I sat up, rubbing my throat, which felt swollen and tender. I was going to be sporting a huge bruise. Luckily I didn’t have any pressing appointments.
Had I absorbed Jimmy’s dhampir powers? I didn’t feel any different. What about his sudden case of the vampires? Would I absorb that too? I had no irresistible craving for blood. No urge to steep in a coffin. No aversion to garlic. I checked my teeth. None of them were pointy, but then neither were Jimmy’s.
I laughed at my thoughts, most of which were based on Bram Stoker, and my throat screamed. I stumbled into the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror revealed an ugly pressure mark across my windpipe, already deepen-ing from scarlet to eggplant.
I dialed the shower to “burn me, baby,” and climbed in, then stood under the stream until the water turned tepid. When I climbed out and dried off, I caught another glimpse of myself.
The bruise was gone.
Chapter 35
I appeared to have absorbed Jimmy’s dhampir ability to heal. I had to assume I had his strength, speed, and superior sight as well.
The powers I’d gained from Sawyer were restrictive. Speed in animal form, healing only after shape-shifting, and shape-shifting only if I touched a tattoo or wore a magic robe.
I fingered the pristine skin of my throat. “This works much better.”
When I went into the bedroom, my clothes were gone.
“What the—”
Clutching the towel, I hurried into the living area. Empty. So were all the closets, all the drawers. Of clothes, at any rate.
Someone had been in here while I showered. That almost gave me the creeps more than the red flare in Jimmy’s eyes had.
“If he expects me to prance around naked for all the security cameras to see, he can forget it,” I muttered, grabbing a dry towel and fashioning a very short sarong.
My gaze swept the bedroom, the bath; then I moved into the outer rooms and did the same. I didn’t see a camera anywhere, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
In the living area, I went down on my knees in front of the breakfront, but the heavy piece of furniture skimmed the floor too closely for me to reach beneath it and feel around for Ruthie’s crucifix and Sawyer’s turquoise. I could see them easily, even though the area beneath held no light whatsoever.
Supersight? Check.
With another furtive glance at the empty corners of the room, I reached out with both hands and yanked on the side of the wooden structure. It skidded across the floor as easily as if it were on wheels.
Frowning, I tilted my head. No wheels that I could see. I inched my fingers beneath the bottom and lifted. The breakfront levitated several inches as the muscles in my arm flexed.
“Oookay,” I murmured. “Supreme strength working just fine.”
Now that I’d moved the furniture, the turquoise and the crucifix, as well as the chain they’d hung on, were accessible. I snatched them as quickly as I could, my arm a blur even to my own suddenly superior eyes. I braced for the burn upon contact with the crucifix, but nothing happened.
I contemplated the tiny silver charm with the image of a crucified Christ. It had burned Jimmy but it hadn’t burned me.
Sharing blood with the Strega had aroused Jimmy’s vampire nature. Before that, he’d been a dhampir only— more human than vampire. So, it followed that unless I shared blood with another vamp, I’d enjoy freedom from fangs too. To say I was relieved was an understatement.
I dropped all three items into the nearest drawer. The chain was broken and the turquoise only infuriated Jimmy. I could infuriate him just fine on my own.
The elevator opened. I spun around, sliding the drawer shut as I did so. Maybe they’d seen my Superman show on the hidden security cameras. That wouldn’t be good. If the Strega discovered that I absorbed supernatural powers through sex, I had a very bad feeling I’d be flat on my back in his bed sometime today and a part of his cavalcade of evil by tonight.
Two of the vampire minions entered—different from the last ones—both men this time, one Asian, one black.
Vampire, Ruthie said.
I’d have known that without the ghost whisper. Their suits, around here anyway, were a kind of vamp uniform. Also, all the guard vampires appeared as if they’d been bench-pressing trucks in between steroid cocktails.
They snatched me by the arms and lifted me off my feet just like last time. My towel slithered downward, exposing me inch by inch before dropping to the floor with a soft, terry-cloth thud.
I wasn’t so much concerned about my nakedness—I didn’t have any choice and the goons didn’t notice— but I was concerned about my obvious healing capabilities. If I’d had a scarf available, I’d have wrapped it around my neck. But since I didn’t even have the towel any longer…
I kicked my legs. “You mind?”
They didn’t answer, just hauled me bodily into the elevator.
“Where are you taking me?”
They didn’t blink.
“Do you speak English?” Nothing. “Do you speak?”
The elevator opened directly into another room. If Larry Flynt had decorated the Penthouse penthouse, this place had been fashioned by the Shah of Sand City.
Pillows on the tile floor, gurgling fountain, the walls covered by gossamer fabric that billowed slightly with the swirl of current from the air ducts.
Women as naked as I lounged on the pillows— blondes, brunettes, redheads with skin in shades from gold to copper and ebony. On closer inspection, I saw they weren’t quite as naked as me. They all wore chains around their waists.
My eyes narrowed. They weren’t fancy golden belly chains either, but heavier, with links large enough to hook a leash onto, definitely too solid to break by hand or even with a hammer.
“Why don’t you just put a collar on them?” I murmured.
“That would ‘cramp my style,’ as you say.”
At the Strega’s words, the steroid twins let me go, and my feet hit the ground without warning. I stumbled, but managed to keep from taking a header off the marble steps that led from the elevator into the harem.
“Your style?” I faced him. “You call this style?”
“I enjoyed it when I traveled through what you now call the Middle East. Comfortable for them and much easier on me. When I want a snack, there they are.”
He snapped his fingers and the nearest woman hurried to his side. He tilted her head; old bite marks marred her once perfect skin. I understood what he’d meant by a collar cramping his style.
I turned away, but not before I saw his canines lengthen into fangs. It appeared vampires could retract them when not in use. Handy for keeping that secret identity a secret.
Though I’d averted my eyes, I couldn’t shut my ears to the sound of sucking. Each and every one of the remaining women watched with rapt attention, as if they wished with all their soon-to-be-lost souls that they’d been chosen. That almost made me as nauseous as the noise.
“Enough,” the Strega said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl collapse to the floor. One of the guard vamps made a move to catch her, but he missed, and her head cracked against the marble. She lay very still.
The Strega began to curse in Italian. The vampire paled, which was interesting since I’d always thought vampires pale to begin with. Just another myth. In truth, vamps looked just like you and me as long as they kept their fangs in their mouths.
The boss beckoned the visibly trembling minion. When the man reached his side, the Strega looped an arm around his shoulders, which was quite an upward stretch considering the vamp’s size.
“You knew she was my favorite.” The Strega sighed. “Blood as rich as wine. What a waste.”
With his free hand, he pushed a button on the wall. The heavy, dark curtains covering the bank of windows parted and sunlight streamed in.
“No, master,” the vamp whispered. I guess he could talk.
Before the words had left his lips, the Strega shoved him into
the light.
Bam, instant fire hazard.
The harem jumped up from the cushions, clapping and cooing in appreciation of the flames. I was starting to wonder if being drained of blood was draining them of their brains too.
Heat washed over me in a wave. The flaming outline of the man suddenly disintegrated into ashes, then fell to the floor with an audible whoosh.
“Take it away.” The strega waved a hand at the pile and one of the women snatched a nearby DustBuster— the proximity making me think the sunshine sentence was a common method of punishing mistakes—and in seconds any trace of the evidence was gone.
“That too.” The Strega indicated the fallen snack. So much for favorites.
The remaining guard lifted her limp body and carried it into the elevator.
The Strega circled me like the predator he was. “I don’t understand the attraction.”
Reaching out, he swept a finger down my neck, and I tensed. No one had mentioned my sudden ability to lift heavy furniture as if it were a lamp, which made me think that security cameras must be off limits in the private suites of the damned.
“You have nice skin, interesting eyes, but other than that…” He shrugged.
The way the Strega eyed my jugular, I had a bad feeling I’d been called here for a sample. Instead, he turned and headed for a door on the other side of the windows. “Come along. I want to show you something.”
I doubted I wanted to see anything he had to show me so I stayed right where I was.
My only warning was a giggle before one of the women shoved me in the back. She wasn’t that strong— constant and extreme blood loss does that to a person— but she surprised me enough that I took an involuntary step forward before spinning around, hands clenched into fists. There was only so much I could take, and I’d just reached the limit.
“Seer,” the Strega snapped. “Do I need to come and get you? You won’t like it; I promise.”
“Maybe she will like it, master,” said the half-wit who’d pushed me. “Make her bleed. Let us watch.”
“Yessss,” agreed the others.
Sheesh. Stepford Harem. How redundant.
I shot out the heel of my hand, putting a lot of body into it, and caught the big-mouth idiot in the chest. She landed on her ass in a pile of pillows and Strega snacks.
A lot of shrieking and crying ensued. Bui no one came after me. I think I’d made my point.
The Strega considered me as I crossed the sun-drenched tile floor. Had I hit her too hard? Did he suspect that I’d left the realm of seer strength and had crept into that of dhampir?
“Perhaps we shouldn’t kill you after all,” he murmured. “You’d be such an asset to my team.”
“We’ve been here and done this. I’m not going to pull an Italy. When I pick a side, I stay there.”
His face darkened. Ruthie had always called my compulsion to needle people who shouldn’t be needled “poking the bear.” I couldn’t help myself. Whenever I was in a situation where I felt inadequate or threatened, I tried to gain confidence and courage by twisting the knife where it hurt the most.
Damn, I wished 1 had my knife; I’d make that analogy literal.
I thought the Strega might knock me across the room, and I could guarantee I wouldn’t get up as quickly as the dumbass I’d smacked down. I’d be lucky if I got up at all.
“Why does everyone bring up the Second World War?” he whined. “It wasn’t as if Italy had any choice but to join the Nazis. We were surrounded.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You were there?”
“Where else would I have been?”
Italy during World War II hadn’t been a picnic. I’d think that someone like him would have ditched the place. Then again, amid chaos, any chaos he chose to cause would have gone unnoticed. Back then, the Strega had been biding his time, waiting for…
What? The perfect moment to take over the world? What if he’d decided the Nazis were the best bet for that and put his power behind them? 1 guess we’d all be speaking German.
The Strega went through the door and I followed. “What do you think?” he asked.
We’d entered a war room. There was no other word for it. A huge map of the world covered one wall. In each country—north, south, east, west—pins had been stuck. The map was a rainbow of dots in red, green, blue, and yellow.
Several vamps sat at computers, wearing headsets, clacking away as they spoke to unknown informants. Phones rang. Faxes buzzed.
“Red is for DKs,” the Strega murmured, “blue is for seers.”
Frowning, I leaned closer. Just north of Milwaukee someone had stuck a single blue pin. Guess that was me. Right next to the blue pin was a green and a yellow.
“What about those?”
“Yellow signifies a DK we’ve eliminated.”
“Springboard,” I murmured.
“Very good.”
I didn’t have to ask about the green pin.
That one was for Ruthie.
Chapter 36
“How do you know all this?” I demanded. “Obviously Jimmy told you about Ruthie—”
I frowned. Had he? Jimmy loved Ruthie as much as I did. The Strega hadn’t begun controlling him until they’d exchanged blood, which hadn’t happened until Jimmy had come here.
From the way the Strega was smirking and pointedly not answering my query, I wasn’t going to learn the truth from him about anything.
I reached up and yanked the Ruthie pin free, then met the Strega’s gaze, daring him to make me put it back. He shrugged.
“Everyone knows we took out your leader.” He reached into a desk and removed a purple pin, then stuck it into the hole left by the first one. “That color makes more sense.”
“Take out one leader, another just rises up.” Hey, maybe they had named me Phoenix for a reason. “You can’t win.”
“I already have. You aren’t going to be able to pass on your power, seer. Your world is mine.”
Dammit. Hadn’t thought of that. Guess I’d just have to kill him and anyone else who got in my way.
I spun away from the map, and the huge painting positioned high on the opposite wall captured my gaze. A medieval knight on crusade—armor, charger, army, with someone carrying a flag that very clearly had a cross emblazoned in the middle. The picture was so out of place 1 moved closer. The man in the painting bore more than a passing resemblance to the strega.
Had he been a crusader? If I remembered my history, the timing was right. Encompassed by the medieval era, the Crusades had lasted from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries, and Christian warriors from all over Europe had served.
However, the strega was a Nephilim, which made him evil; he was the offspring of the fallen angels. 1 doubted he’d suited up for Christ.
Someone ran a hand down my back, and I jumped. I’d forgotten I was stark naked. Amazing what a person could get used to when their life was on overload.
I turned, fists clenched again, only to slam straight into Jimmy. He reached out and swept a finger down my neck. “Not a mark.”
I tensed, at the touch and his words. “Seer blood.” I shrugged, knocking his arm away with my shoulder. “I heal pretty fast.”
“You always did,” he murmured, playing with the ends of my hair. He was really starting to get on my nerves. “You are going to be so much harder to kill than I expected.” He leaned over and licked my neck. “Thank you.”
The sensation of his tongue on my skin made my stomach skitter, not with disgust but with lust. What had he done to me? The temptation to turn into his arms, to yank off all of his clothes and have sex with him right here was nearly overpowering. I shook my head, hard.
“You feel it too, don’t you? The burn.” His palm cov-ered my stomach. His erection poked into my backside. “You’re mine now in a way you’ll never be anyone else’s. I’m having a chain made for you.” He caressed the curve of my waist. “Then you’ll fit in with all the others.”
The need to slug hi
m returned, but I managed to refrain. There would be time for violence later. A lot of it, I hoped.
“You like my portrait?” the Strega asked.
“What’s with the warrior-of-Christ getup?”
Jimmy’s hand slid from my stomach to my breasts. My elbow jerked involuntarily.
“Gark,” he said as it connected with his gut.
I thought he might force the issue. I really didn’t want to have sex on the war room floor in front of his psychotic daddy and a quarter of the vampire legion. I needed to control my impulses—both violent and lustful.
After several seconds, he lifted his hand and began playing with my hair once more. I decided I’d let that pass. The lesser of two evils.
“In the beginning,” the Strega began, and I took a deep breath, ready to tell him to skip the lesson; I certainly didn’t want to hear Bible stories from that mouth. However, he didn’t continue with Genesis. “There were Grig-ori. The sons of God who mated with the daughters of men and produced Nephilim.”
“Rerun.” I made a whirling motion with my forefinger. “Fast-forward.”
The Strega didn’t appear too happy at my interruption but he did move on. “In the Bible the Nephilim were referred to as giants, and they were.”
I frowned. “Giants? I don’t remember that.”
“Has the name Goliath slipped your mind?”
“He was a Nephilim?”
“Of course. As were many of the other races listed in the Old Testament. For instance, the Raphaims of Genesis were descendants of Rapha, which, in Hebrew, means fearful. In many translations, the word giant was replaced with Nephilim as if the two were interchangeable.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” My Hebrew was iffy to nonexistent.
“In the Old Testament days, giants were common, but as centuries passed, we needed to blend in better.”
“Why?”
“We had ninety percent of our number erased by forty days and nights of rain; there was no telling what might come next if we weren’t careful.”
“What did you do?”
“We became the giants of each time. During the era of the Greeks and the Romans, we were gods.” I snorted and he cast me a quick glance. “You’ve never heard the tales of Greece and Rome? Those stories of the gods who mated with humans.”
Any Given Doomsday Page 24
