Keri Arthur - Hearts In Darkness

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.

"I can feel you, Ginger," he said, pointing a long, almost feminine finger their way. His voice grated, like nails down a blackboard. "Come out where I can see you."

Ginger released her and brushed past, oddly making no noise as she splashed up the stream.

"What do you wish?" she asked, stopping in the entrance.

"Get me over this stream."

Ginger raised her arms. Power crackled from her fingertips, forking towards Cordell. The streams of energy looped around him then gently lifted his chair across the water, depositing him safely on the other side.

Ginger dropped her arms and slumped against the wall. Though Nikki could no longer see Cordell, his contempt lashed the air.

"I will need your strength in an hour for the ceremony. Be ready when I call."

"You kill us," Ginger murmured. "We cannot take much more."

"Then you will serve until you die. Just be there."

Ginger didn't reply. Cordell wheeled away, and silence returned. The color of the flame imp hovering above Nikki's head went from red to green. She splashed through the water and touched Ginger's shoulder. Almost instantly, she jerked her hand away. The heat was intense, burning her skin despite the briefness of her touch.

"You're burning up," she said.

Ginger sighed and turned around. "This form cannot hold us much longer. If it burns, we die."

She frowned. "Why? Wouldn't Ginger's death release you?"

"No, because this form was already dead when we were bound to it. It is our energy that gives it life.

Yet it is our energy that kills it. Unlike the others, the spell that binds us can only be broken by his death."

Did this mean that the flame imp that had been bound to the vampire who'd melted at the airport had actually lived? She remembered the steam and hoped so. But if it had lived, why hadn't she been able to see it? "Then Ginger wasn't a vampire, like most of the others?"

"No. We were an experiment, the first test. We have lived longer than even the undead, but our time nears its end."

Nikki frowned. "If Cordell can bind the dead, why is he using vampires?"

"He did not turn this body. We are forced to let him use us, but he cannot control us as fully he does his

undead ones."

So where did Elizabeth fit into the scheme of things? From the brief glimpses she'd seen of the woman, and from what Michael had said, Nikki couldn't imagine her willingly kowtowing to Cordell's wishes.

Unless, of course, he'd somehow forced a flame imp into her, as well.

"What did Cordell mean when he said he wants you to be ready for the ceremony?"

Ginger shrugged. There was great sadness in her blue eyes. "He plans to bind one of us in his body."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why?" Surely he knew that such a course would inevitably lead to death.

"His body wastes. He will die soon. He hopes the ceremony will give him new strength."

"And will it?"

"Yes."

Then they definitely had to stop it. "What type of ceremony is it? What does it involve?" Not that she knew a damn thing about magic or ceremonies, but anything Ginger could tell her had to be of some help in the long run.

"It is a blood ceremony. You must take a life to save a life."

Rodeman, she thought with a chill. Maybe that was why he'd been so heavily drugged—to keep him passive until Cordell was ready to use him. They had to get him out of here. "We have to stop him."

"Yes."

The big question was how. Obviously, the first thing they had to do was get Rodeman to safety—something she couldn't achieve alone. But maybe Ginger could.

"Would you be able to lift Rodeman up?"

Ginger frowned. "We have done so, yes."

"Would you be able to take him from the cell back up to his room without raising much of a fuss?"

"Yes. His room has a hidden entrance. It is how we came down here." She hesitated. "Why do you wish this?"

"If Cordell plans a blood ceremony, then Rodeman is an all-too-handy sacrifice. If we remove him, then we delay his plans and give ourselves some time to find a way to kill him."

Ginger nodded. "We like this idea." She hesitated, her expression changing from sadness to great joy.

"One of us is free."

Nikki frowned. "What do you mean?"

" Shehas died. The spell of binding has dissolved."

Elizabeth, Nikki thought. Was Michael responsible? Was he okay? "How did this happen?"

"He who bears her taste killed her. We will trust him now. Help him, if we can."

Fear swirled through her. She reached for the link, only to be met by silence. Michael wasn't blocking her, but he wasn't answering, either. Why? "Is he okay?"