The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set
Page 68
I will not faint... three... four... five...
I will not faint... three... four... five...
My eyes darted away from the sight; I couldn’t help it. Instead, I focused on my hands, watching distantly as droplets of sweat mixed with rainwater slid off my face to land on Guthrie’s torso. My vision blurred until I knew that some of the spatters landing on his dark skin were tears rather than rain or perspiration. But still, I pumped without pausing, refusing to let my weakness be the reason Guthrie died.
I had no idea how much time passed before a hand rested on my shoulder.
“All right, love,” Rans said. “You can stop now. There’s not enough blood left for his heart to pump.”
I fell backward onto my ass, catching myself in an ungainly sprawl on the elegant Turkish rug.
“How do we know if it worked?” I asked, my voice high and reedy.
Somewhat to my surprise, it was Nigellus who answered. “If his soul still resides on this plane, he’ll rise to drink vampire blood. If it doesn’t, all the blood in the world won’t change the fact that he’s gone.”
I shivered, and it wasn’t from the chill of my damp clothing in the cool air-conditioning of the penthouse. Rans closed his eyes, his chin dipping for a moment before he steeled himself and ripped open a vein in his wrist. He must have been full to bursting after draining the dying man, because blood spurted, splattering across Guthrie’s slack, colorless lips. I scooted backward until my shoulders hit the edge of the bed, not wanting to watch, but unable to look away.
Rans pulled Guthrie’s jaw open wider and let blood pour into Guthrie’s mouth until it overflowed. I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling into a ball—startled when my wrists and hands protested the movement with a sharp ache after the long minutes spent performing chest compressions.
“Come on, Guthrie,” Rans murmured. “This is your shining opportunity to flip Myrial and the rest of demonkind the middle finger. And besides, if you don’t come back to us, you’ll never have the chance to kick my arse for doing this to you without your consent.”
I was dangerously close to the edge of both my physical and emotional endurance, but I rallied enough to say, “Don’t you dare let that hell-bitch win, Guthrie. She doesn’t deserve it. You’ve gotta come back so we can bond over how much we hate her conniving ass. Please?”
And... yeah. My voice was quavering. I snapped my mouth shut, pressing my lips together in a thin line.
Nothing was happening. Had we been too late? My fingernails dug into my palms, threatening to draw blood as rage welled beneath my grief and exhaustion. I wanted Myrial dead, and Myrial couldn’t be killed. Myrial was fucking immortal. The unfairness of it made me want to scream.
I was trying to muster up the guts to ask if Guthrie was really gone when the downed man’s nostrils flared as though scenting the air. Abruptly, I straightened from my pitiful slouch. That hadn’t looked like the reflex movement of a freshly dead body. My instinct was confirmed a moment later when Guthrie’s throat started to work, his jaw moving as he swallowed convulsively.
“Is he—” I began, but Rans cut me off before I could finish the question.
“Yes,” he said grimly. “Quick, love—go stand by the door with Nigellus. And no matter what happens next, don’t interfere.”
I staggered upright on unsteady legs and managed to cross the room, fresh adrenaline lending me a burst of strength. I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen, but just as I reached Nigellus’ side, Guthrie’s hand shot out and clamped around Rans’ bloody wrist. Rans made no move to free himself. An instant later, Guthrie exploded into motion, going not for the wrist, but the throat.
I cried out, trying to lunge toward the pair as Guthrie rolled them over. He ended up on top of Rans, ripping and tearing at his neck like a crazed monster from a horror movie. A grip like iron halted me before I’d taken a single step, and I struggled against Nigellus’ hold to no avail.
“Don’t,” he said evenly. “Your friend needs vampire blood, not human or succubus blood. Get too close, and he’ll only try to kill you.”
I jerked and fought, but I might as well have been a toddler restrained in a parent’s grip. “Let me go! He’ll kill Rans!”
The demon scoffed. “Nonsense. Nothing short of decapitation or staking through the heart can kill your paramour. Well... nothing short of decapitation, staking, or your death, to be more accurate.”
I stopped struggling, a modicum of rationality returning. Nigellus was right, damn him. I’d seen Rans shot, stabbed, battered, and clawed to the bone. He’d shrugged all of it off. But if I got in between them and Guthrie ended up killing me in his insane bloodlust, it would be lights out for both of us.
“Is it supposed to happen like this?” I asked, an edge to my voice that sounded more than a little hysterical.
“Always,” Nigellus said with a sigh.
With no other options, I stood trembling in the demon’s steady grip, watching in horror as Guthrie’s jaws continue to chomp mindlessly at Rans’ throat. The seconds ticked by in slow motion, and Guthrie’s movements grew gradually less coordinated. Eventually, he slumped on top of Rans’ body, appearing to slide into unconsciousness. Blood splatters stained the expensive rug around the pair, making the bedroom look like nothing so much as a grisly double-murder scene.
“Rans?” I whispered, as Nigellus’ hand fell away from my arm. My voice grew louder with desperation. “Rans!”
TWENTY
I HELD MY BREATH, searching for any sign of life from either of the figures slumped on the floor. After an endless moment, Rans lifted a hand, grasping Guthrie’s shoulder and rolling him off. Guthrie’s body flopped to the side, limp as a rag doll.
Rans groaned, lifting a bloody palm to his neck as the fleshy ruin began to knit itself together, and I could breathe again.
“Get him on the bed,” Rans said hoarsely. “Blimey. Can’t say I’ve missed that part of things over the past couple of centuries.”
Nigellus stooped to lift Guthrie as though the broad-shouldered black man weighed nothing, carrying him to the bed with its rumpled covers. I fell onto my knees next to Rans, my hands flying to his face and neck.
“Are you all right?” I begged, offering up my latest entry for the stupid question of the month award. The rug beneath my knees felt spongy, and my stomach rolled as I realized the place I was kneeling was soaked in blood.
“Ugh. Yes... just about,” he said, wincing as he rolled onto an elbow. “Bit of a rough day at the office, if I’m being honest.”
Beneath my fingers, the skin on his neck that had been ripped and torn was once again unblemished—even though it was still sticky with blood. I let my hands fall away.
“You need to feed,” I said, because that was easier than dealing with... well... everything else.
He caught my right hand in his and kissed the knuckles before letting it slip free. “Yes. But not from you. You’re about to fall over, love. I’ll nip down to the garage in a few minutes and grab a bite from someone in a quiet corner. I just want to make certain our friend is truly down for the count first.”
I nodded wordlessly, feeling everything hitting me at once. My eyes slid to Guthrie’s still form on the bed, the front of his white cotton t-shirt stained red from his messy feeding.
“I... need some air,” I managed, and stumbled out of the room. I could feel two pairs of eyes following me as I left.
My feet carried me down the hallway to the spartan workout room with its glass wall and sliding door. Beyond it lay the peaceful rooftop patio, with its atmospheric lighting and carefully tended planters full of flowers. My hand left a bloody palm print on the glass as I steadied myself against it. I stared at the red mark for a long moment.
It was probably both rude and disgusting of me, but once I was outside, I walked to the hot tub in a daze and swished my hands in the water until the blood was mostly gone from my skin. I scrubbed at the blood on my knees as well; then I took a few more uns
teady steps until I could turn and sink down on the concrete, my back resting against the low wall surrounding the edge of the roof.
I stared at nothing for quite a while, my mind going blissfully blank. Time passed, the sounds of the city below filtering up to the rooftop retreat, but only distantly. The night air gradually dried the front of my rain-soaked shorts and the shirt borrowed from Rans, but the fabric at my back remained clammy where it pressed against the cool concrete of the building.
The door slid open, and I looked up, pulling my vision into focus with difficulty. Rans crossed the distance separating us and slid down to sit next to me, shoulder to shoulder. He’d cleaned himself up and found a shirt to wear. He didn’t look as pale as a walking corpse, either, so I gathered he’d found an unsuspecting blood donor somewhere in the building, as he’d promised he would.
There was... so much to say that I didn’t really know where to start, but what came out of my mouth was, “Is Caspian dead?”
Christ. I’d shot him. More than once, I was pretty sure. Of course, I’d only done it because he’d just ordered his goons to kill me—slowly. But even so...
“Was the gun you were using firing iron bullets?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t... think so? I mean, I took it off one of the police officers Caspian had in his thrall...”
“Most likely not, then,” Rans agreed. “In which case, no, Caspian isn’t dead. Just temporarily inconvenienced.”
“You killed one of the cops,” I said, not even sure why I felt the need to bring it up.
“And you killed another three of them, based on the number of heartbeats I could make out, compared to the number of bodies piled around you,” Rans replied. “Possibly four of them, since the one you shot in the thigh appeared to be bleeding out from the femoral artery. Welcome to the jungle, where the only law is kill or be killed. I’m sorry you had to be introduced to it like this.”
I tried to say something—I wasn’t even sure what—but I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs to make the words come out. A moment later, I realized it was because I was sobbing, fat tears and snot slicking my face. An arm snaked around my shoulders, tucking me against a cool body.
It took me a few minutes to wrestle everything back under control. What would the authorities make of the grisly scene in California? A dozen armed cops—one shot with another officer’s gun, one with a broken neck, and the rest in a pile with their life force mysteriously drained to the point of unconsciousness or death. Would the massacre be front-page news tomorrow? Or would the Fae somehow cover the whole thing up?
“I need to leave for a bit,” Rans said when I was no longer crying like a leaky fountain. “I’ll have to acquire some blood bags from the nearest hospital, for when Guthrie wakes up.”
I nodded against his shoulder. “Okay. When will he wake up?”
“Within the next few hours,” he replied. “It varies from person to person. I should warn you up front that he won’t be... himself, when he does. Not yet.”
That sounded ominous, but I only said, “Barnes Jewish Hospital is pretty close to this place. It’s southeast of Forest Park, off Kingshighway. I think St. Mary’s is around here somewhere, too, depending on how much blood you need to steal.”
“Good to know,” he said, and paused as though weighing his next words. “I believe it would be best if you stayed here with Nigellus.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Is he guarding me, or am I guarding him so he doesn’t grab Guthrie and disappear somewhere?”
Rans looked troubled. “Mostly the former. It will be much simpler for Nigellus to let someone else play baby vampire nurse who has experience in the role. And I doubt he’d scarper and leave you unprotected, anyway. Not with Myrial and Caspian both on the rampage.”
“Okay,” I said. “Go on, then. Guthrie needs blood, so you’d better get moving.”
He searched my eyes. “Are you all right, Zorah?”
I laughed, the sound like a rusty hinge. “All right? Nope, sorry—not even close. But I’m guessing the situation won’t improve if I end up as the only human-ish blood source trapped in a penthouse suite with a ravenous, newly fledged vampire.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. His hand cupped my cheek, tilting my head until he could brush is lips to mine. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
I nodded, and he rose in a lithe movement, dissolving into a swirl of mist that disappeared into the night. I stayed where I was for a few minutes longer, but the evening had already cooled enough to raise gooseflesh across my arms and legs. Reluctantly, I went inside, stopping in the guest bathroom to wash off any blood spatters I might have missed and splash lukewarm water on my face.
I both did and didn’t want to face Nigellus. The idea of playing dumb regarding everything we’d learned about him sounded unutterably exhausting... but I had several questions that he might be able to answer. Or not answer, if my previous track record when it came to prying information out of him was any indication.
The demon was seated in a chair in the corner of Guthrie’s bedroom. He looked up as I came in. I glanced at the newly turned vampire on the bed. Either Rans or Nigellus had cleaned him up a bit, but Guthrie still looked like a dead man—his features slack and his chest unmoving.
“Zorah,” Nigellus acknowledged. “I trust you are as well as can be expected after the day’s events?”
I shrugged. “Still technically in one piece, at least. These days, I consider that a win.” I jerked my chin toward the bed. “Tell me something. Did you know Myrial was the demon who’d bound Guthrie all those years ago?”
“I did, yes,” he replied, surprising me with his lack of hesitation.
I shot him a sideways glance. “Awesome. Any other useful little tidbits you’d care to share now that it’s apparent Myrial has her sights set on you, rather than just on Rans and me?”
The demon’s brow furrowed, though his attention remained fixed on Guthrie’s unmoving body. “Indeed there are, since you ask. Now that Mr. Leonides is no longer human, sharing information related to his past to another non-human such as yourself arguably no longer constitutes interference within the human realm.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “That’s... pretty convoluted, but I guess I’ll take it. Go on, then—hit me.”
“I would lay excellent odds that he is also the human donor Myrial used to obtain the genetic material necessary to impregnate your grandmother.”
I mentally replayed that a couple of times to make sure I’d heard right. Apparently, I had.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said flatly. Then, something occurred to me. “Hang on. Guthrie hates demons. No fucking way would he fall into bed with the same demon who bound him.”
Nigellus lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “It’s likely he simply did not recognize Myrial in female form. If my reckoning of the dates is correct, it would have happened a couple of decades after he was bound, more or less. Because of the complications imposed by the Fae treaty, it’s unlikely Myrial had much face-to-face contact with Mr. Leonides after the deal was first struck, so even her male form would not have been overly familiar to him.”
“Oh. My. God. That conniving bitch,” I murmured.
It took a special kind of asshattery to promise a guy that you were going to save his wife from cancer, only to let her get run over by a car a few months afterward. To then come back twenty years later and have sex with the same man, just so you could steal his genetic material...
“I really want to say something about there being a special place in Hell for people like Myrial,” I said. “But that’s probably in bad taste.”
“Not to worry. Demons generally appreciate gallows humor,” Nigellus assured me. “I believe it’s listed somewhere in the fine print of the contract.”
My eyes fell on Guthrie again. Good lord. It was very likely that I was looking at my biological grandfather. And now he was a vampire... one who was still bound to a demon.
“Indeed he can,” Nigellus agreed. “As I stated to Ransley, the decision was a calculated risk. Withholding Myrial’s prize after she expended the energy necessary to reap Mr. Leonides’ soul will have further weakened her, but I can only imagine she’s more interested right now in the method we employed to thwart her than in immediately making another attempt.”
I could see that, I supposed. After all, I’d already called her conniving. Myrial would be the first to wonder how this new development might benefit her, since she now held absolute leverage over one of only two vampires in existence. And she was apparently in bed with the Fae, as well...
“You should know that Myrial was working with a Fae general,” I said, deciding that there was no benefit from trying to withhold the information from Nigellus. The fact that a demon who should have been our enemy remained our most powerful ally was still doing my head in... but it was what it was.
“I didn’t get the impression they were all that buddy-buddy on a personal level,” I continued, “but Myrial delivered me straight to him after she snatched me from the electrical substation in Modesto.”
Albigard had warned me about such an alliance, and I couldn’t think of two more dangerous people to be the unnamed co-conspirators.
“Yes,” Nigellus mused. “Caspian’s presence at the site of the battle was rather hard to miss, even though he was... indisposed... at the time. That one was always was a bit unhinged, though I confess some surprise that he would be willing to reach across the lines of demarcation in such a way.”