Keri Arthur: Dancing With The Dead

He might not be able to kill Jasper right now, but he could give this creature final peace. Gripping its head, he snapped it hard sideways, breaking its neck. It fell to a lifeless heap at his feet. One down, five to go, if he included Jasper and the teenager.

Michael kicked the blade away with his foot then retrieved the can of gas. Undoing the lid, he sloshed the contents round the floor and up the walls. Anywhere and everywhere. It didn't matter, as long as it burned.

Throwing the empty can into a corner, he dug a box of matches out of his pocket. The old house was tinder dry. With the gas he'd splashed around, it would ignite like wildfire. But there was no one in the house except the four of them. Jasper wouldn't burn—he'd run the minute he smelled the flames. If Monica was too stupid to follow, then that was just too bad. Nikki was the one he had to get out. She'd be too dangerous a weapon in Jasper's hands.

Michael lit the match and flicked it in the direction of the can. Then he turned and ran for the stairs.

The door slammed shut behind her. Nikki spun but knew there was no escape. Childish laughter echoed through the silence, mocking her.

Monica, in league with the devil himself.

"You have done well, my pet."

The soft voice was powerful. Hypnotic. It filled the room with its warmth, and yet her skin crawled in terror of its touch. Instinct warned her not to move, told the slightest show of fear would quickly bring death. But the beat of her heart was a drum that filled the silence. He had to know—had to feel—her fear.

The air stirred. She stepped back quickly. The presence laughed, a low sound of amusement. Nikki clenched her fists. Energy tingled across her fingertips, but she didn't release it, instead retreating another step. Her back hit the wall, but she felt no better for its protection. If she could get to the door…

"There is no escape for you now." The stranger's tone was oddly gentle, yet filled with the certainty of death.

Nikki edged sideways, one hand outstretched, searching desperately for the doorknob. It had to be close; she hadn't walked that far into the room, for Christ's sake.

"Look at me," The voice changed, became deeper, more alluring. "Look at me…"

Blue fire flared in the darkness. Nikki stared, mesmerized, as the flame grew brighter, transforming itself into a pair of sapphire eyes.

So beautiful.

So very deadly.

Nikki swallowed and tore her gaze away. Her fingers touched the doorknob, clenched convulsively around it.

"No," he whispered. "Stay with me."

His words wrapped around her, seductive and compelling. Blue fire pinned her. She couldn't tear herself free of the commanding beauty of his gaze.

"Be mine."

Memories rose unbidden, and Nikki saw another time, another man, uttering the same words.

"No," she said and flung out her arm, releasing the pent-up kinetic energy. The sapphire gaze disappeared, then something heavy hit the far wall.

Anger hissed across the darkness. Nikki slammed the door open and ran for the hall.

Smoke swirled through the darkness, a stench that caught in her throat, making her cough. Christ, there's a fire somewhere . But she couldn't stop. Not with evil so close to her heels. She reached the door leading out into the hall and flung it open.

Only to be greeted by hell. Wallpaper dripped fiery tears to the floor, and the stairs were lost to an inferno of red heat. Smoke curled around her, stinging her eyes and making it difficult to breathe. She coughed, and dashed the tears away from her eyes. What was she going to do now?

Wood creaked behind her.

Run, she thought, and leaped into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her.

The heat was fierce, scorching her clothes and searing her skin. Heart pounding with fear, Nikki spun, not sure where to go. The smoke did a mad dance around her, making it difficult to get her bearings. If she couldn't use the stairs, she'd have to run down the hall… but which way was safest?

"This way," a voice said behind her.

Nikki jumped then turned. A figure emerged from the swirling darkness. Something deep within quivered in recognition. This was Michael Kelly, the man she'd sensed earlier.

"Trust me," he said and held out his hand.

She hesitated, despite the danger of doing so. The dancing brightness of the flames revealed the finely chiseled planes of his cheeks, and a nose that hinted of exotic blood. It was a handsome face. A haunted face. One she could trust—at least for now.

She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, wrapping them in a heat that was fiercer than any flame.

He led her quickly through the fire and into another room. She kicked the door shut, then saw the only exit was the large window to her left. They'd have to jump.

Shit.Nikki thrust kinetically at the window. The glass burst outwards, glittering like a thousand bright stars as it fell earthward.

Wind rushed into the void, slapping her face like a bucket of cold water. She blinked, and looked at the ground far below. It was a long, long way down…

As if sensing her sudden reluctance, Michael grabbed her, swinging her into his arms.

"No!" she screamed, then shut her eyes as he ran toward the window.

He leaped out into the night. The wind whipped around them, and, just for an instant, it felt as if they were flying. The illusion shattered when they hit the ground. The impact wrenched her from Michael's hold and pitched her roughly forward. She rolled down a slight incline and through several plants before coming to an abrupt halt against a fence, rear half buried in the garden bed and legs pointing skyward.

For several seconds she just lay there, too stunned to move, just thankful to be alive. She'd bitten her tongue sometime during the fall and could taste blood in her mouth, but other than that, everything seemed in working order.

At least she was free from the house, and the immediate threat of evil. But the man with the hypnotic sapphire eyes was still near—she could feel his presence, hunting her. She'd better get away from this area—fast.

She slowly lowered her legs from the fence. Pain shot along her back, and she groaned softly. No doubt she'd have a colorful array of bruises to parade tomorrow.

"Take my hand."

Every nerve in her aching body jumped. Her heart in her mouth, she glanced up. Michael's form flowed out of the night and found substance. Just like a ghost, Nikki thought with a shiver. Her gaze swept from the blackness of his clothing to his face. Instinct might be telling her to trust this man, but there was something in his eyes that made her wary.

And yet he'd undoubtedly saved her life. "If you were going to throw me out a window," she muttered.

"You could have at least arranged a softer landing."

Though his eyebrows rose in surprise, a hint of a smile touched his generous mouth. Nikki ignored his outstretched hand, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her stomach churned, and she took several deep breaths, battling the urge to be sick.

"We have no time," he said, concern touching the soft tones of his voice. "Please, take my hand and let's go."

Nikki studied him for a moment, then looked back at the house. Bright flames were leaping from the ground floor windows, hungrily reaching skyward. She had no sense of Monica, but the evil was on the move.

She took his hand. He pulled her up easily, his strength at odds with his lean build. Surprisingly, he stood only three or four inches above her five-four. In the flame-filled confines of the hall, he'd appeared a lot bigger.

"He hunts us," Michael stated softly. Though he still held her hand, he'd turned slightly to study the house. "We must keep moving."