"Who binds you?” she asked eventually.
Her question sparked feverish activity in the lights. Rainbows splashed across the darkness, reflecting brightly off the black stone walls that surrounded them.
"He does,” Ginger said.
Nikki snorted softly. “Yeah, but who is he?"
"He who is accompanied by she."
This was not making a whole lot of sense. It had to be a dream, surely. “And she is?"
"She has the darkness in her. Like the man who accompanies you." A chill ran through her. She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. “What do you mean?"
"She feeds off life. She walks in darkness and knows no light." Vampire, Nikki thought, rubbing her arms. Perhaps the same vampire that had attacked her in the warehouse. “But what did you mean about Michael?"
Ginger shrugged. It seemed an awkward movement. “He walks the line between light and dark. He has the taste of the woman on him."
Her words made no sense. In three hundred years, Michael had only tasted one human—her. Or was that a lie, too? The chill biting through her limbs increased. “Meaning?" "We can not trust him. Only you. You must help us."
"How can I help you when I don't understand what it is you want?"
"You must stop him,” Ginger repeated, as if talking to a child. Back to square one, Nikki thought wearily. Maybe she should try a different tack. “What are you, Ginger? What are the lights?"
"We are flame imps. We are of this land."
As explanations went, it didn't help much. But perhaps Michael would know. “And you can take human form?” It seemed an obvious question, yet the awkwardness of Ginger's movements suggested she was unfamiliar with this particular body.
"Only when the new cycle begins. He has forced this form upon us." Nikki had a feeling that if she asked what ‘new cycle’ meant, the answer would only leave her more confused. She eyed the lights for a minute. They seemed agitated by Ginger's words. “And he wants to do the same to your friends?"
Ginger shook her head. “Only some. Others he uses in his magic. We die." The lights muted, becoming gray. Sadness seemed to hang in the air.
"What about Rodeman. Why marry him? What was the purpose behind that?"
"He makes us marry."
"But why?"
"To bring them here."
"Do you know why?” She felt like a CD that had become irreparably stuck on one line. Ginger shook her head. “We only bring them here."
"So where is Rodeman now?"
"He is with him. In the darkness."
Alarm spread through her. Sparks leapt across her fingers. “This darkness?" The lights shivered, their glow darkening to purple. “No,” Ginger said. “This is our last home. The last place of safety we have."
Nikki didn't ask where exactly that was. Given the heat in the rocks, the deadness in the air and the night's utter pitch, she had a feeling the answer was one she wouldn't like. “Then where has he taken Rodeman?"
"To the spaces underneath the hotel."
Caverns, she probably meant, though this didn't seem the sort of area that would have much in the way of underground caves. Nikki again scrubbed a hand across her eyes. “What about you, Ginger? What happens to you now?"
"We will die, as others have died. This body will not contain me. It will burn, and we will go with it. No longer will we dance under the orb of life."
The cavern went dark, and sadness washed in waves over her. Tears stung her eyes. “And nothing can stop this?"
"He must die for us to survive."
Then somehow, some way, she had to help make that happen. Not only for the sake of these strange lights, but for people like Rodeman and Matthew—lonely people who were only after company or for someone to understand them. Easy prey for the likes of that woman in the warehouse or the man killing the flame imps. “How many of you does this creep have under his control?"
"Four. Eight will no longer dance in the orb's light." She meant the moon, Nikki realized suddenly. That's what they had been doing tonight—dancing under the light of the moon. “And you can tell me nothing about the man who binds you?"
"No. We hear his words, but we cannot see him."
Ginger obviously didn't mean he was invisible. He'd had a shape in the images she'd received when she'd touched Ginger's hand—though his form had been little more than a shadow. “Does he wear a mask or something?"
"No. He is not of our world."
Nikki snorted softly. “I'm not of your damn world, but I can see you."
"You have the fire in you. It dances across your fingers as we speak. You can see us. Others, like the one who binds, only feel what we are."
So Michael wouldn't see them, even if they were to appear before him. That wasn't going to make an explanation any easier.
"Will you help us?” Ginger asked. The lights thrummed behind her, pulsing yellow across the walls.
"I'll do what I can.” But she wasn't about to make promises. Not when she had no real idea what she was going up against.
The lights danced in brightness. Nikki couldn't help smiling.
"We will return you to the surface now,” Ginger said.
Nikki barely had time to nod before the darkness hit her again.
Awareness surged through the link, followed quickly by a flash of red pain. Michael raced onto the patio, wincing at the sun's brightness. It was nine-thirty, and here in the mountains where there were no smog nor high rise buildings to block the sun's heat, he was really pushing his limits. He didn't care. He headed past the pool and tennis courts and out into the meadow. He found her sitting on the same rock as last night.
She looked up when he appeared, her expression troubled. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be inside, out of the sun?"
"What in the hell do you think I'm doing out here?” He squatted in front of her. The wound on her temple was bleeding again, and there was black dirt on her shirt and jeans. The soil around here was a reddish brown. “You've been missing for four damn hours."
Four hours in which he'd gone quietly crazy, imagining the worst. He'd not only searched the grounds thoroughly but had touched the thoughts of every man, woman, and child currently staying at the hotel—whether they were guests or workers. No one had seen her, not even in passing.
"I'm okay,” she said softly. She touched his face, her fingers trailing warmth down his cheek to his lips. But it was a gentle warmth, not the blistering heat of before.
He captured her hand, brushing a kiss across her fingers before rising. “Let's get back to our room, and you can tell me what happened."
She rose, but again was unsteady on her feet. He picked her up and raced back to their room. He set her on the bed then drew the curtains closed. He could feel the heat tingling across his skin. No sense pushing it to extremes.
"So what happened?” He rinsed the washcloth again and began cleaning her wound. She sighed and pushed his hand away. “I feel like Alice." He sat back on his heels, wondering if the knock on her head had addled her brains a little. “Alice?" She smiled slightly. “Yeah. I've just been to Wonderland."
"Oh, that Alice.” He could vaguely remember reading the tale a hundred years or so ago. He handed her the cloth, then rose and walked to the bar. “What hole did you fall into?” he said, pouring them both a drink.
"A big black one.” She accepted her drink with a smile and gave him a quick rundown of the events in the cavern. “Have you ever heard of these flame imps?"
He shook his head. “But as Seline often says, fantasy is a reality we walk every day.” And they had sure as hell seen more than their fair share of the fantastical, be it good or bad. “Seline's doing a check on what entities are known to be in the area. She may come up with them—if not, I'll get her to do another check."
"What about these caverns?” She hesitated and yawned. “Shouldn't we be looking for them?" "Not until you get some sleep,” he said, rising. “I'll head down to the library and see what I can find about the history of this hotel and the geography of the area." She raised an eyebrow, a teasing light suddenly in her eyes. “I promise not to make unwelcome advances if you want to lay down with me."
He smiled slightly. That was a situation he had no intention of getting into—simply because her advances would be welcome. Very welcome.
"You need to rest,” he said, unsure who he was trying to convince.
"I need you more,” she murmured.
She rose and wrapped her hands around his neck, her lips brushing heat across his. He groaned and pulled her close, claiming her mouth. She tasted as warm as sunshine, as rich as honey. Heat flared in the link, a caress that stole past his heart and wrapped around his soul. She was everything he had ever longed for and everything he dared not take.
Her heartbeat pulsed through the silence, an unsteady rhythm that matched his own. His need for her was an ache that sang though his entire being. But deep down, the demon stirred. He dare not embrace what he might just destroy. Until his control was absolute, he would not take the risk of losing himself in her touch.
Even then, it might not be wise. He doubted if he could make love to her and have the strength to walk away from her again.
He pulled back, his breathing a little ragged. “Bedroom tactics will not win the day." Her expression was a picture of mischief. “We'll just have to see, won't we?"
"I'm going,” he said, not trusting her—or himself.
"Like that?” Her gaze scooted down his body, and she grinned. “The staff's female members will be impressed."
He tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans to hide his erection. “Just go to sleep. And don't go anywhere until I get back."
"Only if you promise not to be long."
The low pitch of her voice sent heat racing to his loins and almost shot his control to hell. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and got out of the room.
Chapter Twelve
It was close to four by the time she woke. Nikki yawned and stretched, then felt across the bed with one hand. She'd spent the day alone.
Sighing, she got up and grabbed fresh clothes, then headed into the bathroom. The cut on her hand was little more than a pink scar. Even the cut on her head looked half-healed, though the bruise around it was awful—a big, blackish-purple mass stretching from her temple to just above her eye. Not good, when Michael and she were supposed to be honeymooners. Biting her lip, she studied her reflection for several minutes. It wasn't natural to heal so fast—wasn't human. Ignoring the chill that raced across her skin, she turned on the taps and stepped into the shower.
Once she'd dressed, she walked over to her suitcase and pulled out the two plastic-wrapped items MacEwan had given her. Even through the plastic, Matthew's watch sent images scattering through her mind. If the strength of these were anything to go by, he was close. She shoved the watch into her shorts pocket, then opened the second bag. The bra belonging to MacEwan's niece felt dead when compared to Matthew's watch. She sat down and closed her eyes, reaching for whatever images the bra might give her. Gradually, they came.
Darkness. Fear. Hunger so fierce it burned through every fiber of her being. Words softly spoken, spinning through the darkness, surrounding her with power, locking her in chains. Heat burning through her body, through her soul. Sadness that rose in a wave, consuming her consciousness... Nikki dropped the bra into her lap and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what was happening to Rachel, but one thing was certain—it wasn't good. The voice that had flowed so powerfully through the darkness was the same voice evident in the images she'd received when she'd touched Ginger's hand. But how were MacEwan's niece and the flame imps connected?
She put the bra back into the plastic and returned it to her suitcase. She couldn't exactly run around the resort holding a bra, so finding Rachel would have to wait until the other guests were asleep. She grabbed a room key and headed down to the library. Probably a dozen or so people were in the airy room, browsing the shelves or sitting in the overstuffed armchairs reading newspapers. Michael was close to the ceiling-high windows, nose deep in a book. Given it was well after three, the fading rays of sunlight did little more than glimmer off his damp, dark hair.
She knelt next to him, resting her elbows on one arm of the chair. “You've changed." The black shirt he now wore clung to his body and seemed to emphasize the lean strength of his shoulders and forearms. She resisted the urge to touch him then remembered they were supposed to be honeymooners. She ran her fingers up his forearm and played with his ear. He pulled her hand away, brushing a kiss across her fingers before releasing them. Amusement touched the corners of his eyes.
"And you're awake.” He dropped the book onto the nearby coffee table. “You were snoring last time I saw you."
"I don't snore!” She slapped his leg. “Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you needed sleep.” He touched her face, his fingers warm and oh-so-gentle. “People are going to think I hit you."
She placed her hand over his, pressing his palm against her cheek. Heat slithered through her body, and deep inside the trembling began. Lord, she craved this man's touch so much it was beginning to hurt. “Let them. You and I know the truth, and that's all that matters. Did you find anything here?" He withdrew his hand, but the heat of his touch still lingered on her skin. “Nothing much. A few vague mentions of underground caverns in the area's history, but nothing concrete. They haven't anything official on the area's geology."