Yet if Monica really were a vampire, wouldn't she sense their presence anyway? Just how close to reality did the movies come? She released his arm. “I have a flashlight." Though it was little more than palm size, it provided enough light to see why no one made a fuss about them breaking in. The guard was here, all right, but dead.

Nikki handed Jake the light and shoved her hands in her pockets to hide their sudden shaking.

"If this is Monica's handiwork, she's one angry teenager,” he said, kneeling next to the body. He pointed the light towards the guard's neck—or what remained of it. She swallowed and turned away.

"There's not enough blood,” Jake muttered. “With a wound this bad, there should be more blood." Sweat broke out across her brow. “Monica's a vampire, remember."

"Or completely over the edge.” He rose, face ashen. “We'd better move if we want to stop her. She can't be too far ahead of us."

She retreated out the door, studying the still darkness. Jake pressed one of the buttons in front of the guard's chair, and the huge gates silently opened. Hell, making them welcome. And if the guard was any indication, the mansion had indeed become hell for its occupants. They climbed back into the Mercedes and drove on without the headlights. The night closed in around them, oppressive and still.

Through the trees, yellow light winked, starlike, from one window on the upper floor. The rest of the mansion was dark.

"Trevgard's butler has his quarters at the far end,” she commented. “Should we check that first?" "After what she did to the guard, I'd say yes. She's obviously not being selective tonight.” He stopped the car and gave her a grim look. “I'm calling the cops, too."

"Good.” After discovering the guard, they had no real choice. She climbed out. Nothing moved. The night was still, and the air held the promise of rain. Her psychic senses could find no trace of life, not even in the butler's section. If Trevgard was here, he no longer lived.

"He's not here,” a soft voice behind her said. “And two servant's lie dead inside that house." Nikki jumped violently and swung around. Michael stood two feet away, arms crossed as he stared at her.

"Why didn't you wait, as I asked?” His voice was flat, devoid of the anger she could feel in his thoughts and all the more frightening because of it.

"This is my fault, and my problem to deal with.” She watched him uneasily. The darkness shifted in his eyes, becoming stronger. Just how different was he from the man he chased?

Jake approached, and Nikki was suddenly glad he was there. Though she doubted he'd be much protection should Michael attack.

"Michael,” he said, surprise edging his voice. “Glad you could join us." He stopped next to her, close enough for their shoulders to rub. Nikki wondered if he could sense her uncertainty about Michael.

"I got here as soon as I could. But not soon enough, I fear." Jake barely glanced at the house. “It would be nice to know if Monica's inside or not." Michael's face was expressionless. “She's not here at the moment. I would sense her." Jake raised an eyebrow. “How?"

"Nikki's not the only one with psychic abilities."

"Really? And do these said abilities make you move faster than a car? Because you certainly didn't arrive in one."

"No, I didn't.” Michael's voice held an edge of annoyance. “Nor do I fly. We waste time, here. Monica's killing spree has only just begun. We have to stop her."

Nikki pushed the hair out of her eyes. “To stop her we have to find her. Unless you have some means of tracking her, I have to get inside that house and grab something of hers."

"I can trace her, to a certain extent.” Michael hesitated, then frowned. “If you enter the house, she'll know. It's home ground, the place she lived most of her life. She's still connected to it."

"Another one who believes in vampires,” Jake muttered.

Nikki ignored him. “Is it true a vampire can't cross a threshold uninvited?" Michael nodded. “Yes, but the rule doesn't work when it's your own threshold."

"Oh."

She glanced uneasily at the mansion. Monica had to be stopped before she could kill again. If she wasn't here, they had to find her. Which meant she had to go in and steal something still holding the teenager's psyche. She doubted Trevgard would actually lend them another bracelet. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and glanced at Jake. “Let's get this over with." They walked to the far end of the house. Jake climbed the steps and approached the side door cautiously. Something flickered through her mind, a specter of darkness, of death. She studied the brightly-lit windows above them.

The servants haven't been dead long.

Surprised, she looked at Michael. How can you tell something like that?

I can smell the blood.

His eyes were icy pools that somehow intensified, washing darkness through her mind. Dizzy, she reached out, catching his arm. A shock of electricity ran through her fingers, and a haze filled her vision. Suddenly, their minds merged, for an instant becoming one. She could see the bodies in the room above, feel the cooling heat of their flesh, could almost taste the sweet dark pools of blood—her stomach rose. She blanched, shuddering.

Michael shattered the contact between them. She staggered away from him, one hand held to her throat. Dear God, what sort of talent was that?

"Don't ever do that again, Nikki.” His voice was gentle, but there was both surprise and anger in his expression. “It's far too dangerous for you."

He didn't explain how it had happened or why it was dangerous, and she didn't dare ask. Something told her she might not like the answers.

"The door's locked,” Jake said into the silence.

She turned away from Michael and gave another mental push. The door opened gently, and Jake raised a surprised eyebrow.

She shrugged in reply and climbed the steps. Warm air rushed past her legs as she stopped in front of the open door. Light filtered down the stairs at the far end of the hall, but the rest of the house was a no-man's-land of uneasy shadows.

Jake turned on the flashlight and swung the beam left to right, searching the darkness.

"Nothing.” His voice was hushed, as if he too sensed death waiting. “I guess we'd better check upstairs." She fought the sudden rise of her stomach. Death waited upstairs, and she really didn't want to face it again. “After you."

"I cannot go inside,” Michael said quietly. “While you two can give a plausible enough excuse for being here, I can't. I'll wait here and watch for Monica."

Jake motioned her to hurry. She hesitated, glancing back at Michael. “And if she eludes you?"

"I'll warn you,” he replied. “And I want you out fast. Remember, she'll be quicker than a rattlesnake and twice as deadly."

"Thanks. I really needed to know that."

He shrugged. His eyes were as frightening as the house. “Go. Just take care." After a second's hesitation, she stepped through the doorway and followed Jake. They climbed the stairs. At the top, death waited.

"Shit,” Jake said, and stopped in the doorway of the first room. Though warned by the images she'd shared with Michael, her stomach still turned. The bodies were a twisted mass of flesh that no longer resembled anything human. Blood lay everywhere. If it hadn't been for the bits of humanity scattered about, it would have been easy to think some kid had gone wild with a can of red paint.

"Monica obviously had more than one score to settle.” Jake took several steps into the room. “And for a vampire, she's damn messy."

Nikki gave him a sharp glance. His ironic half smile told her he was only trying to make a tough situation somewhat easier. Told her he still refused to believe Monica was a vampire. He picked his way through the smashed furniture and knelt next to what was left of the butler. Why, she had no idea. Certainly there was no hope of life in what was left of him.

Grab some of the wood.

She frowned. Why in the hell would I do that?

It's wood, Nikki. Michael's mental tone was brusque. Deadly to vampires in any form. She picked up the smashed leg of a chair. A little too thick perhaps, but nicely jagged at one end ... She blanched and almost dropped it. Where the hell had that thought come from?

Keep it. You have no other way to protect yourself should Monica attack. I can run.

She is the wind.

She clutched the leg tightly. Jake rose from examination of the old man's body, his face pale.

"Well, if she used a knife to create this mess, there's certainly no immediate evidence of it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The police are going to love this." "We have to stop her, Jake, not the cops.” She motioned towards the two bodies. “They won't understand what they're dealing with."

"Nikki, we're not even sure what we're dealing with." She shrugged. If the sight of these bodies didn't convince him, nothing would.

"We still have to find something holding Monica's vibes."

"We'd better be out of this house before the cops and Trevgard get here,” Jake muttered sourly. “Or there will be hell to pay."

"Especially when he discovers his precious little daughter has become a vicious killer."

"There's no direct evidence that it's Monica, Nik. Remember that.” He motioned her out the door. “If I recall rightly, the bedrooms are situated at the other end of the house." She followed him back down the stairs, glad to be free of the room and the nauseous smell of death. Monica's on the prowl, Michael's warned softly. She's heading toward the house. Can you stop her?

Only if you want me to sacrifice Trevgard. He's cruising up the driveway. Hell. Nikki massaged her temples. This was all they needed. Look after Trevgard. We'll grab what we need and get out of here.

Hurry Nikki. You haven't much time.

Jake touched her arm, and she started.

"You all right?"

She licked her lips and nodded. “Monica's heading our way." He didn't question her certainty, which was just as well. How could she possibly explain her connection to Michael, when in all the time Jake had known her, she'd never been able to do more than read a fleeting word or emotion?

"If the kid comes near us, I'll blow her head off,” Jake warned, drawing his handgun.

"The police will just love that.” And there was every possibility that Jake would never even see her. Not if what Michael said about her speed was true.

"To hell with the police. The girl's a nut."

"Thought you said there was no direct evidence that she's the culprit?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I did. That doesn't mean I believe she's innocent." If what she had heard about the teenager on the streets of late were to be believed, Monica hadn't been innocent for a very long time.

The flashlight beam was faint, barely penetrating the shadows. She turned on the lights as they went through each room, knowing the time to worry about discovery had passed. Trevgard would know something was wrong; the guard and the open gates were the giveaway there. And Monica would sense them regardless. At least the light banished the shadows, made the house appear less threatening. They made their way quickly through the house and up another flight of stairs. Nikki entered the first bedroom. It had to be Monica's—she couldn't imagine Trevgard surrounded by flowery wallpaper. Monica's coming fast. Whatever you want to do, do it now.

Trevgard? She held out her hand, palm down, and walked past the dressing table, trying to find a response from the jewelry scattered there.

Out of action but safe. She's in the house, Nikki. Move.

She couldn't. Not till she found something to track Monica with. You won't need it if you don't get out of there!

She ignored him. Her palm tingled when she walked past the bed. Kneeling, she looked underneath. Something glinted in the darkness. Reaching out, she grabbed the locket from its bed of dust. Then she rose and glanced across at Jake.

"I've got what we need, but Monica's in the house."

"Then let's go.” He raised his gun and led the way back into the hall. She's near the stairs— coming up. Nikki, get out. Get out now. How? She practically screamed the question. The stairs were the only way out. The windows— smash a Goddamn window, just— watch out! She's... She cut Michael from her mind and spun. A slender figure materialized behind her. Their gazes met, and Nikki stepped back. Monica's face was bloody, her mouth a thin line of rage. But her eyes were the most frightening. The bright blue depths had lost all hint of humanity. Jake cursed and fired the gun. Faster than the wind, faster than any bullet, Monica winked out of existence.

Only to reappear behind Jake.

"Look out!” Nikki screamed, and blasted him with kinetic energy, thrusting him out of Monica's way. The gun fired as he fell, the bullet smashing a mirror down the far end of the hall. The teenager shrieked and lashed out at Nikki. The blow smashed her sideways. She hit the wall hard, her breath leaving in one gigantic whoosh. Blinking back tears, she shook her head and struggled into a sitting position.

Monica leaped at her. Cursing loudly, Nikki hit out with the chair leg. The teenager twisted away from the blow and threw up her arms to protect her face. The jagged edges tore into her arm. Screaming in fury, Monica leaped again. Her weight hit like a ton of bricks, pinning Nikki to the spot. Razor sharp teeth gleamed brightly in the darkness; her breath was fetid, full of death. Gagging, Nikki grabbed the teenager's arms, desperately holding the twisting, snarling girl away from her neck. Energy burned through her body. The bolt hit Monica and flung her away. As agile as a cat, she landed on her feet and surged forward again.