I didn’t find one, unless you counted the ease with which I’d gotten in, and since they’d been waiting for me, had obviously let me in, only making a token resistance at the front so I wouldn’t bolt, that didn’t count. They hud played me just right, no doubt because Jimmy had told them how.
Into the elevator we went. Boy vamp swiped a key card, girl vamp pressed P.
Penthouse. Swell. The first time I’d ever be in one and I really didn’t want to go.
The elevator opened, and instead of lifting me and carrying me, they just shoved—both of them at the same time, as if they could communicate telepathically, or perhaps they only had one brain between them. I flew off my feet, landing on my hands and knees in the middle of the room.
“A simple this is your floor would have been sufficient,” I muttered.
The only answer was the soft swoosh of the doors, followed by the muted whine of the elevator descending.
I glanced behind me. They’d both left. Scrambling up, I examined the call button. It required one of the key cards to activate. I wasn’t surprised.
Penthouse? Prison?
Potato? Pot-a-toe?
I faced the wall of windows. Since this was the tallest structure in the area, except for the Empire State Building, I didn’t have to stare into another building full of workers scurrying ratlike through a maze of cubicles.
Out there I saw only navy blue night, a few distant stars not overshadowed by the lights of Broadway, Fifth Avenue, hell, every avenue.
For a minute I missed Friedenberg so badly I ached with it. I had a very bad feeling I wasn’t ever going to see home again.
The rest of the place was pure penthouse, and when I say that I mean decorations by Larry Flynt.
The color scheme was black, accented by glass and chrome, just like the building itself. The sofa was black leather, shiny but soft, with a control panel on the arm. One touch and the thing sprang outward, unfolding into a bed. A second button and music swirled around the room. Barry White. Oh, brother.
The kitchen appeared as if it had never been used, and why would it have been? The entire building seemed to prefer its nourishment straight from the vein.
The bathroom was electric-white ceramic tile with a thin thread of black running through. The tub was huge, big enough for two, with buttons to control the jets and once again to cue Barry.
When I turned on the bedroom lights, I winced at the explosion of color after so much black and white. Red, red, everywhere—the walls, the bedspread, the carpet. My head began to pound just looking at it. How could anyone sleep in that room?
I had a feeling no one did.
Was this seduction scenario for me? Why? I didn’t get the impression that the Strega, or the new and not-so-improved Jimmy Sanducci, bothered with such trivialities. They took what they wanted; then they disposed of what was left.
I drifted into the living room, hit the button to turn the couch back into a couch, then sat down. I tried the remote for the huge plasma television mounted on the wall. All I got was porn.
With a sound of disgust I jabbed at the off button, then laid my head against the buttery leather. Seconds later, I was talking to Ruthie.
Chapter 33
I ran through the open gate and up the walkway. This house was sanctuary, at least in my head.
Ruthie waited at the kitchen table with two cups of tea. The children played in the yard, their happy voices spilling through the open window.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” I asked as I sat across from her.
Ruthie’s finely arched brows arched even further. “About what?”
“Jimmy’s gone to the dark side. I think—” I took a deep breath, let it out, then swallowed. “I think I’m going to have to kill him.”
“Could be.” Ruthie sipped her tea. “Could be.”
“I’m supposed to kill him?” My voice was too high and broke on the word kill. Can you blame me?
“No, child, you’re supposed to save him. You’re the only one who can.”
“Sawyer said you could have saved yourself. That you knew the Nephilim were coming for you.”
Ruthie took another sip. “So?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Death was my destiny.”
“Death is everyone’s destiny,” I snapped. “I needed you.”
“You have me. It’s much better this way. You’ll see.”
1 sighed. If it was better or worse, it didn’t matter. Ruthie was dead, and I was trapped with Jimmy the dhampir traitor. What was I going to do?
“Remember the most important thing in this war,” Ruthie murmured as if I’d asked the question out loud. Maybe I had.
“Kill them before they kill you?” It seemed like a good rule.
Ruthie didn’t speak at first. I could tell by the way she took her time that she was counting to ten while she did it. She’d counted to ten a lot around me in the past. She’d no doubt count to ten more in the future. If there was one.
“The most important thing to remember, Lizbeth, is that love is always stronger than hate.” I opened my mouth, and she lifted one finger. “You loved Jimmy once; you love him still. There’s power in that, such strength.”
“Jimmy’s gone.”
“No, he’s not. He’s lost. All you have to do is find him.”
“How?”