Dancing With The Dead

Chapter Seventeen

The silence drove her crazy. Nikki prowled through the house, trying to find something, anything, to do.

Now that she had the time to think, it was the one thing she was desperate to avoid. Michael had walked out the door, probably forever. And she couldn't help the notion that, in a lifetime filled with mistakes, she'd just made her biggest.

But I want to be alone. I don't want to share my life with anyone, don't want to share my heart…

But did she really want to spend eternity alone?

The answer to that was simple. She didn't really want to spend this lifetime alone, not to mention the next three or four.

But what other choice did she have?

She stopped in front of the window and stared out blindly. Jasper's whispers ran laughingly through her mind, touching her soul with his darkness. His presence grew stronger. One day soon he would call to her, and she would have no choice but to obey.

She crossed her arms, rubbing them lightly. She'd done the right thing in telling Michael to go. At least now she didn't have to worry about betraying him. But what would she have done if Jasper wasn't a problem? What if there'd been only Michael and her and an endless eternity to share together?

Outside, a young couple strolled hand in hand across the road. She didn't have their courage. It was simple fact. Jasper only gave her a more believable excuse to push Michael away.

She turned from the window and walked across the room. Maybe she needed to work. Maybe if she buried herself in mundane office tasks, she wouldn't have to think about Michael or Jasper or long years of loneliness left ahead.

She walked into the bedroom to collect her coat and keys, and brushed past the bed. Memories rose to haunt her—being in Michael's arms, his bed, his throaty laughter as she'd whisked his pants away, the fire of their minds, touching and loving.

How could she have given it all away? How could she have thrown away her one chance of lasting love?

She froze. There, she'd finally admitted it. She loved him. But it didn't matter a damn. She didn't want him to die, so they simply couldn't be together.

She spun away from the bed and its memories and retreated to the front door. After a quick glance around to check that all the lights were off, she opened the door and went outside.

The night was clear and held the promise of being cold. A chill ran up her spine as she unlocked the car door. It had nothing to do with the wind's icy fingers teasing the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.

She ignored the sensation and got into the car. There was little else she could do. It wasn't Michael or Jasper, so more than likely it was one of the zombies. And she sure as hell wasn't going to confront one of them.

But if only one zombie was watching her, what were the other two up to? Foreboding pulsed, a warning of trouble ahead. She grimaced and drove out of the driveway. It would be a nice change if the warnings were a little more specific.

The first thing she saw as she walked into the office was the madly flashing light on the answering machine. Throwing her keys on her desk, she grabbed a pen and paper and sat to answer some calls.

It was nearing midnight when she stopped. She rubbed at the crick in her neck and closed her eyes in sudden weariness. I need a drink , she thought, something strong . But Jake kept the whiskey under the cupboard near his desk, and she just couldn't be bothered with getting up. It was probably just as well. The mood she was in, she'd probably get drunk and end up feeling sorry for herself.

She leaned back in the chair and rested her feet on top of the desk. For some reason, she felt safe in the office. All the doors and windows were locked and barred, so if anyone tried getting in she'd hear them.

A few hours' sleep would not go astray. She closed her eyes and drifted.

Images formed in her mind. Images that were indistinct and blurred, but full of panic. Figures lurched and spun in a gentle and terrifying dance. Death laughed, white teeth flashing across the darkness.

She jerked upright, her feet crashing to the floor. Now she knew what the other two zombies were up to. Jake was in danger.

She reached for the link, then stopped. It wasn't fair to call Michael every time she or Jake was in trouble. He was here to find Jasper, and she shouldn't keep distracting him from that.

It left her with only one other option. Picking up the phone, she quickly dialed MacEwan's number. He answered on the second ring.

"It's Nikki James. I need help," she said.

"To do what?" His voice was terse, annoyed.

She wondered if she'd woken him. "It's one of those situations that can't rationally be explained."

Silence met her reply. She waited, her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip on the receiver.

"Tell me what's going on," he said, after a long moment.

She sighed in relief. At least he hadn't dismissed her outright, as many others would have. "The man responsible for the recent spate of murders is going after Jake. Only he's sending his people to do it."

"I see no problem. Jake's still in the hospital?"

"He is, but it's not that simple." She hesitated, then softly cleared her throat. "The people being sent are

… well, they're zombies."

MacEwan made no sound. Even the soft rasp of his breathing had disappeared.

"They're two of the four women who went missing in Highgate Park."

MacEwan swore softly. It was hard to tell whether he believed her or not, and all she could do was wait. Jake was in danger and needed help. If MacEwan wouldn't assist her then she'd have no choice but to turn to Michael. She couldn't cope with two zombies on her own, and she wasn't going to let Jake die now.

"And I was worried about explaining Monica Trevgard's sudden crisping. Jeez…"

If he had any doubts as to her sanity, she couldn't hear it in his voice. Maybe he had seen too much on the streets to be fazed by anything life threw at him now. Or maybe he was just humoring her while he called the men with the white coats on the spare line.

"How do we deal with these people?"

"I'm told the only way to stop them is to break their necks."

"So I'm supposed to order my men to break the necks of a couple of dead women?" His voice was scratchy with either disbelief or amusement. Maybe both.

"There's no other way to stop them." She glanced anxiously at her watch. Three o'clock. Time was running out for Jake. She had to move.

"Maybe." Disbelief was stronger in his voice this time. "We'd better meet at the hospital. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes," she confirmed and hung up.

She stood and looked around the room. While she still had the silver knives down her boots, she wasn't so sure they'd be a deterrent against the zombies. And her wrist knives certainly didn't worry them. Jake had a gun locked in the safe, but would that work any better than a knife? Could a dead person be killed by a gunshot? What was that old rhyme? One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight…

What about salt? Michael had said it was useless against zombies, but thrown into their eyes, it would stop them, if only briefly.

She walked across the room and opened the small cupboard under the sink. Jake had a fetish for extra salt on his chips, so there had to be some in here somewhere. She moved several jars around, eventually finding a large shaker. For good measure, she grabbed the pepper and shoved both in her pocket.

Then she retrieved her keys from her desk and ran out to the car.

MacEwan was waiting for her at the hospital, leaning against the side of a car almost as battered as her own. Two other officers waited near the hospital's main entrance. She knew there would be others guarding the remaining exits. When MacEwan did something, he did it properly.

She stopped her car beside his and got out. "How many men do you have?"

He exhaled a long plume of smoke, then dropped the rest of his cigarette, crushing it under his heel. "Six, two men guarding each of the exits."

Six men, plus the two of them. Surely it was enough? "Have you been inside?"

He nodded. "Just to let the staff know what's going on."

She stared at him. "You told them about the zombies?"

He snorted. "I'm not a fool."

"And your men?"

"They've seen pictures of the missing women. I've told them to expect the unexpected." He shrugged.

She knew then that he didn't really believe he'd be confronting zombies. "You ready to go in?" he continued.

She looked around, then nodded. There was no one watching her. Maybe she'd lost the zombie. And maybe it had somehow beaten her here and joined its brethren.

Seven men might not be enough to cope with the inhuman strength and speed of three zombies.

God, she missed Michael. She missed his strength, his ability to make her feel safe. Missed all his secrets and irritating ways. Admit it , she thought, you simply miss him . But there wasn't a hope in Hades she'd reach for him. Jasper's last two traps had almost killed her. If he succeeded with the third, she didn't want to take Michael with her.

She stopped suddenly. She couldn't die. Michael's gift of life meant she couldn't be raised as one of the dead, simply because Jasper couldn't kill her—not unless he severed her head. And even if he did that, he couldn't raise her.

The implications were more than a little mind-boggling.

MacEwan opened the door and frowned back at her. She hurried forward. The nurse stationed at the front desk looked up, and Nikki gave her a brief smile then led the way to the elevators.

MacEwan spoke into a handset as they got into the elevator, ordering his men to keep sharp. She watched the floor numbers roll sedately by and hoped the men listened to him. Their lives might depend on it.

The doors opened on the eighth floor. MacEwan held her back and looked out, then made her follow him as he led the way down the silent hall. When they reached Jake's room, he motioned her to one side of the door, then stood on the opposite side and slowly pushed it open. Nothing happened. After a few seconds, she peered around the corner of the door. The room was dark.

Foreboding pulsed in her brain. MacEwan reached out and turned on the lights. She blinked at the sudden brightness. The room was empty. Jake was gone.

MacEwan swore and spoke quickly into the handset. Nikki ran forward, hand outstretched as she neared the bed, desperate to find something… there! She lunged forward and grabbed his reading glasses. Her palm burned as images rose. Jake was alive.

"The stairs!" She pushed past MacEwan and ran from the room.

He cursed and spoke quickly into the handset as he pounded after her. He grabbed her arm as she reached the stairwell and wrenched her backwards.

"Don't be a fool," he said. "You're unarmed. Let me go first."

He drew his gun and cautiously opened the door. It was useless protesting, especially when he refused to believe what he was up against.

It was also a damn good reason for contacting Michael. But maybe that was what Jasper really wanted—her calling Michael here to help when the odds were on Jasper's side.

The stairwell was silent, dark. Warmth pulsed through her fingers. She glanced at the glasses in her hand.

"They're on the roof," she whispered.

MacEwan gave her a curious look, but didn't refute her statement. She followed him into the stairwell, squinting up into the darkness, straining to see something, anything that might indicate Jake was near.

The sound of a dragged footstep rasped across the silence. The handset squawked.

"Heading to the roof," MacEwan answered.

Though he spoke softly, his voice echoed. The zombies would know they were coming, if they didn't know already. She licked her lips and followed MacEwan up the stairs. Somewhere above them, a door opened, then slammed shut. She gripped the handrail tightly. They didn't have much time left.

"Quickly," she whispered.

"It's a black hole in here. I'm going as fast as I damn well can."

Tension edged his whisper. She smiled grimly. Maybe MacEwan wasn't the cool, calm and collected type he liked to appear. They reached the exit to the roof. MacEwan opened the door and peered out. A cold wind ran in, whipping around her ankles. She shivered and peered over his shoulder, trying to see Jake.

MacEwan nudged her back. "I see them. Wait here."

He disappeared out the door. Nikki snorted softly. Stay here indeed . Slipping out the door, she ran in the opposite direction. The warning pulse grew more urgent. The zombies were dragging Jake to the edge of the building.

She raced around a crumbling chimney, then stopped. The wind slapped against her face, as cold as ice.

The zombies were heading for the building's edge, Jake's unconscious figure held between them.

MacEwan stood twenty feet away, gun drawn but by his side.

"Police! Stop or I'll shoot," MacEwan warned.

The zombies paid no notice, ambling on towards the edge. Again MacEwan shouted a warning, this time aiming his gun. The zombies continued to ignore him.

The gunshot reverberated through the night. One zombie stopped, then dropped his hold on Jake and ponderously turned to face MacEwan. The other limped on, dragging Jake's still body by an arm.

Nikki broke into a run. Out of the corner of her eye she saw MacEwan take a step, saw him raise the gun.

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

The creature continued to ignore him. Another shot reverberated. The zombie staggered sideways as the bullet hit, but it wasn't stopped. She didn't know if MacEwan had aimed to wound or kill, but it didn't really matter. Bullets wouldn't stop them, as she'd feared.

The second zombie had almost reached the building's edge, and she wasn't close enough to do a damn thing. Desperately, she kinetically wrenched Jake's unconscious body away from the creature, hauling him across the darkness into her arms.

She staggered under the impact of his weight, her mind reeling with pain. She'd never attempted to move anything as heavy as a man before, and it was harder than she'd ever imagined it could be. Sweat broke out across her brow, quickly chilled by the cold wind. Licking her lips and tasting fear, she thrust her shoulder under Jake's arm. Holding him tight, she walked away as quickly as she could.

The zombie howled in frustration. Heavy steps followed.

"How the hell do you stop these things?"

MacEwan's sharp question jarred the silence.

"I told you. Break their necks." She barely glanced at him, all her attention on the exit across the far side of the roof. A warning pulsed through her, and she checked.

The door opened, and two of MacEwan's men stepped out. They looked around, then ran towards the detective.

Behind them, the door opened again. The third zombie stepped out.

She swore and stopped. The creature had the exit blocked, and there was no other way off the roof.

They were trapped.

The plaza pulsed with music and light. People danced and drank, filling the night with heat and music.

Michael kept a close watch on the partygoers from his vantage point above the square. Jasper wove his way through the unsuspecting crowd, a red haze in the darkness, easy to follow. Michael sensed the other vampire's hunger, felt his need. Knew he would attempt to feed tonight. He watched him move from figure to figure, searching for easy prey, someone to lead off into the night and feed upon.

Only Michael had already made sure there were no loners in the immediate area, forcing the drunks and lone partygoers to move on. Jasper would have to extend his search to a less populated section of the city.

And there he would die. Nikki would be safe.

He stirred, shifting from one foot to the other. He wouldn't—couldn't—think about her. Not when he had a murderer to catch. Maybe not even after.

But the memory of her smoky amber eyes, clouded in confusion and fear, kept running through his mind, haunting him.

He sighed and leaned wearily against the wall. He had never wanted to fall in love. Not with Nikki. Not with anyone. His life was too dangerous and human life too tenuous, too short. But right from the beginning he'd had no choice. He might have told himself he was only using her as bait, but the truth was, he had simply used it as an excuse to stay near her. She was a flame, a bright torch that had pierced the darkness surrounding him. He needed the touch of that fire. Needed her.

He didn't want to return to the emptiness of an eternity alone. Better death, if it came to a choice.

He frowned and watched Jasper move back to the center of the square. What was the fiend up to now?

The younger vampire found shape, intercepting the attentions of a pretty young woman, spinning her away from her partner in a dance both erotic and sensual.

Why the hell was Jasper dancing? Why was he risking exposure like this? Michael stood up straight.

Something was going on, though he wasn't sure what.

The younger vampire turned. Their gazes locked in a battle Michael knew neither could win. Then Jasper sneered and mouthed a word.

Jake.

Michael clenched his fists. Somehow, Jasper was going after Jake. Probably the zombies again, he thought, and wished he'd killed them when he'd had the chance. Though what was the point when Jasper could so easily call more of his victims from the dead? He jumped to the ground and moved forward, slipping quickly through the crowd. There was nothing he could do for Jake right now. As much as he liked the man, as much as his death might hurt Nikki, he wasn't going to let Jasper slip through his fingers now that he almost had him…

Jasper's laughter stopped. His eyes widened as he suddenly realized his plan wasn't working. The fiend turned and ran, pushing his way through the crowd.

Michael smiled grimly. Jasper could never escape, no matter how fast he ran. Not when the air recoiled against his evil.

He walked quickly through the crowd, following Jasper's trail. They moved out of the square and into the main street. Jasper crossed the road, then ran into an alley. Michael hesitated as a car drove by, and picked up an old steel bar from a bin before he entered the alley.

Jasper's life force shimmered ahead. He tossed the bar in his hand a couple of times, then glanced towards Jasper. Hefting the bar a third time, he threw it as hard as he could.

It hit with a satisfying thump. Jasper staggered forward, then regained his momentum and kept on running. But for the first time, Michael felt fear rather than gloating in the younger vampire's thoughts.

Jasper crossed another street. He was heading for the docks, perhaps hoping to lose Michael amongst all the old warehouses.

The tang of salt air grew heavier on the wind. Michael listened to the waves breaking across the wharf supports, an angry sound that matched his mood. Jasper ran down a wooden walkway and into a building.

Michael studied it. The warehouse appeared deserted. There was no one about, either inside or in the nearby buildings.

A trap waiting to be sprung.

He stopped near the door, then moved around to the left. Turning a corner, he saw a small building in the shadows of the next warehouse. He walked across, keeping watch on the building to make sure Jasper made no attempt to escape.

The door was padlocked. But from inside came the smell of gasoline. Michael wrenched the door open.

How fortunate, he thought, seeing a dozen or so cans.

Picking up two, he moved back to the warehouse. Jasper hadn't moved. He could see his red haze hunkered down in one corner.

Michael opened the can and splashed the gas across the building's wooden wall. Then he stepped back, reaching into his pocket for the matches he'd picked up earlier.

The fire wouldn't kill Jasper, but it would make him sweat. Make him relive the horror of his childhood.

Make him fear, as he'd made Nikki fear.

Lighting a match, Michael flicked it at the wall, then stepped back quickly as the wall exploded into flame.

Fear hit him, almost suffocating his senses. Only it wasn't Jasper's fear. It was Nikki's.

He immediately opened the link and reached out, demanding to know what was wrong. Her mind was closed to him, refusing to acknowledge his call. He cursed softly. When he'd shared his psyche with her, he'd not only strengthened the link between them, but he'd also strengthened her ability to ignore him as well.

He glanced back at the fire. Hungry fingers of flame were beginning to spread along the roof. It wouldn't be long before the whole building was ablaze. Jasper hadn't yet moved. He would wait until the last possible moment. But Michael couldn't.

Nikki was in danger. He had to leave.

At least dawn wasn't far off. With a bit of luck, Jasper wouldn't have the courage to do any hunting tonight.

And that, in turn, would weaken him, make them a more even match. When Michael had shared his psyche with Nikki, he'd lost a lot of his strength. If Jasper fed, he would be hard to beat. Not that it mattered. If Michael had to die, then so be it.

As long as he took Jasper with him.

He turned and broke into a run, heading for the hospital and Nikki.

The zombie charged her. Nikki leaped away, but not fast enough. The creature's fist clipped her jaw and sent her flying. She hit the concrete hard, her breath whooshing from her lungs. The zombie turned, its movements ponderous yet not slow. A sick grin marred the features that had once been pretty.

Rolling over, Nikki scrambled to her feet. The zombie rushed again. She dodged sideways, barely avoiding the creature's fist, then glanced at the shadows at the chimney's base. Slowly, foot by foot, she was leading the creature away from Jake.

A shot rang out through the silence, then a string of curses and the sound of running footsteps. MacEwan and his men were trying to deal with the second of the creatures. The third still held guard near the door.

The zombie rushed Nikki again. She ducked, but not fast enough. The creature's hand smashed into the back of her skull and sent her flying. Her knees skinned against the concrete, and she shook her head, fighting tears and the stars dancing before her eyes.

From behind her came the sound of a scraped footstep. Panic surged. She twisted away, but the zombie hit her hard, knocking her sideways, back onto the concrete. It laughed, an oddly vacant sound that chilled her soul. She blinked back tears of pain and tried to roll to one side. The zombie reached down and stopped her, then put its hands round her neck and hauled her upright. She might not be able to die, but right at this moment, it sure as hell felt as if she could.

The creature's grip tightened. Gritting her teeth against the pain, gasping for breath and trying not to panic, she reached into her pocket.

The edge of darkness was closing in fast. She quickly loosened the top of the salt container, then took it out of her pocket and flung it into the zombie's face.

The creature roared and let go, tearing at its eyes as it staggered away. Nikki pushed upright. She could barely see through tears, and her throat felt raw, as if it were on fire. It hurt to breathe, let alone move.

But she had to move, before the creature came back.

A warning pulsed through her mind. She scrubbed the tears away and turned. The zombie sniffed the breeze, using scent instead of vision.

It spun and charged. Nikki didn't move. The creature was too fast to outrun, too strong to fight by normal means. All she had left were her abilities. But she needed time to use them again, time to recover from the stress of lifting Jake. Time she didn't have.

She took a deep breath and prayed for a miracle.

Thrusting a tight beam of energy at the creature, she halted its charge. It screamed in fury, struggling against the invisible cords holding it immobile.

Sweat broke out across Nikki's brow, running into her eyes, stinging them. She didn't blink, didn't move, fearing either might cause her to lose her grip. Fire ripped through her mind, a red haze of agony she had no choice but to ignore as she battled to contain the creature.

But simple containment was not the answer. The zombie had to die, or else it would come back again and again. The creature who controlled its mind wanted Jake dead. The zombie would follow the wishes of its master until it succeeded.

Or died.

She had no choice. Slowly but surely, she pushed the creature backwards, forcing it towards the edge of the building. The creature hit the ledge, and its arms flailed. It screamed, a sound so human, Nikki hesitated.

In that instant, the creature surged forward again—running straight for the shadows that held Jake.

Nikki gasped and dropped to her knees. She couldn't do it again. She bit her lip and hugged her body tightly. She had to. This zombie had to die, or more people would. People like Jake, who'd done nothing to Jasper except be her friend.

She forced past the pain and grabbed the creature, thrusting it back to the edge. It struggled desperately, wrenching and twisting the invisible lines holding it captive. Pain rippled through every fiber, every cell.

Nikki ignored it and tightened her hold, then thrust the creature past the edge. When it had cleared the concrete edge by several feet, she let go. The creature fell, screaming.

She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth, desperately trying to catch her breath. She felt like she'd run a damn marathon—but it wasn't over yet. Two zombies still remained.

Another gunshot shattered the night. Nikki licked her lips and climbed unsteadily to her feet. MacEwan appeared out of the shadows to her left, half carrying one of his men. A zombie followed them, dragging one leg more than usual.

She clenched her fist and threw a ball of power at the creature. It staggered under the impact and stopped, giving MacEwan the chance to escape immediate danger.

Then it turned. A roar of anger bit through the night. Giving the creature no chance to charge, she sent another whip of power towards it, knocking it sideways.

She reached again, but agony locked her mind tight. She fell to her knees, fighting tears, fighting the red tide threatening to engulf her. She'd done too much, pushed too hard. Now there was nothing left.

Nothing but pain and approaching death.

I don't want to die.

Not that she could, unless someone broke her neck. And she had a bad feeling the zombie knew that.

That Jasper knew that.

But there was nothing she could do except close her eyes and wait.