Several vamps sat at computers, wearing headsets, clacking away as they spoke to unknown informants. Phones rang. Faxes buzzed.
“Red is for DKs,” the Strega murmured, “blue is for seers.”
Frowning, I leaned closer. Just north of Milwaukee someone had stuck a single blue pin. Guess that was me. Right next to the blue pin was a green and a yellow.
“What about those?”
“Yellow signifies a DK we’ve eliminated.”
“Springboard,” I murmured.
“Very good.”
I didn’t have to ask about the green pin.
That one was for Ruthie.
Chapter 36
“How do you know all this?” I demanded. “Obviously Jimmy told you about Ruthie—”
I frowned. Had he? Jimmy loved Ruthie as much as I did. The Strega hadn’t begun controlling him until they’d exchanged blood, which hadn’t happened until Jimmy had come here.
From the way the Strega was smirking and pointedly not answering my query, I wasn’t going to learn the truth from him about anything.
I reached up and yanked the Ruthie pin free, then met the Strega’s gaze, daring him to make me put it back. He shrugged.
“Everyone knows we took out your leader.” He reached into a desk and removed a purple pin, then stuck it into the hole left by the first one. “That color makes more sense.”
“Take out one leader, another just rises up.” Hey, maybe they had named me Phoenix for a reason. “You can’t win.”
“I already have. You aren’t going to be able to pass on your power, seer. Your world is mine.”
Dammit. Hadn’t thought of that. Guess I’d just have to kill him and anyone else who got in my way.
I spun away from the map, and the huge painting positioned high on the opposite wall captured my gaze. A medieval knight on crusade—armor, charger, army, with someone carrying a flag that very clearly had a cross emblazoned in the middle. The picture was so out of place 1 moved closer. The man in the painting bore more than a passing resemblance to the strega.
Had he been a crusader? If I remembered my history, the timing was right. Encompassed by the medieval era, the Crusades had lasted from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries, and Christian warriors from all over Europe had served.
However, the strega was a Nephilim, which made him evil; he was the offspring of the fallen angels. 1 doubted he’d suited up for Christ.
Someone ran a hand down my back, and I jumped. I’d forgotten I was stark naked. Amazing what a person could get used to when their life was on overload.
I turned, fists clenched again, only to slam straight into Jimmy. He reached out and swept a finger down my neck. “Not a mark.”
I tensed, at the touch and his words. “Seer blood.” I shrugged, knocking his arm away with my shoulder. “I heal pretty fast.”
“You always did,” he murmured, playing with the ends of my hair. He was really starting to get on my nerves. “You are going to be so much harder to kill than I expected.” He leaned over and licked my neck. “Thank you.”
The sensation of his tongue on my skin made my stomach skitter, not with disgust but with lust. What had he done to me? The temptation to turn into his arms, to yank off all of his clothes and have sex with him right here was nearly overpowering. I shook my head, hard.
“You feel it too, don’t you? The burn.” His palm covered my stomach. His erection poked into my backside. “You’re mine now in a way you’ll never be anyone else’s. I’m having a chain made for you.” He caressed the curve of my waist. “Then you’ll fit in with all the others.”
The need to slug him returned, but I managed to refrain. There would be time for violence later. A lot of it, I hoped.
“You like my portrait?” the Strega asked.
“What’s with the warrior-of-Christ getup?”
Jimmy’s hand slid from my stomach to my breasts. My elbow jerked involuntarily.
“Gark,” he said as it connected with his gut.
I thought he might force the issue. I really didn’t want to have sex on the war room floor in front of his psychotic daddy and a quarter of the vampire legion. I needed to control my impulses—both violent and lustful.
After several seconds, he lifted his hand and began playing with my hair once more. I decided I’d let that pass. The lesser of two evils.
“In the beginning,” the Strega began, and I took a deep breath, ready to tell him to skip the lesson; I certainly didn’t want to hear Bible stories from that mouth. However, he didn’t continue with Genesis. “There were Grig-ori. The sons of God who mated with the daughters of men and produced Nephilim.”
“Rerun.” I made a whirling motion with my forefinger. “Fast-forward.”
The Strega didn’t appear too happy at my interruption but he did move on. “In the Bible the Nephilim were referred to as giants, and they were.”
I frowned. “Giants? I don’t remember that.”
“Has the name Goliath slipped your mind?”