The Last Vampire 1

by R. A. Steffan

  “I won’t,” he promised. “Trust me, Zorah.”

  My eyes slipped closed, and I nodded in reluctant agreement.

  TWENTY

  TWO DAYS LATER, I white-knuckled my way through the touchdown at O’Hare airport in Chicago. This time, I’d been less surprised when Rans tangled my fingers with his for both the takeoff and landing. We’d also flown through a thunderstorm en route. Winds buffeting the delicate structure of the aircraft until I thought I’d bite straight through my lower lip, but Rans’ claim of being statistically crash-proof had thankfully held.

  “We’ll be meeting my contact here at the airport,” he said as we disembarked. “He’s been looking into things, so once we speak to him, we can decide what to do and go from there.”

  We’d only brought a single carryon bag each, so we didn’t have to wait at the baggage claim like we had in Philly.

  “Why didn’t you pack the pointy things this time?” I asked. “I mean, why take the trouble to get them to Atlantic City, but not here?”

  “Nigellus doesn’t keep weapons,” Rans told me. “My contact here does, should we have need of any.”

  Somehow, that seemed ominous, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It was probably a moot point in my case, regardless—it’s not like I was going to be taking out anyone with a sword. Indeed, I’d been freaked out enough by the silver knife Rans had gifted me, that I’d taken advantage of the delay in Atlantic City to have Edward get the best price for it he could at an area pawn shop.

  I had no idea how to use a dagger, but I was pretty sure I could come up with a use for an extra couple of hundred bucks at some point.

  Rans’ mysterious contact had told him yesterday that there was something going on among the Fae in Chicago. Whatever the details, it was being kept secret at high levels. My gut was convinced it had to do with Dad, and Rans had agreed it seemed likely.

  We exited the airport from Terminal 2, heading for the arrivals and departures area. Rans scanned the line of cars as we walked. My gaze followed his, and my feet stumbled to a halt so abruptly that the lady behind me nearly ran into my back. A black Mercedes sat next to the curb, sleek and threatening.

  Rans noticed my stumble and looked back, pausing to wait for me as I unglued my feet from the pavement. “Not who you’re thinking of, luv. Sorry—I should have warned you. That’ll be our ride.”

  “That’s your contact?” I asked warily.

  He made an affirmative noise and continued toward the Merc. “Yes. He’s Fae, but try not to hold it against him.”

  Tension gathered in my shoulders. I tried to rationalize it—who better to find out what the damned faeries were up to than one of their own number? And if I started pre-judging people based on what species they belonged to, what would that make me? No group was made up of all good people or all bad people. That kind of thinking was how wars and other horrific things got started.

  A graceful figure emerged from the driver’s side of the car. His golden hair hung loose, the long strands teased by the wind coming off Lake Michigan. His face boasted the same preternaturally attractive features as the other Fae I’d seen, but at least his taste in suits was better. Rather than wearing a stupid, ugly tie, he’d unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his dress shirt. Black ink was visible on the exposed triangle of skin, tattoos winding up to the base of his neck like questing tree roots in reverse.

  I felt the same unpleasant crawling sensation that I’d felt in the presence of Caspian Werther and his two guards, even though this Fae didn’t give me more than a cursory glance. With luck, that meant that he wasn’t the same kind of skeevy creeper the others had been. A girl could hope, anyway.

  As he circled the car’s hood to approach us, Rans tensed. An instant later, I saw a half-dozen police officers exiting from unmarked vehicles parked behind the Merc.

  “You two are in my custody,” said the Fae, gesturing the police to surround us. “Don’t resist, or things will take a decidedly unfortunate turn for both of you.”

  My heart thundered in sudden panic, and I looked wildly toward Rans. He was unarmed, and even though he had managed to overcome three men in the parking lot behind the bus station in St. Louis, there were more than twice that number here.

  The police were all conspicuously armed with handguns. True, a shotgun blast had failed to kill Rans, but it had sure as hell put him down for the count before he recovered. And a gunshot would put me in the ground as surely as one had put my mother there, some twenty years ago.

  Rans stared hard at the Fae. For an interminable moment, I felt him poised to act—but… act how? Would I be expected to fight? To run? To drop to the ground and try to stay the hell out of his way?

  The Fae merely returned Rans’ fiery blue gaze, no hint of expression on his beautiful face. I stood frozen, trembling, unsure of what was coming next. And then, Rans subsided, silently leashing that barely restrained promise of violence under a stony facade of calm.

  “It’s all right, luv,” he told me. “Don’t resist them.”

  “All right?” I asked in disbelief, looking at the circle of cops around us. How in the hell was this all right?

  “Making a scene right now wouldn’t be good,” he said in a low voice.

  His blue eyes flashed at me, and I felt a brush of something against my mind like a breath of calm. I shook my head, fighting it off.

  “Don’t you ever try to do that to me,” I growled.

  He continued to stare, but the sense of someone else trying to influence my mind slipped away. The cops moved forward, dragging Rans’ arms behind his back and cuffing his wrists.

  “Trust me, JoAnne,” he said, emphasizing the fake name that he and Guthrie had acquired for me. “This is not the time or place to attract attention.”

  “Enough chatter,” said the Fae asshole. “Get them in the car.”

  A policeman cuffed my wrists as well, and I had to fight not to succumb to the same panic that those words had engendered the last time I’d heard them. You’re not alone this time. You’re not alone… you’re not alone…

  I repeated the words like a mantra, feeling my heart thud against my ribs.

  “Wait,” said our captor, and gestured to Rans with his chin. “Hold that one still for a moment.”

  Rans narrowed his eyes as the Fae lifted one hand, his fingers moving through the air as though reaching for something invisible.

  “Seriously?” Rans asked, his expression looking like he’d tasted something sour.

  The Fae only raised a sharp eyebrow. A diaphanous halo of light surrounded his hand, and for a moment, the slide of shadows made it look as though the tattoos at his throat were moving. Shifting restlessly across his skin. I looked around us, thinking other people must surely be able to see what was happening.

  The passersby around us walked past without giving us a second glance—as though seeing uniformed cops handcuffing people while Legolas from Lord of the fucking Rings stood there with his hand glowing was a regular occurrence for them. I gritted my teeth to keep from calling out for help. It hadn’t worked in St. Louis, and probably wouldn’t work any better now.

  Rans was still glaring as Legolas murmured a rapid-fire series of words I couldn’t understand. He flicked his long fingers, and the glow surrounding his hand like fireflies streamed toward Rans and wound around his body. The glimmering lights spiraled around him before appearing to sink into his body and disappearing.

  “Rans?” I asked—terrified, and with no freaking clue what was happening. I realized after the name left my mouth that I should have said John, the way he’d said JoAnne. I really, really sucked at this fugitive shit.

  “It’s just a warding spell,” Rans said through gritted teeth.

  If I hadn’t been fighting panic, I might’ve had a couple of spare brain cells to devote to the idea of magic apparently being real. Goddamnit, I was already running this close to capacity after the past few days. I was not fucking prepared to deal with glowy hand
s and faerie spells.

  Legolas gestured toward the cops, indicating that they should resume putting us in the back of the black Mercedes. I flopped ungracefully onto the upholstery, trying with little success to find a way to sit comfortably with my hands cuffed behind me. Rans followed a moment later with considerably more stoicism and less clumsiness. The door slammed shut, locks clicking with an air of chilling finality. The trunk closed, which I guessed meant the cops had thrown our luggage into the car.

  I noticed there were no controls for either locks or windows on the inside of our doors.

  Of course, Legolas had controls on his door. The driver’s window rolled down, and he ordered the cops to leave. I craned around, watching them pile back into their unmarked cars and pull away. When they were gone, Rans met our captor’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Oy, I’m being pretty fucking patient here, Tinkerbell,” he said. “I’ve gotta say, though—my patience is in fairly short supply these days.”

  “Quiet,” Legolas told him flatly, “or I’ll shut you up myself.”

  His unnaturally green eyes grew intense, and he murmured more words in that unfamiliar language before a new glow surrounded both Rans and me in the back seat. I gasped in shock as Rans’ appearance melted into something utterly different—ash blonde hair, face younger and far less striking, and carrying a bit of softness around the waist. Even his distinctive blue eyes were now an unremarkable shade of earthy brown.

  Something made me look down at myself. My bare upper arms were pale now, rather than dusky, and I had thick curves that were completely different from my usual slender frame. Bewildered, my eyes flew back to the plain features that had, a moment ago, belonged to a dark angel sculpted by Raphael. Rans shook his head at me, a quelling gesture.

  I bit my lip, sitting tense and silent as the car’s engine purred, pulling us out into traffic and toward the highway. Legolas drove us in a generally westerly direction, based on the glimpses I got of the sun peeking through the clouds. The clock on the car’s dashboard was flashing, not with the familiar twelve—twelve—twelve, but rather with a jumble of random illuminated segments that looked like gibberish. As best I could tell, it was about an hour later when he pulled into a long private driveway.

  The bustle of the city had given way to something midway between suburban and rural surroundings. The house that was revealed as we negotiated a turn in the tree-lined drive was only a few paint chips and broken windows away from being the next hot property for filming a horror movie. With two stories and a generous attic, it must have been an impressive residence when it was new. The grounds were obviously huge; the driveway itself must have been nearly a quarter mile long.

  Legolas parked in a spacious circle drive, and two figures emerged from the front door of the house. He got out of the car to meet them. After a brief discussion, the two newcomers—also Fae, I was sure—opened our doors and pulled us out of the back seat.

  “Take them to the basement,” Legolas ordered, lending new urgency to my growing panic.

  This was turning into everything I’d feared in St. Louis. If we entered that basement, would we ever see the sky again? Rans was still wearing his sucked-on-a-lemon expression, for all that the face it adorned was unfamiliar. For the thousandth time in the last hour, I wondered how far my growing trust toward him could reasonably be expected to reach.

  I tensed, ready to plant my feet and struggle, but his brows drew together in warning. Don’t, he mouthed, pinning me with a hard, mud-brown gaze.

  The only thing that held me back was my memory of just how pointless my panicked struggles against Caspian’s guards had been. Even if I could get free, the road was almost a quarter mile away, and it had been dead quiet when we approached this place. Where did I think I was going to go?

  I had a phone, but no one to call. I was in an unfamiliar city, and the one person I knew here was the one who was missing—my dad. Lack of any kind of usable plan meant that in the end, I let the Fae guard holding my arm propel me into the house and down a functional, poorly lit stairway to an unfinished basement.

  The place had been converted into cells, and that was enough to make me balk. By that time, though, it was too late. My captor hefted me painfully by the upper arms and manhandled me—fairy-handled me?—into the largest cell. Rans and his captor were right behind me, followed by Legolas.

  His cool green gaze played over the two guards. “Leave us. The prisoners are to have no food or water for twenty-four hours. I will tolerate no interruptions during the initial interrogation period… disregard my orders at your peril.”

  The lackeys dipped their heads in what almost looked like bows. “Yes, Liege,” said the one on the right, and both of them trooped out hastily, closing the door as they went.

  I swallowed hard, knowing I was breathing too fast and in danger of hyperventilating. Clammy sweat had broken out across my body as the door slammed shut, leaving me trapped with a creature that made every nerve in my body tingle with my need to be elsewhere.

  I knew that succumbing to a panic attack right now was the worst conceivable thing I could do, but when had I ever been able to stop one when it started to happen? I tried to focus on Rans… to use him as a way to calm myself. But Rans didn’t look like Rans anymore. The face of the person standing next to me against the cold cell wall was a stranger’s.

  Legolas turned his attention on me, his head tilting in interest as he examined me. “Now, what in Mab’s green garden do we have here?” he asked, looking at me like I was a puzzle he intended to disassemble into its constituent parts.

  He took a step forward. Panic swallowed me. It was a different feeling than any of the other dozens and dozens of times my mind had betrayed me in such a way over the years. Instead of my vision tunneling in and my chest aching, the unbearable pressure exploded outward, as though my body had become the epicenter of a shockwave.

  “Zorah!” Rans shouted.

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE INVISIBLE WAVE hit Legolas, who staggered back a single step before straightening. His green eyes dilated until the black of his pupils threatened to swallow his irises, a look of unrestrained hunger twisting his too-handsome face. A fresh wash of fear slid over me, but a moment later, I felt the true results of my panic-fueled handiwork.

  Sexual energy began to flow out of the Fae’s body, and into mine. I bared my teeth, feeling my own hunger rise.

  “Zorah, stop,” Rans said in a low tone.

  But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to drain this creature in front of me until he was nothing but an empty husk. I wanted to see this Fae on his knees, begging me to stop… or begging me not to stop. I wanted—

  The connection between us snapped with a sharp burst of agony on my end, cutting off the flow of raw power. Fury hardened the Fae’s features into cold marble, and he closed the distance between us, lifting a hand toward my throat.

  It was glowing.

  Movement caught my peripheral vision. An instant later, white vapor swirled in front of me, solidifying into a human form in the space between one ragged breath and the next. Rans knocked the Fae’s hand away, sparks flying between them like an electrical line shorting out.

  “Fucking… enough, already. Both of you,” Rans growled. “Jesus Christ, Alby. I don’t exactly have the patience of a saint today.”

  My mouth worked, no words coming out at first.

  “What. The hell. Is going on?” I managed, my voice an unpleasant, raucous squeak.

  “What is she?” Legolas hissed.

  “Trouble, mostly,” Rans said in a flat tone. “Specifically, trouble that you don’t lay a fucking hand on, unless you want to lose that hand.”

  He and the Fae were squared off, while I was still more-or-less cowering behind Rans’ back. I shoved my way out from behind him, noticing distantly that he was now once again his normal self, rather than a plain-faced, slightly pudgy blonde guy.

  “I’m assuming,” Rans began, “that because you weakened t
he warding spell you used to bind me, it means I don’t actually need to start ripping your wings off, Tinkerbell. But it would be good if you started talking. This cell reeks of security and silencing charms, so I assume it’s safe to have a proper chat now.

  “Answer the question, bloodsucker,” Legolas snarled. “What is she?”

  “She is standing right here!” I pointed out, and received a narrow green glare in response.

  “Zorah is the offspring of a human and a cambion,” Rans said.

  “Impossible,” the Fae spat.

  “That’s what I said,” Rans agreed. “But you felt it, just now.”

  I cleared my throat, about done with being talked about in the third person. “Which brings us back to the very relevant question—what the hell just happened?”

  The Fae frowned at me. “You don’t know?”

  “Would I be asking you if I did?” I exploded.

  “You panicked and started sucking energy from our host,” Rans said patiently. “Which, of course, you should in no way be able to do. Especially against someone with magic as powerful as his.”

  I mulled that over, seeing how the idea fit with what I’d just experienced. It fit… pretty well, actually. Legolas was still scowling at me, the look not sitting well on his pretty-boy features.

  Great. So, magic was real, the guy I’d slept with twice now could disappear and reappear at will, and apparently I could suck sex energy out of horny faeries if I was freaked out enough. This week really couldn’t get any better.

  “I’d apologize,” I began slowly, “if I weren’t currently handcuffed in an interrogation cell in your basement.”

  “Hand over the key, mate—for fuck’s sake,” Rans ordered, holding a hand out palm up. “Then maybe we can start over from the beginning.”

  After a long look, the Fae pulled a key out of his pocket and passed it over. I blinked, trying to rearrange things in my still panic-fuzzed mind to accommodate this new twist. Rans eased me around and a moment later, the handcuffs clicked open. I rubbed my wrists, my eyes caught anew by my pale skin and short fingers.