"Nikki's not the only one with psychic abilities."
"Really? And do these said abilities make you move faster than a car? Because you certainly didn't arrive in one."
"No, I didn't.” Michael's voice held an edge of annoyance. “Nor do I fly. We waste time, here. Monica's killing spree has only just begun. We have to stop her."
Nikki pushed the hair out of her eyes. “To stop her we have to find her. Unless you have some means of tracking her, I have to get inside that house and grab something of hers."
"I can trace her, to a certain extent.” Michael hesitated, then frowned. “If you enter the house, she'll know. It's home ground, the place she lived most of her life. She's still connected to it."
"Another one who believes in vampires,” Jake muttered.
Nikki ignored him. “Is it true a vampire can't cross a threshold uninvited?" Michael nodded. “Yes, but the rule doesn't work when it's your own threshold."
"Oh."
She glanced uneasily at the mansion. Monica had to be stopped before she could kill again. If she wasn't here, they had to find her. Which meant she had to go in and steal something still holding the teenager's psyche. She doubted Trevgard would actually lend them another bracelet. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and glanced at Jake. “Let's get this over with." They walked to the far end of the house. Jake climbed the steps and approached the side door cautiously. Something flickered through her mind, a specter of darkness, of death. She studied the brightly-lit windows above them.
The servants haven't been dead long.
Surprised, she looked at Michael. How can you tell something like that?
I can smell the blood.
His eyes were icy pools that somehow intensified, washing darkness through her mind. Dizzy, she reached out, catching his arm. A shock of electricity ran through her fingers, and a haze filled her vision. Suddenly, their minds merged, for an instant becoming one. She could see the bodies in the room above, feel the cooling heat of their flesh, could almost taste the sweet dark pools of blood—her stomach rose. She blanched, shuddering.
Michael shattered the contact between them. She staggered away from him, one hand held to her throat. Dear God, what sort of talent was that?
"Don't ever do that again, Nikki.” His voice was gentle, but there was both surprise and anger in his expression. “It's far too dangerous for you."