If... you counted Rans insulting Abligard, and Albigard hurling a knife at Rans’ chest as being an improvement over not speaking to each other, at least. Swallowing a sigh, I turned my attention to Guthrie again.
“I feel like we should talk more about the stolen-DNA-slash-biological-grandfather thing,” I said, unable to keep from picking at the invisible scab.
Guthrie eyed me, but whereas he’d looked angry when he’d first learned of what Myrial had done, now he only looked tired. “What do you want me to say?”
I chewed on my lower lip. “I don’t...” The words trailed off, and I tried again. “What do you want to say?”
I could feel Rans watching me, and heat darkened my cheeks beneath my dusky complexion. I still wasn’t used to being seen in the way that Rans saw me, and I could tell he was worrying that I’d pinned my emotions and hopes on something that was going to hurt me. Again.
Was he right? I didn’t know. But when it came to family members, I was pretty hard up these days. And before he’d been turned, Guthrie had treated me with more consideration than my own father had shown for most of my life—as sad as that was to admit.
Okay... yeah. So, Rans was probably right to worry.
Guthrie’s dark brows drew together. “I would have done anything to be able to have a child with Clarabelle, but that possibility was stolen when she died. Now you’ve told me that I unknowingly had sex with the one creature I hate more than anything else in the world. And not only did that creature try to steal my soul by killing me; it also stole my DNA to make a child I knew nothing about.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my chest hurting for both of us.
Guthrie swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face and letting it drop. “Was it your mother or your father?”
The ache grew sharper. Rans’ fingers twined with mine on the couch between us. “It was my mother. She was... an amazing woman, Guthrie.”
Guthrie’s face went even bleaker, if it were possible. “’Was.’ So she’s dead, then?”
I nodded, my throat closing up when I attempted to speak. I tried to clear it, but the weight of the past was choking me.
Rans answered for me. “Her conception was a treaty violation—demonic interference with humanity. The Fae tracked her down. Or at least, one of their unstable human watchdogs did.”
“She was running for the US Senate,” I managed. “A mentally ill guy shot her to death at a Fourth of July campaign rally twenty years ago.”
“Twenty years,” Guthrie murmured. “You must’ve been young. I’m sorry, Zorah.”
I shrugged a shoulder, not able to hold his gaze. I wanted to be able to hold up my chin and spout the usual bullshit—oh, you know, it was a long time ago, I barely remember her, blah, blah, blah.
“Me, too,” was what I said instead. Rans’ thumb stroked rhythmically over my knuckles, and none of us tried to break the silence that settled over the room.
I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, exactly, but it was probably less than twenty minutes later when Albigard’s portal burned its way into reality on the other side of the room. Rans and I rose, preparing to meet the returning pair... which was just as well since it meant Rans was in a position to catch Len when he came staggering through the man-sized oval with the air of someone who’d been shoved bodily—a snarl of anger on his face.
EIGHT
RANS CAUGHT LEN by the upper arm and swung him around, setting him back on his feet before he could face-plant into the plush carpeting. Len jerked his arm away the moment he had his balance back, glaring first at Rans, then at the portal.
Two familiar carryon bags were the next things to appear, tossed through carelessly to thump on the floor with matching dull thuds. And finally, Albigard stalked through—wearing a disgruntled expression that reminded me of a cat who’d been repeatedly rubbed backward. A red mark marred one of his perfect cheekbones, the center darkening to the unmistakable purplish hue of a bruise.
He and Len squared off, glaring metaphorical daggers at each other.
“What the hell just happened?” I asked, before Albigard decided to upgrade the metaphorical daggers to physical ones—something he’d already shown a willingness to do once tonight.
Albigard looked at Len like someone might look at dirt on his designer shoe, a sneer twisting his lips. “This human was distracted and emotional. But when I attempted to calm him, he became violent. His reaction was irrational. I didn’t come here—at great personal inconvenience, I might add—just so I could be assaulted by a random Earther, demonkin.”
I stared at him, trying to untangle his words and rearrange them into something that made sense.
Len made a noise of outrage. “Irrational? Fuck off, asshole! I’ve already been mind-screwed once tonight—but at least that was with my permission... sort of, anyway. And he didn’t try to twist my thoughts into some kind of sick... whatever the hell that was!” He gestured angrily, punctuating the words, and I couldn’t help noticing the scrapes on his knuckles.
“Len—” I began, still not entirely sure what had happened.
Len jerked his attention to me. He was breathing hard, and for a moment he looked like he might take another swing at Albigard just for good measure. I watched, wide-eyed, as he dragged his temper under control. To be fair, I hadn’t been friends with Len for all that long in the grand scheme of things. But we’d been coworkers for a while, and after the disaster at the fetish club, I’d seen him in some pretty rough circumstances.
I’d never seen him like this.
His jaw worked as he reached for civility. “Z, all the shit you asked for is there. The box and the tools are in the bags with your other stuff. I’m leaving now, before I give into the temptation to punch this ballsack in the face again. Wherever you’re going next, be careful, all right?”
The urge to ask if he was okay, what the hell had happened, and if he was safe to drive after snorting coke an hour ago crowded my tongue, but I swallowed all of it back. I’d been right earlier, and I should have listened to my instincts. Len was better off staying far away from me.
“All right,” I said quietly. “Thank you, Len. And... I’m sorry.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line and he waved the words away brusquely. His gaze flickered angrily past Albigard to rest on Rans for a moment, the two of them exchanging an indecipherable look. With a final frustrated shake of his head, Len shoved past Albigard, knocking shoulders as he headed for the front door. It opened and closed behind him sharply.
I turned back to the Fae, still more than a little bewildered. “What the hell did you do?”
Albigard bristled, but Rans snorted in dry amusement.
“He did what Fae always do. Manipulate. Isn’t that right, Tinkerbell? Why communicate with a ‘lesser species’ when you can magic them into adoring you instead?” He raised an eyebrow. “So, how’d that whole thing work out for you, anyway?”
Understanding dawned. I’d seen the results of Caspian’s handiwork after he’d twisted my co-workers at MMHA around his well manicured little finger. My jaw dropped in outrage.
“You tried to control his mind without his permission? To make him ‘adore’ you?” I sketched air quotes, my pitch rising with my temper. “He was just dumped by the man he loves earlier tonight! You asshole—you’re lucky he didn’t do more than punch you in the face!”
Rans stood back and let me lay into Albigard without comment. Guthrie mostly just looked bemused. The Fae glared at me, the effect somewhat ruined by the bruise blooming on his cheekbone.
“His response was... not typical,” he said, as though he still couldn’t credit that a human wouldn’t appreciate having their free will twisted into some weird emotional obsession with a random fairy they’d just met.
Rans crossed his arms, clearly taking pleasure in Albigard’s bewilderment. “That’ll be the result of a strong will combined with a rather impressive dose of recreational stimulants affecting the brain chemistry, I expect. I’m truly
sorry I missed it—the bloke really is growing on me the more I’m around him.”
The Fae’s expression hardened. “Enough. Your belongings are here. Give me what I was promised. I tire of this.”
I grumbled something uncomplimentary and picked up the bags from the floor. One of them was heavier than it should have been. A quick check confirmed that it contained the second salt dagger I’d made, still encased in its mold, along with the tools I’d need to clean it up and hone the edge. Albigard watched impatiently.
“Come to the kitchen,” I told him. “I’ll show you what this is and how I made it.”
I led him to the counter, Rans following us like an irritated shadow. Albigard examined the mold and the vaguely dagger-shaped object I released from it, listening intently as I described its composition of salt crystals and marine-grade epoxy. I ran through the steps and materials needed to produce it as I cleaned it up and sharpened the edges, as well as describing its effects when used on a demon.
“Interesting,” he said when I was finished. “Normally, the fact that the blade broke off during a fight would be cause for concern. But under the circumstances, one wonders if it could be purposely designed to release from the haft.”
I hadn’t honestly thought of that, and to be fair, it was a decent idea.
“Probably,” I told him. “So, are we even when it comes to the first trade?”
He raised an eyebrow. I noticed that the mark on his face was already fading, partly healed. “I suppose we are. Though I’m half-inclined to leave you to your own devices after being forced to endure the company of such an irritating companion.”
Rans grunted. “Why? It turns out, freshly punched is a good look on you, Tinkerbell.”
Albigard straightened, radiating offense.
“Oh, my god. Could we not, you two?” I asked, my patience wearing thin. Directing my attention back to Albigard, I added, “You want the name of that demon? If so, you’ll take us where we need to go, all right? Here, I’ve got some maps.”
Guthrie appeared in the kitchen, a packed duffel bag slung over his shoulder and another printout clutched in his hand. “Oh. Are we haggling, then?” he asked, looking about as pleased by the prospect of an imminent trip to the Caribbean as he had about everything else that had happened to him in the past couple of days.
“Do you wish to add something to the terms, Leonides?” Albigard said. “By all means, I’m open to hearing it.”
“Sure,” Guthrie told him. “You guarantee we get to the ship safely, and I’ll throw in a list of offshore bank accounts associated with the name Zorah’s going to give you.”
Albigard’s eyes lit up. “Indeed. For that, I might be persuaded to overcome my earlier irritation.”
“Peachy,” Guthrie said, his tone flat. “I’ve confirmed the port where the ship should be docked tonight, off the island of Anguilla.”
“I don’t know where that is,” Albigard replied coolly.
“Like Zorah said, we have maps,” Guthrie pointed out.
“That’s not the problem,” Rans put in, still eyeing Albigard with a jaded gaze. “Maps won’t help for this.”
Guthrie frowned. “Didn’t he just go to California based on a map?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. He tricked me into drinking Fae mead a few weeks ago, and now he can track me anywhere. My belongings were in California, and he used that combined with the map to zero in on his target. Which reminds me—word to the wise. Never accept Fae gifts.”
Rans huffed. “Unlike some people I could mention, I’d imagine Guthrie is already familiar with the contents of Grimm’s fairytales.”
“Funny,” I told him, not laughing.
Albigard looked down his nose at me. “You certainly seem eager enough to make use of our connection when it suits you.”
And, all right—he had me there.
“These days, I’m not really in a position to ignore possible advantages just because they piss me off,” I managed, striving for haughtiness.
“Enough banter,” Rans said. “How close can you get us?”
Albigard gestured for the maps, and Guthrie pointed out the island where the cruise ship was docked. There was a whole chain of little islands in the area, many with names I’d never even heard of before. After frowning at them for a few moments, the Fae straightened.
“I can get you to Port-au-Prince. I’ve been there before, and it’s on a ley-line.”
“Haiti?” Guthrie said. “That’s still some distance away.”
Rans sighed. “At least it has an airport. We can charter a plane; something low-end in exchange for cash under the table.” He glanced at me. “Come on, love. Let’s get packed and get this over with. The sooner you’re sipping fruity drinks with little paper umbrellas, the happier I’ll be.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Exotic locales, here we come.”
* * *
Even with the trip to Target, my available clothing options were... not really high-end Caribbean cruise material. But, for better or worse, fifteen minutes later I was standing in the kitchen with Rans and the others, luggage in hand. It was packed with a selection of old and new belongings, everything from my sad little collection of family photos to travel-sized toiletries I’d purchased earlier in the evening.
Albigard portaled us to the nearest place where a ley-line ran through. I was struck by how little the idea of abandoning his home seemed to affect Guthrie. He barely gave the posh surroundings of the penthouse apartment a second look as he passed through the magical gateway. I wondered how many other homes he’d walked away from in the long decades since he’d stopped aging thanks to a demon’s curse.
The three of us were carrying what I considered to be a truly staggering amount of cash, taken from a wall safe in the hall that was hidden behind a tasteful piece of artwork. I now had in my possession a money clip containing more money than I’d ever held in my hand at one time... by about a factor of ten.
In addition to US dollars, I also had a stash of Euros and another of British Pounds. It made me feel like I had a giant target painted on my back, which was fairly ridiculous given the large number of people who already wanted me dead. I also had a concealed dagger in each boot—one made of salt and one made of iron. Between that and my succubus abilities, muggings probably shouldn’t have been my first concern.
Unlike the ley-line I’d visited in Chicago, this one was in a clearing surrounded by trees and undergrowth. I had no idea where we were; there were any number of such places in eastern Missouri and they all pretty much looked the same. I’d have to remember to check myself for ticks later on.
A crescent moon shone down on us, limning everything in silver. The humidity was stifling. I watched as Albigard cleared a space and gestured us into it. And I didn’t complain a bit when Rans wrapped an arm around me from behind for the journey. Travel by portal was pretty disconcerting, but travel by ley-line was on par with stepping off a cliff into pitch darkness.
The Fae crouched and settled his right palm flat against the ground. Light flared, surrounding the four of us, and we were off. It was just as bad as I remembered, but at least this time Rans was with me and I wasn’t purposely jetting off to an appointment with near-certain death, as I had been last time. No—this time I was, by all accounts, jetting off to a tropical vacation, albeit one that might at some point be interrupted by any of our numerous enemies.
Hopefully, Rans’ theory about Myrial and Nigellus was right, and we’d be left alone long enough to regroup, at the very least. The last few days had been... a lot.
We staggered back to reality inside the ruins of something huge. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten with the promise of the dawn to come, but our surroundings were still largely in darkness. Unlike before, however, there was a city around us, visible through gaps in the massive structure.
“The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption,” Albigard said in a dry tone. “Or, rather, what’s left of it after an earthquake sever
al years ago.”
I looked at the arches and ruined towers around us with new eyes, seeing how it might have once been a cathedral. While it looked like some efforts at stabilization and reconstruction were underway, it still seemed a fitting place for vampires and Fae to haunt in the early morning darkness.
“Wow,” I said, taking in my surroundings as best I could. Enchanted, I drew in a deep breath—only to realize that might have been a mistake when my nose was assaulted by the smell of rotting fish, burning trash, and open sewers.
In contrast to my combination of awe and ‘eww,’ Guthrie appeared unaffected by our surroundings. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder and turned to Albigard. “Can you get us to the airport from here, or do we need to find a car?”
“I’ve been there before. No need for a car,” Albigard said, and cast a portal. “Come.”
Guthrie gave the glowing circle a long look, then shook his head and stepped through. Rans and I followed. The disorientation was considerably less than I felt when using ley-lines, but the Fae-ness of the magic involved still prickled at me like tiny needles.
We stepped into... an empty field. Disoriented, I turned on the spot, and was relieved to see a collection of bright lights and buildings nearby—presumably, the airport. That was confirmed a moment later by the roar of a plane overhead, low and getting closer.
“We’ll want the general aviation building,” Rans said. “Too much security at the main terminal.”
I was honestly surprised at how little security was involved as we trekked toward the lights, bags in hand. My experience of airports was admittedly limited, but it had involved quite a bit of waiting around at checkpoints and in security lines. I’d sort of assumed that this whole place would be ringed with chainlink and barbed wire, a fortress against shadowy terrorists.
The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set Page 76
