The Strega’s eyes widened. “Hit a nerve? Which one? Where you gave up the prize of your innocence so soon, or where the man you have loved most of your life has turned traitor?”
Just because Jimmy was the Strega’s son—if that was even true; all I had right now was the Strega’s word, and a lot of circumstantial evidence—didn’t mean Jimmy was on his side. Why would he be? The man had left him in the streets to be used and abused.
Considering the blood, the chains, the just-healed scars, it appeared the Strega had continued that policy since they’d renewed their acquaintance. Even if Jimmy had gone off the deep end, pledging undying devotion upon meeting his long-lost daddy, I couldn’t see how that devotion would prevail past all the torture.
Of course, stranger things had happened.
“Sticks and stones,” I said. “There’s really nothing you can say that’s going to make me leave him behind.”
“Leave him? Just where is it you think you are going?”
“After we kill you, maybe we’ll take a vacation.”
The Strega started laughing again. I really hated that laugh.
“He has wondered about me nearly all of his life. Did you really think he’d kill me once he found me?”
“How did he find you?”
The Strega lifted one shoulder. “I let him.”
“You knew he’d come to New York once he heard the seer was killed,” I guessed.
My only answer was a slight tilting of his lips.
I could easily determine what had happened next. Jimmy had done what Jimmy did best; he’d gone searching for a vampire, and this vampire had allowed himself to be found. Jimmy had been trapped as neatly as I had.
The Strega moved so fast all I saw was a blur, straight toward me. I gave a little squeak, then he was gone.
I whirled. He held a knife that glinted golden in the harsh overhead lights against Jimmy’s throat. If what the Strega said was true, if Jimmy hadn’t killed him when he had the chance, if he’d been won to the Strega’s side somehow, I should just let the medieval vampire witch do his worst. But there was always the chance the Nephilim was lying.
A damn good chance.
“You do not believe he’s one of us now,” the Strega said. “You think that if you can have a moment with him, you can bring him back. But life doesn’t work that way, Miss Phoenix. You of all people should know better.”
There was very little I hated more than when evil vampire witches were right.
“He has two natures, vampire and human. Until recently he’s lived as one of you; he had no idea who he was. But since we shared blood, he’s become more like me. For me he would do anything. Which is why I conceived him in the first place.”
Understanding dawned and the Strega smirked. “Your face is so wondrously expressive. Yes, I planted him in his mother’s womb so that he could be positioned right in the middle of the federation. A talent like his would never go unnoticed. It was only a matter of time until he was right where I wanted him to be.”
“Why now?” I asked. The strega lifted a brow. “He’s been your creation from day one, so why declare war now and not three years past or maybe ten in the future?”
The Strega’s mirth faded and an expression of annoyance took its place. “I’ve been trying for years to get into his head. Spells and charms. Nothing worked. He’s much stronger than I thought.”
For an instant I felt a sense of pride that Jimmy had resisted. I opened my mouth to say so, but the strega kept yapping.
“Destiny works both ways, seer. Everything came together. My son inside the enemy camp, those with the talents I needed willing to join under my banner, and several very good years in the stock market.” He shrugged. “Even doomsday costs money.”
“What if serendipity”—I couldn’t get the word destiny out of my mouth in regard to so much blood and death—”hadn’t arrived before Jimmy died?” He was on the cutting edge of the battle, after all, had been for years. Sooner or later, everyone’s luck ran out. Just look at mine.
“Seer.” He shook his head and made a “shame on you” sound by clicking his tongue against his teeth. “You think Jimmy’s an only child?”
Before I had time to curse, the Strega sliced Jimmy’s neck with the golden knife.
I took a step forward, and with an absent flick of his free hand, the Strega threw me into the wall without even touching me.
My back hit with a thud, my head with a crack. The silver knife skidded across the floor, but I barely noticed as I slid into a dizzy heap. I blinked hard, trying to make the Tweety Birds quit chirping so loudly while they whirled round and round my head.
The Strega leaned down and lapped the blood from his son’s skin. Jimmy moaned, the same sound I’d heard when I’d accidentally cut him, a sound I now recognized as ecstasy, not pain. I turned my face as my stomach rolled.
“He isn’t human,” the Strega whispered. “He never was.”
My nausea receded; anger took its place. “He’s more human than you think.”
“I’ve awakened his lust for blood and pain. He cannot fight it anymore. He doesn’t want to.”