Jimmy shifted his shoulders, rolled his neck. He had something else to tell me.
“There’s a little more to this than you know,” he said slowly. “Ruthie was the leader of all the seers and DKs.”
“Okay.” I could understand that. Who wouldn’t follow the woman to hell and back?
“There are legends, prophecies, beliefs that have been handed down through the ages to guide us. One of them states that when the leader of the darkness destroys the leader of the light, doomsday is the result.”
“Doomsday,” I repeated. I didn’t like the sound of that.
“A time of catastrophic destruction and death leading to the final battle between good and evil.”
My neck prickled. “She said that.” I tilted my head, remembering. “Ruthie said, ‘The final battle begins now.’“
Jimmy’s face tightened; fine white lines spread out from his mouth. “It has.”
“So not only do I have to be a seer when I have no idea how, but we’ve got Armageddon coming down on us?”
“Pretty much.”
“Who in hell is the leader of the darkness? The Antichrist?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? If I remember correctly, he’s the leader of the whole end-of-days dance.”
“True. But according to prophecy, he’ll be a huge international figure. We don’t have that. Yet.”
Yet. Hell.
“Leading up to the appearance of the Antichrist,” Jimmy continued, “is a period of chaos.”
“Doomsday.”
“Bingo.”
“So who do we blame for starting this mess?”
“I wish I knew.”
Add not knowing who our enemy was to the list of things I hated about my new life. Right below the sudden appearance of creatures that wanted to kill me.
“Your knife came in handy the other night,” I murmured. “Thanks.”
“It was a precaution. I—” Jimmy paused and several expressions flitted over his face—sadness, confusion, fury. “I killed all that I could at Ruthie’s, but there were so many, and a few of them—”
He fluttered his hand to indicate… I’m not sure what. Running? Lumbering? Flying? Maybe a bit of each.
“No one noticed zoo animals streaking through a suburban neighborhood?”
“Most of the people around there work for a living. And the beasts that attacked Ruthie were shape-shifters. I doubt they were beasts very long. Once they were men and women—”
“They blended right in.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Silver works on all of them?” I asked.
“Most,” he clarified. “Not all. But it’s always worth a try.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t think they’d seen you, or I never would have left you alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Against human opponents, probably.” I scowled and opened my mouth to argue, but he kept right on talking. “These are beings beyond anything you can imagine. If we had the time you’d be studying the ancient texts, becoming familiar with every known type of monster.”
“But we don’t have time. The final battle is now. So what do we do?”
“The best that we can.”
That never worked out half as well as people hoped.
I hadn’t noticed Jimmy moving closer as we spoke, but now he was too close, trapping me on the cot. If I stood, my entire body would slide against his. If I stayed where I was he’d continue to loom over me, his crotch level with my mouth. I licked suddenly dry lips.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, and his voice was rough, as if he’d been running several miles through ice and snow.
I lifted my gaze to his, the movement brushing my chin across the suddenly bulging zipper of his pants. I had a flash of wine as rich as blood. “Tell me.”
He winced as my mouth moved, my breath cascading over him. We’d always been like this—one stray movement, a single glance and we were so hot for each other we couldn’t think straight.
Talk about doomsday.
I could smell him; I could almost taste him. All I had to do was reach forward, flick open the bronze button, draw down the zipper tab, reach in and trace a finger along his length, then take him in my mouth and—
Jimmy cursed and grabbed me by the elbows, hauling me to my feet and dragging me along his body just as I’d imagined.
Our mouths melded, tongues searching, teeth scraping. I yanked his shirt out of his waistband, ran my thumb across the ridges of his abdomen, spread my palms over his chest and allowed my nails to trace his nipples. He moaned my name; lust shot through me, enticing and familiar.
Behind my closed eyelids, images wavered. I caught a flicker of fangs, the tangy, metallic scent of blood, and then a single word in Ruthie’s voice.
Dhampir.
I tore out of Jimmy’s arms, stumbling away when he tried to drag me back. “Don’t touch me.”
He froze. “It isn’t what you think.”
What was it then? I knew what I’d seen, what I’d heard, and I knew the truth about Jimmy as surely as I’d known the truth about so many others.
He wasn’t human.
Chapter 8
My eyes flicked to the closed door, which had taken on a sinister aspect as quickly as Jimmy had. Suddenly I wanted that silver knife I’d left in the fanny pack as badly as I’d wanted him. I should have followed my instincts and grabbed the weapon as soon as he’d come in the door.
He stepped toward me again.
“You need to stay the hell away,” I snapped.
“We don’t have time for this.”
“I always have time to kick your ass.”
His lips twitched. “You can try, but it won’t be as easy as it used to.”
“Back off,” I ordered, and he did, slowly moving toward the door, then leaning against it. The movement was casual, but I knew better. He’d just put himself between me and any possible escape.
He folded his arms over his chest. His dark shirt, which I’d managed to unbutton halfway down, gaped, revealing a thin slice of skin I had once spent hours tasting.
Keeping my eyes glued to his, I reached over and retrieved the fanny pack from the cot, secured it around my waist in case I managed that quick getaway I was fantasizing about, and withdrew the knife. He didn’t appear concerned, which made me suspect that silver didn’t kill a—
“What in hell is a dhampir?”
Jimmy sighed. “Touching you has always gotten me into trouble.”
I suddenly remembered the hospital, his black eye. Now, there wasn’t a mark on him,
But yesterday, the sight of the bruised skin had made me lift a hand toward his face and he’d said—
Just don’t touch me. I—
I’d thought he was refusing sympathy. He always had. But what he’d wanted was to avoid letting me know the truth too soon.
“You thought we could go indefinitely without touching?” I asked. “I take it that stupidity is one of your superpowers.”
A short burst of laughter escaped him. I nearly laughed too. One thing we’d always shared, besides ourselves, had been a strange sense of humor.
But nothing was funny about this. Ruthie was dead, and Jimmy wasn’t human. How was anything ever going to be funny again?
“I wanted you to trust me before I told you.”
Now I was the one emitting a short burst of laughter, although there wasn’t a hint of amusement in mine.
His lips tightened, something flickered in his eyes, but he let it go to reiterate, “It’s not what you think. I’m not what you think.”
“Like I haven’t heard that one before. Sing a new tune, Sanducci.” I waggled the knife. “Spill your guts before I spill them for you.”
“You think I’d give you a weapon that would work on me?”
My eyes narrowed. “What kills a dhampir?”
He didn’t answer.
I tightened my fingers around the hilt of th
e dagger. My palm was slick; I’d have a hard time getting any leverage, even if I found the courage to use the blade. Silver might not kill him, but I’d bet a good portion of my life savings that it would sting like hell.
“If this isn’t what it seems,” I asked, “then what is it?”
He opened his mouth, shut it again, looked away, then quickly looked back, his gaze flicking to the knife, then to me as if gauging how serious I was about sticking him. He should know me better than that.
“I’m not sure where to start,” he murmured.
“How about when you turned into one of the things you’re supposed to kill?”
The words caused an involuntary flinch. I might have wished him dead a hundred and one ways, considered doing him in myself on many a long, lonely night—a girl had to have some fun—but I didn’t really want him dead. I didn’t really want to be the one to kill him. Too bad what I wanted had never once been something I could have.
“I didn’t turn,” he said, “and I’m not one of them.”
“Then why did Ruthie say you were a dhampir?”
“Because I am!” he shouted.
The fury in his voice startled me, and the knife I’d let drop to my side came back up.
He slumped against the door, as if needing the support rather than blocking my way. His gaze lifted from the weapon to my face. “You’ve never heard of a dhampir?”
“How would I? You think bizzaro legends from the land of crazy are something I keep up on?”
“You will.” He took a breath, then another before beginning. “I was born of a human and a vampire.”
“I didn’t think you knew who your parents were any more than I did.”
“I don’t. All I know is human plus vampire equals dhampir.”
“How can a vampire procreate? They’re dead.”
“Myth. Vampires are as alive as you and me. They were born of a Grigori and a woman. When a vampire mates with a human, a dhampir is born.”
His face was bleak, and I had to resist the urge to reach out to him once more. As he’d said, when we touched, bad things happened. I didn’t want to see again that flash of fang; I didn’t want to catch a whiff of blood.
“How could I not have known this when we were kids?”
“I didn’t know it. I came into my powers… later in life. Until then, I was like everyone else.”
I gave him a long look. Jimmy had never, by any stretch of the imagination, been like anyone else.
“You tell me you’re one of the good guys, but—” I broke off, uncertain. If what Jimmy was telling me was true, and after what I’d seen and heard from Ruthie, I knew it was, but how far could I trust him? By his own admission, he was tainted.
“But what?” he asked.
“How can you be trusted to help humans when you—”
“Aren’t human?” he finished.
“Well, yeah, but also, you kill them.”
“Do not.”
The retort came so quickly, with such a childish inflection—do not! Do too!—I was struck again with the urge to laugh. I suppose the human mind, when confronted with something so vast and unexpected, had to have a stress outlet, and laughter was mine. Jimmy’s was probably sex.
I contemplated him in the now dusky light of the tack room. Black hair tumbled over his forehead, shirt unbuttoned, a sheen of sweat across his collarbone, dark eyes burning in a beautiful but tense face.
“I know I’m not up on the legendary lore,” I said, “but vampires still kill people, don’t they?”
“I don’t.”
I shook my head. “I saw—”
He was across the floor faster than my eyes could register, suddenly standing so close I caught the familiar scent of soap and cinnamon with the sharp tang of something else just beneath. My gaze caught on a droplet of sweat gliding down his neck, then pooling in the hollow of his throat. I had a nearly irresistible urge to sweep it away with my tongue.
“What did you see?”
“Fangs.”
Just then a stray beam of the setting sun turned the glistening moisture the shade of—
“Blood.”
“Fangs and blood.” His mouth quirked. “That leads you to ‘murdering demon?’ “
“One and one is two, Jimmy.”
“Not always. Not anymore.”
The scent of him was driving me mad. I inched away, strode toward the door. I had to get out of this room. I had to get away from him before I did something I’d regret—either used the knife I still clutched in my hand, or used my mouth in ways I’d often imagined. And the only way to get him to let me go was to piss him off so badly he couldn’t stand to be near me. Pissing off Jimmy was one of my specialties.
“How many humans do they let you kill as payback for the ones you save?” I asked.
“I don’t kill people!”
I turned. “I know what I saw when you touched me.”
His eyes flared, and he came toward me with the speed of a striking snake. I reared back, my shoulders smacking against the still-closed door so hard I winced.
He crowded me, the heat of his body making mine tingle. “How about if I touch you again?” he whispered, his voice the one I’d heard only in dreams for so many years.
My heart skipped—excitement or dread? I wasn’t sure. “Will I get another flash?”
He stepped in, his hip bumping mine. “Let’s find out.”
Chapter 9
For just an instant, I panicked. If I’d had anywhere to go, I would have gone. The door was at my back, Jimmy at my front. I was trapped.
“Anything?” he asked.
At first I didn’t know what he meant. Then realization doused me like a pitcher of ice water—he was touching me to see if I got a psychic flash, not because he couldn’t bear another second on this earth without me—and I shoved at his chest with my free hand. “Move.”
He didn’t; I doubted I could make him without stabbing him with his own knife, and I was tempted. The only thing that stopped me was the memory of the last time I’d used the solid silver implement. The berserker had exploded, and I’d been covered in ash. I’d discovered a bit of it in my ear this morning. I certainly didn’t want to be finding pieces of Jimmy all over the place.
Of course he’d said the knife wouldn’t hurt him. But he’d also said he loved me, that he’d never leave, that there was no one for him but me. So sue me if I didn’t believe a word out of his lying mouth.
I stomped on his foot. “Back off!”
He didn’t seem to feel it; he didn’t seem to hear me, or maybe he just didn’t care. His head lowered.
I opened my mouth to protest, and he was kissing me, long-fingered artist’s hands cupping my hips, drawing me in. He was hard against my stomach, his chest warm against my own. I couldn’t help it; I rubbed myself against him, moaning at the friction, increasing it until my nipples hardened against the soft material of my bra.
His tongue taunted mine. He tasted like heat and the night. Memories.
Air brushed my stomach as his hands swept upward, palms tracing my ribs, then cupping my breasts, thumbs sliding beneath the cotton to roll the spike of my nipples.
There was something I was supposed to remember, something I was supposed to think, to do, to wonder. I almost had it and then—
He yanked the sleeves of my shirt over my shoulders; two of the buttons popped. My arms were pinned; I struggled a little, but the movements only made another button give a dull ping as it lost the battle and tumbled to the floor.
His mouth left mine; tiny kisses feathered across my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. He pressed his face into the curve of my shoulder and took a deep breath. His hands, still cupping my breasts, seemed to tremble.
“Anything?” he repeated.
I closed my eyes, saw… nothing. Then I heard Ruthie’s voice, past or present, I wasn’t sure.
I’m only gonna say somethin’once; you’d best listen.
I should have known she wouldn’t sen
d me another flash. What would be the point? She’d told me what Jimmy was, and now I’d have to deal.
I opened my eyes; his face was only inches away. “Nothing.”
His mouth curved as his fingers, still under my shirt, flexed. I bit back a moan as sensations I hadn’t experienced in years shot through me.
“Good,” he said. “I was afraid you’d be getting a news-reel on me every time I touched you. That would cramp my style.”
“What style?”
Instead of answering, he yanked a few more buttons free, then lowered his head and closed his lips over my nipple.
His mouth was scalding; his tongue pressed me against the roof of his mouth, over and over, suckling. This was such a bad idea; so why did it feel so good?
“No,” I whispered. His only response was to score me with his teeth. My breath hissed in. I wasn’t hurt; I was even more aroused. But now was not the time; this was not the place.
“Stop,” I said, but he didn’t.
His fingers dug into my ribs; his mouth continued its assault on my skin. Annoyance replaced the arousal, and I brought my elbow up toward his nose. Without even lifting his head he blocked the blow with the palm of his hand. The impact vibrated all the way to my shoulder. I began to get scared.
I’d never felt physically threatened by Jimmy, probably because I’d beat the crap out of him on several occasions. I always suspected he’d let me, or at least not fought back very hard. But Jimmy was no longer the man I’d known. He was no longer just a man at all, and who was to say he wouldn’t take what he wanted.
His teeth scraped me again, harder this time, and I bit back a startled cry. I wouldn’t be afraid. I hated being afraid. Once I’d gotten off the streets I’d vowed never to be afraid again.
Big hopes that were too easily dashed.
My hands clenched, and the hilt of the knife I still carried bit into my palm. I brought it up without thinking, or maybe I’d been thinking it all along.
Jimmy twisted away with a slightly feral snarl. I missed sticking him by centimeters. I expected to see fangs pressing against his lips, blood trickling down my breast, but he looked the same as he always did. So did my breast.
I held the knife in front of me like a talisman. “Don’t touch me again.”
Any Given Doomsday (The Phoenix Chronicles) Page 5