"And now I shall return the favor." His voice was still conversational. Almost friendly. The chill in her body increased as he continued, "Your final hours here on Earth will make hell seem like a holiday resort."
His teeth dripped blood onto her thigh. It was a liquid heat that seemed to burn like acid. Her breath caught and her heart seemed to stutter to a halt. Then he lowered his head and his teeth sank into her flesh, tearing and sucking, and all she could do was try to scream…
…cold water slapped her face, all but drowning her. Nikki blinked, shuddering, as the link between her and Mary snapped. For several seconds she did nothing more than breathe deeply, trying to ease the fierce churning in her stomach. Trying to ignore the horror and fear pounding through her.
God, Mary didn't deserve what this monster was about to do to her. None of these women had. He had to be stopped. She had to stop him. Tonight. No matter what.
She wiped her sleeve across her face then looked around. She was at the opposite end of the sofa and no longer held Mary's bra—it was on the floor under the coffee table. She doubted if she'd thrown it there—Jake must have wrenched it free to help break the connection between her and Mary.
He moved across the room, a glass of water held in one hand. He squatted in front of her, his fingers shaking as he touched her forehead. "Are you okay?"
She nodded and grabbed the glass he held, drinking it quickly. And noted her hands were shaking almost as much as his.
His gaze continued to search hers. "And Mary?"
She couldn't lie to him, as much as she wanted to. He would never forgive her is she was anything less than honest with him. "He's feeding off her." She hesitated, fighting the tears that stung her eyes. "I think he intends to suck her dry."
He didn't move, didn't blink. Just continued to stare at her in that remote, angry way of his. "Is she still alive at this moment?"
"Yes."
"How long has she got?"
She hesitated. "I don't know." But it wouldn't be long, if what she'd seen was any indication. Her spirit might already be walking that foggy plane.
He thrust to his feet. "Then the sooner we get to her the better. You ready to move?"
Even if she wasn't, she would. Time was of the essence. She rubbed her forehead then looked at the clock. "We have fifty minutes to get in, get her and get back here."
He nodded and swept up the bra, shoving it in a plastic bag before handing it to her. "Where is she?"
"Not in the sewers this time, though I'd guess he's still using them to get around."
"Where then?"
She glanced down at the bag in her hand, contemplating the stirring shadows. Trying not to think too much about the distant but powerful images that spoke more of death than life. "We'll head towards the Castro area. I'll know more once we get there."
"Will we need weapons?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Then let's go get some, then go rescue my wife."
He spun and stalked from the room. Nikki grabbed her coat and Seline's charm and ran after him. But even as she closed the door, she knew they were going to be too late.
Michael barely had time to jump to his feet before the fledglings were on him. He staggered back until he hit the wall, but they still tore at him, using hands and teeth, greedily sucking where they cut. Their desperation stung the air, making it difficult to breathe. His head swam with pain, and the room was drifting in and out of focus. But he couldn't let go. If he did, he was dead. Not because they'd suck him dry, but because in their desperation they'd tear him apart.
One fledgling ripped into his broken arm. Pain flashed white-hot and a scream tore up his throat. Gritting his teeth, his breath little more than a hiss, he rolled the chain around his knuckles then punched the youngster in the face. The blow wasn't full strength—couldn't be, given the amount of blood he'd lost—but the chain still shattered the fledgling's nose. Gore flew, spraying across his face. His mouth watered as the darkness in him rose, eager to taste the sweet offering. He swallowed heavily and hit the young vampire again. This time the blow was hard enough to make the fledgling stagger backwards. The minute he did he was dead. The smell of his blood stung the air, and two of his loop mates swooped down on him, too consumed by the need raging in their blood to consider who or what they were killing.
Which left him with only one. He wrapped the chain around the youngster's neck and pulled it tight. The fledgling didn't notice, just continued to suck greedily at his flesh. Michael took a deep breath, gathering strength, then ripped the youngster free and smashed him against the wall.
There was a sound similar to wet meat splattering, then the fledgling slumped to the ground. Not dead yet. But certainly more bait for his loop mates, which would buy him more time. But he had to get going.
Had to move while he still could.
He pushed away from the wall. The night swam around him, unfocused and blurry. He blinked, but it didn't seem to help. Weakness crept through his limbs until it felt as if every muscle trembled. Too much blood lost. Too much pain.
Nothing he could do about either.
He edged closer to the ladder and stared up at the sewer plate. It looked pretty grimy, as if it hadn't been moved in ages. Even if he had the strength to climb the half-shattered ladder, it was doubtful if he'd be able to move the cover. He'd have to find an easier way out.
He stepped past the remaining two fledglings. They didn't even look up, too busy consuming their loop mate. The aroma of blood wrapped around him, and his canines lengthened. He stumbled away, battling the need, the desire, to take what his body so desperately craved.
He stopped at the intersection, swaying slightly as he considered his options. But really, he didn't have any. Farmer had gone left, so he had to go right. The last thing he wanted right now was to run into the fiend. He was in no fit state to battle a mouse, let alone a monster.
He half ran, half stumbled through the darkness, splashing through puddles of muck and God only knew what else. The smell of the sea increased, indicating he was heading towards it rather than away. Sewer plates appeared at regular intervals, but he kept on running, wanting to put some distance between him and the remaining fledglings before he stopped.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. He collapsed against the wall, body bathed in sweat and muscles so weak they almost felt liquid. Had he been human, he'd probably be suffering a heart attack right about now. His pulse rate was unbearably high, even for a vampire. He leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the darkness as he gulped in air. Air he didn't really need but his body seemed to crave.
Footsteps whispered, distant but urgent. The fledglings were coming after him. They were obviously sated, or the second fledgling wasn't as badly injured as he first thought, because there was no way they could have consumed their two loop mates in such a short space of time.
Either that or Farmer was returning and had ordered them away from their feed and after him. He had to get out of these sewers—now.
He staggered on to the next cover. Climbing the ladder was an awkward and painful process. He lurched from one rung to the next, pulling himself up one-handed, jarring his broken arm with every movement. By the time he reached the top his muscles burned and his vision was so blurred he couldn't see his arms.
Hooking one leg through a rung to hold himself steady, he pressed his hand against the cover and pushed with every ounce of strength he had left. For several seconds nothing happened. Sweat dripped in a steady stream down his face, stinging his eyes. Something popped, as if a seal had broken, then the cover disappeared with a suddenness that almost had him falling backwards.