I was busy trying to ignore my demon’s promise to give me anything, anyone, at any time that I wished.
“Say it!”
His urgency got through and I repeated his words. As the word moons slipped from my lips, the demon’s whisper faded.
Jimmy rewarded me with a slow, single stroke. All the way out then a deep plunge home. I moaned.
“I banish you from my soul, my body and mind.”
I wanted another stroke like that so bad, I’d have said just about anything. So I repeated his words and was again rewarded.
“Give me protection; give me peace.”
I asked for the same, though I had little hope of actually getting it. I thought that was the end and lifted my hips, drawing him ever deeper. Jimmy cursed.
“Hold on. One. More. Thing.” Sweat dripped from his forehead onto mine. “Ci è niente che possiate fare che mi renderà l’arresto che lo ama.”
“Latin?” I asked. “Since when—?”
“Just say it,” he managed between clenched teeth. “Hurry.”
The orgasm rolled between us like a thunderstorm across the horizon. He tried to stop it, but it was too late. I felt him pulse, and I tightened around him. As the winds broke over us, I whispered: “Ci è niente che possiate fare che mi renderà l’arresto che lo ama.”
The last word left my lips, and the candles died with an audible puff. Silence fell like a cool dark sea. We were both damp with sweat—the scent salty yet somehow sweet.
“Is that good?” I asked. “Or bad.”
He rolled to the side, keeping hold of my hand as he always used to, and we both stared at the ceiling where the light of the moon now flickered and danced all alone.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Jimmy turned his head; I turned mine. Our noses brushed, and I was nearly overcome with the urge to kiss him and not stop kissing him until we made love for real, though what had just happened had felt more real than anything had for a long, long time.
“The only way to know if the spell worked is to take off—” With one finger, Jimmy traced my neck just above the collar.
The urge to kiss him, the warm, fuzzy, maybe-he-still-loves-me feeling vanished in a wash of cold sweat.
“You want to go first?” he asked.
“Why don’t we take them off together?”
“No,” he said quickly. “If the spell didn’t work, one of us has to stay sane enough to wrestle the control back on.”
I swallowed, discovered I suddenly couldn’t talk, and settled for a nod.
Jimmy sat up. “You first or me?”
I sat up, too. The moon cast just enough light to see the glow of his eyes but only the shadow of the rest of him.
I held out a hand. “Two out of three? Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Sure.”
We began to count—one, two—swinging our fists up and down.
“Wait!” Jimmy stopped mid-three and so did I. “Does the winner go first or does the loser?”
That was a toughie. Being the first to know you were free—partially—of a bloodsucking evil thing was good. Then again, being the first to go bugfuck and try to kill the other, only to be forcibly latched back in to an embarrassing, bespelled control, was bad.
“I can’t decide,” I admitted.
“Okay.” Jimmy bit his lip for a second, scowling—a little boy faced with an impossible problem—then shrugged. “Winner should always go first.”
“Works for me.” This was basically the toss of a coin. Fate would decide. Or God, depending on what you believed. Either way, it was out of my hands.
We played the game as we had when children—fast and furious, no time to think, to reason, to plan a strategy.
One, two, three—I won. One, two, three—he did. One, two, three—
Jimmy’s eyes met mine, and his lips quirked. “Congratulations.”
“Ass,” I muttered.
“Sticks and stones,” he returned. “You still have to go first.”
“Fine.” I tugged on the catch. After a minor struggle—for obvious reasons the thing wasn’t easy to remove—the collar loosened and tumbled free.
I watched it fall to the bed, the paste jewels catching the moonlight and turning every color of night. The control bounced on the mattress and lay still.
I waited for the change to rush over me.
CHAPTER 28
“Wanna tear out my throat?” Jimmy asked. “Bathe in the blood? Drink me so dry I blow away on the next stiff breeze?”
“Not right now,” I said. “Maybe later.”
He reached for his cock ring.
“Hold on.”
“You wanna do it?” He lay back on the bed, putting his arms behind his head. “Be my guest.”
“Don’t screw with me now, Sanducci. I am in no mood.”
He sighed and sat up. “Figures.”
“Shhh.” I tilted my head, listening, waiting for the voice of evil to whisper . . . something. I didn’t think it was there, yet still I . . . “Sense it,” I said.
Jimmy’s temporary lightness fled. “We’ll never be free of the vampire, Lizzy. I told you that when you insisted on becoming one. We can put it beneath the moon”—he met my gaze, holding it—“but you know what that means.”
“We’ll be even more bloodthirsty on that single night.” If such a thing were possible. “I wish there were a way to know for sure.”
“Know what?”
“That it’s gone.” I waved my hand before he could correct me. “Or contained beneath the moon and not just hiding in here”—I rapped my skull with my knuckles—“waiting for you to take your control off, and then we can party.”
“I know a way.” He got off the bed and started rooting through my duffel.
“Hey!” I said, but he ignored me. Since there really wasn’t anything secret in there, I let him.
Jimmy pulled out a small plastic bag, reached in, and held up Ruthie’s crucifix. The sight of it made my eyes sting. I’d missed wearing that almost as much as I missed hearing her voice.
I jolted. I should be able to hear Ruthie’s voice again—as soon as she had something to say.
Jimmy crossed the floor, sat next to me on the bed. He held up his hand, and the chain unfurled. The tiny cross with the tiny hanging man twirled right and then left.
Jimmy leaned in. His hair brushed my face. I closed my eyes and waited. Would I go up in flames or wouldn’t I?
Seconds later his fingers brushed my hair as he slipped the chain over my head. Jimmy sat back, letting the crucifix fall between my breasts, then drawing his thumb over the cross, pressing it more firmly against my skin.
He lifted his eyes to mine. “All clear.”
I let out a whoosh of breath. “Your turn.”
But Jimmy wasn’t wasting any time. His fingers had already encircled the cock ring as well as his cock. The sight made me swallow against a sudden flare of lust.
He twisted his wrist; the circlet widened with a metallic snick and slid off. Sanducci stared at the ring resting on his open palm. Then he crunched it just by closing his fist.
“I hated this,” he muttered, and threw it out the window.
“You preferred being . . .” I made claws with my hands and hissed.
“Of course not!” Jimmy stood and began to dress. “But that thing just made me feel like a—a—what the hell do you call a guy in a harem?”
“A eunuch?”
He cast me a glance. “Very funny.”
“A harem boy?”
“All right. That made me feel like a harem boy, you know?”
Unfortunately I did. When Jimmy had been under the power of his creepy vampire father, he’d made me his sex slave, complete with the Barbara Eden genie outfit. It had not been a good look for me.
Jimmy saw my face and cursed softly. “Sorry.”
I waved the word away. “We can’t spend the rest of our lives apologizing to each other.”
For one thing, there was
going to be a lot more we’d have to apologize for in the future. I was sure of it.
“Is that why you had the Dagda put a cock ring on me? Revenge?”
“I didn’t tell him what to use. It was his idea of a joke.”
“Seemed more like your idea of a joke.”
Maybe we were going to have to keep apologizing for the rest of our lives.
“Believe me or don’t believe me, Jimmy. I’m not going to keep begging you to.” I put on my clothes. “We need to deal with Mait.”
“Now?”
I glanced at the clock. Midnight. “We should go during the daytime. Unless you know how to disable those night demons.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Considering Mait is the son of the origin of darkness, I vote for daytime, too.”
I didn’t care for Kalfu’s title. The last time I’d had anything to do with “the darkness” I’d wound up a vampire.
“We should get some sleep,” Jimmy said.
My gaze went to the bed. The bedspread lay on the floor and the sheets appeared to have been slept in by a kid with untreated ADHD. Believe me, I’d known quite a few, had to share a mattress with some of them in foster care. They kicked like mules and even asleep, their legs and arms rarely stopped moving.
I glanced at Jimmy. He was staring at the bed, too. “It’s big enough for both of us,” I said, and he jumped as if I’d stuck him with a pin.
I straightened the sheets, leaning over to pick up the bedspread just as a latch clicked. My gaze flicked around the empty room even as I headed for the door. But when I opened it, Jimmy was already gone. I wasn’t surprised.
I could catch him, but why? He obviously didn’t want to stay. He’d be back with the dawn. He couldn’t go after Mait without me. Jimmy didn’t know where the Nephilim was.
Though I longed to throw my control over the balcony as Jimmy had thrown his, I knew there might come a day when I needed to put the collar back on. I shoved the thing to the bottom of my duffel, picked up Sawyer’s turquoise, and looped the chain over my neck, tucking the stone beneath my shirt along with Ruthie’s crucifix. Then I stripped off my jeans and tried to get some sleep.
Next thing I knew light had just begun to creep across the sky. The breeze through the balcony window felt morning-cool and smelled like the fresh water I heard splashing out of the hoses and washing away the filth on the streets below.
Sanducci slouched in a chair by the terrace. I could have been annoyed that he’d disappeared last night; I could have started the day bitchy. But he’d brought coffee and beignets.
I crossed the room and snatched the nearest cup, taking a healthy swig despite the waft of steam that billowed up and nearly blinded me when I removed the top. Then I grabbed a beignet and stuffed most of it in my mouth—they were small—letting the sugar and the deep-fried dough soothe me until I almost felt human.
“Where’d you go last night?”
Jimmy reached into his back pocket and slapped a lethal-looking silver dagger onto the table. The weapon was small, but from the way the sun sparked off the edges, it was sharp, the grip black, grooved, all business. No fancy jewels or cutesy dragon faces to mess up the aim.
“Charmed?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t be much good if it wasn’t.”
I thought it might be good enough for most things, if you stuck them just right. But we weren’t interested in most things. This dagger was for Mait.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Charmed dagger shop.”
“That’s a legitimate question, Sanducci. What if I need a charmed dagger at some point in the future?”
Knowing my future, I was sure that I would.
“You’ve got one.” He flicked his finger at the table.
“Do you have one?” He shook his head. “Why not?”
“They aren’t cheap, Lizzy. Besides, we only need one. I’ll grab the book, you stab the Nephilim.”
“How come I have to stab the Nephilim?” I whined.
“Mait and I have a history. If he sees me coming, we’re screwed.”
“I thought the gris-gris would repel his magic.”
“They will. But he’s a big guy, and he fights dirty.”
“So do you.”
“You’ll have a better chance of sliding in and—” Jimmy made a stabbing motion with his fist toward his eye. I resisted the urge to gag. I did not do well with eyes. They were yucky.
That sounds girlie. But I am a girl.
Which didn’t mean I wouldn’t do what I had to. I’d also do everything I could to get out of it first.
“Why do you think I’ll be able to get close to him?” I asked. “I’m not huge, and my dirty fighting isn’t the best.”
I’d always had a hard time with it, probably because I’d been kicked when I was down so often as a kid whenever I tried to do it myself, I hesitated. I needed to get over that, but I wasn’t sure how.
“Besides,” I continued, “the first time Mait saw me, he knew I was there for the book.”
“Anyone who shows up is there for the book, Lizzy.”
“They couldn’t be out for a stroll?”
“In New Orleans? In August? In the swamp?”
“All right,” I muttered.
“You won’t have to fight him.”
“You think he’ll just let us walk in and grab the Book of Samyaza.”
“I think he won’t notice me grabbing it if you’re seducing him.”
I choked on my coffee, which went down the wrong pipe and made me cough as if I were in the throes of death. For a while I wanted to be. At last I managed a hoarse, “If I’m doing what?”
“This guy’s been stuck in an abandoned church for a very long time. He’s desperate to get some.”
“Well, he isn’t getting any from me! He’s a Nephilim.”
“I didn’t tell you to sleep with him.”
“You said seduce.”
“I meant offer but don’t deliver. I’m sure you know how.”
My eyes narrowed. I’d certainly never offered him anything I hadn’t delivered.
“I’ll just fight him,” I said. “I’ve got skills.”
“You won’t have your powers.” At my frown, Jimmy lifted a gris-gris. “Once we walk in with these, it’s a no-magic zone for everyone.”
“You couldn’t buy a gris-gris that puts a hex on evil magic and leaves the good guys’ juice alone?”
“What is evil?” he murmured.
“Don’t start with the existential bullshit!”
“It’s a legitimate question.” He repeated back my own earlier comment, and my head felt as if it might explode. Only Sanducci had this effect on me.
“You think a bag of seeds and grass can tell the difference between good and evil?” he asked. “Especially when the bad guys believe what they’re doing needs to be done. Haven’t you ever heard the saying: A villain is the hero of his own story?”
“No.”
“Think about it. Mait was given the task of protecting that book. He’s going to protect it by any means necessary. Is that an evil deed?”
“Hell, yeah!”
“In your opinion.”
“In everyone’s opinion.”
“Mait’s just following orders.”
“From Lucifer,” I said. “You think because the guards at Dachau were ‘just following orders,’ they aren’t roasting above an open flame directly to the left of Hitler?”
“Probably.” Jimmy sighed. “The fact remains that the gris-gris will put a stop to any magic—good or bad—so seduction is your best bet. Get in close, make sure I’ve got the book, then”—he made the same jabbing motion toward his eye, and I flinched—“nail him.”
CHAPTER 29
“Got the gris-gris?” Jimmy asked as he stepped out of the car near the swamp.
“Check. You?”
“Roger.”
“Dagger?” Jimmy continued, as if I were new at this.
I patted the back pocket of m
y jeans. I’d donned the tightest pair I could find, along with a well-washed white tank so see-through the shade of my skin made it appear beige. I hadn’t bothered with a bra. Why try to be subtle? I’d never been any good at it.
I’d left the turquoise and the crucifix at the hotel. No need to remind Mait whose side I was on until I had to.
“Okay then.” Jimmy rocked back on his heels, glanced at the sky.
“Synchronize our watches?” I asked.
He lowered his head, lifted a brow. “You aren’t wearing one.”
“I’m not wearing much,” I muttered, and walked into the overgrowth.
Despite the early hour, I was dripping sweat by the time I reached the church. Mait had said he was on duty in the daytime, so I’d assumed night demons only demoned at night. Since no evil bat-like shadows dived from the sky and tried to eviscerate me, I appeared to be right.
“Mait?” I called.
He appeared in the doorway so fast, I thought he might have been waiting for me. Probably just waiting for someone, anyone. If I had to live alone in an abandoned church in the swamp with only nasty demon birds and Lucifer’s Bible for company, I’d hover around the doorway, too.
“Back for de book?” he asked, gazing on my breasts, which might as well have been bare for all the good my old, white, wet shirt provided for cover.
I didn’t answer. He wasn’t listening anyway. Instead I walked toward him, making sure I put a little bounce in my step that transferred to my chest.
Ba-booommmmm. Ba-booommmm.
“Mait,” I said in what I hoped was a tempting murmur.
Jimmy’s idea of sending me to seduce someone, probably not the best idea he’d ever had. I was more of the Jump him if you want him school. But if I did that now, I’d have to follow through, and that wasn’t happening.
A few more ba-boom steps and I came close enough to see the symbol depicted by the tiny braids across Mait’s skull. A cross of two straight lines, combined with another cross that ended in a curlicue and tilted toward two o’clock, all with the same center—an X and a T—crossroad upon a crossroad. Very powerful magic.
I ran my finger along it, attempting to get inside his head, but either the gris-gris was strong enough to block my psychometry or his mind was too full of breasts for anything else.
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