion about his ex. Talk about a mood killer. “I understand that she's a nut who likes little boys. What more do I need to know?” How old was Michael when she'd turned him? He hadn't been as young as Matthew, that much was for certain.

"I was twenty-seven, Nikki. An old man in my time."

She hesitated. “Married? Kids?"

He shook his head. “Neither. I worked my family's farm."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Why?” From the little she knew of the sixteenth century, people married early and died young. It was rare for a man to be single at sixteen, let alone twenty. Twenty-seven was old-age material.

He smiled and trailed his fingers down her cheek, gently outlining her lips. “I never met anyone I truly loved and wanted to raise children with."

"So Elizabeth's hunger for virgins is what drove her to you?” She opened her mouth, gently sucking on his fingers.

Embers flared, breathing heat through the link.

"Yes,” he said softly. “And I, mistaking lust for love, followed her into darkness."

"Can't be sad about that,” she said. “Because that's what brought you here to me."

"True.” He reached across to the tray and grabbed a croissant. Tearing it into pieces, he began feeding her. “And you, my love, are what I hungered to find all those years ago."

She sighed softly. He could say words like that forever, because she would certainly never tire of hearing them. Each time he fed her a piece of croissant, she ran her tongue across his fingertips or gently sucked them. The embers became a fire, and the heat burned them both. God, she wanted to touch him so badly she ached. But not yet. And even when she did, she would tease him as he had teased her last night.

"That doesn't explain why she was watching us,” she said, once she'd eaten the final piece of croissant. “Neither of us are exactly virgins anymore."

"No.” He paused, reaching for an apple and a knife. “What Elizabeth likes more than virgins is domination. She likes total control."

He peeled the apple and fed her a sliver. She sucked it slowly into her mouth, her gaze on his. Saw him swallow. Hard.

"What has domination got to do with you or—” She hesitated, fear washing through her. “She can't still dominate you, can she?"

God, wouldn't that be the mother of all ironies? To finally have Michael admit he needed her in his life, only to have it snatched away by the bitch who'd turned him.

She shoved the thought from her mind. Michael didn't seem too worried about that prospect, so neither should she.

He continued feeding her the apple. “Elizabeth and I have always had a somewhat uneasy relationship. She has never truly controlled me, and I think in many ways, she enjoyed the challenge I presented. I think that's probably why I survived my years under her care. I was a battlefield not yet won."

"Overconfidence goes before a fall, you know."

He smiled. “Yes. But as you are in life, so you are in unlife. I wasn't like most of her other fledglings. I was a quiet farmer, relatively content with my lot. Most of her other fledglings ran with danger in life and, therefore, enjoyed the harvest of death that turning provided. I did not, and that was something she could never change."

But she'd tried, if the edge in his voice was anything to go by. “What have her domination fantasies got to do with you and me?"

"It's nothing personal. Whenever a fledgling she had not yet grown tired of found pleasure in another woman's arms, she caught, tortured and killed that woman—and forced that fledgling to watch."

"A true charmer,” Nikki murmured, chilled. “I gather then that she intends to try doing this with me."

"I'm still a challenge to her.” He placed the knife and apple on the table and cupped a hand against her cheek, pressing warmth into her cheekbones. “But I promise you, she will never get near enough to hurt you."

She believed him. He'd made a similar promise with Jasper and had almost died keeping it. But she also knew part of that promise involved getting her to leave the resort—something she had no intention of doing.

Time for some extra distraction, perhaps. “Lift your hips."

He raised an eyebrow but did as she requested. She glanced down at his jeans and narrowed her gaze, concentrating. Power slid around her, around him. His zipper came down, and then she tugged his jeans from his body. She kinetically tossed them back toward the bed.

"I am trying to have a serious discussion here."

"Oh, I know.” She straddled his lap. The hard length of him, still contained by the silk of his shorts, pressed against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lightly kissed his lips. “By all means, do continue."

This close, she could hear the thunder of his heart, a rhythm that matched her own. She began to rock her hips back and forth, gently rubbing him. He jerked, then groaned.

"Even the Man of Steel would have trouble concentrating right now."

He touched her breasts, teasing her already aching nipples. She bit her lip then caught both his hands, placing them behind him.

"No touching. But do continue."

He swallowed heavily. “Now that Elizabeth knows what you mean to me, she will bide her time and attack when we least expect it. We cannot risk that, not with Cordell so close."

She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest. Slowly, she ran her tongue up his neck and nibbled his ear. “It's going to take two of us to defeat Cordell, and you know it."

"Maybe.” His breath was hot and quick against her cheek. “But I want you out of the firing line. I want you to leave."

She trailed tiny kisses across his cheeks. “No,” she whispered against his lips. Then she kissed him deeply, giving him no time to respond.

They were both panting by the time she pulled away. She ached for him, ached so fiercely it was almost painful. He throbbed against her—so close, and yet so far. She continued to rock gently, teasing them both. Deep down, the quivering began.

"Oh, God, Nikki.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “If you stay here, she will come after you. Cordell is the important one. He's the one we have to stop."

She ran a hand down his stomach, then lifted her hips slightly. “You're wrong, Michael.” She caught his boxers, pulling them out of the way and freeing him. “It was Elizabeth who took Matthew. It was Elizabeth who sucked his mind dry then spat him out. We have to stop them both."

He was trembling, his whole body hot with urgency. She didn't give him what he wanted—what she wanted—but continued rocking, covering him with her slickness.

"I made a promise, too, Michael. I told the flame imps I would try to stop Cordell. I don't intend to back away from that promise now."

"I'll fulfill your promise. This is what I do for a living. This is exactly what I don't want you involved in."

"I was involved in this case before you came to see me in the office. I have to see the end of it—for Jake, for Matthew, and for MacEwan."

The trembling was growing, becoming a tide threatening to overload her senses. She rubbed harder, heard his response—a quick, sharp gasp. Could feel him quivering and knew he was battling for control.

"Matthew's dead,” he somehow ground out. “And Rachel's receiving the help she needs. Your part in this has ended. Go home. Be safe."

"I'm safe when you're safe, and I can't...” hold off any more. The tide washed over her. She gasped, grabbing his shoulders as the shuddering took hold. Needing him inside, she shifted, capturing him, thrusting him deep. Then she rode him fast and hard, until his tremors finally eased and they both were spent.

She leaned her cheek against his chest and sighed deeply. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place. Holding himself inside her. It felt good. Safe.

Which she knew they weren't.

After a while, he brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Make love to me like that every day, and you're halfway to making me a very happy woman."

His smile was something she felt deep inside. “And what would it take to make you wholly happy?"

"Coffee. Lots of it. Preferably fed intravenously."

His laughter rumbled through his chest, tickling her cheek. “For someone in such desperate need of coffee, you didn't seem to drink a lot of it this morning."

"I had other things on my mind.” She pushed upwards far enough to see his face. “So what's our next move?"

He brushed the hair from her eyes, his face concerned. “There's nothing I can say to make you go?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and stared into his beautiful eyes. The sheer depth of love and understanding she saw there chased a shiver through her soul.

"No,” she said softly. “And don't think you can force me—telepathically or physically. I'll fight you, with all my heart and all my energy. Neither of us can afford such a battle, with Cordell and Elizabeth so close."

"It wouldn't be wise,” he agreed.

His hands cupped her rear, pulling her a little closer. Amazingly, she felt him stir deep inside. “Good lord, are you kidding? Does becoming a vampire also give you an amazing rate of recovery after sex?"

He kissed her, his mouth gently demanding. “No,” he said, after a while. “The touch of a good woman does that."

"Smooth, real smooth,” she said, laughing against his lips. “What about Cordell and Elizabeth?"

"We can't do anything until Cordell is asleep. He's not that old in vampire years, so he will have no choice but to slumber. If we wait until noon, we should at least be safe from him."

But not safe from Elizabeth, she suspected. Still, confronting them one at a time seemed a hell of a lot more sensible that confronting both of them together. “We really should try to find Rodeman, as well."

"Yes. Most of the other men who disappeared were gone a good week before they were found. Rodeman only disappeared yesterday. Hopefully, Cordell hasn't had the time to fully begin work on him."

"Sounds like a plan to me.” She grinned slightly. “So what do you suggest we do in the meantime? Partake in a wildflower tour? Go see some wildlife?"

His reply was little more than a growl. “The only wildlife I'm currently interested in is the one sitting so snugly on my lap."

He pressed his hands more firmly against her rear, then rose. She gasped slightly and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Besides,” he added, his lustful look melting her insides. “We are supposed to be newlyweds. The staff will suspect something is wrong if we get up too early."

"Heaven forbid we do anything to destroy our cover,” she murmured. Even though little more than ten minutes had passed, she so desperately wanted him to touch her again—something she had never thought possible so soon after such fulfillment. “I guess you'd better do the husbandly thing, then."

"I guess I'd better.” He took her over to the bed and made her boneless again.

Nikki checked her flashlight. Water fogged the glass, but the light itself worked. Which was good. Something told her this time she would need it.

She slipped it into her pocket then walked over to the table. Michael was unwrapping a small parcel. “What's that?"

"Present from Seline.” He tore open the box and held up two braided rope bracelets. “Charms to stop Cordell doing to us what he did to Rachel and Ginger."

He slipped one over her hand and pushed it up her arm so that even if she pushed up the sleeves of her cotton sweater, it wouldn't be seen. It felt like silk against her skin, despite the harsh look of the interwoven red, brown and gold cord. “How is rope supposed to stop him?"

He slid the second charm up his arm until it was hidden under the sleeve of his shirt, then shrugged. “I don't question her magic, I just let it protect me. And it always has."

"Cool.” She'd have to meet this Seline one day. She sounded like an incredible woman. “Which entrance are we using into the caverns?"

"I think they'd be watching the one we used last night. We'll have to risk the office entrance."

She frowned. “But that's alarmed."

"Yes. I'll have to dismantle it first. But I also want to go past Cordell's office and act like we're going to break into it.” He ushered her toward the door.

She frowned. “But his office is sure to be monitored."

"Exactly. And it'll provide a nice distraction if he is still up and around.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close as they strolled down the hall. “See those security cameras?"

She glanced up. Little black boxes were evenly spaced along the ceiling. She hadn't even noticed them until now. “What about them?"

"I want you to kinetically take out all the ones near Cordell's office."

She frowned. “Won't that bring security running?"

"Yes. When we get near his office, I want you to bust open his door. There'll be some sort of sensor in the frame—take that out, too."

She raised an eyebrow. “And maybe take out a computer or two as well? Give him something extra to worry about?"

He squeezed her shoulders. “The more worried he is, the better it is for us."

They were nearing Cordell's office. She looked up. Four cameras were trained on his door. The guy was definitely a nut case. Why would anyone in their right mind think they needed four cameras and an alarmed door? His office wasn't Fort Knox, for Christ's sake.

She shook her head and reached for kinetic energy. Glancing at the first camera, she ripped it sideways. Plaster flew in a cloud, raining down on a couple coming the other way. The woman screamed and jumped backwards, her eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling. Nikki quickly repeated the process, until all four cameras swung limply from their wiring.

Now the door, Michael said.

She glanced at it sideways and pushed hard. The door flew off its hinges and smashed into two computers at the far end of the office. Sparks and glass flew everywhere. There was wiring running along one edge of the door frame. She ripped it free, tossing the strands back into the room with the door.

Men in blue suits came running from all directions. Power surged, burning her skin and spreading like a wave through the corridor. The other couple were grabbed by security, but no one came near them. It was as if they didn't exist.

She glanced at Michael. Maybe they didn't.

They walked on. There was a different woman manning the health center desk, but like the guards in the corridor, she gave no indication that she even saw them. They hurried past her. It was only when they were nearing the treatment rooms that the wash of energy slipped away.

Only to be replaced by the burning sensation of evil.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Her stomach tied itself into knots. She stopped, looking around. The corridor was quiet—still. The lighting had been dimmed in this section of the health center, and shadows haunted the far corners. But nothing lurked within them, waiting to attack. Whatever it was she sensed, it was coming from the treatment room. From the door itself.

The door Michael was reaching out to open.

"No!” She thrust him away kinetically. He hit the wall opposite with a grunt, then slid to an ungainly heap to the floor. She ran to help him.

"I gather you have a good reason for doing that,” he said, rubbing a hip as he climbed to his feet. “But next time, try to give me a little more warning."

"Sorry. Something's wrong with the door handle.” It was stupid, really, being so afraid of something as inane as a door handle, but she couldn't help it.

"Wrong how?” He stopped a foot or so away from the door and studied it intently.

"It's evil.” She stopped beside him. This close, she could see the slight shimmer surrounding the doorknob.

She half expected him to laugh, but he didn't. “Magic,” he murmured. “But what sort?"

"I don't know, and I don't care to find out. I think we'd be better off using the other entrance."

He squatted on his heels. “If they're using magic to guard this door, then the other will also have security. Go fetch me that chair, will you?"

He pointed vaguely down the corridor. She did as he asked. “What are you going to do?” She put the chair next to him.

"This.” He rose and nudged the chair with his foot, pushing it toward the handle.

The back of the chair hit the doorknob. For an instant, nothing happened. Then something screamed, a high pitched wail that chased goose bumps across her flesh. Nothing living made a sound like that.

Steam began to pour from the metal, convulsing, condensing as it found form—found life. It became a flimsy, white-sheeted creature with rows of wickedly sharp teeth and soulless eyes.

Michael held her elbow, his grip tight enough to bruise—tight enough to hold her still and keep her from running. She licked dry lips. Energy tingled at her fingertips, but she didn't release her weapon. She wasn't even sure if kinetic energy would affect something that was little more than smoke.

The creature wrapped its flimsy gowns around the chair and screamed again. There was a sharp retort, like the backfire of a car, then the smoke and the chair were gone.

"What the hell was that?” Her throat was so tight with fear that her question came out hoarse.

"Devil spawn. They're a form of wraith. That one had obviously been set to destroy whatever touched the handle."

She shivered and rubbed her arms. “So if you'd touched that doorknob, you would now be wherever that chair is."

He glanced at her. “I wouldn't be anywhere. I'd be dead, consumed by the spawn. How does the door feel now?"

She looked at it. There was no sense of evil. Still ... She thrust the pent-up energy toward the door, opening it. No alarm sounded. No sharp-teethed bits of smoke flew out to greet them.

The room was dark and still. She could sense nothing more than muskiness. Even so, she shivered. She had a feeling Cordell wouldn't stop at just the door. There would be other traps waiting for them in the darkness of the caverns.

"It's safe,” she murmured, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach.

Michael tugged her into the room and closed the door. Furniture gleamed at her, ice bright in the darkness.

"What about the next door?” he said.

She glanced at the wall. “Safe. Maybe Cordell didn't expect anyone to get past that wraith."

"Maybe.” There was doubt in his voice. “It takes a lot of power to dominate a spawn like that—and they usually work in pairs."

"So there's another one lurking around somewhere?"

He nodded, his face a mask of concentration as he probed the wall with his fingers. After a few seconds, he punched a hole into the plaster and pulled out some wiring. “Want to hunt around for scissors or something?"

She moved across to the drawers. Three were empty, but the fourth was a treasure chest—not only scissors, but several sharp knives, as well. She handed one knife to Michael, then grabbed the other. It was shiny and pointed, the sort of knife doctors used in surgery. It wasn't anywhere near as balanced as her throwing knives but it was better than nothing. She hunted around until she found some sticky tape, and attached the knife to her jeans. If she just shoved it in her pocket, the knife might well cut through everything—her jeans and her skin.

Michael sliced the wires then opened the door into the caverns. No alarm sounded—but it hadn't the first time, either. He offered her the second knife, and she taped it to her other leg. And felt just a little safer for it.

Once more, they entered the cavern and climbed down the stairs. The door slid shut behind them, and the darkness became complete.

Where to first? She shifted from one foot to the other, not wanting to stand here any longer than necessary. At least if they were moving they were harder targets to hit.

Though why she thought they would be targets merely standing here, she couldn't say. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the sense of chilled expectation in the dank air.

Power shimmered around her again. Michael, searching the darkness, trying to find some sign of life in this blanket of night.

We'll try the left tunnel this time. There's a faint heartbeat coming from that direction.

She bit her lip, gaze searching the blackness. Human or otherwise?

Human. He led the way forward again. It's too steady to be a vampire.

Can you sense any vampires?

He squeezed her hand lightly. Not yet. And I don't think it's vampires we'll have to worry about.

Oh great. She tried to ignore the goose bumps crawling across her skin. So how do you kill a demon spawn?

It's usually better to stay out of their way.

Cordell may not make that possible. Her sarcasm bit through the link but was swallowed swiftly by the warmth of his smile.

I guess not. Spawn are difficult to kill. They are creations of magic and fire, and as such are immune to both.

Well, considering neither of us have fire or magic at our disposal, it doesn't really matter, does it?

No. Water repels them. Silver can kill them. And we don't have those, either. Which is why I suggested we try to stay out of their way.

Let's just hope Cordell lets us.

Yes.

They continued on through the darkness. The air became almost dead, as if this section of the caverns wasn't used much. In the distance she could hear the gentle splash of water, a peaceful sound that somehow increased her edginess.

How much farther?

Not far.

The air stirred, whisking heat across her skin. She jumped sideways and bit down on her yelp. Fire leapt across her fingertips, lightning bright in the darkness.

Tension flowed through the link. Nikki, what's wrong?

Something touched me.

She stared into the darkness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing. Yet something had trailed across her skin—her cheek still burned with the heat of its touch.

I don't see anything.

Neither did she. But that didn't mean there wasn't something there. He tugged her forward again. She licked dry lips, gaze sweeping the darkness.

In the distance, light flared and became an incandescent jewel that gleamed brightly in the darkness.

Michael, a flame imp is here with us. Did it intend to help or hinder them? Had the flame imp meant to burn her, or was it merely catching her attention?

Where?

Ahead. Can't you see the pearl of light?

His frown slid down the link. No, I can't.

Ginger had warned her this would happen. She'd said that even Cordell couldn't see them—he could only feel their power. It's about twenty feet in front of us.

Its light glowed a gentle gold across the cavern walls, whisking brightness from wall to wall, gleaming brightly off the thin strand of wire stretched taut across the path.

She stopped and yanked Michael backwards. Trip wire. She pulled her flashlight from her pocket and shined the beam on the wire.

How in the hell did you see that? I couldn't, and I was using my vampire vision. He squatted, intently studying the wire, then the cracked cavern walls on either side.

The flame imp showed me.

So they're on our side?

She glanced at the pearl. It was hovering near a slight curve in the tunnel, its shade a green-tinged blue—colors that hinted at sadness. But why were the flame imps sad? Had another of their number died?

Cordell's killing them. We're their only hope.

He nodded absently, then reached over the wire and gently pressed his fingers against the ground on the other side. Something clicked. For a second, nothing happened, then there was a sigh of air and stakes stabbed in from either side of the wall. Michael fell backwards, barely avoiding having his arm skewered.

"Cordell's playing with us.” He rose and dusted off his jeans. Though there was a touch of amusement in his voice, anger stirred through the link. “Those stakes were never meant to kill us."

They certainly looked deadly enough. She frowned at him. “What makes you think that?"

"Two things.” He began snapping the stakes, creating a hole for them to walk through. “First off, the wire is attached to nothing more than rock. It was meant as a warning not a trigger. Second, the delay between pressing the real trigger and the stakes stabbing in was enough that we would have been safely past."

She rubbed her eyes. “But that doesn't make sense. Why would he do something like that? Why play games?"

"I don't know.” He captured her hand again, his fingers so warm compared to hers. “Let's continue."

They stepped past the broken stakes and the pressure plate and continued down the tunnel. The flame imp kept its distance, hovering a good twenty feet away. Muted light fanned across the walls, enough to see but not clearly. She kept the flashlight's beam trained on the ground, just in case Cordell had more trip wires waiting.

The sound of water splashing became clearer. It seemed quite strong—a stream more than just water dripping off damp rocks. The cold was increasing, reaching icy fingers through her skin to chill her bones. She shivered, wishing she'd worn something warmer than a cotton sweater.

They rounded the curve in the tunnel. Ahead was a heavily padlocked wooden door. The flame imp hovered above it, but its color was still dark, and it was difficult to see.

Rodeman? She asked.

Behind the door. He stopped, eyeing it with a frown. This is too easy.

Maybe Cordell is simply overconfident. Even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren't true. Cordell wasn't a fool. Angry and somewhat demented, yes, but no fool. There would be traps waiting here somewhere.

Maybe. Wait here.

He released her hand. She bit her lip and fought the instinctive urge to reach for him again, to tell him not to leave her. Instead, she clenched her fingers and felt the tingle of energy flow across her skin. Tension rode his shoulders as he tested each step. But he reached the door without incident, and she sighed in relief.

Rodeman's inside. Drugged, by the feel of it. He skimmed his fingers across the door frame.

Anyone, or anything, else?

Not that I can see. You?

Nothing. And it didn't feel right. It had been far too easy to get this far. There had to be some sort of trap here somewhere. Had to be.

She again rubbed her arms. The chill air had settled deep inside, and her bones were beginning to ache.

Michael finished his inspection then reached for the door handle. Turning it quickly, he thrust his shoulder against the wood, shattering the lock and pushing the door open. Kinetic ability was somewhat superfluous when you had the strength of a vampire, she thought. He squatted on his heels, studying the ground.

She moved up behind him. The cell wasn't dark. A lone candle sat in one corner. In the wash of its flickering light she could see the end of a metal-framed bed and a foot encased in a shiny leather shoe. A rope was looped around his ankle and tied to the bed.

Rodeman. He hadn't moved, so he had to be either drugged or unconscious. She shivered, hoping that Elizabeth hadn't paid him a visit like she had Matthew.

Heat tingled across her skin. She glanced up. The flame imp hovered several feet above her, its color pulsing between blue and red. Did that mean that danger waited for them? She wasn't sure, and it worried her. She wished Ginger was here to translate.

Can you see anything?

I'm not sure. He hesitated. There is magic here somewhere—I can feel the tingle of it across my skin. But I'm not sure where or what it is.

He leaned sideways and scooped up a handful of stones, then tossed them one by one into the cell. Nothing happened.

Maybe the trigger needs something heavier.

Probably. I guess we have no other option, then. He rose and gave her a quick hard kiss. Remember me if something happens.

She glared at him. That is not funny.

Sorry. He shrugged, then brushed the hair from her eyes, his fingers warm against her chilled skin. Don't you move until I say it's okay—okay?

She nodded. Whether she obeyed or not was another matter entirely. It depended on what happened.

He stepped into the cell, then stopped, looking around. She could see his tension in the set of his shoulders, feel it thundering through the link.

He took a second step. No sound, no soft click, no rush of evil to indicate something wicked was headed their way. But her hands were clenched so hard her knuckles were beginning to ache.

Rodeman has been drugged. His pulse has a sluggish feel.

And the magic you sensed?

Close by somewhere.

Be careful, please

Warmth flashed through the link. Don't worry. I'm not that easy to get rid of.

He took another step forward. It was one step too many. Without warning, the ground disappeared, and Michael dropped like a stone into the darkness.