Any Given Doomsday (34 page)

The Strega staggered backward until his shoulders met the wall of windows. Behind him, the sun set, turning the sky to crimson flame.

He looked down at the gaping hole in his chest. Blood poured out in a fountain, splashing onto the floor and washing over his feet.

“Blood of my blood,” he said, in a horrible, gurgling howl.

Then he disintegrated. One minute he was bleeding, the next he was blood, a river flowing across the tile. I’d never seen anything like it. I hoped I never saw anything like it again.

“What the hell?” I stared at the stake.

Blood of his blood
, Ruthie whispered.
Abilities shared
.

I glanced at the ceiling. “Today you get chatty?”

But she did have a point, one I hadn’t considered.

My empathetic abilities allowed me to absorb the powers of those I had sex with, and one of Jimmy’s powers was that he could kill the Strega.

Now I had to kill him.

I hurried back, intent on finishing this before I thought too much about what I was doing, but as I leaned over Jimmy, he opened his eyes. He moved so fast, I couldn’t get away.

I tensed for the pain as his teeth tore into me, but it didn’t come. Instead he wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed his cheek to my stomach, and whispered in a voice so broken I ached: “Lizzy.”

Chapter 40

The weapon tumbled from my suddenly senseless fingers.

Jimmy tilted his face, the anguish there almost too much to bear. “Oh, God, baby, it was me. My fault Ruthie died. My fault all of it.”

Well, yeah. But since when did he care?

Tentatively I stepped back. He clutched at me like a child. “Let me see,” I whispered.

The big hole in his chest had healed, though the skin was still puckered and red.

“It wasn’t you.” I smoothed my palm over his hair. “You didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he managed. “She’s still dead.”

Exactly what the Strega had said. The spell over Jimmy appeared to have broken with the death of his father, but what remained?

“What do you remember?”

“Everything. I was trapped inside of myself. I could see myself, hear myself, but I couldn’t stop. The things I did, Lizzy.”

He was still wrapped around me. I let him hold on. I wanted that connection too. Just because the Strega was dead didn’t mean we weren’t in a lot of trouble. The building was full of vamps, and they weren’t going to be too happy to discover the boss man was a big red stain on the Italian marble tile.

“You need to let me go, Jimmy. We have to get the hell out of here.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

He got to his feet, slowly as if he hurt all over. I know I did.

His gaze went to the floor where the Strega’s Hugh Hefner outfit lay in a puddle of blood. “How did you do that? Only I’m supposed to be able to kill him, and I… I couldn’t.”

“It turns out sex makes me take on supernatural abilities like other people catch viruses.”

“Son of a—” Jimmy rubbed his forehead. “You’re an empath.”

“That seems to be the consensus.”

I couldn’t stop glancing at what was left of the strega. I hadn’t needed Ruthie’s crucifix after all. I patted my pocket, relieved to find both it and the turquoise still there.

Or maybe I had. Maybe that blessing had been just the boost I needed to succeed.

For the first time I could remember I wanted to embrace who I was. I wasn’t a freak; I was the leader of the light. With the powers I had, and the ones yet to come, I could really help people. And it was so much less stressful to be myself rather than trying not to be.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door.

“Trust me,” Jimmy whispered.

As the door swung open, he grabbed me by the neck and squeezed. I didn’t have to fake the choking sounds that spewed from my mouth. I clawed at his hands without being asked.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“The master?”

“Not here. I’m busy. Get out.”

The door closed. Jimmy let me go, catching me when I would have fallen to the ground.

“Sorry.” His lips pressed against my hair. “Sorry. We can’t let them know.”

“I’m all right.” I rubbed my throat. “All in a day’s work.”

“That should keep them happy for a while. Follow me.”

He moved into the next room, a bedroom fit for a fat Middle Eastern pasha. Filmy bed curtains, low, round bed, huge fountain that poured into what looked like an actual restored bathhouse from some country that had once been ruler of the world and had fallen when the outlaw hordes came. There were quite a few. The walls were equipped with cuffs and chains—several pairs. I gave Jimmy a quick glance, but he was studiously avoiding that area, focusing instead on a panel next to the closet.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a passageway.” He put his shoulder to it and shoved. The panel swung open and cool, musty air wafted out.

“No one else knows about this?”

Jimmy shook his head.

I took a step toward him and a photo on the night-stand caught my gaze. Because the Strega didn’t seem the type to keep mementos, I paused to look and then I couldn’t breathe.

The woman of smoke. What in hell was she doing here even in a picture?

I snatched up the framed photograph. I guess I hadn’t dreamed her after all. Here she appeared even more lifelike since she’d been captured in living color.

“Who is this?” I asked.

Jimmy glanced at the picture and shrugged. “Never saw her before.”

A sound from the other room made us both start. “Gotta go, Lizzy.”

I nodded, then, as he turned away, I yanked the back off the frame, folded the picture into quarters and tucked it into the pocket of my harem pants with everything else.

Silently we trailed downward. The path was dark, but I could see as well as Jimmy now, move just as quickly too. A short while later we reached a door that opened outward, spilling us into the same alley I’d entered weeks before.

My pantaloons ruffled in the spring breeze. My bare stomach got gooseflesh. I was headed into Manhattan in a harem outfit. No one would probably notice.

“Hold on,” Jimmy said, and disappeared inside.

He was gone so long I began to panic. Right before I rushed back in, he appeared, bursting from the gloom in a great big hurry. As soon as he saw me, he caught my arm. “Run.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. I figured they were on to us.

We found a break in traffic, streaked across the street, ignoring the horns and the curses. When we reached the far side, Jimmy stopped.

“What are you—” I glanced back, figuring the vampire legion was already there and we were dead; why fight it? But the only thing behind us was the traffic, the normal crush of people, and the big, black chrome-and-glass hellhole.

Except there was something off about the glass. The sun was down, so why did every floor flicker orange and yellow, like the dancing light of—

“Fire,” I said.

“The Strega’s final solution.”

“To what?”

“Everything. Revolt. Invasion. Capture. He had the building rigged.”

“They’re going to burn.”

He looked at me and the Jimmy I knew—or at least the one I’d discovered since he’d showed up in my hospital room—was back. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not a one.”

Chapter 41

We checked in to the first hotel we found. I hit the gift shop, charged a T-shirt, sweatpants, and some flip-flops to the room. I guess, for the time being, I did heart New York.

When I got out of the shower, Jimmy stood at the window. Something about the slump of his shoulders made me uneasy. He should be happy. No more desire for blood. No more controlling freak of a father. We’d gotten out alive.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Let’s see.” He faced me. Though the red pinprick in the center had disappeared, I still didn’t like what I saw in his eyes. “I’ve killed Ruthie and a shitload of others, ruined any chance we had to win this war, hurt you, debased you, why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“You didn’t kill Ruthie.” I left out the others. I was pretty sure he’d killed a few people since he’d been in the Strega’s lair. Best not bring that up.

“I may as well have.” He turned away again. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Love is stronger than hate.

Trust Ruthie to show me the way.

I opened my mouth to tell him, but I couldn’t. I’d never been very verbal with my feelings, at least the softer ones. I could shout hatred from the rooftops, but when it came to love… I was better at show than tell.

I let the towel drop to the floor. His reflection in the window tensed; his eyes closed. I moved up behind him and pressed my breasts to his back. He never had found a shirt. His skin against mine felt delicious. Would he-taste just as good?

I licked his shoulder—definitely delicious—so I nibbled at his neck, inched my palm around his side and laid it against his flat stomach.

“Lizzy,” he said, his voice full of warning.

“Make me forget the other times,” I whispered. “Love me like you used to.”

For an instant I thought I’d gone too far by referring to the Strega’s high-rise. Then he moaned as if I’d punched him in the gut, turned and gathered me into his arms.

I touched his face, lifted it, met his eyes, let him see that I’d never stopped loving him. I doubted I ever could. Even when a despicable creature had lurked inside, I couldn’t give up the hope of reaching Jimmy, of bringing him back. And I had. That alone was cause for this celebration.

His hands skated over me, reverent but sure, tracing the curve of my thigh; the swell of my breast. My head fell back; his lips brushed my neck, ins tongue tracing the vein.

I didn’t tense; I trusted him completely. He needed me to.

His mouth warmed me from collarbone to belly button. My skin tingled at the scratch of his beard, the flutter of each and every kiss. He was on his knees again, arms around me, face pressed just below my breasts. I rested my hands on his shoulders, kneading the harsh knots beneath the skin until they smoothed, though they never faded completely away.

I took his hand and drew him to his feet, then with me onto the bed. He still wore his loose trousers. I worked them over his hips, following the descent with my mouth. He was hard; I couldn’t wait. I made a move to straddle him and he reared up, tumbling me onto my back and sliding into me.

Sure, slow strokes, deep, wet kisses, I lost track of how long we lay together, bodies in tandem, light, tender touches, a murmur, a moan. He never lifted his mouth from mine, even when our movements became faster, more frantic as we climbed together toward that peak we craved.

His hand cupped my breast, lifting, stroking, the sensation shooting from my nipple straight to my center. He framed my face with his palms, brushed our lips together, tentatively met my tongue with his own, delving within as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of my mouth. The last time I’d been kissed like that I was seventeen and so damn in love I thought I’d die of it.

That memory made me come in a rush that left me gasping. As the tremors faded, he pulsed, increasing the tempo, drawing out the orgasm. His forehead dropped to mine for just an instant before he rolled to the side. I caught his hand as he fell away, and his fingers tangled with mine.

There’d been something different about that last kiss, something I couldn’t put my finger on, especially since I was drifting toward sleep on a killer combination of adrenaline letdown and afterglow.

I slept without dreams for a change. God, it felt good.

I woke up and knew instantly what had been different about his kiss. The empty bed, the empty room told the tale.

That last kiss had been good-bye.

Epilogue

He’d left a note on the dresser. When I picked it up, cash tumbled out. I was going to kill him again when I caught up to him.

He awakened my vampire nature, Lizzy. I’m not sure I can put it back. you’re not safe with me. No one is.

Ah, hell. I hadn’t thought of that. I’d figured that once the Strega was dead, his influence was too. But fact was fact, and Jimmy was part vampire.

Someone knocked on the door. I wrapped the sheet around me and checked the peephole. Bellboy with a package.

I tipped him a five—just because I was pissed about the money didn’t mean I wasn’t going to use it—then checked the return name.

Sawyer. My gaze went to the turquoise I’d placed on the dresser last night along with the crucifix and the stolen photo. Figured.

I tore open the wrapping and a gorgeous silk robe tumbled out. All the shades of midnight: blue, purple, black with sparkles of silver. I held it up and blinked in shock as the image of a wolf shimmered—there and then gone and then there again.

A piece of paper fell to the floor. Today seemed to be my day for notes.

Summer says trouble’s coming. You’ll need this.

Trust Sawyer to remind me that though we’d won this battle, the war still raged. Casualties on both sides were enormous. They’d regroup, but we would too. Jimmy had been wrong when he said he’d ruined our chance to win. He’d handicapped us, sure, but I wasn’t going to throw in the towel quite yet.

I stared at the robe, so beautiful, so deadly. Trouble
was
coming; I could feel it, a storm hovering just out of sight, ready to rain hail and thunder and lightning down on the world.

But first things first.

I needed Jimmy, and I’d find him. Finding the missing was what I’d always done best.

I shoved the robe back into the box.

For now, doomsday could wait.

Road on For an excerpt from Lori Handeland’s next book

DOOMSDAY CAN WAIT

Coming in
May 2009
from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

A month ago I put a stake through the heart of the only man I’ve ever loved. Luckily, or not, depending on the day and my mood, that wasn’t enough to kill him.

I found myself the leader of a band of seers and demon killers at the dawn of the Apocalypse. Turns out a lot of that Biblical prophecy crap is true.