Maybe. Wait here.
He released her hand. She bit her lip and fought the instinctive urge to reach for him again, to tell him not to leave her. Instead, she clenched her fingers and felt the tingle of energy flow across her skin. Tension rode his shoulders as he tested each step. But he reached the door without incident, and she sighed in relief.
Rodeman's inside. Drugged, by the feel of it. He skimmed his fingers across the door frame. Anyone, or anything, else?
Not that I can see. You?
Nothing. And it didn't feel right. It had been far too easy to get this far. There had to be some sort of trap here somewhere. Had to be.
She again rubbed her arms. The chill air had settled deep inside, and her bones were beginning to ache. Michael finished his inspection then reached for the door handle. Turning it quickly, he thrust his shoulder against the wood, shattering the lock and pushing the door open. Kinetic ability was somewhat superfluous when you had the strength of a vampire, she thought. He squatted on his heels, studying the ground.
She moved up behind him. The cell wasn't dark. A lone candle sat in one corner. In the wash of its flickering light she could see the end of a metal-framed bed and a foot encased in a shiny leather shoe. A rope was looped around his ankle and tied to the bed.>"Yes. When we get near his office, I want you to bust open his door. There'll be some sort of sensor in the frame—take that out, too."
She raised an eyebrow. “And maybe take out a computer or two as well? Give him something extra to worry about?"
He squeezed her shoulders. “The more worried he is, the better it is for us." They were nearing Cordell's office. She looked up. Four cameras were trained on his door. The guy was definitely a nut case. Why would anyone in their right mind think they needed four cameras and an alarmed door? His office wasn't Fort Knox, for Christ's sake.
She shook her head and reached for kinetic energy. Glancing at the first camera, she ripped it sideways. Plaster flew in a cloud, raining down on a couple coming the other way. The woman screamed and jumped backwards, her eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling. Nikki quickly repeated the process, until all four cameras swung limply from their wiring.
Now the door, Michael said.
She glanced at it sideways and pushed hard. The door flew off its hinges and smashed into two computers at the far end of the office. Sparks and glass flew everywhere. There was wiring running along one edge of the door frame. She ripped it free, tossing the strands back into the room with the door. Men in blue suits came running from all directions. Power surged, burning her skin and spreading like a wave through the corridor. The other couple were grabbed by security, but no one came near them. It was as if they didn't exist.
She glanced at Michael. Maybe they didn't.
They walked on. There was a different woman manning the health center desk, but like the guards in the corridor, she gave no indication that she even saw them. They hurried past her. It was only when they were nearing the treatment rooms that the wash of energy slipped away. Only to be replaced by the burning sensation of evil.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Her stomach tied itself into knots. She stopped, looking around. The corridor was quiet—still. The lighting had been dimmed in this section of the health center, and shadows haunted the far corners. But nothing lurked within them, waiting to attack. Whatever it was she sensed, it was coming from the treatment room. From the door itself.
The door Michael was reaching out to open.
"No!” She thrust him away kinetically. He hit the wall opposite with a grunt, then slid to an ungainly heap to the floor. She ran to help him.
"I gather you have a good reason for doing that,” he said, rubbing a hip as he climbed to his feet. “But next time, try to give me a little more warning."
"Sorry. Something's wrong with the door handle.” It was stupid, really, being so afraid of something as inane as a door handle, but she couldn't help it.
"Wrong how?” He stopped a foot or so away from the door and studied it intently.
"It's evil.” She stopped beside him. This close, she could see the slight shimmer surrounding the doorknob.
She half expected him to laugh, but he didn't. “Magic,” he murmured. “But what sort?"
"I don't know, and I don't care to find out. I think we'd be better off using the other entrance." He squatted on his heels. “If they're using magic to guard this door, then the other will also have security. Go fetch me that chair, will you?"
He pointed vaguely down the corridor. She did as he asked. “What are you going to do?” She put the chair next to him.
"This.” He rose and nudged the chair with his foot, pushing it toward the handle. The back of the chair hit the doorknob. For an instant, nothing happened. Then something screamed, a high pitched wail that chased goose bumps across her flesh. Nothing living made a sound like that. Steam began to pour from the metal, convulsing, condensing as it found form—found life. It became a flimsy, white-sheeted creature with rows of wickedly sharp teeth and soulless eyes. Michael held her elbow, his grip tight enough to bruise—tight enough to hold her still and keep her from running. She licked dry lips. Energy tingled at her fingertips, but she didn't release her weapon. She wasn't even sure if kinetic energy would affect something that was little more than smoke. The creature wrapped its flimsy gowns around the chair and screamed again. There was a sharp retort, like the backfire of a car, then the smoke and the chair were gone.
"What the hell was that?” Her throat was so tight with fear that her question came out hoarse. "Devil spawn. They're a form of wraith. That one had obviously been set to destroy whatever touched the handle."
She shivered and rubbed her arms. “So if you'd touched that doorknob, you would now be wherever that chair is."
He glanced at her. “I wouldn't be anywhere. I'd be dead, consumed by the spawn. How does the door feel now?"
She looked at it. There was no sense of evil. Still ... She thrust the pent-up energy toward the door, opening it. No alarm sounded. No sharp-teethed bits of smoke flew out to greet them. The room was dark and still. She could sense nothing more than muskiness. Even so, she shivered. She had a feeling Cordell wouldn't stop at just the door. There would be other traps waiting for them in the darkness of the caverns.