With another furtive glance at the empty corners of the room, I reached out with both hands and yanked on the side of the wooden structure. It skidded across the floor as easily as if it were on wheels.
Frowning, I tilted my head. No wheels that I could see. I inched my fingers beneath the bottom and lifted. The breakfront levitated several inches as the muscles in my arm flexed.
“Oookay,” I murmured. “Supreme strength working just fine.”
Now that I’d moved the furniture, the turquoise and the crucifix, as well as the chain they’d hung on, were accessible. I snatched them as quickly as I could, my arm a blur even to my own suddenly superior eyes. I braced for the burn upon contact with the crucifix, but nothing happened.
I contemplated the tiny silver charm with the image of a crucified Christ. It had burned Jimmy but it hadn’t burned me.
Sharing blood with the Strega had aroused Jimmy’s vampire nature. Before that, he’d been a dhampir only— more human than vampire. So, it followed that unless I shared blood with another vamp, I’d enjoy freedom from fangs too. To say I was relieved was an understatement.
I dropped all three items into the nearest drawer. The chain was broken and the turquoise only infuriated Jimmy. I could infuriate him just fine on my own.
The elevator opened. I spun around, sliding the drawer shut as I did so. Maybe they’d seen my Superman show on the hidden security cameras. That wouldn’t be good. If the Strega discovered that I absorbed supernatural powers through sex, I had a very bad feeling I’d be flat on my back in his bed sometime today and a part of his cavalcade of evil by tonight.
Two of the vampire minions entered—different from the last ones—both men this time, one Asian, one black.
Vampire, Ruthie said.
I’d have known that without the ghost whisper. Their suits, around here anyway, were a kind of vamp uniform. Also, all the guard vampires appeared as if they’d been bench-pressing trucks in between steroid cocktails.
They snatched me by the arms and lifted me off my feet just like last time. My towel slithered downward, exposing me inch by inch before dropping to the floor with a soft, terry-cloth thud.
I wasn’t so much concerned about my nakedness—I didn’t have any choice and the goons didn’t notice— but I was concerned about my obvious healing capabilities. If I’d had a scarf available, I’d have wrapped it around my neck. But since I didn’t even have the towel any longer…
I kicked my legs. “You mind?”
They didn’t answer, just hauled me bodily into the elevator.
“Where are you taking me?”
They didn’t blink.
“Do you speak English?” Nothing. “Do you speak?”
The elevator opened directly into another room. If Larry Flynt had decorated the Penthouse penthouse, this place had been fashioned by the Shah of Sand City.
Pillows on the tile floor, gurgling fountain, the walls covered by gossamer fabric that billowed slightly with the swirl of current from the air ducts.
Women as naked as I lounged on the pillows— blondes, brunettes, redheads with skin in shades from gold to copper and ebony. On closer inspection, I saw they weren’t quite as naked as me. They all wore chains around their waists.
My eyes narrowed. They weren’t fancy golden belly chains either, but heavier, with links large enough to hook a leash onto, definitely too solid to break by hand or even with a hammer.
“Why don’t you just put a collar on them?” I murmured.
“That would ‘cramp my style,’ as you say.”
At the Strega’s words, the steroid twins let me go, and my feet hit the ground without warning. I stumbled, but managed to keep from taking a header off the marble steps that led from the elevator into the harem.
“Your style?” I faced him. “You call this style?”
“I enjoyed it when I traveled through what you now call the Middle East. Comfortable for them and much easier on me. When I want a snack, there they are.”
He snapped his fingers and the nearest woman hurried to his side. He tilted her head; old bite marks marred her once perfect skin. I understood what he’d meant by a collar cramping his style.
I turned away, but not before I saw his canines lengthen into fangs. It appeared vampires could retract them when not in use. Handy for keeping that secret identity a secret.
Though I’d averted my eyes, I couldn’t shut my ears to the sound of sucking. Each and every one of the remaining women watched with rapt attention, as if they wished with all their soon-to-be-lost souls that they’d been chosen. That almost made me as nauseous as the noise.
“Enough,” the Strega said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl collapse to the floor. One of the guard vamps made a move to catch her, but he missed, and her head cracked against the marble. She lay very still.