Dancing With The Dead

Chapter Two

The creature moved too fast to avoid. Michael slammed a fist deep into its gut, but the blow failed to halt its charge. The two of them went down in a fighting tangle of arms and legs.

Michael swore viciously. Every second he wasted with these creatures left Nikki James another second closer to death. The little fool had entered the room. His enemy's hunger was palpable, a beast that filled the darkness.

Anger surged through him; a deep, dark fury he desperately tried to control. He needed a clear head, not a mind ruled by blood rage. The creature wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed hard.

Michael laughed harshly; the stupidity of these things was beyond belief. He reached up and wrenched loose its fingers. Holding them away from his neck, he gave a quick thrust with his knees, throwing the creature back over his head. It smashed through the front doorway and disappeared down the steps.

He scrambled to his feet, then swung, sensing the approach of a second creature. Instead of charging, the beast slithered to a halt—in that instant he saw the silver blade the creature held.

He backed away. The beast followed him, the blade an argent flame promising death.

Foreboding ran through him. He had no time for this. The web of darkness was closing in around Nikki.

He should have stopped her in the park, should have seized control of her mind and ordered her away from the child and this house.

But she was different from most others. While he could read her surface thoughts easily enough, he doubted he'd be able to reach far enough into her mind to achieve any sort of real control. Her gifts were too strong—for him, and more than likely, for Jasper. But after death, it was a whole new ball game.

Jasper had the ability to call his victims from the grave. Death wouldn't kill her abilities. Not while there was flesh on her bones, at any rate.

The creature lunged at him. Michael dodged the thrust of the knife then grabbed the creature's wrist.

Squeezing tight, he forced the blade from its grip, then thrust an elbow into its face, shattering its nose. It howled, a high keening sound of distress. Michael cursed softly. The creature was an abomination, but who was the greater horror? The dead or the man who forced them from their graves?

He might not be able to kill Jasper right now, but he could give this creature final peace. Gripping its head, he snapped it hard sideways, breaking its neck. It fell to a lifeless heap at his feet. One down, five to go, if he included Jasper and the teenager.

Michael kicked the blade away with his foot then retrieved the can of gas. Undoing the lid, he sloshed the contents round the floor and up the walls. Anywhere and everywhere. It didn't matter, as long as it burned.

Throwing the empty can into a corner, he dug a box of matches out of his pocket. The old house was tinder dry. With the gas he'd splashed around, it would ignite like wildfire. But there was no one in the house except the four of them. Jasper wouldn't burn—he'd run the minute he smelled the flames. If Monica was too stupid to follow, then that was just too bad. Nikki was the one he had to get out. She'd be too dangerous a weapon in Jasper's hands.

Michael lit the match and flicked it in the direction of the can. Then he turned and ran for the stairs.

The door slammed shut behind her. Nikki spun but knew there was no escape. Childish laughter echoed through the silence, mocking her.

Monica, in league with the devil himself.

"You have done well, my pet."

The soft voice was powerful. Hypnotic. It filled the room with its warmth, and yet her skin crawled in terror of its touch. Instinct warned her not to move, told the slightest show of fear would quickly bring death. But the beat of her heart was a drum that filled the silence. He had to know—had to feel—her fear.

The air stirred. She stepped back quickly. The presence laughed, a low sound of amusement. Nikki clenched her fists. Energy tingled across her fingertips, but she didn't release it, instead retreating another step. Her back hit the wall, but she felt no better for its protection. If she could get to the door…

"There is no escape for you now." The stranger's tone was oddly gentle, yet filled with the certainty of death.

Nikki edged sideways, one hand outstretched, searching desperately for the doorknob. It had to be close; she hadn't walked that far into the room, for Christ's sake.

"Look at me," The voice changed, became deeper, more alluring. "Look at me…"

Blue fire flared in the darkness. Nikki stared, mesmerized, as the flame grew brighter, transforming itself into a pair of sapphire eyes.

So beautiful.

So very deadly.

Nikki swallowed and tore her gaze away. Her fingers touched the doorknob, clenched convulsively around it.

"No," he whispered. "Stay with me."

His words wrapped around her, seductive and compelling. Blue fire pinned her. She couldn't tear herself free of the commanding beauty of his gaze.

"Be mine."

Memories rose unbidden, and Nikki saw another time, another man, uttering the same words.

"No," she said and flung out her arm, releasing the pent-up kinetic energy. The sapphire gaze disappeared, then something heavy hit the far wall.

Anger hissed across the darkness. Nikki slammed the door open and ran for the hall.

Smoke swirled through the darkness, a stench that caught in her throat, making her cough. Christ, there's a fire somewhere . But she couldn't stop. Not with evil so close to her heels. She reached the door leading out into the hall and flung it open.

Only to be greeted by hell. Wallpaper dripped fiery tears to the floor, and the stairs were lost to an inferno of red heat. Smoke curled around her, stinging her eyes and making it difficult to breathe. She coughed, and dashed the tears away from her eyes. What was she going to do now?

Wood creaked behind her.

Run, she thought, and leaped into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her.

The heat was fierce, scorching her clothes and searing her skin. Heart pounding with fear, Nikki spun, not sure where to go. The smoke did a mad dance around her, making it difficult to get her bearings. If she couldn't use the stairs, she'd have to run down the hall… but which way was safest?

"This way," a voice said behind her.

Nikki jumped then turned. A figure emerged from the swirling darkness. Something deep within quivered in recognition. This was Michael Kelly, the man she'd sensed earlier.

"Trust me," he said and held out his hand.

She hesitated, despite the danger of doing so. The dancing brightness of the flames revealed the finely chiseled planes of his cheeks, and a nose that hinted of exotic blood. It was a handsome face. A haunted face. One she could trust—at least for now.

She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, wrapping them in a heat that was fiercer than any flame.

He led her quickly through the fire and into another room. She kicked the door shut, then saw the only exit was the large window to her left. They'd have to jump.

Shit.Nikki thrust kinetically at the window. The glass burst outwards, glittering like a thousand bright stars as it fell earthward.

Wind rushed into the void, slapping her face like a bucket of cold water. She blinked, and looked at the ground far below. It was a long, long way down…

As if sensing her sudden reluctance, Michael grabbed her, swinging her into his arms.

"No!" she screamed, then shut her eyes as he ran toward the window.

He leaped out into the night. The wind whipped around them, and, just for an instant, it felt as if they were flying. The illusion shattered when they hit the ground. The impact wrenched her from Michael's hold and pitched her roughly forward. She rolled down a slight incline and through several plants before coming to an abrupt halt against a fence, rear half buried in the garden bed and legs pointing skyward.

For several seconds she just lay there, too stunned to move, just thankful to be alive. She'd bitten her tongue sometime during the fall and could taste blood in her mouth, but other than that, everything seemed in working order.

At least she was free from the house, and the immediate threat of evil. But the man with the hypnotic sapphire eyes was still near—she could feel his presence, hunting her. She'd better get away from this area—fast.

She slowly lowered her legs from the fence. Pain shot along her back, and she groaned softly. No doubt she'd have a colorful array of bruises to parade tomorrow.

"Take my hand."

Every nerve in her aching body jumped. Her heart in her mouth, she glanced up. Michael's form flowed out of the night and found substance. Just like a ghost, Nikki thought with a shiver. Her gaze swept from the blackness of his clothing to his face. Instinct might be telling her to trust this man, but there was something in his eyes that made her wary.

And yet he'd undoubtedly saved her life. "If you were going to throw me out a window," she muttered.

"You could have at least arranged a softer landing."

Though his eyebrows rose in surprise, a hint of a smile touched his generous mouth. Nikki ignored his outstretched hand, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her stomach churned, and she took several deep breaths, battling the urge to be sick.

"We have no time," he said, concern touching the soft tones of his voice. "Please, take my hand and let's go."

Nikki studied him for a moment, then looked back at the house. Bright flames were leaping from the ground floor windows, hungrily reaching skyward. She had no sense of Monica, but the evil was on the move.

She took his hand. He pulled her up easily, his strength at odds with his lean build. Surprisingly, he stood only three or four inches above her five-four. In the flame-filled confines of the hall, he'd appeared a lot bigger.

"He hunts us," Michael stated softly. Though he still held her hand, he'd turned slightly to study the house. "We must keep moving."

"What about Monica?"

Michael glanced at her. His eyes were ancient, endless pools of ebony. You could lose yourself forever in those depths, Nikki thought, and glanced away uneasily.

"The child accompanies her master. You were a fool to go in after her."

"She would have died if I didn't." Nikki took her hand from his, and briskly rubbed a tender hip.

His smile was grim. "Death is one thing that child no longer fears."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." He shrugged gracefully. "Ready to move?"

She returned her gaze to the house, then nodded.

Michael led the way forward. He was quiet, as one with the night. A ghost, she thought uneasily. She glanced at her fingers, remembering the gentle strength of his hand in hers. If he was a ghost, he was certainly a solid one.

"I am as real as you, Nikki," he said softly. His dark gaze touched hers briefly before returning to study the surrounding night.

She'd forgotten he could read her thoughts—just like Tommy had, so many years ago. Fear stirred, along with old guilt. So why did she trust him? She couldn't say, and that worried her.

"They follow us."

Nikki looked over her shoulder. A dark shape lumbered after them. "Should we run?"

"No. They can run faster than you ever could."

But not, she surmised from his tone, faster than he could. So why was he still here, offering his protection?

There was a flash of movement to her left. Before she could react, Michael thrust her sideways and spun to meet the charge of a second creature.

She hit the ground, tasting dirt. Spitting it out and cursing him fluently, she rolled back to her feet. The creature attacking Michael held a knife, the blade a blue-white flame against the night.

Michael seemed wary of it, something that struck her as odd. Certainly it wasn't what she'd considered a large knife, not when compared with what the street kids used these days. She grabbed a rock near her feet and threw at the creature. It hit with enough force to make the creature stop and shake its head in confusion. Then it snarled and charged her. Somehow, Michael was in front of it again, his movements so fast he appeared to blur. He spun, kicking the creature in the head. It screamed and staggered sideways.

It was the sound of a woman in pain. A chill ran through her. What were these things?

The creature lunged again. Nikki reached for kinetic energy. Despite the ache in her head, it surged in response. She focused it on the knife in the creature's hand. At the same time, she heard footsteps behind her.

She tore the blade from the creature's grasp then spun, hurling the knife at the approaching figure.

And saw that it was Monica.

Frantically, she flung another bolt of energy at the blade. The weapon flared brightly, as if in protest, then quivered and changed direction. It thudded hilt-deep into a tree trunk several feet to Monica's left.

The teenager took no notice. Nikki frowned. Despite the crackling of the flames that consumed the old house, the night was strangely quiet. The creature had to be dead, or surely it would still be attacking.

Michael stood behind her, not touching and yet close enough that the warmth of his breath whispered past her cheek. Under normal circumstances, she would have stepped away. But the night had become something more than normal, and she had a feeling she would need his protection before it was over.

Monica stopped several paces away. Nikki cleared her throat softly. "Your father wants to speak—" "I don't care what my father wants. Tell him to leave me alone, or he'll regret it. So will you if you don't stop following me."

The words themselves weren't overly threatening. It was the lack of life in Monica's eyes, the emptiness in her voice, that chilled. As if she were nothing more than a blank canvas ready to be filled by an unknown painter.

"Not as far from the truth as you might think," Michael said softly, obviously reading her thoughts again.

She crossed her arms, trying to ward off a sudden chill.

"And if you even try to answer his call," Monica continued, gesturing towards the park. "I'll kill you myself."

There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Monica would carry out the threat. Just for an instant, evil flared in the girl's eyes. It was old, centuries old. It was the same evil that now stood in the park, in the shape of a man. Nikki rubbed her arms. Maybe she was far too late to save Monica's soul.

The teenager walked away, a slim shadow against the brightness of the flames beginning to leap from the upper floor windows.

"We must go," Michael said quietly. "The fire department is on its way."

She glanced at the nearby houses. People were lined up near their fences, watching them. If the fire department was on the way, then so were the police. She grimaced and returned her gaze to Michael.

The wind tugged at his hair, blowing the midnight-colored strands across his face.

"What were those things that attacked us?" she said, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep them warm.

He hesitated, then shrugged. "They go by many names."

Word games were the last thing she felt like playing right now. Her head ached. Her arm ached. In fact, everything ached. She stunk of smoke and sweat and fear, and wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in a nice hot bath.

But she couldn't. Not until she'd talked to her boss. To do that, she had to first make some sense of the night's madness. "So what in hell do you call them?"

He looked past her. She resisted the temptation to turn around, sensing if she did, he'd be gone.

"I suppose it's best to call them zombies," he said after a moment, his eyes dark pools of ebony anger when they met her gaze again. "They answer to the man who attacked you inside the house."

She laughed at the absurdity of it, but her amusement quickly fled under his watchful silence. Swallowing, she remembered the wash of fetid breath across her face, the chill of flaccid flesh against her palm.

Remembered her own impression that the creatures were dead, and yet not.

Zombies. Hells bells. Monica was into something far weirder than any of them had realized.

A siren wailed into the silence, and she glanced over her shoulder. A fire engine came around the corner and drove towards them. They must have taken the shortcut through the park to get here so fast. "So how do we explain the presence of zombies to the fire department?"

"We do not," Michael said, his gaze on the approaching engine. "They will only find charred remains.

The others have already left. As should we."

"If the fire's been reported, no doubt someone's reported seeing us out front. I'd better stay here and wait."

"I cannot." He looked past her again, then stepped back. "We will meet again."

"Wait!" she said, reaching out to stop him, not wanting to lose the comfort of his presence. "I… I don't even know your name."

He smiled and caught her hand, his fingers gliding across hers. An odd tremble ran up her arm. She wasn't sure whether its cause was the unusual warmth of his touch or simply the caress of his palm against hers.

"You lie, Nikki James. And you will see me again." He raised her hand, brushing a delicate kiss over her fingers.

She quickly pulled her hand away. He was a stranger, an unknown. She should be responding with wariness, not… fascination. She'd traveled that path once before, and it had ended with blood on her hands.

His smile faded. "The fire department is almost upon us. You should be safe enough. The man you fear has left the immediate area, anyway."

His words drew her attention back to the park. The touch of evil had left. So had Monica. Yet she knew the danger was far from over. She still had a client who wanted to see his daughter, whatever the cost.

"He may have left the area, but I doubt he's left my life." Her voice faded.

Michael had completely disappeared.