"We could spend days searching through these tunnels," he said. "It's literally a maze down here."
And they didn't have days. Only hours. Forty seven of them to be precise. They had to narrow the search area down. "Where is this cavern in relation to the town?"
He hesitated. "Somewhere near the eastern edge."
Meaning that they'd ended up heading away from the Standard mine rather than towards it. "So, if the Standard mine is west, and we know for certain there's a sacrifice circle there—" "We haven't actually seen it, so you can't say that for sure."
"Yes, we can." Her gaze met his. "He's using compass points."
"If the magic being used is as large as you say, he'd probably have to. I doubt whether he'd be able to feed it all from one central point."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think there's a central point as well?"
"We've already found it. The roof of the whorehouse."
She closed her eyes and fought the rush of memories, although the man on the roof had died a cleaner death than the woman here. "Would they use it again? They surely must know we've discovered it."
Hadn't that been the whole point in the first place?
"I think they'll have no choice. Dunleavy probably figures we have enough keeping us occupied to be keeping a close watch on that roof."
And in reality, he'd be right. "If this place is the maze you say it is, then it might be better if you search alone. Once you find something, you can come back for me."
"I don't fancy leaving you alone, after what I discovered in Kinnard's hole."
She raised an eyebrow and mentally asked, Why?
Energy stirred the air, and his gaze narrowed in sudden concentration. Fighting the spell, Nikki thought.
Fighting the commands being placed on him.
Because it seems Kinnard has taken quite a fancy to you. He answered her question through the link without even seeming to realize he'd done so. Nor did he seem to realize he'd basically recognized that she was the women in the photos and not the woman whose image she still wore.
And though she felt like dancing at the breakthrough, she controlled the urge. There was still a ways to go yet before he was totally free of the effect of the runes. And until he was, she had to play it carefully.
They couldn't afford to have Dunleavy realize she wasn't Seline.
"I can protect myself. Dunleavy may think he holds all the aces, but I hold one or two little surprises up my sleeve."
"Yeah, both of them silver." His tone held a teasing edge. "But those little stickers aren't going to be of much use if Dunleavy decides to send his goons after you."
"But he won't, because he needs me alive for the ceremony."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "You willing to bet your life on that?"
"Yes." Seline killed Dunleavy's twin. Killed him in the midst of the ceremony and consigned his soul to hell. Which meant Seline had to be at Weylin's ceremony so that he could reverse the spell and bring his brother's spirit back to life. And she was Seline's doppelganger.
All they had to hope was that Seline was correct in her assumption that the ceremony would fail simply because she wasn't Seline.
"I'll escort you back to the entrance."
"No. I can go by myself. We need to find the other sacrifice sites before Dunleavy has a chance to protect them any further."
His concern whisked through the link, warming her soul. "I don't think—" She placed a finger to his lips, stopping him. "Trust me. I can look after myself."
It was a phrase she'd repeated often enough, and something sparked in his eyes. Amusement or memory, it didn't much matter which, because he was getting closer and closer to breaking the chains around his memories.
"Okay."
He brushed a hand down her cheek, slid it around her neck and pulled her towards him. His kiss was both demanding and passionate. Despite knowing the danger of doing this here, she couldn't help responding just as intensely.
And with their bodies crushed so close, she was fiercely aware of every part of him. From the rush of longing burning through the link, to the way her breasts crushed against his chest, right down to the restrained hardness pressing luscious heat against her abdomen. His body remembered her, even if his mind was still chained.
He pulled away with a suddenness that made her gasp softly. Then she saw the fiery glint in his eyes. It was passion and something else. Something far deadlier.
"There was blood on your mouth, just a smear," he explained, his voice soft yet strained.
Yet his teeth weren't extending, even though his demon had risen to the surface. He was gaining control again, despite the spell on his back. She nodded. "I'll meet you back at the house later."
He stepped away, then stopped again, reaching out to brush a thumb across her mouth. "Be careful."
"I will."
He wrapped the shadows around his body, disappearing from normal sight, but not her enhanced sight.
He was a whitish blur that ran quickly towards the tunnel and disappeared.
She bent to retrieve her knife. The blade was nicked, the end broken. Even so, it was a useful enough weapon against a vampire or shapeshifter. She shoved it back into its sheath, walked around the star and headed for the tunnel.
And tried to ignore the weight of the earth pressing down on her as she made her way back to the entrance.
When the beams of sunlight began filtering through the darkness ahead, she gave a huge sigh of relief.
She wiped the sweat from her eyes and tried to convince herself her reaction was due to the clingy atmosphere in the tunnels rather than fear itself.
She'd been in tunnels in San Francisco and hadn't felt like this. Nor had she when she and Michael had traveled to Jackson Hole and confronted the dead and his past. But those tunnels hadn't really reminded her of the tunnel that had trapped her. This one did.
She leapt up, grabbed either side of the opening, and hauled herself up, wriggling and cursing and wishing her butt was a little less heavy.
When she finally reached the surface, she collapsed in an ungainly, sweating heap, trying to catch her breath and wondering why her muscles were aching so much when she was supposedly so fit.
"That has to be the most inelegant exit I've ever seen," a voice said dryly.
She bit back the urge to curse and looked around. Kinnard was sitting on the steps of the dead ranger's house, idly twirling a long reed of grass in his hand.
"What are you up to, Kinnard?" she snapped, hauling herself into a sitting position before dusting off her hands.
Kinnard's gaze slithered up her exposed legs. She snapped her skirt down, and he grinned.
"Just waiting for you to come up for air, girlie."
"Were you down in that darkness, spying again?"
"Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't." He flicked the blade of grass away and stood. "That vampire of yours won't be able to fight the creatures waiting at other sacrifice sites alone, you know."
She raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you know we found the sacrifice site?"
"Half the town heard the explosion. I'm surprised you and the vamp weren't more seriously hurt."
"We run fast."
"You must. Just be warned—the next time, it could be deadly."
She rose to her feet. "Or so you would like me to believe."
"Oh, I didn't mean deadly to you, girlie."
"Then what did you mean?"
His gaze slid to the town. She grabbed his arm, wrapping her fingers around his cold, almost slimy, flesh and called to the fire deep within. Flames responded, leaping from fingertip to fingertip, touching, but not really burning, his skin. Kinnard's eyes widened in surprise and, perhaps, a touch of fear.