She tilted her head back, her gaze locking on the coffin. Reaching deep, she called forth her flames, putting as much force into them as she could, willing them to burn wood and flesh and bone until there was nothing left, not even dust.
Power burned through her body and leapt from her fingers in a huge ball of fire. Dunleavy made a strangled sound in this throat and flung out a hand. White light darted across the room, clashing with the flames. For an instant, they stopped, as white light and red rolled and boiled around each other in midair.
Another wave of power surged through her, though this time the call was not her doing. It was almost as if the flames themselves were calling for more energy. The fire ball burned brighter, then broke away from the white light and leapt across the coffin.
Kinnard's furious howl wasn't even remotely human. Nikki tugged harder on the ropes, and managed to get one arm free. She twisted, grabbing the rope binding her right wrist and pulling on it as hard as she could.
Air screamed above her. She looked up and saw the hilt of the knife aimed at her head. She threw herself away, the rope burning into her wrist as it bought her to an abrupt halt. The knife hilt smashed across the side of her face, and everything seemed to go red. Skin tore, bone cracked. Despite her vow, she screamed.
There was an answering bellow from above, and fury burned through her mind, through her soul. That was the answer, she thought dazedly. That would free them. Save them.
"Move and she dies," Kinnard yelled. "Your choice, vampire."
"If you don't move, your brother burns." Michael's voice was cold, harsh.
And weary. Nikki blinked back tears and fought the pain that threatened to sweep her into unconsciousness. Kinnard stood above her, his arm raised, the silver knife glittering in the harsh light of the flames behind them.
"My magic protects my brother. The flames only consume wood."
She closed her eyes and reached for the link. You can use the flames to attack Kinnard. He won't be expecting that.
You sure?
Yes. Why she was so sure, she couldn't say. But she'd always trusted her instincts, and she wasn't about to stop now. Do you remember that moment of oneness when we last made love?
Sunshine ran briefly through her mind. I'm not likely to forget something as beautiful as that.
If we repeat that, I think we might be able to use our psi skills. Kinnard's spells cater to the particular talents of a particular person. By binding our minds, we bypass his spell.
"Show yourself," Kinnard continued. "Come down here. But cautiously, mind you, or the knife will feast on the girlie's heart."
"I'm coming down."
Through the blur of tears, she saw his silhouette appear briefly above them. Then he crouched and leapt down. She tried to look at him, but Kinnard's boot hit her cheek. Pain flashed white-hot through her face, and bile rose to her throat. She swallowed heavily and remained still.
If I had the strength and the time, I'd rip the bastard apart limb by limb for what he's done to you.
I'm okay.It was a lie, and he undoubtedly knew it. We need to link.
Done.He thrust the link wide open, and suddenly, she was with him, in him, part of him. Their souls twined, merged, and every fiber of their beings rejoiced in a joining that was sensual, powerful, and very definitely otherworldly.
Power surged through them, became them. Flame flickered to life across Michael's fingers, and he raised them.
Kinnard's eyes widened. "That's not possible."
"I warned you, Kinnard," he said. "You didn't know enough about either of us."
Kinnard made a gargling sound, and the knife plunged toward her. Michael made a flicking motion with one hand, and the knife was torn from Kinnard's fingers. Then that energy was battering Kinnard, and he flew across the room, smashing through the shelving before sliding to the ground.
Michael's gaze met hers. Suddenly, the power that flowed through them both was concentrating on her, sweeping down her limbs, across her fingers, and around her ankles. The ropes binding her fell away.
Get Kinnard. Was it her thought or his? She wasn't sure, and in the end, it didn't matter. Not as long as Kinnard was taken care of.
She rolled onto her hands and feet and crawled out of the unfinished pentagram. Pain was a distant echo, held at bay by the oneness, but they'd both pay for it later. She knew that without a doubt.
Michael hadn't moved. He raised another hand, and suddenly Kinnard was there, right in front of them, squirming like the worm he was as he dangled several feet off the ground.
"You know, if I had the time, I'd ensure your death was as painful as I could possibly make it."
Michael's voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion. Yet, she could feel his anger, his weariness, and most of all, his desire to just get it over with so they could get back to a more normal life.
"But as much as you deserve to die like you made your victims die, I can't be bothered wasting the time on a worm. Especially when I have wedding plans to finalize."
Kinnard snorted. "Your woman's dead, vampire. I killed her. Arranged to have her pretty head sliced off in an accident."
"You think so? I think she's sitting very close by."
Kinnard's daze darted to her then back to Michael. "No."
"Yes. That's Nikki, Kinnard. Not Seline. Your ceremony was doomed to failure from the very start."
He screamed then, a high, unearthly sound that vibrated off the walls and sent chills racing down her spine. The power surged. Kinnard's silver knife rose from the ground and slashed with unearthly force across Kinnard's neck. The screaming stopped, and the power died. Kinnard hit the ground, his body flopping at odd angles, his head rolling away into the darkness.
Suddenly, Michael dropped beside her and carefully dragged her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed the good side of her face against his chest, listening to the wild beat of his heart, knowing her own strained just as badly.
"So," she said, her voice cracked with exhaustion. "What now?"
"Now, we sit here and watch the bonfire while we wait for the cavalry to come and pick up the pieces."
And that's exactly what they did.
Chapter Fifteen
Nikki glanced at the clock as she leaned a shoulder against the windowsill. It was hard to believe that in ten minutes she'd become Mrs. Michael Kelly. Even though she'd been rushing around all week finalizing the details, part of her kept insisting it was nothing more than a giddy dream.
Now, the day was here, and it wasn't a dream but reality. She'd been grinning like a village idiot all morning.
And even the weather gods had decided to bless them. Despite the fact that it had rained most of the week, yesterday and today had dawned fine and clear, giving the soggy ground a chance to dry out.
Not that there was much grass or soil to be seen in the immediate area. It had all disappeared under the sea of buttercups that had been specially planted for the day. The pretty flowers—her favorites—also surrounded the path that ran from the house to the rose-covered gazebo. In the warm morning sun, the orange, yellow and red roses were glowing so brightly the building looked afire.
She'd wanted a wedding that was simple. Just her and Michael and few close friends, here in the backyard of their home. Michael had taken the idea and run with it, and the stunning vista before her was the result.
"I wasn't about to let my one and only marriage begin on a simple note," he said, as he stepped into the room. "Not when the woman I'm marrying deserves a whole lot more than that."
She grinned, hitched up her dress and ran across the room. She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly, then said, "You do realize, of course, that you've set the tone for the rest of our marriage."