Ginger nodded. “He goes to prepare for the binding." They had to kill him before that happened. Cordell had already shown them how strong he was. If he succeeded in binding a flame imp within him, he might well be unstoppable. “Will you look after Rodeman for me?"
"Yes. You go to the cave?"
"Yeah.” If Michael was headed there, then she was too. “Which way do I go?"
"Follow this stream. It is the quickest way down there." She nodded and hoped the stream got no deeper than it currently was. If there was any swimming involved, she'd have to find another way down. “Thanks. You'll go look after Rodeman now?" Ginger nodded. “We will be seeing you later.” She climbed out of the stream and walked away. Nikki glanced up. The flame imp still hovered above her, pulsing green light across the wet rocks surrounding them. “You leading the way?"
As if in answer, the imp darted forward, hovering near the small gap through which the stream disappeared. She'd have to get down on her hands and knees to get through it. Great, she thought. Just what I need .
The imp disappeared into the hole. Green light whirled at her from the other side. She sighed and got down on all fours. It was a tight squeeze. The rock dug into her hips as she scraped by and would have torn her pants had she been wearing anything but jeans.
The tunnel on the other side gave her no room to stand. The walls seemed to loom in on her, glistening black in the muted light of the flame imp. She shivered and wondered if it was just the water's chill or a premonition of trouble headed her way.
She crawled on. The water tore at her, chilling her flesh and numbing her hands and feet. Rocks cut into knees and hands, but she could barely even feel them. Her teeth chattered, a sound that echoed through the darkness, mocking her.
The imp drifted on. The tunnel began to slope downwards, and the rush of the water grew stronger, pulling her forward. She battled to remain upright as the churning water leapt in icy fingers across her back, soaking her completely. Ahead, the water roared, the sound almost deafening. Waterfall, she thought, and hoped it wasn't very large. Or very deep.
The rocks under the water became smoother, making it harder to gain any hold against the rushing torrent. She slipped, going under, gulping water as the current grabbed her and smashed her sideways. Panic surged, and she thrust upward into a sitting position. She coughed so long she could barely breathe, her face hot and throat raw. The imp flashed past her, green tinged with red. A warning, but she wasn't sure of what.
She hugged her arms across her chest and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. She should have tried to stop the water from flowing instead. It would have been a damn sight easier. Lord, she felt so cold that her bones ached with it.
The flame imp ducked past her again. Heat rolled across her skin, a moment of warmth that was gone all too soon. It hovered several feet away, its muted light showing a sharp turn to the right in the tunnel. The roaring of the water was close. The waterfall couldn't be all that far away. She sighed and began crawling forward again. The water surged past her, tugging at her cotton sweater, thrusting it up to her armpits. She ignored it, crawling on, knowing she had to get out of this water soon. It was becoming harder and harder to move.
She rounded the corner, and walls gave way to space. The roar of the water intensified, echoing in the darkness. The imp hovered again, light whirling green and red, highlighting the downward plunge of the stream.
Gripping a nearby rock to steady herself against the water's pull, she peered over the edge. It was a good twenty-foot drop. Not a great distance by any means, but long enough when there was no other way down and she couldn't swim. Nor was there any way of telling how deep the pool at the bottom was—or if it was even deep at all. She might jump and end up breaking a leg—or worse. She bit her lip and looked at the flame imp. “I don't suppose there's another way down, is there?" It whirled in place, color flashing to red. She took that as a no. “Damn,” she muttered. She'd have to jump and hope for the best.>"They have. Her name is Nikki.” With that, he twisted her neck sharply and felt bone shatter beneath his hands. Watched the life fade forever from her eyes.
He pushed her off him, then sat up and wiped the faint trace of her blood from his mouth. He shed no tears for her, and yet he knew if he'd had any other option, he would not have killed her. He closed her eyes and removed the knife from her flesh. Then he crossed her arms and said a prayer for her, even though it had been more than a few centuries since Elizabeth had been near a church or a priest—except, that was, for the couple that had provided a quick lunch back in Paris two centuries before.
Her body began to steam, and he stepped away in surprise. He'd taken the knife from her flesh, so there was no reason for her flesh to be burning now. The tendrils of smoke began to condense above her body, forming a creature that resembled a ball of fire. The flame imp, he realized suddenly. Elizabeth's death had freed it.
It sparkled brightly in the darkness, its color flashing between green and gold. Why could he suddenly see them? Why now, rather than before?
When the last of the steam had left Elizabeth's body and become one with the fiery creature, the flame imp dipped slightly, as if bowing, then disappeared.
With the flame imp's life force gone, Elizabeth's body seemed to collapse and looked even older. The years since he'd last seen her had not been kind at all.
He picked up the knife and resolutely turned away. He'd given her the death she had craved. There was nothing more he could do, other than fulfil his promise to kill Cordell. Of course, first he had to find Cordell. He continued on through the cavern then went back into the tunnel. Casting his senses forward, he searched the darkness for some clue to the vampire's whereabouts. Cordell would have felt Elizabeth's death and the flame imp being released from his control, but if he was moving anywhere nearby, Michael couldn't feel him. He walked on. The air was stale and moisture seeped down the walls. Slime hung in strings from the ceiling, dripping down the walls like green tears. He wondered who they cried for—the flame imps, Elizabeth, or maybe even himself?
Cool air stirred his hair. He stopped abruptly, every sense alert. Something moved ahead in the tunnel, yet he could feel no life—human or otherwise.
He clenched the knife tightly, waiting. The wind got stronger, chilling his skin. Magic burned through the air, swirling around him, standing the small hairs along his arms on end. He backed against the wall. An attack was coming, but he wasn't sure from which direction.
Lights danced through the brightness, flashes of purple and blue in the night. The colors of a distressed flame imp, he thought, and wondered again why he could suddenly see them. The wall to his left exploded, spraying deadly shards of rock through the night. He dove away, saw the red flash of the flame imp, felt the stir of wind against his cheek, and rolled to his right. A club materialized from the darkness, smashing into the ground where his head had been only moments before. He leapt to his feet, slashing wildly with the knife. It connected against something solid, rebounding away and momentarily numbing his fingers. The bastard was using magic to protect himself. The club appeared again. He dodged, and slashed again with the knife, this time aiming for the fingers holding the top of the club. The blade bit through wood and bone. Blood gushed as the club and several fingers dropped to the ground.
The night screamed. The air reverberated with the sound, and the wind became a cyclone, trapping him and preventing him from moving. The club rose from the ground, arrowing towards his head. Pinned by air, all he could do was watch. Pain exploded as the club hit, then darkness closed in, and he knew no more.
* * * *
"Don't move,” a voice whispered into her ear.
The hand against her mouth pressed heat into her skin. She could almost feel her lips burning.
"He comes."
Breath brushed past her ear, grazing her cheeks with the warmth of summer. But she suddenly recognized the voice, and her fear subsided a little. Whatever Ginger intended, Nikki doubted that she meant to harm her in any real way.
"Don't move,” Ginger continued. “Or he will sense you." She meant Cordell. Had he come this way to investigate the spawn's death, or was he just rolling by at the wrong time? Whatever the reason, she had no real wish to meet him without Michael by her side. Sweat began to trickle down her back where her body was pressed against Ginger's, but her legs were so cold her toes were almost numb. But at least the burn on her calf had stopped aching. A stone rattled in the tunnel beyond the small cave in which they stood. Tension ran through her and through Ginger's fingers which were pressed firmly against her mouth. Wind sighed. More stones rattled. Then he was in front of them—an emaciated figure huddled in a wheelchair. He looked fifty or sixty at least, yet he had thick blonde hair that hung like a mane to his shoulders. He stopped the chair at the water's edge, and then he glanced around, looking straight at them.