Michael regained consciousness slowly, aware at first of only the pounding ache in his head. But gradually other sounds seeped through, registering in his mind. Flames crackled and danced somewhere close, washing warmth across his skin and filling the air with the pungent smell of pine. Beyond that, water bubbled and gurgled—a stream, rushing past quite strongly.

Between those two sounds came another—a low, guttural chanting. Cordell doing God knew what. Michael tried to open his eyes but couldn't. Something seemed to be gluing them shut. He sniffed, tasting the air. It smelled like dried blood—his blood, probably, if the ache in his head was anything to go by.

He tried to move his arms, but they wouldn't budge. He twisted his hands. Rope burned into his wrists, and there was very little leeway. He tried moving his feet and got the same result.

He twisted his head, trying to wipe the blood off his face and onto his shoulder. All he succeeded in doing was sending the madman in his head into a drumming frenzy. Red flames of pain shot through his brain and he groaned.

The chanting stopped. Wind sighed, moving toward him.

"So, the ex-lover awakens.” Cordell's voice was low but sharp. He smelled diseased—decayed. He smelled as unpleasant as a room full of zombies.

"Even if you kill me, Cordell, you won't get very far.” He began to twist his arms, trying to loosen the bindings around his wrists. “The Circle knows all about your activities here. They will hunt you down and kill you."

"Yeah, right.” Cordell snorted. “That sounds a little like Get Smart syndrome to me—would you believe a hundred men? No? How about fifty? No? What about two men with a semiautomatic?"

The man was a nut—and who in the hell was Get Smart?

"Elizabeth's dead,” he continued. “Her fledglings are dead, and the flame imps are all but extinct thanks to your abuse of them. Your empire crumbles around your ears, Cordell."

"My empire has only just begun. And you, my friend, will pay for chopping off two of my fingers and, in the process, help my quest for more power."

"Not a chance on this Earth.” Water splashed into his face, rinsing the blood from his eyes. He blinked several times.

"Who said the choice was yours?"

Metal rattled against the ground, then Cordell rolled into his line of vision and stopped. His skin was so pale it almost looked blue. His cheeks were hollow, and his lips cracked and bloody. He looked like he smelled—death on four wheels.

"As you can see, this body of mine wastes away. Your blood will empower my magic and bind one of the flame imps within. Their energy will renew and revitalize me."

It would also kill him, but not soon enough. “How long have you been a vampire, Cordell?” And why was a disease still active within his body? Surely the crossover from life to death should have killed it?

"I became a vampire two years ago. It was Elizabeth who turned me, you know. We were lovers.” He grinned, revealing heavily stained teeth. He'd obviously been a heavy smoker in life. And maybe still was in death. “Surprising, huh?"

"Not really.” Elizabeth would have sensed the black magic in him and hungered for that power. The looks of the man holding that ability would not have mattered to her.

And in the end, it was her insatiable need for power that had trapped her.

Cordell looked disappointed, as if he'd expected more. Michael frowned. Cordell might be in his forties, but mentally, he was more like a teenager. Maybe that accident had taken a few brain cells along with his ability to walk.

"Why does your body waste away?"

Cordell raised his eyebrows. “And Elizabeth told me your were the brightest of all her fledglings. It is the magic, of course, that wastes me. All magic has its costs, but black magic draws its power from the wielder. Every time you use it, it sucks a little more from your system. I could walk once, you know."

"Even after the car accident?"

"You have done your research, haven't you?” He wheeled around to the left. Michael twisted, trying to keep him in sight. “The doctors thought I was paraplegic, but a few months after my rehabilitation ended, I began getting feeling back in my legs and toes. They said my brain had ‘rewired’ itself somehow. It took me nearly a year to regain my strength and walk, you know."

The rope around Michael's left wrist felt a little looser. Though his skin was slick with blood, he kept twisting and pulling. “Then why destroy all that hard work by using black magic?"

Cordell snorted. “After spending so much time in Elizabeth's company, I'm surprised you even have to ask that question."

Elizabeth hungered for power, for control, but Cordell, he suspected, hungered for a hell of a lot more than that. Utter domination and humiliation seemed more his forte.

Cordell reappeared on his left side and picked up a knife lying on a table. Michael tensed and tugged harder on the ropes. Felt them give a little more. Time, he just needed more time.

Cordell didn't turn his way, didn't even look at him. Chanting softly, he rolled toward the fire pit, stopping so close to the edge that the flames licked and danced across his toes. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a bony arm that was a mass of crisscrossed scars. He drew the knife across his skin, then held out his arm and let the blood drip into the fire. The flames seemed to shiver, then gradually changed color, becoming a bright, unnatural blue. Magic shimmered in the air and burned across Michael's skin.

Time was the one thing he didn't have much of.

There was another knife lying on the table. He gazed at it through slightly narrowed eyes, concentrating. The knife rose and arrowed towards him, the metal blade glinting molten in the fire-warmed darkness. He glanced at his left wrist, angled the knife in the air and began slicing at the rope. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and the madman in his head began a renewed assault on his brain.

His left wrist came free. He grabbed the knife and hacked at the rope holding his right wrist. He sat up and sawed at the rope holding his feet.

Then he heard a curse. Felt magic burn toward him. He didn't turn around, hacking desperately at the ropes. Sweat dripped from his chin, splashing onto the shiny black surface of the rock underneath him. It gleamed like blood. It would be his blood if he didn't hurry. The ropes snapped. He threw himself sideways off the rock and crashed to the ground with a grunt of pain.

Lightning split the darkness, forking above his head. He rolled upright, keeping to the cover offered by the rock, and scrambled forward.

Legs appeared. Female legs. He glanced up quickly.

"We are sorry,” Ginger said softly and smashed a thick piece of wood down onto his skull.

He blacked out and knew no more.

Nikki came to slowly, aware at first of only the numbing coldness creeping through her body. Her head ached, but it was a distant pain, one not her own.

Michael, she thought with suddenly clarity. In trouble and in desperate need of help.

She forced her eyes open. Above her, water leapt and splashed, and spray rose like steam through the darkness. She was lying half in, half out of the water, shivering strongly enough that her teeth were aching. How she'd ended up here she wasn't entirely sure. She couldn't remember anything after the pain had hit and she'd fallen over the edge.

She dragged her legs out of the water then lay there for several minutes, too cold to think let alone move. Every inch of her ached. But at least she'd appeared to have come through the fall relatively unscathed. That in itself had to be a miracle.

The flame imp dove past her, washing warmth across her skin. Color throbbed through the night, red and gold flashes that spoke of urgency. It skimmed past her again. Heat flooded her system, and her clothes began to steam. It was drying her, she realized.

Pain flashed through her brain then was gone. Michael's. Urgency began to beat through her. The knowledge that he was in serious trouble was a weight so heavy it was beginning to suffocate her. She reached out to the link, but again there was nothing but blackness. Silence. Fear rippled through her. Something had happened to him.

But as much as she wanted to hurry, she also knew it would be disastrous to move before her clothes had dried and she'd thawed out a little. Her only real hope of rescuing Michael might lie in silence, so Cordell wouldn't know she was there. Though that might be hard to achieve, given he was a vampire.

Her fingers and toes began to tingle as warmth flooded back into them. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the pain. Her clothes were still damp, but they no longer dripped and, thanks to the flame imp, were at least warm.

The imp flashed past her again, its color a brighter red. She took the hint and followed it along the stream bank. The water bubbled into the silence, a cheery sound at odds with the air's heaviness.

A chill crept over her—a chill that had nothing to do with any lingering iciness left in her limbs. The smell of evil fouled the night. Cordell was close.

She walked on. The water was beginning to roar again, indicating another waterfall. She hoped this one had a path near it. Another dunking was not something she wanted right now—she was only just beginning to thaw out properly.

The flame imp hesitated, flashing blue-green highlights across an arch through which the stream disappeared. The color of fear, she thought. Cordell had to be just beyond the archway.

"Stay here,” she murmured. The imp flashed gold, then darted away into the darkness. She didn't blame it. She'd have done the same thing if she could have.

Back pressed against the damp rocks, she edged around the arch. Beyond it lay a second, smaller cavern. The stream leapt into space again, and a path curved around to her left. In the center of the cavern below, strangely colored flames danced and shimmered, casting blue streaks of light across the darkness. Nearby, Michael lay spread-eagled on a stone table, arms and legs tied. He wasn't moving. Blood pooled near his head, and the left side of what remained of his black shirt seemed horribly shiny—the sort of shine that came from a lot of blood.

Fear swelled thick and fast, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. She thrust a fist into her mouth to stop her scream, then saw his chest move. One breath—all a vampire really needed. He was alive.

But for how much longer was anyone's guess.

She glanced around quickly for Cordell. He was on the far edge of a circle drawn around a fire pit and Michael, fiddling with something on a table. There was a bloody cloth wrapped around his left hand, but it didn't seem to hamper his movements. His low chant echoed across the darkness, surrounding her with the stink of evil and rising power. Ginger stood next to him, her face remote, lifeless.

Nikki bit her lip, her need to move and help Michael as quickly as she could warring with the need to be careful. Cordell was too dangerous for her to fight him alone—she'd caught him by surprise in the alleyway, but this time he'd know her weapon and be ready for her.

Somehow, she'd have to wake Michael, then free him. Back to the wall, she began to edge down the path.

Michael? She put as much force as could into her call. Deep down in the void, awareness stirred.

She crept a little farther down the path. Michael? You have to wake up. You have to help me.

Cordell turned, rolling toward the fire pit. She froze, barely daring to breathe. There was nothing else she could do, nowhere she could go. The nearest rock was several feet away, and she couldn't risk moving. If he looked up, he'd see her for sure.

She clenched her hands, trying to hold back the energy tingling through her body. Even sparks would be dangerous right now. Cordell leaned over the fire pit, throwing a jar into the flames. Dust rose in a cloud, and the flames shivered, turning a deeper blue. Cordell's chanting grew stronger.

She licked her lips. The sense of evil was thick, and her stomach churned at the stench. Magic shimmered across the darkness, a cloud of power she could almost touch. Time was running out. She had to hurry.

Cordell turned back to the table. She scooted quickly down the path, going as fast as she dared, watching Cordell and only half watching the path.

He turned again. She ducked behind the cover of a large boulder, then peered out. He was throwing more muck into the flames. This time they burned a rich purple. His chanting rose another notch, and energy crackled through the night, accompanied by a high keening cry.

A flame imp, she realized. The magic was casting its net. The binding spell couldn't be that far away.

Damn it, Michael, wake up! He knew magic—she didn't. Surely he'd know the best way to stop Cordell.

She tore one of the knives from her jeans and glanced across at him. Energy burned through her and into the knife, and the blade went scooting across the darkness. She kept it low to the ground, only half watching Cordell. When the knife reached the table, she quickly cut the ropes binding Michael's legs and right arm. The other arm she left, not wanting to risk Cordell spotting it before Michael actually woke.

Michael, can you hear me? You have to wake up. You have to help me.

Awareness again stirred, along with pain. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back quickly. What in the hell had Cordell done to him?

Cordell cast something else into the flames. They leapt high, burning almost black. Energy crackled, raising the hairs along her arms and the back of her neck. The keening grew more frantic. Ginger's hands were clenched and tears tracked down her cheeks, glinting silver in the fire's strange light.

An imp was torn from the rocks, its color as purple as the flames, flashing frantic spears of light through the darkness. Fingers of fire leapt upwards, forming a cage around it.

Cordell picked up a knife, holding it high above his head. His chanting reached a crescendo as he moved toward Michael.

Cordell was going kill him, she suddenly realized. Michael's death would be the final step in the binding.

"No!” She jumped to her feet and tore the knife from Cordell's hands, thrusting it away into the darkness. Then she turned her energy toward the fire, scattering the flames as far as she could. The flame imp darted away into the darkness.

"Bitch!” Cordell's voice was high and filled with murderous fury.

Lightning arced towards her. She dove to the right, hitting the stony ground with bruising force. The rock exploded, the sound almost deafening. Deadly shards of debris sliced through the air, through her skin. She yelped and covered her head with her hands, rolling away.

Magic burned a warning through the night. She glanced up quickly, saw another streak of lightning cutting towards her. Looking around wildly, she saw the boulder to her left. Scant cover, but all she had. She scrambled towards it. The air seemed to howl behind her and heat bubbled across her skin. She screamed and flung herself sideways.

The ground exploded, thrusting her into the air. She twisted as she fell, thrusting energy wildly at Cordell. She hit the ground with a grunt and, for a minute, saw nothing but stars. It hurt to breathe let alone move, but move she had to if she didn't want to be an easy target for the lightning. She thrust up, biting her lip against the scream of pain that tore up her throat, and staggered away.

She searched the cavern for Cordell. He was hovering in midair, legs and arms dangling like a broken puppet. His chair righted itself, then he was turned and set back down. Ginger, she thought, and wondered where the imp was.

Nikki?

Michael's thought was little more than an agonized whisper, but at least he was waking. I'm here. I think I've stopped Cordell's ceremony for now, but I'm going to need your help to stop him completely. She couldn't bring herself to say the word kill, even though she knew that was what they'd have to do. She didn't want to think of herself as a murderer, even when it came to ridding the world of someone as vile as Cordell.

He rolled several feet forward then stopped, glaring at her through red-rimmed, glassy eyes. “You will pay for what you have done here tonight. I will taste your soul, and I will make you my slave."

"That's been tried before, and by a vampire stronger than you'll ever be.” She clenched her fists against the energy burning across her fingers. Right now, she had to give Michael time to regain consciousness. Had to keep Cordell talking.

There's a knife near your right hand, Michael. Use it to cut the remaining rope. To Cordell, she said. “Why don't you just give it up? Your game here is over."

He smiled, revealing yellow-stained canines. “The game is never over until the clock hits zero."

He flung out his right hand. Energy ripped towards her. She dove away, felt heat cut across her leg, burning deep. She hit the ground with a grunt then scrambled to her feet. Pain surged up her leg, a white-hot ache that churned her stomach. She swallowed against the rising bile, glancing down. The lightning had finished what the wraith had started—sheared off her jeans at the calf, and made a two-inch wide welt bloom around her leg.

Rock scuffed behind her. She spun and saw Ginger approaching, a club held high above her head. She saw the anguish in the other woman's blue eyes and knew Cordell was forcing this action on her. The club arced towards Nikki's head. She wrenched it away kinetically, then knocked Ginger back, thrusting her hard against a wall. She slumped to the ground and didn't move. Nikki turned to face Cordell.

Why in the hell wasn't Michael moving?

I think Cordell has broken my right arm. His thoughts skimmed hers, warm and reassuring but still very distant. Yet his pain throbbed through her, as did the concern he was desperately trying to hide. I can't grab the knife, Nikki.

Oh God. Maybe his legs were broken as well. Maybe she'd have to cope with Cordell alone ... She tried to remain calm. If they'd combined their powers to beat Jasper, surely they could do the same to destroy Cordell.

But if Michael had any control over his kinetic abilities, wouldn't he have used them to lift the knife and free his arm?

She clenched her fists. She had to concentrate on one problem at a time. Any more would overwhelm her at the moment. How about your legs?

They're okay. I'm okay. It's just ... my arm.

I'll try to free you.

No ... Cordell's too dangerous.

Like she didn't already know that. The vampire in question rolled several feet towards her. She flexed her fingers, watching him warily. His skin was so pale it was almost transparent, giving his face a skeletal look. His lips were bleeding, and blood dribbled unheeded from the side of his mouth. She shivered. Give the man a black cape and a scythe, and he'd look like the Grim Reaper on wheels.

She grabbed the second knife, her knuckles almost white with the force of her grip. Somehow, she had to distract Cordell long enough to cut the remaining rope and free Michael.

Cordell snorted softly. “That little sticker you're holding won't do you much good, you know."

Tension rolled through her. Why wasn't he attacking her? What was he waiting for?

"Maybe it won't. But how well can you perform magic without eyes, huh?” Her stomach churned at the thought, but she battled to keep it from showing. If she revealed one ounce of weakness to Cordell, he would exploit it, of that she had no doubt.

Power began to burn through the night, an unseen force rising like a wind at her back. She bit her lip, wanting to turn around and see what was approaching, and yet she knew that was probably what Cordell wanted. Sweat began to trickle down her face, and her palm felt slick against the knife hilt. Energy burned through her, aching for release. She waited, watching Cordell. Saw the hunger growing in his eyes. Saw his canines beginning to lengthen.

She threw the knife. His eyes widened in shock, and he flung up an arm to protect his face. But she'd never intended to hit him. Instead, she grabbed the knife kinetically, directing it toward Michael, slashing the last rope holding him captive. Still he didn't move. She let the knife clatter to the ground.

Cordell laughed—a low, insane sound. “Not much of a threat with a knife, are you?"

She shrugged. Behind her, the force was growing. The sense of evil was so thick it was almost suffocating. Every breath burned, as if his scent was toxic.

Goose bumps chased a chill across her skin. She battled the desire to attack Cordell, battled the need to run. She had to protect Michael until he'd fully regained consciousness.

Whether he'd be able to help her once he was conscious was another matter entirely—and one she just didn't want to think about right now.

The force behind her became the scream of wind. The sensation of danger tingled across her skin, so sharp it burned. She risked a quick look over her shoulder. Nothing stirred the darkness. Nothing was creeping up on her.

And it was nothing that wrapped cold fingers of air around her body, grabbing her, propelling her forward, toward a waiting Cordell. She planted her feet, trying to stop her movement, but it was useless.

Cordell's eyes were alight with anticipation. Her knees slammed into his, the unseen hands of energy bending her, forcing her face, her neck, toward his. His breath washed over her, a putrid mix of rotten meat and soured milk. She screamed, thrusting her arms between them, desperate to keep him from tasting her.

His teeth sank into her arms. Agony burned white-hot through her soul. Cordell watched her, his gaze mocking as he greedily sucked her blood. Energy rushed through her, exploding from her body, surrounding them both. She pushed him hard, rolling him back. The still wind wrapped around her, holding her close. She couldn't escape him.

A wave of dizziness washed through her. For a minute, she saw stars, dancing red through the night. She blinked and realized they were flame imps, swirling frantically near the waterfall.

She didn't understand why the imps wanted her near the waterfall, but she had no option but to trust them. Cordell was sucking her dry. If she didn't do something now she'd die. But I can't die, can I ... ?

She had no time to worry about that now. Besides, she'd be better off dead than Cordell's slave.

She flooded the night with energy, forcing Cordell backwards. The water's music flowed around them, overpowering the howl of the unseen force holding her close to him.

Cordell's grip on her arm suddenly loosened. Realization and fear ran through his gaze, but it was too late for him to do anything about it. Still locked together, they flew into the water and plunged deep into the icy depths.

Nikki's terror plunged through Michael's soul, shaking the last vestiges of unconsciousness from his mind. He jerked upright, only to have pain shoot through his brain—a white-hot agony that almost sent him back to the darkness.

Teeth gritted and his breath little more than a hiss, he turned, his gaze searching the cavern for her. There was no sign of her. No sign of Cordell. The flames no longer burned in the fire pit, but the darkness was heavy with the stench of magic.

He reached for the link. Her terror clubbed him, filling his mind with a rush of tangled, undecipherable thoughts.

He swung his legs off the table. Her thoughts were close—she had to be here somewhere. Nikki? Where are you?

He waited tensely for an answer, but nothing came. The link was a void washed with her horror and growing panic. Damn it, woman, answer me!

Still no response. He slipped off the table, but his legs refused to hold his weight and he fell to his knees. Cursing the weakness, urgency beating through his soul, he gripped the table with his good arm and forced himself upright again. Forced his legs to hold.

Moisture trickled down his face. He thrust at it impatiently, knowing by the smell it was blood. The gash on his head was a good three inches long and probably would have been dangerous had he been anything other than a vampire.

He expanded his senses, searching the night again. Pain beat though his head, an agony he had no choice but to ignore. The colors churning through the void were becoming more frantic. Wherever Nikki was, she needed his help fast.

There was no one in the cavern—not Nikki nor Cordell. He cursed, thrusting a hand through his blood-matted hair. This didn't make sense. She was here somewhere, regardless of what his senses were saying—her thoughts were too close, too strong, for her to be anywhere else.

Flame imps darted across the waterfall's pond, their color flashing red and gold. Oh God, no... Gut twisting, he hobbled forward. The imps’ light washed red across the churning surface of the water, making it look slick with blood. Magic stung the night, and the air seemed to howl.

The churning in the water grew more agitated. Suddenly, Cordell's limp body surged free, shooting past Michael to land like a wet sack of rags near the fire pit. He didn't move, but he wasn't dead. Michael could still hear the tremulous beat of his heart.

Time to kill the fiend. He took a step toward Cordell, then stopped. Nikki hadn't surfaced, and the churning water had calmed.

He cursed and jumped into the pond. The water was icy, its touch numbing, snatching away the pain of moving his shattered limb.

It wasn't just the imp's light making the water look red. There was blood, and lots of it. Fear slammed through him. He reached for the link, but was met by silence. Her terror was gone, replaced by an odd sort of peace.

It was the same sort peace that he'd felt in her once before when the specter of death had almost claimed her life in the mine collapse Jasper had arranged.

She can't be dead. Surely he would know. She was part of his heart, part of his soul. All that mattered to him. Surely he would know if she had died.

He kicked his feet, twisting around, diving one-handed to the depths. The pond was deeper than it looked, the water as dark as hell itself. She could be anywhere. He didn't care. He'd search for an eternity if that's what it took to find her.

His hand brushed against cotton, then skin. He grabbed her hand, kicking upwards, dragging her back to the surface with him.

Cordell hadn't moved. Michael kicked toward the edge until he could stand and dragged Nikki out of the water, thrusting her onto her side. She coughed, water spewing from her mouth. He dropped beside her and touched her neck. Her skin was like ice, and she was shivering so hard that her teeth were clashing together violently. Her pulse was fragile and weak, but at least she was alive. The weight lifted from his chest, letting him breathe again.

Then he saw the slash in her sweater, the raw welts on her skin. Cordell had tasted her, fed off her. Fury washed through him. For that alone, the bastard would die.

He rose and hobbled towards Cordell. The fiend moved. Lightning split the night, arcing towards him. Michael dove away, landing with a grunt on his left side, jarring his broken arm. A sea of red swam before his eyes, and a scream tore up his throat. He gritted his teeth, and the scream became a hiss of pain. Sweat rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He blinked it away and, supporting his right arm with his left, rolled back to his feet.

Cordell had propped himself up against a rock. His breathing was labored, his face little more than flesh stretched over a death mask. The magic was sapping his strength, taking him beyond the restorative powers of his vampire heritage. Maybe it was only the flame imps’ energy that had kept him alive this long.

"You cannot defeat me, vampire. My magic will outlast your strength. When you collapse, I will feed off you. Then I will use the blood of your woman to complete my ceremony."

"I will see you in hell first, Cordell.” He walked towards him, watching the fiend's eyes, waiting for the next attack. The more Cordell used his magic, the weaker he became. All he had to do was stay out of the path of the lightning and wait for Cordell's collapse.

Lightning split the air, weaker than before. Michael dodged, felt the sizzle of energy burn past his ear.

Cordell raised his hands. “Any farther, and I blast your girlfriend."

Michael clenched his fists but didn't stop. Cordell's last blast had been weak and wouldn't have held the strength to even reach Nikki, let alone hurt her. The man was bluffing.

Cordell's eyes widened in fear, but he wasn't staring at Michael but past him.

"Stop."

The voice was Nikki's and yet not. He stopped and turned. She stood near the waterfall, her skin glowing with heat, eyes afire. Two flame imps rotated above her head, their color a deep, dark red. The color of anger, he thought.

She looked ethereal, otherworldly. This wasn't his Nikki. The flame imps had taken over her body, using her now as they had used her once before. Quelling his fear, knowing there was little he could do anyway, he reached for the link. An inferno greeted him, but deeper than the flames he felt peace. Nikki wasn't afraid of the imps or their intentions.

He wasn't so certain of them. But they hadn't hurt her the first time, and he just had to hope they wouldn't hurt her now.

"Step away from him,” she continued, her gaze not wavering from Cordell. “Move to the table. Use it as cover.” Though her voice was flat, her amber eyes glowed with heat. Flames danced across her finger—real flames, not just the sparks of kinetic energy.

He stepped back to the cloth-covered table. Cordell made a strange sound in his throat and raised his hands. Lightning cut through the night, but its force was weak, fading long before it reached Nikki.

She didn't react. “In memory of those of who will no longer dance under the orb of life, we sentence you to death. In memory of the two legs that you have used, we sentence you to death. You will burn in the heat you seek to empty us of, and we will scatter your ashes on the wind so that you will never know peace."

Cordell whimpered and pushed away from the rock, dragging his half-dead body across the ground in a useless attempt to escape.

Nikki raised her hands. Fire leapt between her palms, pulsing brightly as it found form and became an orb that flamed as bright as the sun.

Michael threw up a hand to protect his face from the glare, but the growing ball raced heat across his flesh. Her words hit him—the heat of the sun was one of two things that could kill a vampire, and that was what the imps were attempting to create here now.

He ducked under the table and hoped the tablecloth was thick enough to protect him. Heat burned through the air, and Cordell screamed, a high-pitched sound of agony that quickly died. Flames crackled, and the smell of burning flesh rent the air.

The heat died. Michael climbed out from under the table. Cordell was little more than a patch of black soot. Even as he watched, a wind stirred his remains, spiraling them toward the roof and out of sight.

Nikki was still standing near the water, but her arms were by her sides, and the fire seemed to have left her flesh. Even the imps rotating above her head looked gray and lifeless. He hurried towards her.

She looked at him. Fire crackled through her amber gaze, but its touch was distant. “We thank you both for your help. You have released those who were bound, and now we are free to continue our dance. For that we rejoice. Tell this one good-bye. Tell her our flames will forever be a part of her."

The spark in her eyes died, and Nikki collapsed.