"Get a blanket,” Michael said, releasing her hand.
She opened the nearest door, but the room wasn't empty. A man and a woman were on the bed, having sex. Nikki averted her gaze, grabbed one of the blankets that had been thrown onto the floor, and hastily exited. If the squeak of the bedsprings was anything to go by, the man didn't even miss a beat. Michael was kneeling beside the distressed woman. Nikki stopped beside him and eased the blanket around the woman's trembling body. She didn't react. Didn't speak.
"Traumatized.” He glanced up at her, his expression neutral. Only his voice hinted at the fury she could feel inside him as he added, “She walked into the middle of it."
"It's amazing she's still alive."
"Not really.” His fingers went to the woman's neck, catching the silver chain and pulling it around to the side, revealing a large silver cross. “Dunleavy had already been weakened by silver, so he probably wouldn't have wanted to risk getting close to it just yet."
"Which reminds me.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the small chain and cross she'd given him long ago. “You'd better put this back on."
He opened his hand, and she placed the cross into his palm. His skin didn't react to it—he'd been wearing the cross for some time now and had developed a certain amount of immunity to silver because of it. He put it on, then caught her hand and kissed her fingers. “I thought it had been lost when Dunleavy snatched me."
"You're remembering?"
"Bits and pieces.” His gaze went back to the woman, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Energy caressed the link. Obviously, her latest attack on the runes on his back had finally yielded some decent results.
"Dunleavy was in slug form when she walked in. There were two others in the room—one a man, unmoving, frozen, and the other a woman. Dunleavy was suckling the sole of the woman's feet, while part of him used her sexually, and the rest tore her apart.
Nikki closed her eyes, but it didn't stop the horror that crawled through her mind. Her stomach churned, and bile rose. She swallowed, thrusting away the violent images and fighting to remain calm. Even so, her hands were shaking as she knelt down beside him. The woman didn't even react when Michael's fingers moved from her neck to her forehead. “Dunleavy made her stand there and watch as he finished his bloody task,” he said softly. “Then he made her watch as he shifted to his true form and drank every drop of life from the man."
"Why do that, then let her go?"
"Dunleavy feeds on emotion as much as blood. Forcing her to watch him tear apart the woman then drain the man gave him a triple hit of fear."
"So why let her go?"
"He was probably too bloated to kill her. Besides, as I said, there was the silver." She very much suspected Dunleavy had left this woman alive because he had other plans for her. “Can you help her? Or at least block her memories?"
He blew out a breath. “I don't know. Dunleavy's control runs deep, and my telepathy is just coming back."
He raised his other hand. Touching the fingers of both hands to either side of the woman's temples, he closed his eyes. Silence fell, broken only by the woman's rapid, gasping breath. But the link was far from quiet. It burned with power. Burned with the force of his words, as he battled to gain mastery over the woman's mind.
After a while, he dropped his hands. “I've done what I can. I cannot erase the lock Dunleavy's magic has on her self perception, but I've erased her immediate memories."
"What did you replace them with?"
As if in answer, the woman looked up. Her face was tear streaked, eyes huge and fear-filled. But her body no longer shook with such intensity, and the sense of deep shock was already retreating from the blue of her eyes.
"Did you get that goddamn snake?"
"Yes,” Michael said softly. “We did. But I'm afraid you won't be able to use the room again for a while, as we created a bit of a mess."
She shuddered. “Don't you be worrying about that—I ain't ever going back into that room. That thing was a monster. It might have kin living in the walls."
In the walls, in the ceiling, and in the floor, Nikki thought, sharing a glance with Michael. Dunleavy has access to them all, thanks to his slug shape. How the hell were they ever going to track him down?
Michael rose, caught the woman's hand, and helped her rise. “You should go downstairs and get yourself a drink.” He pressed some cash into her hand, and power caressed the link again. “Take the night off, and take a long bath. I think you deserve some pampering."
"You know,” she said, her fingers clenching around the cash. “I think you're right." She pushed past them and walked unsteadily down the hall. Michael's gaze met Nikki's. “She's from Arizona. A preacher's daughter."
"Shit."
"I can think of several stronger words that would be more appropriate,” he muttered, and something dark and dangerous glittered in his eyes. “But it's really no surprise. Emmett had a penchant for corrupting the virtuous. Looks like his brother is much the same." Her gaze went past him, settling on the door. “Do we need to go in there?"
"No. Dunleavy is long gone, and we've already seen the destruction his feeding frenzy produces." She let out a relieved breath. A smile tugged his lips, and he caught her arm, pulling her into his embrace. For a moment, he did nothing more than hold her, and she was more than glad to simply stand there, allowing the warmth and strength of his touch chase the chills from her flesh. After a short while, he kissed her forehead. Then he slid his hand down her back and guided her down the hall.
The stairs creaked with each step, a sound eerily loud in the strange hush that filled the bar. The barkeep still polished his glass, and the woman they'd met upstairs was leaning over the bar, grabbing the key tagged bathroom.