"I'm going to kill that bastard," Jake muttered.
"We'll get him, don't worry."
"Not we. Me." He looked up. His face was ravaged, eyes bloodshot. "Promise me you won't go after him without me."
"Jake—" "Promise me!" His voice was savage, his eyes intense.
"Jake, I don't want to lose you, too."
"You won't. I'll kill him for this. And nothing, or nobody, is going to stop me from doing it."
She hesitated, then said, "Okay. I promise."
He nodded and went back to his grieving. From a distance came the sound of sirens. She had to get out while she could. She swiped at her eyes then walked forward. Jake didn't move, just continued to gently rock Mary back and forth. She brushed a kiss across Mary's head and bid her a silent good-bye.
A nebula cloud swirled past Jake, catching her eye. She frowned, wondering how the fog had gotten inside the room when there were no windows open. The mist drifted past again, briefly forming something almost human. Nikki's stomach dropped. It wasn't fog. It was a spirit—a ghost.
Mouth dry, she watched the thing, wondering if it was Mary's spirit or someone else's. She could find out… but was either she or Jake really ready to confront Mary if it was?
"Jake?"
He looked up. "What?"
"I think Mary's spirit may be in this room."
He didn't react in any way, simply stared at her. She raised her hands. "Don't ask me to explain how or why, but it appears I'm developing the talent to see ghosts."
"Like the movie?"
"Not as graphic or as clear as the movie, but yeah."
"And she's here?" His voice was an odd mix of hope and apprehension.
"It may be her, or it maybe someone else." The mist swirled in the one spot, as if listening to what she was saying. "I can't say for sure until I empower it."
"Then do it."
She met his gaze. "You sure?"
He nodded. "At the very least, it gives me the chance to apologize. To say good-bye."
It would give them both the chance to do that. She looked back to the misty form and took a deep breath. Its movements had quickened, as if in excitement. Closing her eyes, Nikki reached out. With her hand and with her psychic gifts.
Fog caressed her fingers, but it was warm rather than cold and damp. Something latched on to her psychic probe—she could feel the drain of energy flowing through her fingertips, though it was more a trickle than the rush that happened whenever she used her kinetic skills.
Jake made an odd, strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat. She opened her eyes. It was Mary who touched her fingers.
"I'm sorry," Jake whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."
Mary brushed a hand across his head. His hair stirred, as if touched by electricity rather than flesh. "You did what you thought was best. It's not your fault this happened."
"But I could've—" "No." Her voice was gentle and somehow ethereal. Though her skin seemed to hold color, there was little substance to her flesh. "It was my time. Destiny cannot be changed. Only the location."
Michael had changed her destiny. He'd loved her enough to snatch her from death's arms, and yet here she was, ready to walk away because he refused to share one part of his life. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was a fool. After everything he'd been through, after everything he'd done for her, he deserved far more consideration than that.
Deserved far better than her.
"You asked for revenge." Mary looked Nikki's way. "That is what I also wish. Let us be a part of this monster's death."
Fragile wisps of vapor stirred the darkness beyond Mary. More ghosts, probably. Nikki had no doubt it was the other four women Farmer had killed here in San Francisco.
"I'm new to all this. I don't know if I can handle more than one. Especially if I have to touch you all." Not to mention the fact that standing still when someone like Farmer was around could be extremely dangerous.
"You don't have to touch us."
Nikki glanced down at their joined hands. "Then why do you hold my hand?"
Mary's smile was wistful. "Because you needed it. Because I can."
The tears spilling down her cheeks became a flood. Nikki drew another deep breath and somehow managed to say, "I'm sorry we weren't here sooner."
"So am I." Mary brushed a gossamer finger across Jake's damp cheek. "Take care, my love. I'll be waiting for you when it's your turn to cross."
"No, don't—" Mary faded. Jake made an anguished sound and hugged his wife's body fiercely. The sound of sirens was perilously close.
"Jake, I have to go."
He nodded. Her gaze swept the darkness, seeing mist shimmer in the corner. He wasn't alone, and of that she was glad. She turned and made her way down the stairs.
Police cars rounded the corner as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She walked down a couple of shops then stopped, watching the three cars screech to a halt and the officers pile out. The FBI agents were among those who entered the shop. At least Jake would be relatively safe now.
She headed to the limo and asked the driver to take her back to the hotel. She'd barely entered her room when electricity shimmered across her skin. Farmer was early. Or maybe he was just checking whether she was still here.
She slipped off the charm and walked into the bedroom. "If you've hurt her, you bastard, I'll kill you."
He snorted. "Isn't that what you intended anyway?"
"Yeah, but I'd intended it to be quick. You'll have no such luxury if you've hurt either one of them."
"I haven't hurt them. Just played with them a little."
Liar, liar…God, she hoped Michael was still alive—surely she would have felt it if he'd died? He was a part of her, she a part of him. The two of them were bound together forever, so surely she would feel his passing… and the very fact she wasn't sure scared the hell out of her. Farmer had already gone back on his word once. There was nothing to say he hadn't done it twice.
"Let them go."
He gave her a Cheshire cat sort of smile. "Have you chosen?"
She crossed her arms. There was only one choice now, but he wasn't to know she was aware of that.
"No. And I have no intention of doing so."
"Then they both die."
"No!"
"Then choose."
"How will I know you'll keep your word?"
He gave her that smile again. "You don't."
"Bastard."
"Choose."
She took a deep breath. "Michael."
"Obviously, the fight he mentioned wasn't as deep as he'd feared."
If Michael had mentioned their relationship to Farmer, then he was in a bad way. He wouldn't talk to her about it, so why would he do so with a stranger—an enemy?
"Where is he, Farmer?"
"Somewhere safe. You'll have to come and get him, of course."
She snorted. "Yeah, that would be real wise, wouldn't it?"
Farmer raised an eyebrow. "If you don't, he's dead."
They were all dead anyway, unless she was very careful. And very lucky. "Where and when?"
He considered the question for several seconds, though she had no doubt he had this all planned to the very last detail.
"You'll find a park on the corner of Vincente and Twenty-eighth Avenue in Sunset. Meet me there just before dawn."
Why dawn? That was nearly six hours away. "Why not meet now?"
"Because that is what I wish, and that is what you will do."
He was a cocky bastard, that was for sure. She was going to enjoy wiping that smug smile off his face.
"Michael had better be alive."
"He will be."
She didn't trust the light in his eyes. Didn't trust the smile that played about his mouth. He was up to something, though she had no idea what—beyond the fact that it boded no good for her.
Farmer's image faded. She retrieved the charm and slipped it back on, then made herself some coffee.