More fool him. Didn’t he know that if he tried to take advantage of me, I could pull his life force out through his dick?
Succubus, baby. Suck it!
I laughed, surprised when it emerged as a stupid sounding, high-pitched giggle. Oh, yeah... drunk. I’d forgotten about that part for a second as well.
“Wow, this really blows,” I said, as the walls started moving again. After a moment, I steadied my shoulder against the nearest one so I wouldn’t accidentally fall over if the floor decided to get in on the action.
Albigard’s expression said he didn’t intend to argue with my assessment.
“If you’ve quite regained control of yourself,” he began in that snooty Fae tone that I was growing to hate, “then I’ll continue.”
It was the kind of tone that said anyone who wasn’t Fae must clearly be an idiot. But I could choose to be the bigger person here. I waved a careless hand. “Whatever. Do go on.”
He sighed, long-suffering. “I was saying that the reason you and your father have become such sought-after targets is two-fold. You already know about the treaty provision forbidding demonic interference in the human realm.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded sagely, trying to keep my serious business face in place. Nigellus had told me about that part when we were in Atlantic City, after all.
“There is a larger concern among the Fae, however,” Albigard continued. “The entire point of the treaty is to limit demonkind’s ability to grow in strength. They must not be allowed to gain so much power that they once again threaten us.”
But that was stupid.
“Look, Tinkerbell,” I said, jabbing a finger at him. “My dad’s just a normal guy, right? He’s a fucking accountant, for god’s sake. And look at me!” I gestured up and down the length of my body, gaining steam. “I’m a waitress! Not even that—I’m an ex-waitress! Because you and your creepy blond faerie friends lost me my job!”
My righteous anger seemed to be entirely wasted on my current audience. Which kind of sucked, to be honest. I settled for frowning at him severely, since if I tried to go over and kick him in the kneecap, I was afraid I might fall down. Or, y’know, die a horrible, agonizing death at the hands of faerie magic.
One or the other.
Albigard sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “You’re a second-generation succubus-human hybrid. You are aware that until now, demons have never been able to sustainably reproduce?”
I picked my way through the words, most of which seemed to have too many syllables. “Kind of?” The brief conversation with Nigellus ran through my head again. “I know they can’t die, and that subbucusses... succubuses...”
“Succubi,” Albigard offered, long-suffering.
“Succ-u-bi,” I echoed carefully, “have to hijack humans to make babies.”
“Offspring which should be completely sterile,” Albigard continued, “not that such behavior is permitted anymore, since the treaty came into force.”
“Didn’t stop my grandad, did it?” I muttered.
“Clearly not.” The Fae sounded like he’d tasted something sour. “If the demons discover that they can... breed... generationally, they may decide to make a grab for power, and damn the treaty provisions. It would mean war again.”
He’d looked positively green when he was talking about demons breeding, but at the mention of war, something about his face changed. If I wasn’t so busy trying to keep my knees locked so I stayed upright, I might’ve wondered at it.
“This whole thing is really, really stupid,” I decided.
His expression changed again. That one was easier to decipher. It was anger.
“You’re talking about my race’s survival,” Albigard ground out, something dangerous and alien peeking out from behind the paper-thin facade of that pretty-boy face.
I tried to push away from the wall, only to decide that standing unaided was overrated. Instead, I settled on jabbing a pointed finger toward him again. “Yeah?” I asked combatively. “Well, your buddies don’t sheem all that worried about my shurvival, now do they?”
Was I slurring again? Damn it...
“You are one person,” Albigard said in an icy tone. “There are countless thousands of Fae lives in the balance—”
A vaporous mist swirled through the high basement window above us. I watched in fascination as it materialized into the solid form of Rans, the process more riveting than the coolest CGI imaginable. His blue gaze flicked between us.
“And we all know how quick the Fae are to sacrifice individuals to the greater good,” Rans said, his gaze settling heavily on Albigard.
The Fae’s expression grew stony, but I ignored it.
“Hi!” I said cheerfully, shoving away from the wall and catching myself against Rans’ chest instead.
One of his arms circled my shoulders to steady me as he looked down at me in surprise. I smiled up at him, ridiculously happy that he’d come back. A moment later, I remembered that I was supposed to be angry with him for leaving in the first place,
“You left me alone with a faerie,” I accused, aiming for a glower and ending up with something that felt more like a pout. “You suck.”
Maybe it would have had more impact if I weren’t hanging all over him.
His brows drew together. “Are you drunk?”
I started to giggle, only to have it end on a hiccup. “Tinkerbell roofied me,” I said. “With mead. I told him you’d be pissed about it.”
“I think you’re the one who’s pissed,” he said, though his eyes did start to glow with that unearthly inner light.
“Off her arse,” Albigard agreed.
That gas-flame glow turned on him. “You tricked her into accepting a Fae gift. Why?”
Oooh... I’d been right. Rans was not pleased. I turned my attention to Albigard. It felt kind of like watching a tennis match.
“Because that is how the game is played, as you well know,” the Fae said, apparently unconcerned.
My eyes tracked back to Rans.
“You’re quickly burning through whatever goodwill I had stored up, Albigard.”
“Whereas you are making me question whether your association is useful enough to be worth the hassle, bloodsucker.”
Now I was starting to get dizzy again. I tugged on Rans’ sleeve. “Hey. Someone wanna explain using short words?”
Rans looked down at me again, his face still set in hard planes. “You accepted Fae drink.”
Well... yeah? Hadn’t we covered that part already?
“It was, like, half a cup!” I protested. “And it wasn’t even all that good!”
“Not the point,” Rans said tightly. “Accepting gifts from the Fae gives them power over you.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Okay, that seriously blows. You’d think someone might’ve, I dunno, warned me about that before he left me alone with one for an hour?”
A muscle ticked in the corner of Rans’ jaw. I stared at it, fighting the sudden urge to lick along its tempting length.
“Someone thought he could trust the sparkly little arsehole to behave for an hour,” he said, and Albigard bristled. “Besides, doesn’t your generation read fairy tales anymore? I mean, is it seriously not common knowledge that you don’t eat Fae food or drink Fae wine?”
“It wasn’t wine!” I pointed out.
Albigard’s unruffled act seemed to really be slipping now. He stepped up until he was practically in Rans’ face, glaring at him from a slight advantage of height.
“And do you trust me, bloodsucker?” he asked.
“About as far as I can throw you, Fae,” Rans replied, his voice level.
“Oh?” Albigard tilted his head. “How far do you think that is?”
Rans grinned, fangs peeking out. “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”
I poked him in the chest. “Could we maybe compare dick sizes some other time?” I asked, and then frowned, meeting Albigard’s eyes. “I mean... don’t get me wrong, though. His is
pretty big.” I hooked a thumb at Rans.
The Fae gave me the same vaguely nauseated look he’d given me when we’d been talking about demons breeding with humans. “I believe we already discussed my lack of interest in your sex life.”
“Your loss,” I muttered. “My sex life is brilliant now.”
Rans tried and failed to stifle a quiet, choked noise. Then he changed the subject.
“I’ve found some people who may be able to provide us with more information,” he said, turning his attention back to Albigard with a bit less threat in his manner. “Which means you’ll be cutting us loose now, in case that’s not already clear.”
The Fae lifted a sharp eyebrow. “Does it? And will you be sharing the results of your inquiries with me if I ‘cut you loose’?”
“Yes,” Rans said. “When don’t I, Tinkerbell?”
“Whoa there, cowboy,” I interrupted. “Is it really a good idea to share stuff with...” I gestured vaguely. “... one of them?”
“He trusts me as far as he thinks he can throw me,” Albigard said in a voice as dry as the desert.
“And I expect I could throw him pretty far, if I had to,” Rans agreed. “It’s not his fault he’s an irritating wanker most of the time.”
There were important undercurrents here... probably. But I was drunk, so—
“Okay, whatever. Can we leave now?”
Albigard looked like he’d be happy to see the back of me. That was fine. I’d be happy to see the back of him, too—and not just because he had a nice ass. I wasn’t interested in his ass. Not when the rest of him made me feel so creepy crawly. Besides, I had a better ass right here. My hand crept down to squeeze it, and Rans shot me an, ‘Oh my god, seriously?’ look that I ignored completely.
“I’ll glamour you again and return you to the airport,” Albigard said, his eyes trailing down to my offending hand on Rans’ ass.
He was probably jealous, and he should be. I grinned at him, wide and stupid, the expression growing even wider and stupider when I saw the pinched look on his stupid Fae face. Hey—if he didn’t want me drunk, he shouldn’t have roofied me with faerie mead, right?
Magic flowed over us, and the muscular globe I was grasping grew a bit softer and squishier. I looked down to see that I was once more pale and curvy rather than slim and dusky. I looked up, and sure enough, Rans was now ash blonde and plain-faced.
“I’ll summon the guards and let them know that you weren’t of use to me,” Albigard said. “When they arrive, act disoriented.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Rans said, the words dripping with irony. “Not for one of us, at least.”
“No. I daresay it won’t,” agreed the Fae, giving me a final, disdainful look.
* * *
Albigard dropped us off with our luggage along the same stretch of the arrivals and departures lane where he’d scooped us up. On some level, I was starting to wonder why I didn’t seem to be getting any more sober as time passed. Maybe I should also be wondering why I was drunk on half a cup of alcohol in the first place, but somehow that seemed like an awful lot of stuff to try to keep track of at the same time.
“So,” I asked once the black Mercedes had disappeared into traffic, “who’re these people we need to talk to?”
Rans eyed me up and down with his boring, not-blue gaze before replying. “Let’s worry about them after we worry about getting you rested and sobered up.”
I pouted a little, before realizing that getting me rested and sobered up would presumably involve a bed. “Yes! Beds are brilliant!” I told him. “I love beds.”
“O-kay, then,” he said, still watching me like he wasn’t quite sure what I’d do or say next. I could sympathize with that. I wasn’t quite sure either.
I grinned and let him flag down a taxi, which he paid for with cash. For some reason, I’d sort of assumed we’d be going to a hotel. Instead, the cab wended its way through airport traffic until we got on a highway, heading into an area that looked residential. Eventually, we ended up in a nice suburban neighborhood, and the taxi driver dropped us off in front of an attractively landscaped split-level home.
“Another friend of yours?” I asked, wondering just how many people Rans actually knew in Chicago.
He snorted. “Not hardly. I have no idea who lives here—in fact, I chose the address at random from Google Maps. Come on. Follow my lead.”
I shrugged and followed him to the door. He rang the doorbell, which was answered within moments by a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman. She eyed our suitcases with thinly veiled curiosity, a small furrow appearing between her neatly plucked eyebrows.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Beside me, Rans’ gaze burned with inner light through the muddy brown of the Fae glamour. “Invite us in.”
She gave us a vague smile. “Come in, please.”
We stepped into the foyer. The door closed behind us.
“Tell me who lives here with you.” Rans’ voice was compelling.
“Just my husband Tom,” she replied, still smiling. “He’s downstairs.”
“Very good,” said Rans. “Are there any pressing reasons why you and he couldn’t leave for the weekend?”
She appeared to give it a moment’s consideration. “No.”
“Call him up here for me.”
“Tom!” the woman yelled. “Come here for a minute!”
I winced a bit at the volume. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and a florid-faced man appeared.
“What’s going on, Glynda?” he demanded, giving us a suspicious look before Rans’ eyes caught and held him.
“Hullo, Tom,” Rans said. “Do you concur with your wife that this would be a good time for a weekend getaway?”
Tom’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes. This would be a good time for a weekend getaway, Glynda. We should go to the lake house.”
Glynda nodded. “What a good idea! Let’s go to the lake house.”
“Got enough money to cover the trip?” Rans asked, addressing both of them.
“Oh, yes,” Glynda said. “Our investments did especially well last quarter.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Rans told her. “We’re your house sitters. You’re going to pack and leave in the next thirty minutes, so we’ll just wait here while you do.”
“Thank you for agreeing to house sit for us on such short notice,” Glynda enthused. “It really means a lot to us.”
Rans smiled as Tom put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and squeezed, nodding in dazed agreement.
“It’s our pleasure,” Rans assured them. “Oh, and you’ll want to leave us the keys to the second car when you go.”
“Of course!” Glynda chirped. “It’s in the garage. I just filled up the tank last Tuesday.”
With that, the couple bustled off, presumably to pack. Rans and I showed ourselves to the upstairs living room to wait. I stared at the ugly print pattern of the sofa and chairs, which seemed to waver back and forth in a disturbing moiré pattern before my drunken eyes.
I must’ve zoned out for a bit, because it seemed like less than half an hour had passed when Glynda called a cheery goodbye, the door opening and closing as she and her husband left, suitcases in hand. I narrowed my eyes at Rans, who lounged carelessly in the far corner of the sofa, one ankle propped on the opposite knee.
“That,” I said slowly, “was creepy as hell.”
TWO
RANS SHRUGGED ONE shoulder, unconcerned. “Being creepy is in the vampire contract, somewhere below the part about good dental hygiene and needing SPF ten million before spending a day at the beach.”
I digested that for a few moments.
“Why am I still drunk?” I asked. “In fact, why am I drunk at all? Did Tinkerbell really roofie me? Because if so, I feel like you should have beat him up for me before we left.”
His air of casual relaxation faded, his expression growing serious. “Half a cup of Fae mead shouldn’t have made you drunk, no. But I think y
ou roofied yourself, luv.”
I glared at him, offended. “Did not!”
But he only shook his head. “You attacked Alby by drawing on his animus. Fae animus. I imagine all the Fae magic you swallowed when you did that interacted with the Fae magic in the drink. Your demon blood probably made the effect even worse.” A brief smile tugged up one corner of his lips. “Face it, Zorah—you’re well and truly sloshed on faerie juice.”
I couldn’t help it—I started snickering. Rans rose gracefully from the couch and pulled me to my feet, slinging an arm around me so he could guide me into the kitchen. Once there, he poured me into a chair at the breakfast nook... thingie, and started puttering around in the refrigerator.
I slumped forward, resting my forehead on my arms—still smiling, though I couldn’t have said why. On some level, I knew there was a whole lot of stuff going on that wasn’t remotely smile-worthy, but it all seemed oddly distant and unimportant right now.
Maybe I dozed a little, because when the sound of a plate landing on the table in front of me jerked me upright, there was drool on my left forearm. A large glass of water and a couple of little white aspirin joined the plate, which appeared to have a sandwich on it. My mouth watered. I grabbed for the food and took a big bite without even thinking, my eyes slipping closed in ecstasy at the taste. An almost sexual groan slipped past my lips.
“You’re welcome,” Rans said in a wry tone, seating himself in the other chair. “I do so appreciate a woman with a healthy appetite.”
Something important occurred to me at the same instant I swallowed, almost making me choke. Coughing a bit, I reached for the water glass.
“Shit,” I managed when my throat was clear. “Wait. Sorry. I can’t eat this. I’m gluten-intolerant.”
Rans raised a glamoured blonde eyebrow at me. “You’re not gluten-intolerant. You’re a succubus-human hybrid who was starved of sex for... how long? I’m impressed that you were able to manage your malnutrition with lifestyle alterations for as long as you did, but trust me when I say—on the list of things that are likely to kill you right now, sandwich bread is quite near the bottom.”
The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set Page 18
