"What the hell for?"
He shrugged again. "Perhaps as a reminder that once they too were human."
"Weird," she muttered. Then she frowned. "You seem to know an awful lot about vampires."
"I have studied them for many years."
"Why?"
He hesitated. "Because my brother was killed by one."
Jasper, Nikki thought. That would at least explain Michael's fierce determination to catch the man. Or vampire, as the case may be.
"Why didn't the wood kill her, then? I thought you said wood was deadly to vampires?"
"It is, but like any weapon, you have to hit something vital. You punctured her gut. A wound like that will be painful and can take a long time to heal, but it's definitely not deadly."
Then next time she'd aim for the heart, she thought, and shivered. "Why aren't we chasing her now?
She's still back at her father's place."
"And how will you explain to the police the fact that you have stabbed Monica through the heart?"
"I thought vampire bodies turned to dust when staked?"
"Only in the movies." He smiled. "The sun will burn a vampire's flesh to dust. Otherwise, it's just a body, like any human body."
"But can they rise again? I thought it was part of the legend that vampires can heal any wound?"
"Most wounds. Which is why it is best to also decapitate. Once the head is separate, there's no chance of rejuvenation."
They approached the restaurant. Michael opened the door and ushered her inside. A waiter approached, an apologetic look on his face.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've just closed."
"Surely you could reopen for half an hour?" Michael said, an odd edge behind the lightness of his words.
"I'm sorry—" The waiter's words faltered. A sliver of power caressed the air, then the waiters' eyes widened, became lifeless. A chill ran through her. It was Tommy, all over again.
She dragged her arm from Michael's and punched him in the shoulder. "Stop—" He turned, and she took an abrupt step backward. Just for an instant his eyes held a darkness that burned her soul.
Then he blinked, and his gaze became guarded, wary. "Stop what?"
She took a deep breath. "Release the waiter. I… I don't like the meals here anyway."
He hesitated, then nodded. Power whispered around her, then the waiter cleared his throat and gave them another smile.
"I'm afraid the chef has already gone home for the night. I'm sorry, but we can't help you."
She spun and made a quick exit. The cold night air touched her fevered skin but wasn't responsible for the tremors running down her spine. Michael had controlled the waiter's mind too easily—as if it were something he did every day.
She stopped several houses down from the restaurant and took a deep breath. What kind of man so casually possessed the mind of another and then forced them to do as he asked? A man like Tommy, she thought, rubbing her arms. A man who just didn't care.
The back of her neck tingled with sudden awareness. Michael had stopped just behind her.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
His breath brushed warmth across the back of her neck. She tensed, but made no move to turn around.
"Why did you do it?"
"It's easier than arguing."
An honest enough answer. And so very similar to the excuses Tommy had used. "Could you control me as easily?"
He moved past her, his arm brushing against hers. Heat trembled across her skin. She rubbed the spot were their flesh had touched and watched him warily. His face was still, expressionless, but she sensed the turmoil beneath the calm exterior.
"I do not know," he said. "I hope I never have to try."
Tommy had tried, and sometimes succeeded.
The clock on the Town Hall tower down the road bonged into the silence. She counted the tones.
Midnight, the hour when all things dark and dangerous came out of hiding.
Things like Michael, maybe. She met his gaze again, the uneven pounding of her heart abnormally loud in the growing silence.
"If you ever do try—" "You would never know," he said quietly. "As the waiter never knew."
She clenched her fists in impotent fury. The ease with which he'd taken the waiters' thoughts made it clear his abilities were very strong. Where Tommy had haunted her dreams, and Jasper relied on traps to snare her mind, Michael would merely walk in and take. She could so easily become a puppet to his will.
He swore softly and grabbed her arm, shaking her lightly. "I would never do such a thing to you."
Yet he wasn't averse to reading her mind. She wrenched free of his grip. "Unless you had no other choice."
She could see the truth of her statement reflected in his eyes.
"I have made a promise to keep you safe," he said softly. "Though I am a man of my word, I will not stay where I am not wanted. Do you still wish me to accompany you home?"
She opened her mouth to say no, then hesitated. Intuition whispered the warning not to let this man go.
She needed the protection he offered, yet she couldn't ignore the darkness she sensed was so much a part of him.
Evil far worse waited somewhere in the night.
She shifted her stance and crossed her arms. "If you are a man of your word, will you make me a promise?"
"What do you wish?" His reply was as guarded as his expression.
"Will you vow never to try to take control of my mind or make me do anything against my will?"
Something in his stillness spoke of sudden anger. "If you trust me so little," he said, "then yes, I so vow."
There was a sudden distancing between them, though neither of them had moved. It could only be for the best, she told herself firmly. They were still strangers. Until she knew more about him, more about the subtle yet terrifying shifts in his nature, she had to keep distance between them. It was just possible her hero was no true hero after all.
Michael walked quietly beside Nikki, all too aware of the tension and confusion churning her thoughts.
He felt the same damn way.
Perhaps something within her recognized the darkness in him. Maybe that was why she now wore the small silver cross at her neck. Why she refused to trust him.
But why was her trust suddenly so important? He was here only to find Jasper, nothing more. She was his best, and quickest, means of doing so. Trust surely played no part in any of it.
The shadows moved on the other side of the street. Michael glanced across. Only a young couple, strolling hand in hand on their way home. He looked away, studying the street ahead, unsettled by a sudden surge of envy. Just for an instant, he had shared such intimacy, and it had felt good after so many years of loneliness.
Maybe Seline was right. Two days with Nikki, and unwanted wisps of emotion were raising their ugly heads. Something he could well do without, given his job.
He frowned, remembering a whisper he'd caught from her thoughts. Just like Tommy all over again .
Had someone in the past tried controlling her?
It was something he was never likely to attempt, and he'd had years to define and strengthen his gifts.
Even Jasper would never gain full control over her—not alive, at any rate. Her psychic abilities were far too strong to ever be leashed for long.
Yet she was more terrified of Jasper's attempts to control her than of Jasper himself.
Which only made Jasper's task that much easier. He would use her fear against her, use it to beat her into submission, to bend her to his will. Then he would kill her, and she would fully be his.
Damn it, there had to be some way to get her to face the demons of her past, so the demon in her present could not get the upper hand.
And just who in hell had appointed him the keeper of her soul?