by Keri Arthur
He flung back the door and peered inside. No sound. Nothing to indicate anyone or anything waited inside the dank blackness. He met Nikki's gaze.
"When I give you the all clear, come down."
She nodded and crossed her arms, her determined stance at odds with the fear lurking in her eyes. That determination was part of the reason he'd fallen in love with her. Part of the reason he would always love her.
She'd become part of the Circle simply because she was determined to share his life—determined to share everything—good and bad.
And for the briefest of moments, he wished he could simply give it all up, just walk away and enjoy an eternity of being with her, loving her. But he couldn't. He'd vowed on Patrick's grave that from there on in, he would hunt and kill the evil that preyed on good. That vow was the reason he'd made into a reality Seline's half-formed desire of a paranormal army to battle evil. The reason why he was still financing the Circle today. He knew that evil would always be around. But if he had any say in the matter, the Circle would always be there to battle it.
And though he now had more to lose than ever, he finally had something more than a vow to fight for. Live for.
He leaned forward, briefly, fiercely, kissed the love of his life, and then dropped into the hole.
Nikki shifted her position so she could see him a little more clearly. Power surged through the link, and after a moment or two, Michael looked up. His eyes were as forbidding as the black shadows crowding the edges of the puddle of afternoon sunlight in which he stood.
"Come down."
She bit her lip, but she eased over the edge and into the tunnel. He helped her down, then twined his fingers through hers and led the way forward. The darkness leapt into focus as her eyes adjusted, but she felt no easier now than she had before. It still felt like there was a ton of earth above her, just waiting for the chance to bury her again.
She shivered and pushed the memories away. That wasn't going to happen here, simply because this time, the madman they were chasing needed her alive.
They reached the cross tunnel again. Water flowed past their feet, trickling down the right-hand tunnel for several feet before sweeping sideways.
"Obviously there's another tunnel down there,” she commented.
He nodded, his expression remote as he listened to the silence.
"You hear anything?"
"Yes.” He glanced at her. “The heartbeats are stronger. They're moving towards us."
"Dunleavy doesn't want us to destroy that pentagram."
"Maybe.” He lightly squeezed her fingers. “I'll try to find a way around them."
While she hoped that was possible, she suspected they'd have no choice but to confront the oncoming mini-army. Dunleavy had planned his revenge to the nth degree, and it was doubtful they'd be able to slip past his net this late in the game.
Which meant there was no getting around the fact that the final confrontation would occur during the ceremony tonight.
Goose bumps trembled across her skin. She could only hope that Seline had been right in her assumption that the ceremony couldn't be completed simply because she wasn't Seline. Because if she and Michael failed, that was the only thing stopping Emmett's evil from being unleashed on the world yet again.
We won't fail, Michael commented, his mind voice calm, almost soothing. I have every intention of getting you to that alter and officially making you mine.
And here I was thinking you'd forgotten the little detail of our wedding.
Amusement bubbled through the link, wrapping warmth around her heart. Thinking or wishing? Maybe you've had second thoughts about marrying such an old man.
As long as that old man keeps loving me as well as he did today, I'll have no complaints.
Then I shall endeavor to—
His words cut off suddenly, and he stopped. She followed suit, listening to silence, hearing nothing but the steady gurgle of water. The air was thick and cold and moved easily past her cheek, indicating there was an outside entrance somewhere up ahead.
What? she asked eventually.
The heartbeats have ceased.
Her stomach began to churn. Oh God ... He's killed them?
I don't know. I certainly can't smell blood, and if he's killed them, I would.
Could they have moved back up top? The air is moving, and it wasn't before.
Maybe. He tugged her forward again. I've a feeling we'd better get to that pentagram while we can. Dunleavy is weaving his net around us.
It's been around us the whole time.
Yes, but now it grows tighter.
They hurried through the darkness. Though Michael made little noise, her steps echoed, the sound slapping off the wet walls loudly enough to make her wince. One thing the Circle hadn't taught her was how to run without noise. Maybe she'd suggest it when—if—they got out of here.
They reached another junction. He barely hesitated before pulling her right. She had no idea where they were in relation to the mine or the town, having lost all sense of direction about twenty steps in.
They'd barely gone three steps when noise scuffed across the silence. She glanced over her shoulder. Michael.
I know.
But—
I know. His mind voice was terse. They've been there for a few minutes now.
So why didn't you mention it?
Didn't want to worry you.
I thought you were going to stop doing that?
I said I'd try. I didn't say I'd stop completely.
Now, that was definitely the vampire she knew and loved. So when were you going to tell me we were being tailed? A heartbeat before they attacked?
Give me a little more credit than that.
Okay. Two heartbeats, then
Amusement shimmered down the link. That's more like it.
She shook her head. So, is there anything else I should know?
Have I mentioned there's something ahead?
No. Her thoughts were more acerbic than annoyed. What?
There's one heartbeat. I think it's the last shifter.
Can we go around him?
I'm trying, but he's shadowing us. Remember, they know these tunnels. I'm only following instinct.
He tugged her right again. The walls began to close in, and the rough-hewn support planking gave way to natural rock. The air became danker, thick with the scent of age and disuse. Ghostly tendrils of slime appeared, sprouting from the ceiling like a living thing and slapping wetly across her face. It felt like the fingers of the dead grasping for her.
A chill ran across her skin, and she edged a little closer to Michael's back. This tunnel was way too similar to the one that had almost claimed her life.
Stone rattled behind them, the noise echoing harshly. The men were closer than before, and fear scooted through her. While she really did believe ten men weren't much of a match for her and Michael, the situation they were in now was far from normal, and she was without the benefit of her basic abilities. Sure, she had her fire, but she didn't particularly want to hurt any of those who followed them, and that would hamper her actions and perhaps make it more difficult to protect herself.
The tunnel twisted and turned, leading them deeper into the darkness. The walls closed in, brushing her shoulders, tearing at her shirt. She bit her lip and hoped like hell they weren't being herded into a dead-end.
After a few minutes, the walls began to ease back. She felt no sense of relief. Though she could hear little beyond the harsh note of her own breathing, she couldn't shake the sensation that the men were close enough to almost touch.
The link sprang to life, wrapping around her fear, gently easing it away. They're not yet within reach.
How far, then?
A few minutes.
And the shifter?
Paralleling us.
What about the pentagram? How far away are we from that? Though she asked the question, she very much doubted whether they'd get that far. This all reeked of a well-laid
plan.
If my sense of direction isn't leading us astray, we shouldn't be that far from it.
Good.
The tendrils of slime began to recede as warmth touched the air. Not that it was actually that much warmer. She shivered again, this time more from the cold than fear.
The tunnel began to open up, eventually leading into another cavern. Her footsteps seemed to echo forever, lending the darkness a feeling of enormity. Michael paused, and the sensation of wrongness hit her so strongly it felt like a punch to the gut.
There's something here, she gasped.
Magic. His mind voice was grim. We'll have to watch where we step.
It's on the floor?
To our right. I'm not sure what it is, beyond the fact that its source is evil. He squeezed her hand gently. This ability I'm siphoning is far too new for me to properly assimilate. You can't sense anything more?
Nothing beyond evil. But Dunleavy's spells have nulled my psi skills
Then, by rights, they should have stopped my using them as well.
Not if he didn't know we could share. And considering they were only just discovering what was possible, it was hardly likely that Dunleavy could know. Even if he had read Michael's mind when he'd had him under full control, it wouldn't have mattered. Dunleavy thought she was Seline, not Nikki.
He tugged her forward again. The floor around them was littered with rocks and deeper, darker spaces that suggested holes.
Old mines shafts, Michael said. Looks like the miners decided to dig for deeper treasures here.
Right through the rock?
Rock wouldn't have stopped them if they were following a vein of gold.
It would have stopped her. But then, she'd never have been underground hunting gold in the first place. Riches of any kind had never called to her—except when it came to the richness of emotion. Something she'd been afraid to reach towards for more years than she'd cared to remember.
They were barely halfway across the cavern when he stopped. She was just about to ask what the problem was when she saw it. Or rather, him.
The shifter that had been shadowing them stepped from the tunnel on the far side. In his hand was a wooden stake.
Fear leapt into her throat, and for a moment she couldn't even breathe. Then she raised her hand and called to the fire. It leapt to life, spewing from her fingers in a flaming ball that shot light across the cavern as it arced toward the shifter. He stumbled backward, eyes wide with fear that she could almost taste. But her flames were not meant for him. They hit the stake and wrapped around it quickly. With a squawk that was barely human, the shifter dropped it. It was little more than ash by the time it hit the ground.
She tugged Michael's hand. We need to go.
It's too late for that.
A scrape of sound made her spin, and she realized what he'd meant. The ten men who'd been following them now crowded into the old tunnel opening. They were trapped, with no option but to fight.
Michael spun and kissed her briefly. Take care of the shifter. I'll take the men.
He was gone before she could argue, so she ran at the shifter. He smirked, and in that moment, she recognized him. He was the driver of the van.
His form shimmered, reformed, becoming that of a wolf that snarled and leapt for her. She flicked the knife into her palm and slashed at him as she dodged his leap. The blade scoured his side, and blue fire flickered. The wolf yelped as he hit the ground, then he twisted, leaping for her again.
She sidestepped, slashing again with the knife. The sharp point tore past his coat and into flesh, deeper than before. He howled and twisted in midair, his sharp teeth slashing. His canines tore across the back of her hand, skidding up her arm. She cursed and backed away. His form shimmered as he hit the ground, becoming human once again.
"For this,” he said, pointing to his bloody side, his voice gruff with anger and pain, “you die."
"I don't think Dunleavy will approve of that plan.” And what the hell was it with shifters thinking she'd be easy meat?
"I don't give a fuck what Dunleavy wants. No bitch is going to wound me and live to tell about it."
The words were barely out of his mouth when he rushed for her. She dove out of his way, hitting the stone with a grunt and rolling back to her feet.
Air stirred. Too late she saw the shifter's leg sweeping toward her. The force of the blow against the back of her legs sent her flying. Her butt hit the ground with enough force to jar her spine, and her breath left in a hiss of air, leaving her wheezing.
Air stirred again, warning her. She rolled to one side, barely avoiding the foot aimed at her head. She twisted around, lashing out with her legs and striking his legs, sweeping them out from beneath him in much the same manner as he had hers. She scrambled upright as he crashed to the ground, but the shifting haze crawled across his body again, and in wolf form, he launched at her.
She dodged and pivoted, smashing her booted heel into his side and kicking him into the rock walls. He hit with enough force to make him grunt. She gave him no time to recover, throwing the knife as hard and as fast as she could. This time, she didn't miss.
The shifter was dead before his body hit the floor.
One less murderous kidnapper for the world to deal with, she thought, retrieving her knife and ruthlessly battering away the remorse that ran through her.
She spun and ran to help Michael. There were only five of the original ten left, but they were forcing him backwards, away from the tunnel and towards the deeper darkness that stank of evil. And then she saw how five men were managing to do this. Three of them were armed with stakes.
"Hey you,” she yelled, launching herself at the nearest man just as he turned.
She hit him feet first in the gut and sent him flying backwards. He hit the wall with a crack loud enough to suggest broken bones and slid down to the ground. She scrambled upright, but he didn't move. Hoping she hadn't hurt him too badly, she spun and tackled the next nearest man.
This one was waiting, and his blow cracked across her face, sending her sprawling backwards. She half yelped in pain, and through the blur of tears, she saw him coming at her. She dropped and hooked his feet, making him stumble. She jumped upright, and before he could catch his balance, pushed him in the back. He hit the ground, sprawling on his stomach and sliding along the slick rock for several feet. She slipped her broken knife into her palm, flipped it so she was holding the blade, then stepped close to his sprawled form and hit him with the hilt as hard as she could. He didn't move. She checked his pulse, then spun and ran back to help Michael with the remaining three men.
There was blood on Michael's arms, and a cut on his cheek. They'd pushed him so far back that the magic they'd both sensed now pulsed around his body, spinning purple shards of light across the darkness. Fear for him rose, but she pushed it away and reached for the fire again. She aimed it at the stake the man closest to her was holding, then launched herself after her flaming arrow, intending to knock him down and away from Michael.
Only he twisted at the wrong moment, and she pushed him sideways rather than away. He cannoned into the other two men, pushing them forward—straight into Michael, thrusting him backwards into the pulsing curtain.
"No,” she yelled, lunging forward.
The light closed around her hand, sucking her forward, her feet skidding across the stone even though she fought the pull.
Then evil leapt into focus and someone grabbed her, yanking her backwards. She spun, knife raised. Saw Kinnard's mocking expression and a bright flash of light.
Then there was nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
Michael grabbed a fistful of the nearest man's shirt, attempting to remain upright as the air howled around them.
The stranger instinctively stepped back, and for a moment, they both teetered over the edge of the whirlpool of magic that sought to suck them to God knew where.
Michael reached out with his tho
ughts, trying to touch his anchor's mind, trying to break the control Dunleavy had over him in order to save them both. But at that moment, the man raised the stake he held in his hand and stepped forward. The whirlpool grabbed them, dragging them into its depths.
And suddenly he was free falling, tumbling down and down and down.
Even a vampire couldn't escape a hole as deep as hell itself. He wasn't about to get trapped in hell.
Though disorientated, he flung out his arms, trying to get some idea as to what was around him. He hit flesh first and grabbed the man, knowing he had to save him if he could.
His free hand brushed walls, but they were too smooth to provide any real purchase. Then he hit wood, but it slithered past too fast for him to grab.
More smooth rock. Another piece of wood.
This one he managed to hook his arm around. The abrupt halt tore at muscles, and the sudden deadweight of the stranger damn near popped his left shoulder out of its socket.
He hissed, fighting pain, fighting to keep his grip on the wooden beam and the stranger against the pull of the magic and gravity. He blinked the beads of sweat from his eyes and looked around.
They were in one of the vertical shafts. It wasn't all that wide, and aging beams lined the drop, with supporting beams spanning the gap north to south. If he'd hit any of them in those first few moments of free falling, he probably would have broken his back. But luck had been with him, and he'd fallen right through the middle.
He couldn't see the top of the shaft, and he had no idea just how far he'd fallen. He glanced down. The beams continued on for a while, and then the wood gave way to unnaturally smooth rock. Dunleavy's doing, he suspected. The bastard was probably trying to ensure the hole was deep enough to cage a vampire. If he'd fallen much farther, he would have been caught in that cage.
Material tore, and the stranger dropped a little. Pain ripped up Michael's arm, burning through the rest of his body. He swore softly. The man's weight must have torn ligaments when they'd come to that sudden halt. And it wasn't like he could shift his grip and make both of them more comfortable.