The three men stepped into the basement. The darkness closed around them; only the bobbing light gave away their position. She clenched her fists, half-expecting Monica to wake and try to escape. But no sound broke the silence except for the occasional footstep.
Minutes later, Jenkins’ two-way buzzed.
"Call the paramedics in, Jenkins.” MacEwan's voice sounded annoyed, even over the two-way. “And get them to bring down a stretcher. The girl isn't looking so good."
"And Miss James?"
"Tell her to stay put, or her ass is mine."
The young officer glanced at her. Nikki smiled sourly. “Message received. My ass ain't moving." He grinned slightly then headed back up the stairs. Nikki shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting uneasily in the darkness. She wanted to go into the cellar and see Monica for herself, but knew MacEwan had meant what he said.
Though with Jasper still on the loose, maybe jail was the safest place to be. Jenkins returned a few minutes later, but Nikki felt no safer with his large presence next to her. She glanced at her watch. If MacEwan didn't move Monica soon, he might well find himself trying to control a very angry, and very awake, vampire.
Footsteps sounded down the hall. Two paramedics pounded past them and disappeared into the darkness. More minutes ticked by.
Finally, MacEwan reappeared. The two paramedics carried Monica on the stretcher just behind him, with the two police officers following them.
She let the five men pass then followed them up the stairs. The teenager looked more dead than alive. She was limp, boneless, her skin pallid and unhealthy looking. Nikki frowned. Something didn't feel right...
She crossed her arms. However Monica might look, she was still a monster. Like the fiend she called a lover, Monica enjoyed the terror she inflicted on her victims. It had been all too obvious in her eyes when she'd attacked both her and Jake.
But evil's mistress was about to meet her deserving end.
MacEwan glanced over his shoulder. “I don't want you disappearing anywhere. I'd like a word with you first."
She nodded. She had no intention of leaving, anyway. Not until she was certain of Monica's fate. She followed the men down the hall, then stopped as the first paramedic stepped outside. Beams of sunlight touched Monica's still form, washing her skin with warmth. Just for an instant she looked like the Monica of old—a carefree, innocent teenager. Nikki bit her lip and half reached out to stop them. Then she dropped her hand to her side and watched the two men carry her fully into daylight. Monica screamed—a high, tortured sound that ricocheted through Nikki's mind. This is wrong. I'm wrong. Oh Christ ... She took a step forward. Fire leaped through her brain, stopping her. She doubled over, gasping in pain, eyes watering as she struggled to see Monica. The teenager kicked and twisted against the straps holding her captive. She screamed and cursed and called for her father, over and over and over. The two paramedics swore and struggled to keep hold of the stretcher as the convulsing became more violent. There was a tearing sound, then suddenly she was free and on the ground. Her eyes flew open, revealing a sea of red where there should have been white. Tendrils of smoke began to rise from her flesh. She hissed, a low inhuman sound, and began to crawl towards the doorway and the safety of the church interior.
In Monica's unnatural gaze, Nikki saw past the layers of agony to the child deep within—a lost and lonely child, desperate for hope and love. Me , she thought , if it hadn't been for Jake and MacEwan. She stepped forward to help Monica, but the fire in her brain intensified. Gasping, Nikki dropped to her knees. There was nothing she could do—nothing but watch Monica die. Tears ran down her cheeks when she met the teenager's gaze. Deep in the blue depths of her eyes, Nikki saw the sudden flash of understanding—and hate.