The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes for a shower,” I said. “Then I’ll be ready to go. I’ve got my own list of questions for Uncle Demon, and this time I’m not letting things go until I get some better answers from him.”

  End of Book Two

  The Last Vampire: Book Three

  By R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf

  ONE

  “WHY?” THE SINGLE WORD fell into the silence as though weighted with bricks. It barely even sounded like a question. Nigellus leaned forward, fingertips braced on the edge of the dining room table in his elegant Atlantic City mansion. “Explain to me, Ransley, what could conceivably have possessed you to take such an idiotic action. And without so much as consulting me first, I might add.”

  Ransley Thorpe—seven-hundred-year-old vampire and part-time white knight with a martyr complex—looked up at his demon mentor. He remained relaxed in his chair, still wearing a mild expression. But there was a dangerous glint hiding behind his icy blue eyes.

  “People keep asking me that,” he said in his precise English accent. “And I keep wondering why something that seems so obvious to me appears to be utterly opaque to everyone else.”

  Rans and I had arrived at Nigellus’ home some fifteen minutes ago, luggage in hand. Admittedly, that had been pretty brazen of us, since we hadn’t even called ahead to warn him we were coming. Also, there was the small issue of Rans having stolen a rare and powerful magical artifact from this house on his previous visit. All in all, I could understand Nigellus’ frustration.

  Hell... a part of me even shared it.

  Not so long ago, I’d snuck away from Rans and followed my kidnapped father to the Fae world of Dhuinne, in hopes of protecting both of them. The Fae were after me because of my hybrid parentage, and I was tired of other people being in constant danger simply because of their association with me.

  At the time, I’d understood that going to the Fae realm put my life at serious risk, but I chose to do it anyway. Whether it had been a good choice or a bad one was still something of an open question, but Rans had rendered it moot by coming after me and hauling me back by the scruff of the neck.

  Maybe most women would find the idea of him swooping into the Fae Court like a dark, avenging angel romantic. And it was undeniably true that by doing so, he’d saved me from execution. Yet I still found his eleventh-hour rescue stomach churning, more than anything, because of what had happened next.

  “Your actions have moved beyond recklessness and into blatant self-destruction. You bound your life to a mortal’s!” Nigellus’ voice resonated like granite boulders grinding together.

  I winced.

  The magical artifact Rans had stolen the last time he was here was a crystal. Not just any crystal, mind you, but a crystal that allegedly bound two people together so tightly that the death of one would instantly cause the death of the other. Working on what could only be called a hunch, Rans had barged into the Fae Court and bound his life to mine in the presence of a collection of the most powerful Fae in Dhuinne.

  He was the last vampire in existence, after a magical weapon destroyed the rest of his race during the war between demons and Fae. He hadn’t known for certain that his continued survival was one of the treaty provisions that had ended the conflict, but he’d suspected it. Fortunately for both of us, he’d been right. And now that we were bound, his centuries-long life was doomed to end the moment my human one did.

  Well, I say human...

  “I acted to save a life that is important to me.” Rans still didn’t raise his voice. Neither did the spark of blue flame behind his eyes dim. “And if you’re as smart as I believe you to be, Nigellus, Zorah’s life will become important to you, too.”

  I cleared my throat awkwardly.

  “So, apparently I’m the only person in the three realms who combines Fae, demonkind, and humanity in a single package,” I said, striving to keep my voice steady. “My father was exchanged for a Fae changeling when he was a baby. He was sent back to Earth not long after, but he’d already absorbed Fae magic during his time on Dhuinne. That may be what allowed him to father a child with my mother, who was half-demon.”

  Nigellus’ dark eyes fell on me. His gaze pierced me like a blade, and I stifled a shudder of instinctive reaction to the copper-red glow kindling in their depths. It was the first time I’d seen his otherworldly nature peek through, and the first time I’d gotten a real hint of the power lurking beneath Nigellus’ urbane exterior. It made me realize how little I truly knew about the demon standing in front of us.

  But I still needed answers, scary red eyes or no. “And meanwhile,” I continued, “the demons have quietly been collecting human children who have absorbed Fae magic after living in Dhuinne. Are you doing that so you can make more hybrids like me?”

  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 right 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.