The Last Vampire Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  Nigellus was silent for a long moment.

  “Answer the question,” Rans said evenly.

  After a tense beat, the demon lifted one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeezed shut, and when he opened them, the hellfire glow had disappeared, subsumed by his normal depthless brown. He straightened from his decidedly predatory stance at the head of the table, pulled out a chair, and sank into it with a single, smooth movement.

  “No,” he said. “The demons are not collecting the Tithe from Dhuinne with an eye to making more hybrids like you, Zorah. I don’t believe anyone was aware that second-generation hybrids were even possible.”

  I relaxed marginally.

  “The Tithe was intended as a way to limit the Fae’s numbers and bring some of them over to Hell’s side through cultural indoctrination,” he continued. “Obviously, the Fae found an immediate way around that by sending us human children that had been replaced by Fae changelings.”

  “Ought to have had someone look over the fine print, before your lot signed that dog’s breakfast of a treaty,” Rans muttered.

  Nigellus’ expression grew dark. “I assure you, I was not consulted ahead of time regarding the wording of the clause in question.”

  But Rans wasn’t ready to let it go. “Oh, yes? One race that specializes in making bargains, and another race that can’t fucking lie. Yet it’s the demons that ended up getting taken to the cleaners when it came time to negotiate a treaty? Why don’t I buy that, Nigellus?”

  “Fools can be found in all three realms, Ransley,” said the demon. “Which brings us neatly back to the original topic. You stole from me. I don’t need to tell you what an abuse of trust that was.”

  Rans raised an eyebrow. “No. You don’t. And I suppose I don’t need to tell you what a betrayal of our friendship it was when you refused to help Zorah gain access to her father.”

  “When I refused…” Nigellus murmured, before shaking his head sharply and continuing in a more normal tone. “And what would you have had me do? Unilaterally threaten hostilities? Barge into Dhuinne myself?”

  I sighed. “He’s not really angry at you, Nigellus. He’s angry at me for running off on my own.”

  “As it happens, I’m not overly pleased with either of you at the moment,” Rans said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Whereas I’m leaning toward Nigellus’ side of this argument when it comes to the part where you threw away your immortality to save me. But of course, you already knew that.”

  “Vampires aren’t immortal,” he said in clipped tones. “As evidenced by the fact that all of them except me are currently dead. At their core, vampires are human. And human beings were never designed to live for centuries.” His gaze returned to the demon, and something in his expression made my throat tighten. “I’m weary of it, Nigellus. I’m weary of outliving everyone. It’s one thing I truly don’t envy you.”

  Nigellus’ features grew flat and distant. “It’s the way of things, Ransley. And there are six hundred sixty-five other demons whom I will never outlive.”

  Ransley tilted his head, conceding the point. “True. What a pity half of them are arseholes.”

  Our host blinked. “Surely that can be said of every species.”

  I forced my way through the sudden heaviness in the room and raised a finger. “Hold on. Did you seriously just say that there are six hundred and sixty-six demons?”

  He sighed. “Indeed. The Fae have long been masters of propaganda.”

  I lowered the finger. “I just meant… that doesn’t seem like very many, for an entire species.”

  “Perhaps not,” he allowed, his tone becoming ironic. “But thus has it been since the dawn of time.”

  “True immortality changes the calculus considerably,” Rans said.

  I supposed it would, at that. But it did make me wonder about our theory—the one Nigellus had so abruptly dismissed. Faced with an enemy’s overwhelming numbers, wouldn’t demons seek some way to increase their population?

  “How many Fae are there?” I asked. I’d seen what had appeared to be a good-sized city on Dhuinne, but I had no way of knowing whether the place was unique, or merely one of hundreds of other Fae cities.

  Nigellus flicked his fingers carelessly. “The size of their population is not something the Fae advertise to outsiders.”

  “But, roughly speaking?” I pressed.

  “Based on the numbers of the Tithe and the expected birth rate, perhaps half a million.” His face grew hard, the expression unreadable. “A small fraction of the number that existed before the war, certainly.”

  Again, I felt that chill crawl up my spine. Every human instinct said that this man—this demon—was dangerous in the same way that man-eating sharks were dangerous. Yet that small part of me that was cut from the same cloth felt only fascination. The combination made it difficult to stay focused on what was truly important in the conversation.

  Edward chose that moment to bustle in, carrying drinks. The elderly butler had helped me in my attempts to contact my father the last time we’d been here, and I tried to summon a smile for him. He smiled back, and gave the room a quick sweep with his rheumy gaze.

  “Hello again, Miss,” he greeted. “Since there seems to be a lull in the angry shouting, perhaps you’d all like to have a drink and lubricate your throats for the next round of arguments?”

  “Sounds lovely,” I said. “Is that lemonade?”

  “It is.” He set the glass down in front of me, and I took it, enjoying the way condensation beaded on the cut crystal. Next came a wine glass full of something red, which he placed in front of Rans. I wasn’t about to ask if the contents consisted of fermented grape juice or hemoglobin. A moment later, Nigellus waved away the shot glass of amber liquid Edward offered him.

  “Will our guests be staying for dinner?” Edward asked politely.

  “They will,” Nigellus said. “We still have much to discuss.”

  “Dinner at seven it is, then,” Edward said. “I believe the rack of lamb is sufficiently thawed to be ready in time.”

  “Sounds lovely, Edward,” I said, since Rans and Nigellus were too busy staring each other down. “Thank you for the lemonade.”

  His lips quirked. “I can bring you something to spike it with, if you think it would help.”

  I gave him a tiny salute with the glass. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Nigellus shot him a long-suffering look. “No doubt the lamb will require your complete attention, Edward.”

  “No doubt it will, sir,” Edward agreed in placid tones.

  Once his footsteps on the hardwood floor had faded, I took a sip of my drink. It was delicious. A few more sips, and I was as ready for the next round of angry yelling as I was likely to get. I set the glass down with a decisive clink.

  “All right.” I made myself sit up straight and meet Nigellus’ gaze head-on. “So, we all have legitimate grievances here, albeit to varying degrees. But the fact is, what’s done is done. Rans can’t un-steal your crystal, and I can’t un-bond myself with him—assuming the supposedly unbreakable magic really is unbreakable.”

  “It is.” The demon’s eyes didn’t waver.

  I nodded, accepting it for now. “There are things I can do something about, though—and I intend to. A friend of mine arranged for my father to be shipped from Dhuinne to Hell as part of the Tithe.”

  Rans made a choked noise around his drink, making me really hope it wasn’t blood.

  “A friend?” His voice could have stripped paint.

  I glared at him. “I asked him for help, and he did exactly what I asked. Not only that, but he followed through and helped Dad in the only way he could. Which, I feel I should point out, no one else here has managed to do—myself included.”

  “And who was this ‘friend,’ precisely?” Nigellus asked.

  “Albigard,” Rans said, and if tone of voice could kill, I had no doubt that Tinkerbell would be keeling over inside his cute little faerie cottage ri
ght about now.

  Nigellus nodded. “Ah. The malcontent. Interesting.”

  Was it? I decided I didn’t care right now. “So, my father,” I repeated. “Supposedly, he’ll be arriving with the next Tithe. If he’s going to Hell, what do I need to do next?”

  The demon leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Hmm. Perhaps there is a way that all three of us might yet end up receiving what we want.”

  Rans went very still. “No,” he said. “I really don’t think there is, Nigellus.”

  TWO

  “WHAT ARE YOU talking about?” I asked, my gaze flicking between them. “Because I’m pretty sure I left my decoder ring in a drawer somewhere back in my ransacked house in St. Louis.”

  But Nigellus was still locked in his staring contest with Rans. “She will be safer there. You know this, Ransley.”

  I waved a hand, my irritation flaring. “Hello? If we’re going to do the talking about Zorah in the third person thing, I’ll just duck into the kitchen real quick and take Edward up on his offer to spike the lemonade.”

  Rans tore his eyes away to look at me, and the tension between them broke. “Please don’t. No offense, luv, but I still haven’t recovered fully from the last time you were sloshed.”

  The demon blinked, settling his expression into something less intense. “If your father is to be delivered with the Tithe, I can take you to him.”

  “In Hell?” I clarified, sparing a brief moment to wonder how the fuck my life had come to this.

  “Quite,” said Nigellus.

  Rans’ jaw worked. “Getting in is easy. The question you should be asking is whether he can get you out again afterward.”

  My brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Why would it be any different than getting in and out of Dhuinne?”

  Nigellus shifted in his seat, the sun from the window behind him outlining his dark form with a halo of gold. “Hell is not Dhuinne. Anyone may enter, but only demons and those bound to them may leave freely. It’s the reason Hell will never be invaded. The army that breached it would become prisoners, not conquerors.”

  I tried to wrap my brain around that. “So… the door opens to let you in, but then it slams shut and locks behind you?”

  “Unless you are demon, or demon-bound, yes.”

  Jesus. Could nothing in my life be simple anymore?

  “She’s only one-quarter, Nigellus,” Rans said in a low monotone.

  Nigellus shrugged. “There are records of half-breeds—cambions—coming and going freely. That would imply that merely having some demon blood is enough.”

  I picked absently at a rough spot on the underside of the oak table, not liking where this was going.

  “It would imply that having half is enough,” Rans countered.

  I swallowed. “Hang on. If you’re not even sure I can get out again, then how is my father supposed to get out?”

  Nigellus met my eyes. “He’s not.”

  “Not unless you want him to sell his soul to a demon first,” Rans added grimly.

  I drew in breath to speak, but the words caught in my throat, frozen. The splinter I was worrying slid beneath my fingernail, drawing blood—the sensation jolting my mind back to the hollow tree-cell where the Fae had so recently kept me prisoner.

  Both of them were watching me now, though it was Nigellus who spoke. “As I told you… Hell is the safest place in the three realms, Zorah. You’ve already seen firsthand how vulnerable your father was to the Fae when he was dwelling in the human world. It could be argued that the demon realm is the best place for him right now.”

  “He needs help, though,” I said. My voice lowered to a whisper. “The Fae… broke him, Nigellus.”

  Compassion colored Rans’ blue gaze, but Nigellus only nodded in understanding.

  “I told you before that Hell is not the fire and brimstone of human myth,” he said, very seriously. “The Fae have been sending a Tithe to us for more than two hundred years, child. There are hundreds of Fae-touched humans in the demon realm. They know the effect Fae magic can have. Who better to help your father?”

  And just like that, the backs of my eyes were burning. I blinked rapidly, trying not to let emotion get the better of me. Damn it. I’d come here ready to shake answers from a demon who’d apparently been around since time immemorial. Looks like fifteen minutes or so was all it took for me to slide right back from wannabe badass to pathetic girl with daddy issues.

  Awesome.

  “I need to see him,” I managed.

  I didn’t dare look at Rans’ face, but Nigellus tipped his chin in acknowledgement.

  “As I said, I can arrange it.” he paused for a beat, as though considering his next words. “Hell is also the safest place for you right now, Zorah. Especially given the… additional stakes, now that Rans ensnared you in a life bond. You would be welcome to stay for as long—”

  Rans’ palm hit the table hard enough that I jumped.

  “Don’t,” he grated. “Do not manipulate her, Nigellus, or you and I are going to have a very. Serious. Problem.”

  I swallowed, nearly choking on it. “He’s right, though, Rans.” I still couldn’t look at him. If anything happened to me—anything at all—he would die, too. Forget the Fae. I could be skewered by the next random mental case who sensed that I was part demon. I could be hit by a damned truck. It wouldn’t matter how it happened—Rans would be just as dead.

  He stared at me. “And how do you plan on feeding?”

  A sinking feeling washed over me. My succubus grandfather had ensured that in order to be healthy, I needed regular meals of sexual energy from a partner. Meanwhile, my damned human heart insisted it didn’t want that kind of intimacy with anyone but Rans—a centuries-old vampire who’d probably had more sexual conquests than I’d had hot dinners.

  “You could come with me.” The words escaped in a rush, and completely without my permission. I started berating myself before the echo had even faded. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was I thinking?

  Nigellus lifted an interested eyebrow and looked to Rans. But the vampire’s face could have been cut from marble.

  “I can’t.” It sounded like the words had been torn from him. “The answers I need are on Earth. You know that. Both of you.”

  “I know,” I said quickly, scrambling for damage control. “I know they are, Rans. But… maybe you could come visit, or—” I winced. Of course he couldn’t come visit. If he tried, he’d never be able to leave. “Sorry. I guess that won’t work. I could come to you, though! If I can come and go from Hell as I please, I mean…”

  I was babbling. A grim smile touched Rans’ lips… and went no further.

  “Conjugal visits, luv?” he asked. “Sounds like a good way to torture myself for a few decades.”

  I deflated, peripherally aware that Nigellus still appeared fascinated by the exchange.

  “Opaque motives, indeed,” he murmured, before clearing his throat. “Ransley, while you may not believe it, my only concern is in keeping both you and Zorah as safe as possible—in what is, to put it mildly, an inherently unsafe situation.”

  Fiery blue eyes turned toward our host. “I’ve managed to survive not only the passage of time, but also the genocide of my race, Nigellus. I am perfectly capable of protecting Zorah here on Earth.” That gaze flicked to me, and turned pointed. “Always assuming she doesn’t try to run away from me again.”

  It was difficult not to wilt beneath that look, but I managed it. “You know why I did it,” I said. “I won’t apologize for it. If that’s a problem, maybe you’d like to apologize for stealing Nigellus’ crystal and binding yourself to me.”

  He didn’t even blink. “Not so you’d notice, no.”

  * * *

  Dinner was a somber affair, though the lamb was amazing. Who’d’ve thought that mint could be paired with red meat, as well as chocolate? Somewhat to my surprise, Rans and Nigellus maintained a wary truce during the meal rather than continuing to argue about where I should be hidde
n away for safekeeping.

  I really, really didn’t like the feelings that idea provoked in me. Maybe some girls aspired to being the damsel of the story. I didn’t. Yet here I was, powerless to protect myself—or anyone else, for that matter. And I hated it.

  I still hated it hours later, when I flopped facedown onto the comfortable bed in one of Nigellus’ guest bedrooms, sated and buzzing with Rans’ sexual energy. It didn’t help that I apparently had a kink for angry sex… though we’d at least managed not to break anything or make enough noise to wake the dead this time.

  “Do you have to be so damned good at that?” I said into the pillow.

  With difficulty, I scooted around until I was on my side, facing my bed partner. For his part, Rans looked like he’d been flattened by a very enjoyable bus.

  A pleasure bus.

  Or… something.

  I sighed and dug my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to get my brain to reboot.

  “All those centuries of practice ought to be good for something,” Rans told the ceiling.

  “Man-whore,” I muttered.

  “Says the succubus,” he shot back.

  Touché. Maybe if I fucked him again, I could shut down his capacity for witty comebacks? But… no. Bad girl. No more fucking while we still had things to discuss. Important things.

  I exhaled slowly, and he peeled open an eyelid at the sound.

  “You’re going to try to have a serious conversation with me while I’m battling a post-coital coma, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Rather than answer, I shoved my wrist toward his face. His answering sigh had nothing to do with a need for oxygen, but he took it and slid his fangs into the delicate skin without argument. Knowing it wouldn’t project the no-nonsense air I was going for, I tried not to moan wantonly or rub my thighs together as delicious heat spread through my veins. I was… mostly successful.

  He finished with a decadent lick across my pulse point, holding his lips over my flesh until the two tiny punctures knitted together beneath the power of vampire saliva.