"The timber's not that old,” he said, half smiling as he handed her the flashlight. “Here, hold this." She shined the beam at the entrance. The light penetrated only a few feet of darkness before being swallowed. But it was enough to see the footprints. Michael squatted on his heels and ran his fingers around the outline of the prints.
"Zombies,” he said, indicating a scuffed section on one print. “See? Their step is heavy, and they drag their feet. Jasper would leave no prints, and he would have carried Jake in."
"We knew he'd have traps waiting.” So why hadn't her psychic senses kicked in and warned her?
"They won't.” Michael stood and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Jasper's using the psychic net again—I can feel it pulsing. It's shielding this entire area, and probably interfering with your abilities." Yet the watch still beat between her fingers. “I can still feel Jake."
"Only because Jasper wants you to find him."
She shivered. “Then the rest of my abilities will be useless?"
"Probably. You can't find out without trying, and the net will catch you if you do." Her stomach twisted. While she'd often wished to be normal, to be free of the gifts that had somehow always set her apart, she'd known deep down that she relied on them too much to ever let them go. And her brief time with Jasper had proven just how useless she was without them. Michael wrapped his fingers around hers. “You're not alone, Nikki." She closed her eyes, fighting the warmth that sprang through her body. It wasn't right to want someone as much as she wanted Michael. Wasn't right to need his touch, the comfort of his arms to chase the demons away.
"I'll always be alone,” she said, and stepped away from him. It couldn't be any other way. Not when her love was a curse of death. Michael might be a vampire, but that didn't make him invincible. Monica had proven that vampires could die as fast as any human. “Let's go." He made no comment and turned away. She followed him into the darkness, her shaking hands making the flashlight's beam dance erratically.
The steady drip of water was all she could hear above the sound of her footsteps. Michael made no noise, as silent as a ghost. The chill in the air crept past the layers of her clothing and touched her skin with icy fingers.
She shivered and inched closer to Michael's broad back. Her psychic senses might be useless at this point, but she could still feel Jasper's evil all around her. Even the air they breathed seemed tainted by it. She swept the flashlight's beam across walls slick with slime. Rivulets of water ran down the slope past their feet, but to where? She remembered how damp Jake's clothes had been and guessed somewhere along the line they'd hit water. Hopefully it wouldn't be too deep. She was not a swimmer. Michael stopped abruptly, and she plowed into his back. “Give a girl some warning next time,” she muttered, rubbing her nose as she stepped around him.
The path led into a wide, still lake. She groaned. The path didn't seem to resurface anywhere near, if at all.
"How well do you swim?” Michael knelt and dipped his fingers in the water.
"Like a rock.” She shined the flashlight down onto the water. There was no telling how deep it was. It was too dark to see the bottom.
Michael sniffed the water on his fingers, then carefully tasted it. “Putrid,” he muttered, and spat the taste away. “Whatever you do, don't swallow it."
"I don't even want to go in it, let alone drink it.” She backed away from the edge. The more she stared at the water, the more certain she became that it was a trap. She had to get out of this tunnel and away from the death closing in on her...