The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  “Easy, there,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “You can still refuse if you want to, but I promise Rans won’t let things get out of hand.”

  Len blew out a breath. “I’m all right. Just get on with it. And I’d better not find out later that you made me cluck like a chicken or, I dunno, bark like a dog or something.”

  Irritation flared in Guthrie’s expression, but his eyes didn’t dim. “Right now, I’d settle for you not talking.”

  Len’s mouth snapped shut, his face going blank. I couldn’t help the small frisson that shivered through me at the undeniable evidence of Guthrie’s new powers. For his part, Guthrie watched the change in obvious surprise. His gaze flew to Rans, who urged his attention back to Len with a gesture.

  “Just, er, relax,” Guthrie told him awkwardly. “And, uh... don’t be afraid.”

  The jittery tension in Len’s body melted, and the look on his face could almost have been relief as he submitted to the order.

  “Jesus Christ,” Guthrie said. “Okay. Right. Now, give me your left arm, I guess?”

  Len extended his arm without hesitation. Rans showed Guthrie where and how deep to bite, while I deliberately avoided focusing on the small dribble of Len’s blood that dripped free, spattering onto the kitchen floor at his feet.

  True to Rans’ word, the blood Guthrie had drunk earlier was apparently enough to keep him from slipping back into bloodlust. A few moments later, he was following Rans’ directions on closing the small wounds with a couple of drops of his own blood, and it was done.

  “Well done, mate. Congratulations on popping your artery cherry,” Rans said. “Now, normally at this point you’d want to order him to forget about the last few minutes. It’s not necessary in this case, though, so you can just wake him up.”

  Guthrie looked like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to throw up, or dive right back in for another vein. Happily for everyone, he did neither—letting go of Len’s wrist as though it burned him and turning his glowing gaze back on Len’s steel-gray one.

  “You can... wake up now and, uh, go back to normal,” he said. “And in other news—fucking hell, I cannot believe I just did that.”

  Len blinked rapidly and swayed on his feet before his knees locked, holding him upright. He looked from Guthrie, to me, to the smear of blood on his wrist, covering a wound that wasn’t there.

  “Not bad for a first time, gramps,” he said. “I mean—I’m guessing, anyway. Not like I’d know or anything.”

  Guthrie gave him a cautious nod. “I feel like I should say ‘thank you,’ but I also feel like I should warn you not to let half-crazy vampires get anywhere near you in the future.”

  Len shrugged.

  I cleared my throat. “No harm done, at least. That’s got to count for something, right? Guthrie, are you feeling better now? I can’t imagine that bagged blood really compares to free range.”

  Rans snorted.

  “It... definitely doesn’t,” Guthrie admitted. He still didn’t sound terribly comfortable discussing the finer points of human blood as nourishment, but his eyes lost focus as his attention turned inward. “In fact, it feels really different. Kind of euphoric... almost like a high.” He looked at Rans, frowning. “Is that normal?”

  Rans tilted his head. “Well, I’m not sure I’d describe it as a high, exactly.”

  Beside me, Len went still.

  Rans noticed, and gave him a thorough once over, his eyebrows climbing. “At least, not unless...”

  He crouched, swiping up the drops of Len’s blood that had fallen on the floor, and sniffed it before popping the finger in his mouth. I would have commented on how gross that was, but the old saying, ‘so clean you can eat off the floor’ might as well have been coined to describe Guthrie’s kitchen.

  “Ah,” Rans said, straightening. “Recent cocaine use; that would explain it. Sorry, Guthrie—the answer is no, human blood doesn’t normally deliver that kind of kick. The good news—or possibly the bad news, depending on your outlook—is that it will wear off in a few minutes. Undead metabolism tends to make short work of such things, generally speaking.”

  I took a fresh look at Len, and several things clicked into place. Disappearing into the bathroom for several minutes after we returned to the penthouse. His pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. His restless jitters. The nosebleed. His apparent fearlessness after Guthrie almost came at him, and his questionable judgment in offering a vein to a newly fledged vampire with barely a second thought.

  “Len,” I began tentatively.

  He paced away, putting distance between us. “Don’t, Z. Yes, I’m an addict. Yes, I’m off the wagon after this shit with... well... everything. And yes, I know it’s a problem and that I’ll have to deal with it. Again.”

  Guthrie scrubbed a hand over his face and flopped onto one of the bar stools. “For what it’s worth, I’m not complaining right now.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to the guy whose life I seemed to be doing a terrific job of ruining. Perhaps it was just as well that whatever I might have come up with was interrupted by Rans’ phone ringing. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, his expression tightening.

  “Albigard,” he said, his tone flat.

  I sighed and marched over to Rans, my hand held out in an imperious gesture. “Give it here,” I told him, and took the phone when he grudgingly handed it over.

  “Ah,” Albigard said. “Demonkin. I’m not certain if speaking with you constitutes an improvement over speaking with the bloodsucker or not.”

  I thumbed the call onto speakerphone. “Yeah, I’ve missed you, too, Tinkerbell. So, here’s the thing. I’ve got some information, and I need to make a trade with you. Well, two trades.”

  “Hmm. I can hardly contain my excitement,” Albigard quipped, his voice sounding tinny over the cellular connection. “Pray tell, do either of these trades involve having iron blades hurled at my person?”

  “Not if the blade-hurler in question wants to get laid anytime this century,” I said sweetly, pinning Rans with a look. “Basically, we need fast, discreet transportation. Magical transportation.”

  “And in return?”

  “Intel on the demons,” I told him. “Let’s just say, we’ve had a very interesting few days.”

  The line went silent. I stared down at the phone for several seconds, wondering if Albigard had somehow unintentionally fried it with his Fae-ness. Or, perhaps more likely, if he’d decided to flip us the proverbial bird and hang up on me. My dark thoughts lasted until a crackling sound echoed through the kitchen. I turned in time to see a fiery oval trace through the air.

  “What,” Len said faintly, taking a step back from the hole that had just appeared in reality. Across the room, Guthrie looked similarly gobsmacked.

  “Don’t panic,” I told them both. “Have you ever played the videogame Portal? Turns out that for Fae, it’s, uh, kind of a real thing.”

  Albigard stepped through the gap, haughty and beautiful as ever. His moss-green gaze fell on Rans, an odd little twist of a smile gracing his too-perfect lips. Then his wrist flicked in a motion almost too fast for my eyes to follow. I cried out in shock, my stomach flipping as a knife buried itself in Rans’ chest.

  SEVEN

  “WHOA!” LEN GASPED, lunging to push my body behind his even as I tried to leap toward Rans. “What the fuck?”

  I shoved past his restraining grip, my heart in my throat, only to find Rans holding Guthrie back with one hand as he calmly pulled the dagger out of his ribcage with the other. He pointed the blood-soaked tip at Albigard, an expression of immense irritation twisting his features.

  “I’ll give you that one for free, Fae,” he growled. “But I’d strongly suggest not pushing your luck.”

  I reached him at the same time Albigard closed the portal with a brisk gesture, completely unruffled by either the threat or the bloody dagger waving in his face.

  “Rans,” I breathed, my fingers splaying o
ver the place where the knife had been. It was already closed over. My frantically thudding heart began to slow as my brain caught up with my protective instincts.

  “Just a steel blade, love,” Rans said reassuringly, though his annoyed gaze remained on Albigard. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Len muttered, collapsing back to lean against the counter behind him.

  I turned to glare at Albigard, who only cocked a graceful eyebrow at me. “Well, now. Two bloodsuckers in your collection, demonkin? Mab’s green garden—I didn’t know when I was well off.”

  “You and me both, buddy,” Guthrie said. “So... you’re Fae, then? And I take it you’ve managed to piss this asshole off somehow? Believe me when I say, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Albigard of the Unseelie,” introduced the Fae. “And you are Guthrie Leonides, among several other names. I am aware of you... though not, I will admit, of your recent... transition.”

  “Er, great. There’s nothing like a bit of name recognition, I suppose,” Guthrie said.

  Albigard’s incisive gaze played over the remaining occupant of the room. “Who is this human?”

  “Friend of mine,” I said quickly. “His name isn’t important. And don’t traumatize him, Tinkerbell. He was having a rough enough day even before you showed up and started tossing blades around.”

  Len gave Albigard an ironic little salute with two fingers against his temple, and went back to watching the proceedings with wary eyes. Albigard, in turn, examined him with that contemptuous air Fae always seemed to have toward humans they didn’t deem important.

  “Perhaps we could get to business?” the Fae asked, as though he hadn’t been the one to throw everything into disarray by hurling a knife at Rans’ chest.

  “Perhaps we could,” Rans said grudgingly. “Zorah, Guthrie, and I need fast travel to the Caribbean, using a method that won’t tip off either the demons or the Fae to our whereabouts. We’re flying under the radar presently—and we need to keep it that way.”

  I cleared my throat, drawing Albigard’s attention. “First, though, I need you to retrieve something from a house in California for me,” I added, having had an idea while I was on the phone with Albigard a few minutes ago. “It’s a weapon. A dagger, specifically; one that’s pretty effective against demons.”

  Albigard turned cool eyes on me, and I suppressed the shiver as his Fae magic brushed against my awareness.

  “You wish to make two separate trades for my help, in exchange for this information?” he clarified.

  I nodded. “I do. If you bring this dagger and two small suitcases of our belongings back here from California, I’ll tell you exactly how the weapon was made. Then, in return for transporting the three of us where we need to go, I’ll tell you which demon and which Fae have been secretly working together.”

  His face lit with interest. “I already know the identity of the Fae in question. But if you can provide me with the name of the demon, then we have an agreement.”

  “Oh, I most certainly can,” I said grimly. “Now, will the fact that some of my personal belongings are at this house in California be enough of a marker for you to find it, or do we need to show you where it is on a map?”

  Albigard tilted his head in consideration. “That depends. Are the belongings of emotional importance to you?”

  “There are some family photos in the luggage, so yes,” I told him.

  He nodded. “Then show me on the map, and the two points of reference together should be sufficient. Retrieving your items will be no problem.”

  Rans snorted. “Don’t be so certain about that.”

  I turned a questioning look on him.

  “Oh?” Albigard asked, his tone tart. “Do feel free to explain yourself, bloodsucker.”

  “The house in question belongs to the demon Nigellus,” Rans said.

  Albigard studied him with sudden interest. “Does it indeed? One wonders why you would need me, if that’s the case. How interesting that you would not simply ask your dear old mentor for assistance directly.”

  I frowned at Rans, confused. “Hang on. The wards on the house are down now, aren’t they? He should have no problem seeing it—it’s not hidden anymore.”

  “Seeing it—no. Gaining entrance...” Rans trailed off, lifting one shoulder in a studiously casual shrug.

  “A demon in Nigellus’ position would be incredibly foolish not to have defenses in place against any Fae who might care to poke around,” Albigard said, his expression souring. “I’m somewhat skeptical that this mysterious weapon of yours is worth the risk of breaching those defenses, demonkin.”

  Rans tipped his chin toward Len. “Take him with you. Garden-variety human, right there. You can open a portal beyond the edge of the property, and then send him inside to get what we need. The place isn’t protected against humans.”

  Len straightened rather abruptly. “Okay, back up a minute there, Bela. I’ve been pretty chill about the level of crazy going on around here, but I’m not breaking into someone’s house for you.”

  Rans gave him a bland look and pulled a set of keys from his pocket, dangling them from one finger. “Who said anything about breaking in? We’re technically still guests there.”

  I guessed that was one interpretation of things, since Nigellus hadn’t specifically indicated that we were no longer welcome. Len opened his mouth to argue further, only to close it again when he couldn’t come up with a compelling counter-argument. Rans smiled his shark’s smile and tossed the keys at him. Len snatched them out of the air more in self-defense than anything else, staring at them blankly.

  Albigard watched the exchange with a jaded expression. “Of course, if that were truly the case, you’d simply go there yourself. However, at this point I’m finding the conversation tiresome enough that I can’t bring myself to care much about the details.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Rans said, still smiling with teeth.

  I looked between them and sighed. “Guthrie? Come and show me where we’ll need to go to catch this cruise ship. I’ll print out maps of that, and of Nigellus’ place. That way, Tinkerbell won’t end up frying your laptop accidentally. In the meantime, these two can continue their dick-measuring contest in peace.”

  Guthrie shrugged, and headed for his office. I sent a glance toward Len, but he was still alternating skeptical looks at the keyring with skeptical looks at Albigard. I left him to it. Once the maps were printing, I steeled myself and met Guthrie’s eyes.

  “Are you doing all right, Guthrie?” Which was probably a stupid question.

  He shot me a flat stare. “Not particularly. You?”

  I made a soft noise that didn’t have much to do with amusement. “As much as I hate to say it, this is basically a normal Thursday for me,” I told him, with far too much truthfulness.

  Grabbing the maps and an extra sheet of paper from the printer, I headed back to the others. After orienting Albigard to the California map, I quickly sketched out the floor plan of Nigellus’ house on the blank sheet, as best I could remember it. Then I ran through the location of the items I wanted with Len.

  “And you’re sure the house will be empty?” Len asked, his entire posture screaming ‘this whole thing is a terrible idea.’

  “Yeah,” I said immediately, only to qualify the statement after a moment’s thought. “Well, I mean, it should be. Maybe you’d better knock on the door first, just to be safe. If anyone answers, just... I dunno... tell them you’re lost and ask for directions to Vallecito.”

  “O-kay,” Len said uncertainly.

  “Oh, and you might want to keep your phone powered off so Tinkerbell here doesn’t fry it with his magic. I’ve lost, like, two cell phones that way already.”

  Len blinked at me, looking increasingly like someone caught in the headlights of an oncoming train. “Right...”

  Across the room, Albigard finished his examination of the maps and straightened. “Come, human. I’ve no desire t
o listen to any more of this endless bleating than I must.”

  With a look of concentration, he cast a glowing portal next to the kitchen island. After regarding whatever lay on the other side for a long moment, he gave a satisfied nod and gestured imperiously for Len to precede him.

  Len’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, and he shot me a dark look. “If I end up trapped in a pocket universe with my guts turned inside out, I’m blaming you, Z.”

  I shrugged and gave him a sheepish wave, mouthing ‘thanks’ as he shook his head in resignation and stepped through the fiery oval. Albigard followed, and it snapped shut behind them, leaving me alone with Rans and Guthrie.

  “Insufferable, pointy-eared git,” Rans muttered.

  I wandered into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. “You know, I fantasize a lot lately about someday being in my own home, contemplating a quiet weekend with no drama and no one wanting to kill me,” I told the ceiling. “Ice cream, Netflix, that kind of thing.”

  Echoing silence met the statement, presumably meant as commentary on its unlikelihood.

  “So, we broke Len’s brain, apparently,” I went on. “I’m...really kind of upset about that.”

  “He’s not broken,” Rans said, flopping down next to me. “Rough patch? Yes. But he’ll sort himself out, love. If anything, I feel mildly bad about saddling him with that Fae arsehole, even if it is just for a short time.”

  There was no point in reminding Rans for the dozenth time that Albigard was helping us just like I’d asked him to—just like he always did—so I didn’t bother.

  “I can’t believe I tried to tear the poor kid’s throat out,” Guthrie said, sounding haunted. He lowered himself into a chair across from us.

  I steeled myself and met his eyes. “Not your fault. And no one got hurt... although to be fair, your refrigerator door may never be quite the same.”

  “At least you’d already salvaged the steaks,” Rans said.

  Even now, sitting next to me on a comfortable sofa, the coiled tension he’d been carrying under his devil-may-care demeanor didn’t relent. And I had no idea what I could do to help. I was surrounded by problems I had no clue how to fix. Maybe that was why I’d been so insistent about Rans getting over his bullshit feud with Albigard—it was another thing I was responsible for, but at least in this case, I also had the power to make it better.