She licked her lips and nodded. “Monica's heading our way." He didn't question her certainty, which was just as well. How could she possibly explain her connection to Michael, when in all the time Jake had known her, she'd never been able to do more than read a fleeting word or emotion?
"If the kid comes near us, I'll blow her head off,” Jake warned, drawing his handgun.
"The police will just love that.” And there was every possibility that Jake would never even see her. Not if what Michael said about her speed was true.
"To hell with the police. The girl's a nut."
"Thought you said there was no direct evidence that she's the culprit?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I did. That doesn't mean I believe she's innocent." If what she had heard about the teenager on the streets of late were to be believed, Monica hadn't been innocent for a very long time.
The flashlight beam was faint, barely penetrating the shadows. She turned on the lights as they went through each room, knowing the time to worry about discovery had passed. Trevgard would know something was wrong; the guard and the open gates were the giveaway there. And Monica would sense them regardless. At least the light banished the shadows, made the house appear less threatening. They made their way quickly through the house and up another flight of stairs. Nikki entered the first bedroom. It had to be Monica's—she couldn't imagine Trevgard surrounded by flowery wallpaper. Monica's coming fast. Whatever you want to do, do it now.
Trevgard? She held out her hand, palm down, and walked past the dressing table, trying to find a response from the jewelry scattered there.
Out of action but safe. She's in the house, Nikki. Move.
She couldn't. Not till she found something to track Monica with. You won't need it if you don't get out of there!
She ignored him. Her palm tingled when she walked past the bed. Kneeling, she looked underneath. Something glinted in the darkness. Reaching out, she grabbed the locket from its bed of dust. Then she rose and glanced across at Jake.
"I've got what we need, but Monica's in the house."
"Then let's go.” He raised his gun and led the way back into the hall. She's near the stairs— coming up. Nikki, get out. Get out now. How? She practically screamed the question. The stairs were the only way out. The windows— smash a Goddamn window, just— watch out! She's... She cut Michael from her mind and spun. A slender figure materialized behind her. Their gazes met, and Nikki stepped back. Monica's face was bloody, her mouth a thin line of rage. But her eyes were the most frightening. The bright blue depths had lost all hint of humanity. Jake cursed and fired the gun. Faster than the wind, faster than any bullet, Monica winked out of existence.
Only to reappear behind Jake.
"Look out!” Nikki screamed, and blasted him with kinetic energy, thrusting him out of Monica's way. The gun fired as he fell, the bullet smashing a mirror down the far end of the hall. The teenager shrieked and lashed out at Nikki. The blow smashed her sideways. She hit the wall hard, her breath leaving in one gigantic whoosh. Blinking back tears, she shook her head and struggled into a sitting position.
Monica leaped at her. Cursing loudly, Nikki hit out with the chair leg. The teenager twisted away from the blow and threw up her arms to protect her face. The jagged edges tore into her arm. Screaming in fury, Monica leaped again. Her weight hit like a ton of bricks, pinning Nikki to the spot. Razor sharp teeth gleamed brightly in the darkness; her breath was fetid, full of death. Gagging, Nikki grabbed the teenager's arms, desperately holding the twisting, snarling girl away from her neck. Energy burned through her body. The bolt hit Monica and flung her away. As agile as a cat, she landed on her feet and surged forward again.