The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  “Selfless old fool,” Rans muttered.

  I swallowed hard. “Myrial... tore him apart. When Nigellus and I arrived, bits of him were strewn all over the hut, and the walls—”

  “But Nigellus fixed him,” Rans said firmly, cutting through the memory. “And I’ll wager he’s good as new now.”

  My jaw worked. “Yeah. He laughed it off like it was nothing. Edward did, I mean. But it wasn’t nothing. And Dad saw the whole thing happen, in gory detail.”

  Rans made a noise of regret, but didn’t slow his pace. “With any luck, your father’s condition will have kept him from understanding the full impact of what he saw...”

  But I shook my head. “No. Turns out, he’s doing much better than when I left.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Apparently all he needed to get his marbles back was not to be stuck inside a tiny hut with his daughter for weeks on end.”

  Rans shot me a sideways glance. “You’re cutting yourself down again, love. If he’s doing better, then good for him. But it’s only because his mind is starting to heal from the shock of being subjected to Dhuinne’s magic, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

  My shoulder lifted and lowered in a half-shrug. “Whatever. Anyway, he’s fairly lucid right now... and he was pretty damned upset by what happened.”

  “As well he might be,” Rans added.

  “Both he and Edward were at least able to identify Myrial as the attacker, though,” I continued. “The Council agreed to post demon guards on the two of them until they can complete a full investigation, and Nigellus stayed behind to work on them some more. I guess Myrial managed a pretty successful smear campaign against me in Hell after the salt thing.”

  “Bloody demons,” Rans said under his breath.

  “Sometimes I think things would be a lot simpler if someone could wave a magic wand and seal both of the gates between Earth and the other realms,” I said. Then my tone soured. “Though I suppose it would leave Dad and a whole bunch of innocent tithelings on the wrong side of the locked door separating Earth and Hell, if that happened.”

  Rans didn’t comment. Ahead of us, the tunnel opened out into the domed chamber of the main cavern. I wasn’t sure how time ran between the different realms, relatively speaking—but it must be daytime on the West Coast, because tourists milled around the area, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the interesting rock formations.

  The compact flashlight disappeared into Rans’ pocket, no longer necessary thanks to the electric lights illuminating the massive space. We headed toward the huge spiral staircase that would take us to the surface, moving briskly without hurrying fast enough to draw the attention of those around us.

  “I’ll be happier when you’re safely back at the winery, behind a second set of wards,” Rans said, pitching the words for my ears alone as we jogged up the rusted iron steps. “Something about this whole thing doesn’t sit right. I feel like I’m missing a trick.”

  I refrained from asking under what circumstances a demon ripping someone to pieces and painting the walls with their blood would sit right—partly because I knew that wasn’t what he meant, and partly because we were still surrounded by innocent tourists who didn’t need to hear us talking about stuff like that.

  “Let’s just focus on getting back to the house,” I told him. “We can worry about it then.”

  “At least it’s not far,” Rans agreed.

  We emerged into the open. I was blasted by a wall of hot wind, and found myself squinting against the unforgiving sun. The atmosphere was unsettled. Threatening. I glanced around, seeing a bank of slate-gray clouds gathered menacingly in the northwest.

  “Storm’s coming,” I murmured, shivering as something danced across my skin. The odd sensation prickled across every nerve as it passed.

  Rans tensed beside me, and realization hit an instant later.

  “Shit,” I hissed. “You can feel that, too?”

  “Fae,” Rans said grimly, grabbing my hand. “Run.”

  I sprang after him, praying my borrowed sandals wouldn’t skid on grit and gravel as we sprinted toward the sleek shape of Nigellus’ hunter-green Aston Martin convertible. Unable to help myself, I craned around, scanning our surroundings for anything suspicious. On the far end of the parking lot, an ominously familiar black Mercedes crept forward, easing around a line of parked cars and starting toward us.

  “Black Faemobile at three-o’clock!” I gasped, redoubling my efforts to keep up.

  “I see it,” Rans growled. He let go of my hand as we skidded to a halt by the convertible. The driver’s door opened to his touch, thanks to the magic of keyless entry. “Get in!”

  I flung the door open and lunged inside, slamming it behind me. Rans hit the ignition button and the engine roared to life. An instant later, we were peeling out of the dusty gravel parking lot. I twisted to look out the car’s miniscule excuse for a back window. Sure enough, the aggressive lines of the Mercedes’ front grill snarled at us from a distance as the larger car careened onto the road behind us.

  “Seat belt,” Rans said sharply. I fumbled with the catch until it clicked, and took the phone he thrust at me. “Find a route to Modesto that doesn’t go north through Vallecito. I don’t intend to lead them anywhere near the winery house.”

  I clenched my jaw and called up the app, grabbing the dash with one hand to keep from being thrown sideways as Rans turned right onto the first road we came to without slowing down. The tires squealed, the powerful car fishtailing for a nauseating second or two before friction overcame inertia and we surged forward even faster.

  Trying to ignore the speed of the scenery blurring past the windows, I started typing in Modesto and pulled up directions when it popped up. After a frustrating few seconds of convincing the damned app not to reroute us through Vallecito, I let out a breath.

  “Okay, got it. Stay on E-18 for about nine miles. When we get to Columbia, take the right fork onto Springfield Road, and another right onto Shaws Flat.”

  Rans gave a tight nod in my peripheral vision. “At least we’re in the right car for this... and they’re not.”

  “Better than a motorcycle,” I mumbled.

  “Matter of opinion, that,” he said as the tires screeched around a tight curve in the hilly landscape.

  I snuck a glance at the speedometer and immediately wished I hadn’t. So I looked behind us instead, relieved to see that the heavier Mercedes wasn’t gaining any ground. Of course, it also wasn’t losing as much as I might have liked—but to be fair we’d barely gotten underway. The two-lane road was narrow and twisting, our insane speed making me suddenly glad that I hadn’t eaten anything recently. Now if I could just pop a few Xanax to help with the pants-wetting terror...

  “Please tell me that vampires have really, really good reflexes,” I said.

  “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “Like striking cobras, we are.”

  The tires shrieked with oversteer as we rounded a left-hand curve, narrowly missing an ancient-looking pickup truck coming from the other direction.

  “Brilliant,” I said faintly.

  Small mercies—at least the convertible’s top was up. Cruising along the California highways with the top down and the breeze blowing through my hair was one thing. Doing so at a hundred-plus miles per hour with a summer storm whipping toward us, and a carload of murderous Fae on our tails was quite another.

  The Mercedes had briefly disappeared from view as we rounded the last curve, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think we’d lost them. Ahead, buildings and houses loomed—a decently sized little town that I would have loved to route us around, but there was no good way to do so. Rans barely slowed, his focus through the windshield growing laser-intense as the distractions and potential number of things to hit increased exponentially.

  “Half a mile to the right fork onto Springfield,” I reminded him. “It’s just past an elementary school.” And please, god, let it not be time for school to let out for the day.

  Sirens wailed behi
nd us as some poor local cop got the shock of his life, clocking two cars blazing through his quiet little town at ridiculous speeds. I threw a hand forward to catch myself as Rans cursed and hit the brakes, avoiding a T-bone collision with a sedan pulling onto the street from a side road.

  He slewed into oncoming traffic to get around the slower car, but even that minor slowdown was enough to allow both the cop and the Fae to make up ground behind us. Heart in throat, I gulped harshly to force the panicked throbbing back down inside my chest where it was supposed to be. The Aston careened onto Springfield Road as I gripped the phone tightly in the hand that wasn’t braced against the dash.

  “Next left!” I called over the sound of the police siren. “Then go one-point-two miles, and right at the fork—that should take us right to the highway!”

  Rans gave a short nod and wrestled the car around the sharp turn before flooring it again. I craned my neck, trying to see what was happening behind us. To my shock, as they approached the intersection we’d just blown through, the dark Mercedes pulled next to the police car and muscled it into a ditch. The black and white sedan tipped onto its side, coming to rest in a cloud of dust.

  “Holy shit!” I squeaked.

  Rans must’ve been keeping half an eye on our pursuers as well, because he muttered, “I suppose that simplifies things somewhat,” with the air of someone discussing dinner seating arrangements rather than a James Bond-worthy car chase through the California foothills. We negotiated the fork that would send us to Highway 108, where I gathered the sleek sports car could safely be opened up to its full speed, outdistancing the heavier Mercedes by enough that we could finally slip its pursuit.

  I was just drawing breath to ask what the plan was once we reached Modesto, but the words died as Rans cocked his head. “Can you hear that?” he asked.

  “All I can hear is the engine roaring and tires squealing,” I replied.

  “Train whistle,” he said. “New plan—I don’t like our chances on the highway if state law enforcement gets involved. One well-placed set of spike strips could put us right out of commission. Find those railroad tracks on the map. It should show up as a solid gray line somewhere off to our left. I need side roads with a railroad crossing.”

  I peered down at the phone and tried not to lose my shit. “Uh... both the tracks and this road lead into the city of Jamestown. There’s some kind of railway state park there, and a bunch of the side streets cross the tracks.”

  “Perfect,” he practically purred. “Direct me on the nearest road running parallel to the tracks, love. I’ll take it from there.”

  It seemed highly likely that I’d be happier not knowing the exact details of this new plan, so I directed him onto one of the two main north-south roads running through the town. Behind us, the Mercedes was a small black dot, but they’d be able to make up ground now that we’d been forced to slow down. Indeed, the pursuing vehicle grew visibly larger as I watched, the Fae driver apparently unconcerned by the possibility of pedestrians and cross traffic as the car roared into the modest town behind us.

  “Any of these next few side roads should do the trick,” I said, trying to focus on the phone’s screen as the Aston Martin jounced over potholes.

  I could hear the train whistle now, my mostly human ears finally registering what his vampire senses had detected from a much greater distance. Rans’ eyes flicked from the front windshield to the rearview mirror, gauging the gap separating us from our pursuers.

  “Almost,” he murmured. “Almost...”

  My eyes widened as he slowed; the Fae would be on us in no time. Without warning, Rans veered onto the next side street, heading straight for the tracks. The crossing was old-school; just a simple white X-shaped ‘Railroad Crossing’ sign with no flashing lights or safety arm. The Mercedes screeched around the turn behind us, and I swallowed a shriek as the approaching train bore down on us, its whistle blaring shrilly.

  FIFTEEN

  RANS MASHED THE GAS pedal, the Aston hurtling forward as though it had rockets attached. The tires thudded across the uneven tracks, the car juddering as the suspension tried to absorb the jouncing at speed. I imagined I could feel the wind of the train’s passing buffeting the car’s back end. Train brakes squealed in belated and completely useless reaction to the near miss.

  My head whipped around to take in the scene behind us. The Fae were trapped on the far side of the tracks, blocked from further pursuit by the lumbering behemoth separating us. I whooped, the adrenaline of fear transforming into jubilation.

  “Glad you approve, love,” Rans said dryly. “Excitement’s not over yet, though—we need to ditch this car before the police get their act together and try to come down on us.”

  I refused to think about what it actually meant to ditch a car that was probably worth an easy six figures. Not my car, not my problem, I told myself firmly.

  Besides, I was pissed at Nigellus anyway.

  Rans had slowed the vehicle to a sedate, law-abiding pace immediately after winning his race with the train by a nose. We turned onto the next main road and pulled into the first busy parking lot we came to, which turned out to be a steakhouse and seafood grill. Rans parked the car in the back, hidden behind the building, positioning it as unobtrusively as possible for a vehicle that so blatantly screamed money.

  “Come on,” he said, opening the door and springing out. “Let’s go get ourselves a new ride.”

  In the distance, I could hear police sirens again. Something about being the target of a cross-country car chase made the paranoid human instinct to wonder whether sirens in the distance were coming for you feel a heck of a lot less paranoid.

  Apparently I wasn’t alone in that feeling.

  “And here come the rozzers, right on cue,” Rans observed philosophically. “We’d best not dally.”

  He led me toward the busier area at the front of the restaurant parking lot, walking straight up to a portly man wearing a poorly fitting business suit as he fumbled with the keys to his Prius. The man turned to look at us, frowning in displeasure at having his personal space invaded by strangers in such a way. An instant later, his frown melted into blankness as Rans’ eyes flashed icy fire.

  “Afternoon, old chap,” Rans said, his voice resonant with power. “Give me your car keys. This isn’t your car anymore, and if anyone asks you about the make, model, color, or license plate number, you don’t remember.”

  The man’s jaw fell open for a moment, then he snapped it shut and wordlessly handed Rans his keyring. Rans slipped the Prius’ fob free of the rest and handed the remaining keys back to him—there was no point in leaving the poor guy locked out of his house after stealing his car, I supposed.

  He tossed the fob to me and I caught it in surprise.

  “You’re driving,” he said. “While I worry about coming up with a better strategy on the fly.”

  I swallowed my instinctive objections to the plan, and nodded instead. This was a Prius, not a high-end sports car. If things went to shit, it was likely that we’d hit the Toyota’s performance limits before we hit mine. I pressed the unlock button and got in.

  “Go back inside the restaurant and ask someone to call you a cab,” I heard Rans tell the car’s owner.

  When he joined me and closed the passenger door, I quickly adjusted the seat and mirrors before confirming that our victim had wandered toward the building and was out of my way. Then I cautiously pulled the vehicle out of its spot.

  “Where am I going?” I asked.

  “Turn right, and get on the highway heading west,” he said. “We’ll continue toward Modesto for now.”

  I did as he asked, repeating over and over to myself that the Fae had no way to track us now that we’d switched cars and were flying under the radar. They’d only found us in the first place by staking out the gate between Hell and Earth. It could easily have been complete coincidence—just standard surveillance. Who knows, maybe one of them had recognized Rans or something. But still...


  “Why did those shiny bastards come after us like that?” I asked. “I thought the Fae Court agreed to leave us alone.”

  Rans glanced up from his phone. “The Court agreed not to execute you on the spot. I’m not certain that necessarily translates to leaving you alone. Still, one does wonder what their endgame might have been, in this instance. A high-speed car chase isn’t exactly the safest or most low-key method for capturing someone.”

  The highway loomed ahead. I turned onto the westbound ramp, careful to use my turn signal as I merged— trying not to feel like there was a giant target painted on the back of the car. We cruised along in the slow lane, blending in with the traffic around us.

  Perhaps I should have used the lull in the action to breach the topic of Rans being understandably pissed off with me, after I’d run away with barely a word to go into potential danger without him.

  Again.

  But instead, I used the fact that he was still engrossed in some kind of research on his phone as an excuse not to go there just yet. In my defense, it’s not like I would have wished for vengeful Fae chasing us as a way to avoid getting my ass verbally reamed by my vampire boyfriend, but since it was happening anyway, I’d take it.

  “All right,” he said eventually. “Here’s the updated plan. We’ll be coming up on East Oakdale in a few minutes. We can stop at a convenience store and pick you up something to eat and drink. We’ll ditch the car there, and I’ll mesmerize someone into driving us to an electrical substation located a couple of miles away on the outskirts of Modesto.”

  I frowned at the road ahead, and the sky full of ominous storm clouds. “An electrical substation? Why?”

  His tone turned dry. “Because Fae and electrical systems don’t get on very well, in general,” he said. “If they somehow manage to track us down there—which seems unlikely—they’d probably have to send humans in after us rather than grabbing us themselves. With luck, we’ll be able to hide out there until Nigellus gets his arse back to Earth and I can reach him by phone to come get us.”