“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 the 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.”