My eyes weren’t closed but wide open and staring. I tilted my head. I looked a little dead.
From this angle, with his mouth at my neck, our legs entwined, his body growing slack within mine, the view was quite pornographic. If I weren’t careful I’d end up starring in one of the videos on the huge wide screen in the living room.
Aw, hell, was I already? I wouldn’t put it past them.
I continued to watch, both fascinated and repelled as he drank from me. His back was so beautiful, all muscles and sleek, tanned skin. I reached out to touch, but I didn’t have an arm. My arm was on the bed with the rest of me.
I’d given him my heart, my soul, my body, and when I’d trusted him the most, he’d hurt me.
Talk about deja vu.
I forced my attention back to us. I was getting pretty pale. He needed to stop that before he—
I went dizzy again. The world spun, and I fell from the ceiling, slamming back into myself with a thud and a gasp.
Jimmy lifted his head, but before I could see his face, his eyes, his no doubt blood-drenched lips, everything went blessedly black.
I dreamed of New Mexico. Oh, come on! Why there?
“Is this hell?” I asked.
“Hardly.” I’d know that deep, mesmerizing voice anywhere, even without the hogan, the bonfire, the sweat lodge, the ramada that seemed to rise straight out of the ground in front of me. The mountains were there too, looming shadows stretching into an everlasting sky.
Sawyer stepped out of the night. Naked, with the moon cascading over his skin, turning his tattoos an eerie midnight blue.
“You dream, Phoenix.”
“Get the hell out of my head.”
“I’m not in your head, you’re in mine.”
“Sheesh. Sleeping with you was like a virus. What else did I catch?”
His lips compressed into a flat, thin line. “You didn’t catch it from me.”
“I had it all along?”
“No.”
Jimmy. Hell.
“You had to sleep with him?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah, I kind of did.”
Sawyer’s gaze touched my face, then darkened. “I will kill him.”
“The line starts behind me.”
Silence fell between us. The only sound was the crackling of the bonfire.
“He kept his dream walker power a secret from us all,” Sawyer said. “If I’d known, I would have figured out how the Nephilim had gotten their information and staked him twice when I had the chance.”
“What?”
“Only Ruthie knew the names of all the DKs and seers,” he said slowly, and the light dawned.
“He walked in her dreams.”
Sawyer nodded once.
“She didn’t know?”
“A dream walker can wipe all trace of the walk from the victim’s head. At the least, the person might remember dreaming of them, but not what the dream was about.” He spread his hands. “Happens to all of us.”
More than I liked. Especially now that I knew someone might have been trolling the halls of my mind while I slept.
“Jimmy didn’t know he was doing it,” I said.
“No?”
“No. His father, the Strega, said that once he and Jimmy exchanged blood”—Sawyer made a face; I had to agree with the sentiment—”then Jimmy’s vampire nature emerged and he changed sides.”
“You believe this?”
I shouldn’t believe anything the strega, or Jimmy, for that matter, said. Except—
Quickly I told Sawyer about absorbing Jimmy’s dhampir powers, but not his vampire nature, which led me to believe that in order to attain a taste for blood I’d have to actually… taste blood.
“Also, if Jimmy was on the Strega’s team all along he would have killed me, you, Summer, hell, everyone he could. Why wait?”
Sawyer nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. Somehow the strega was able to entice Sanducci to dream-walk and pluck the information from Ruthie before she died without Sanducci knowing it. Perhaps the spell you saw in your vision—the bowl of blood—had something to do with it.”
I recalled the strega saying he’d done everything to get into Jimmy’s head—spells and charms—but nothing helped. He never had revealed just what had given him the access he needed to set doomsday in motion.
“How does the dream walker power work?” I asked.
“You must go into a deep trance, access the realm between life and death, where dreams exist; then you can walk among them.”
“I wouldn’t know a trance if it bit me on the ass.”
“It bit you, all right. Tonight, Sanducci nearly killed you.”
“That’s how I got here?” Sawyer nodded. “Next time I’ll take the bus.”
I paused as several separate thoughts suddenly collided to provide a single answer. “Jimmy said he’d been sick. The worst he could ever remember. The strega was trying for years to get into Jimmy’s head and couldn’t.”
Sawyer’s face smoothed out in understanding. “None of his magic worked, but when Sanducci became ill, he existed in the realm of the dream walker. The Strega was able to get past his defenses, then somehow entice him to walk in Ruthie’s head where every bit of information he needed was there for the taking.”
“Even so, Jimmy wouldn’t have told him the information. Not then anyway.”
“I’m sure it was a simple matter to draw what he wanted from Sanducci when he was still too ill to know what he was doing. The strega is, after all, a very powerful witch.”
In the end. it didn’t really matter how the strega had gotten his information; what mattered was that he had it and he was using it.
“So,” I continued, “why your dreams?”
Those tight lips curved. “Yes, Phoenix, why mine?”
“Because you know so damn much about every damn thing?”
“Testy?”
“Do you know where I am? Do you know what’s been going on?”
“Yes.”
“And why is that?” I considered. “Summer’s a tattle-tale.”
“She did her job.”
“But she didn’t know exactly where I’d gone. Neither did you. 1 only said New York and it’s a big city. Come clean, Sawyer. You put a transmitter on me or something?”
“Something.” For an instant I thought he meant to leave the explanation at that, but he continued. “The turquoise is more than just protection from a chindi, it’s a connection between us.”
I scowled. “I never realized you were a Peeping Tom.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t realize,” he said, unfazed as always by my scorn. “We’ve been trying to help you, but we can’t get in. Several have died trying.”
“Don’t try anymore.”
“It’s pointless. You’ll have to do this on your own.”
“I’m used to it. So, tell me, why your dreams?”
“Dream walkers are drawn to the dreams of the one who knows the answer to their most desperate question. It’s the way this power works.”
“The only thing that would come in handy right now is how to kill a Strega, but you didn’t know—”
He moved forward, holding out his hands for mine. “Ever since you left, I’ve been searching for the answer.”
My heart jittered. “Did you find one?”
“Touch me and you’ll see.”
I didn’t hesitate, just slapped our palms together and braced for the ride.
The wind hit me like a tornado. I suddenly flew through dark, twisted corridors. Discarded toys, books, papers littered the floor. Doors whooshed by, some had locks, some stood half open, some were torn asunder as if by a huge, supernatural hand.
I came to a stop so fast I stumbled into the door in front of me. Ancient and cracked, the rusted hinges swung inward with an eerie creak.
I stepped inside. Sawyer’s voice whispered out of the shadows. “Only blood of his blood will doom a Strega.”
“Could you be a littl
e more specific?”
I guess the answer was no since I was yanked backward out of the door and into the corridor, where my speed increased until my stomach lurched with a pain reminiscent of carsickness.
Heat brushed my face where before there’d been only a chill; I opened my eyes and together Sawyer and I swayed.
“I’ve never liked it when people walk in my head,” Sawyer muttered.
“Who would?”
“Exactly.” Sawyer withdrew his hands from mine and put them behind his back as if to keep me from holding them again. “Remember that,” he continued, “and use the power accordingly.”
“I didn’t mean to use it at all.”
“Though dangerous, dream-walking is a beneficial talent to have, especially for a seer, but you’ll have to learn to control it.”
“I’ll put that on my to-do list: don’t die, escape evil lair, save the world, learn how to control dream-walking.”
He didn’t react, which made sarcasm no fun at all.
“What did you learn?”
“Only blood of his blood will doom a Strega.”
“Sanducci,” Sawyer said. “He’s blood of the Strega’s blood, his son. He’s the only one who can do it.”
I made a choked sound—half laughter, half disbelief. “That’ll never happen.”
“You’re probably right.”
“A little encouragement would be nice. Maybe some hints.”
Sawyer closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and when he breathed out, a scalding wind blew across the desert. “Remember all that you have become; take stock of everything available to you. Think of all you have learned, all you have heard.” His eyes snapped open, boring into mine, and the wind died. “Do it quickly. Our time is almost out.”
“Terrific.”
His voice lowered. “You nearly died tonight. Quit baiting Sanducci. If you, keep trying to make him remember the life he had that’s gone, he will kill you before you can kill him.”
He was right. I’d felt it in Jimmy tonight, the desire to both kiss and kill me. I wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist doing them both. Probably at the same time.
“Why would the Strega even have a kid if that’s the only way he can die?”
“He must have decided that the off chance Sanducci would find the stones to kill him was worth the risk of having his son inside the federation. Now that the Strega’s controlling him, there’s no risk at all.”
I bristled. “Jimmy’s not himself. He’d kill the Strega if he was.”
“And then all our problems would be over.” He took another deep breath, then let it out in a rush before murmuring, “Momentarily. But Sanducci isn’t himself. If you can manage to end the strega, make sure Sanducci is next. Killing him would be an act of mercy. He’d want you to.”
“You never liked him.”
“What’s to like? He’s an arrogant prick who takes whatever he wants and damn the consequences. He was like that even before he lost his soul.”
“Glass houses,” I murmured.
“I never pretended to have a soul, Phoenix. I never said that I loved someone, and then tore out their heart.”
Was he talking figuratively or literally? I put my palm against my chest. I kind of liked my heart right where it was.
Regardless of what he meant, I struck back. It’s what I did. “I doubt you’ve ever loved anyone in your long, lonely, black pathetic life.”
Sawyer began to waver. So did everything else—the mountains and sky, the hogan, house, and ramada. They ran downward, like a watercolor left out in the rain. As they washed together into a swirling mass of stormy gray, Sawyer’s voice followed me into the void. “You’re right.”
What came next was a strange, confusing, untenable period in which I wasn’t certain what was real and what was not. Night blended into day. Jimmy was always there, an orgy of two.
He took me every way imaginable and some that weren’t. Pain and pleasure became intertwined. I was always on the edge of consciousness, the edge of orgasm. When I fell, I fell hard, drifting into the darkness, but I never found the light.
When I dreamed it was of snakes and coyotes, wolves and bears, cougars and cackling witches all overlaid with the sound a straw makes when someone reaches the bottom of the drink yet keeps on sucking.
I would nearly come awake at sharp needles of pain at my breast, my inner thigh, the soft skin on the inside of my elbow. I’d feel his body in mine, driving me toward orgasm, both of us tumbling together as he drank from me over and over and over again.
My life had become death, or perhaps my death was giving him life. I didn’t know. I couldn’t escape. I was so languid, I didn’t want to. The only thing anchoring me to this world was the sharp pull of his teeth and the constant pressure of him inside of me. I needed it and him; I craved it. I had truly become his slave.
I started up with a deep, gasping breath, as if coming from the depths of a lake and bursting through the surface into the sun.
The sun was shining. Jimmy was gone. My mouth was dry as the desert I’d visited in Sawyer’s dream. My head throbbed. 1 felt hungover, and I hadn’t even gotten any champagne.
I stumbled into the bathroom. I was pale and a helluva lot skinnier than I’d been when I went to bed. My ribs poked out; my stomach was concave, even my arms seemed bony. But my neck looked just fine. Quickly I checked my breasts, my thighs, my arms. Not a mark on me.
How much of that had been real? How long had I been out?
I showered, the hot water soothing the aches but increasing my light-headedness, and I needed to think. So I stepped out long before I was ready.
“Blood of his blood,” I murmured. “There has got to be another way.”
I didn’t know all that I should about the Nephilim and the ways to kill them. Since Ruthie’d died and Jimmy had become evil’s plaything I’d been a little busy.
I left the bathroom and walked into the main living area. A harem costume had been draped across the couch. If I wasn’t the only one with a sense of humor in this place, I’d think it was joke. But I knew better. Since the pantaloons and puffy sports bra were better than nothing, I put them on.
I felt like an idiot. I did not have the body for a two-piece. My breasts filled out the top just fine, but the rest of me was all muscle, with few curves, and my short hair only made me look like a teenage boy wearing an I Dream of Jeannie costume. Which was just too disturbing for words.
Next, I retrieved Ruthie’s crucifix from the drawer. Touching it had burned Jimmy. Sure he’d healed, but so far the icon was the only thing that had done any damage at all. The silver knife was useless, but the blessing on this symbol seemed to have some power. At least his frying flesh might distract him long enough for me to…
What? I needed some kind of plan.
Sawyer had said to use all I knew and all I had.
Ruthie’s crucifix was about it, except for the turquoise. I tucked both into my pocket. Couldn’t hurt.
I was just finishing a second cup of coffee when the elevator slid open. No one got off.
This was new. I stepped inside, attempted to push L just for the hell of it, but the only button that worked took me to the Strega’s lair.
I expected to find the harem waiting for me, but the room was empty. Were they all… occupied? The’ thought of walking in on the Strega, or worse, Jimmy— even worse, Jimmy and the Strega—with all of those women nearly made me get back on the elevator. But now was not the time to be squeamish. I needed guts to kill these guys. Seeing them in flagrante delicto was the least of my worries.
The war room was empty. I’d be nervous if the sun wasn’t up. I had to assume the majority of the vampire minions were all out cold. Ha-ha.
The Strega strolled in wearing a Hugh Hefner robe, loose silk trousers, and slippers. Despite the casual nature of the outfit, or perhaps because of it, he was still the creepiest thing I’d ever seen.
“What happened to the harem?” I asked.
>
“I ran out.”
Unease trickled down my spine as my costume took on a whole new meaning.
“You look well, seer, considering.” His eyes danced. The expression would have been joyous on anyone human. On him it made me ill. “Most women would be dead.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I’m coming to understand that. You have more power than any of the others. I’m glad my son insisted on keeping you alive. Of course it has been touch and go a few times over these past few weeks.”
Few weeks?
My gaze shot to the war board, which was awash in a sea of green and yellow.
If I didn’t do something soon, we were finished.
Chapter 39
How many of the people represented by those colored pins had fallen right outside this building because of me? The least I could do was try to even the score.
“Where’s Jimmy?”
“We’ve had a slight change of plans.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Mostly because I still didn’t have a plan.
“Let me guess,” I said, stalling. “You want to repent, come over to my side. Forget about doomsday. Let’s move right to heaven on earth.”
The Strega laughed. “I am planning for heaven on earth, but my heaven’s a little different from yours.”
“Humans as slaves, Nephilim are legion. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”
His amusement fled. “I will teach you humility and respect.”
“Good luck with that.”
The Strega grabbed me by the neck and dragged me out of the war room. I struggled to be free, but it was like fighting against an iron collar. I wasn’t going to get away unless he wanted to let me go.
He put his lips right next to my ear. “I’ve got a fascinating entertainment in mind for this evening. You. Jimmy.”
I tensed, figuring he wanted to watch.
“To the death.”
“What?” I managed. “He’s your son.”
“So?”
True. Guys like him usually ate their young. So why hadn’t he?
Because Jimmy had been useful. At his feet could be laid the deaths represented by those colored pins. That he hadn’t known his brain was being picked wasn’t going to matter to the dead.
“The last bit of humanity in him will die with you,” the Strega said. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Any Given Doomsday Page 26
