The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  “One,” Guthrie replied.

  “Drink it. You’ve lost a fair amount of the stuff, and I’d rather you don’t go feral on us unexpectedly before we reach shore.”

  If Guthrie had any opinions on that, he kept them to himself. Rans stroked my cheek... the side of my neck. It felt divine, and I moaned softly.

  “I want you to rest, love. We’ll get you to civilization, and if you’re not feeling better by then, there will be a hospital in the city. If nothing else, I’m pretty sure that bullet’s still inside you.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. You didn’t look strong enough for me to go digging around in your guts to get it out. And... I’m not entirely certain I could have done it, anyway. Not to you.”

  I reached for him, my fingers uncoordinated as they grazed his cheek. “S’all right,” I whispered.

  He captured my hand and kissed it, then laid it gently on my lap. After bringing his carryon bag for me to use as a pillow, he eased me to lie down in the shade thrown by the hull. The change in position didn’t help much with the dizziness, and I swallowed a few times as fresh nausea threatened.

  I was only vaguely aware of Rans and Guthrie throwing the bodies of the dead Fae overboard, and I caught disconnected snippets of the brief conversation that ensued after several unsuccessful attempts to get the powerboat’s engine started. I was jostled into full wakefulness when Rans lifted me into his arms and moved me into one of the Fae boats before laying me down again.

  This boat’s engine started on the second try, thankfully. Guthrie cast off the ropes tethering us to the powerboat, and the deck surged beneath me as we got underway for Antigua. I retched weakly at the unexpected movement, but there was nothing left to bring up.

  “Guess it’s a good thing we paid that guy for his boat,” Guthrie observed. He sat down on the deck across from me, leaning against the hull as he watched me closely. No one replied.

  The afternoon sun beat down unmercifully. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the burning in my body started growing exponentially worse, but it didn’t seem like very much.

  “Rans,” I whispered in a tremulous voice, feeling suddenly terrified of what was happening to me. I tried to roll over... to get onto my hands and knees so I could crawl to him. My panic increased when my muscles wouldn’t obey my command. I flailed, trying to get control of my arms and legs, but it was like everything inside me was short-circuiting at once.

  Guthrie scrambled toward me. “Hey—easy there. What is it, what’s wrong?” His hand closed over my shoulder.

  “Ra—” I choked on the name, my lungs seizing as my body convulsed into helpless spasms.

  NINETEEN

  WHEN I CAME BACK to myself, it felt a though every nerve and muscle fiber in my body had been individually shredded. We were drifting again, or at least I thought we were. Possibly, it was just me. I was lying on my side in the fetal position, my head still supported on Rans’ bag.

  Everything that had been bad before was even worse now. I was too weak to lift so much as a finger. My eyes were open, but everything swam in double vision. The hazy objects around me were surrounded by haloed auras that hurt to look at. Ringing in my ears nearly blocked out the tinny sounds of voices nearby. I struggled to focus past the racket and make sense of the words.

  “... can’t do that, Rans!” Tentatively, my scrambled brain identified the speaker as Guthrie. He sounded upset. “I’ve been a vampire for, what? Three days? Maybe four? What the hell do I know about turning a human into one! Look, we’re probably only ten minutes away from shore. There must be something else—”

  “She’s dying.” Rans, that time. Desperation now joined the fear I’d heard in his voice earlier. I wondered distantly what they were fighting about. It felt like I should be more worried about whatever it was, but I was so tired...

  “You can’t know that for sure! We need to get her to a doctor—”

  “Damn it, man, stop talking and listen! Listen to her heart!”

  There was a long beat of silence, broken only by the ringing noise still echoing through my skull like an alarm. When Guthrie spoke again, he sounded less certain.

  “But... I’m not...” Another pause. “You should be the one to do it. I told you, I wouldn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I could make a mistake and kill her.”

  “I can’t do it.” All the emotion drained out of Rans’ voice, leaving it flat and dead in a way that was even scarier than his earlier desperation had been. “I trapped her in a life-bond when she was held captive in Dhuinne. I did it to save her, but... our lives are forever intertwined now. The moment I drain her to the point of death in preparation for turning her, I’ll drop dead as well. And that will be the end of both of us.”

  This time, Guthrie’s answering silence felt heavy with accusation.

  “You... bastard. And you’re only telling me this now? God damn you. You selfish... thoughtless... secretive son of a bitch—”

  “Guthrie. Stop. I’m begging you. She’s your granddaughter, and I love her. Please.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I could hear tears choking Rans’ voice. I ached for him, but I was too weak to move, to go to him. I couldn’t understand why they both sounded so upset. The words registered, on some level, but untangling them into a coherent narrative was too difficult.

  “Damn it. Damn it, Rans.” Guthrie swallowed harshly, and one of the blurry figures in front of me swiped an arm across its face roughly. “... all right. Tell me what to do.”

  “Thank you,” Rans rasped. The blurry figure that was probably him tipped toward the blurry figure that was probably Guthrie, resting his forehead against Guthrie’s shoulder for a brief moment. I only realized that Rans was also gripping my hand in one of his when the movement tugged on it.

  He straightened, clearing his throat before he could continue speaking. “You’ll have to drain her completely dry. The neck is easiest. Listen to her heartbeat... or, I suppose in this case, you can just wait until I fall over dead. Then you’ll know she’s gone.”

  “This is insane. Rans, seriously, this is just—”

  Rans ignored the interruption. “She’s brimming with Fae magic. It makes blood unpleasant to vampires, but it won’t poison you like it’s poisoning her—that’s down to her demon heritage combined with human vulnerability, at a guess. Anyway, when you’re certain she’s dead, slit a vein for her and get as much of your blood in her mouth as you can. That should trigger the blood hunger within a few moments.”

  “The blood hunger,” Guthrie echoed flatly.

  “She’ll rise from death to drink more of your blood, and—this is important—you must let her slake her appetite. If this is going to work at all, I should rise at the same time she does.”

  “I have real issues with your use of the word ‘should’ in this situation.”

  “Life-bond, Guthrie. We’re a package deal at this point—it’s both of us, or neither. And... if it ends up being neither, you have my deepest apologies. For all of it. There’s a phone in Zorah’s bag. It has contact numbers for both Albigard and Nigellus.”

  “What the hell, Rans?” Guthrie sounded angry now.

  Rans didn’t acknowledge him, though—he just kept talking. “Nigellus will do his utmost to keep you alive, but only because he needs your blood. You’d still be entangled in the politics of Hell. More deeply than ever, in fact. Albigard, by contrast, would possibly consent to advocate for you solely in exchange for whatever information and help you can provide to the Fae. But I’m still not certain he’s trustworthy, and he can’t prevent Myrial from harming you. Also, a good chunk of the Fae are unmitigated bastards. Including him, I should probably add.”

  Guthrie gave a low growl of disgust. “Here’s a third option. I can tell all of you to go fuck yourselves, and head back to St. Louis while I wait for someone to decide how to kill me. Now shut up, and let’s do this. Her pulse is getting weaker.”

  “You’re a truer friend than any o
ther I can currently lay claim to, Guthrie.”

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  The words slid over me like raindrops, beading against the surface of my mind without sinking in. When the blur-that-was-probably-Rans leaned over and kissed me, though, I strained to return the press of lips on lips. It was hopeless—my body was a heavy and useless thing, severed from my control like a marionette with cut strings.

  “I’m so sorry, Zorah,” he whispered against my lips. “Please, love... please be strong for just a little longer. Fight to come back to me, this one, final time.”

  I love you, I wanted to say—but there was no way to transport the words from my hazy thoughts into the world beyond. Hands repositioned me to lie on my back. I could only tell because my blurry view of the two figures was replaced by a blurry view of the sky. That lasted only a moment before one of the figures loomed into my field of vision.

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell am I even doing,” Guthrie muttered, as callused hands tipped my chin up and to the side.

  Fingers gripped mine so tightly that I was able to feel the pressure despite my growing sense of disconnection from my body, and I knew that grip belonged to Rans. Fangs slid into my throat, and somehow it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as the last several times it had happened. A faint noise of discontent—barely more than a breath—feathered past my lips.

  Still, the fangs pulled at my tender flesh, rough and unpracticed, an unfamiliar mouth capturing the blood that pulsed hot from the wounds. It went on much longer than it ever had before... on and on until blackness circled in from the edges of my unfocused vision, my heart fluttering and skipping against my ribs. In the instant before the darkness swallowed me completely, I was distantly aware of Rans’ crushing grip on my hand sliding away, followed by a heavy thud at my side, like something large hitting the ground.

  Nothingness flooded across the flickering lights of my disjointed thoughts in a brackish tide, snuffing them... and me... out like tiny candle flames.

  TWENTY

  RAGE. RAGE. RAGE. Somehow, I’d gained a body again. A body that I could control. Nails to claw with. Teeth to rip with. Jaws to clamp with. And a bottomless pit of rage rage rage that would never, ever be filled—not even if I could pour the entire world into it.

  There was blood, and it wasn’t inside me yet. I could smell it. How dare there be blood that wasn’t in my mouth, my throat, my stomach... dripping down my chin, painting me red as I bathed in it? I couldn’t rest until all the blood was mine. I couldn’t rest, not ever ever again, because there was blood and I needed it and if I didn’t get it right the fuck now I’d go mad.

  I was already mad. Blood flowed down my esophagus in red red waves, and it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough! The shape pinned beneath me had clearly been put in my path for the sole purpose of tormenting me, with its skin and its muscle and sinew and tendon getting in the way of what I needed... what I had to have inside me right this instant.

  So I ripped and I tore and I suckled at the hot flow of red until it slowed to a bare trickle. Shrieks of fury tore at my lungs as I tried to get more more more—why wasn’t there more?

  Unfamiliar hands that had been clenching my upper arms trembled and went limp, falling to the ground. Foolish creature, hoarding blood that I needed, and trying to use those hands to push me away. I would have it all... every last drop, and no one would stand in my path—

  Arms closed around me from behind, and I screamed again, frenzied. Who dared—?

  An aura of crackling energy surrounded me, demanding my compliance in a way that the arms alone never could have. Desperation flooded me, swirling together with the rage in a heady mix. This new presence couldn’t possibly mean to keep me away from the blood... didn’t it know that the universe would end if there was blood left anywhere in the world that didn’t belong to me?

  My scream rose to a wail of utter desolation. I was on fire, I was burning alive—how could the restraining presence do this to me? How could anyone, anything be so cruel? There was blood and I needed it and I couldn’t get to it oh god oh god oh god.

  I thrashed and flailed, but the aura of power only settled more heavily across me, smothering, suffocating, inescapable—

  “Oh, Zorah. Thank god... shh, I’ve got you, love, thank god, thank god,” said a low voice, the words pressed into the nape of my neck, repeated over and over.

  The arms rocked me like a parent comforting an anguished child, and my wails descended into sobs. Wetness trickled down my cheeks in rivulets, and I knew with complete certainty that they were tears of blood—more of the precious red escaping my grasp even as the idea of losing it made me cry harder.

  “Easy... easy, I’m so sorry, love,” the voice murmured. The inescapable grip turned me around, leaving my face pressed against more of that infuriating skin—a flimsy barrier hiding the blood beneath. “All right. Here’s more. It should pack a stronger punch than Guthrie’s, too. Go ahead, Zorah...”

  My mouth flooded with saliva at the impossibly tempting feast laid out millimeters from my fangs, and I struck without hesitation... without thought. Fresh blood poured past my lips. So good, it was so good—how could anything be this good?

  I groaned, wanton and needy, swallowing frantic gulps until the seductive heat of it spread throughout my body. My limbs grew heavy with sudden exhaustion, the need for sleep supplanting the rage and the hunger and the desolation. Just one more sip... just a little bit more...

  “Still got you, love,” said the voice, hoarse with emotion or possibly pain. “Not letting go. Sleep now, Zorah. I won’t leave you—my word on it.”

  The heaviness settled over me like a blanket, smothering the cravings and dragging me down into dreams of hot scarlet lust.

  * * *

  Reality became a series of snapshots, each more surreal than the last. I was in the boat, struggling against a grip that I was almost strong enough to break.

  “Zorah. Zorah! Try to stay calm!” Vaguely, my mind identified Guthrie’s voice, though I couldn’t put the knowledge together with the detestable creature restraining me from getting free and finding more blood. “We’re moored in a cove near some kind of tourist spot in Antigua—Rans went to find us some humans to drink from so he can feed you again! But you have to stay here, and try to keep quiet—”

  I shrieked, mindless with hunger, and attempted to bite the hand that covered my mouth as Guthrie cursed sharply under his breath. When four creatures with beating hearts and hot, pulsing blood arrived in the company of another one with no heartbeat, I managed to wrest free of my captor’s grip and stumble toward them through the shallow water.

  Strength I couldn’t fight caught me before I could reach the warm blood I wanted, and more enraged screams ripped free of my chest.

  “No, love—not them. Here. Come here. I’ve got what you need.” My fangs were pressed against a pale throat. I latched on with mindless hunger, rubbing my body shamelessly against my victim’s as I ripped and tore and sucked and swallowed.

  * * *

  New snapshot. It was dark, but somehow I could still see my surroundings with startling clarity. I was in a building, sort of. There was a roof, and furniture, but what should have been a wall was open to the outside. Waves lapped against sand. Palm trees rustled in a balmy breeze. Scents tickled my nose with an intensity I’d never experienced before.

  Blood. There was blood nearby. I lurched forward, trying to sit up, only to be brought up short by the unforgiving bite of metal around my wrists. Frustration drew shrill cries from my throat, mindless and angry.

  “I’m here. I’m here, love. Shh... easy, there...”

  I didn’t care about the voice, or the gentle hand easing me down to lie flat on the soft surface of whatever I was chained to. I did care about the cool weight pressing down on me, tucking my head against the crook of a neck that was already growing as familiar as a mother’s breast.

  With a groan of relief, I sank fangs into tender skin and drank in greedy gulps. Heat
surged in my belly. My legs were free, so I wrapped them around slim hips and ground myself against the hardness I found there, reveling in the low rumble of sound it drew from my meal.

  This was good. This was what I wanted. At first, I was so enraptured that I barely noticed the voice approaching from elsewhere inside the structure.

  “Rans? I’ve got three more people outside. They’re hypnotized to think they came here for a drink and some weed.” The voice grew closer, rounding a corner and appearing in the interior doorway. “Do you want me to—whoa! What the hell, Rans?”

  I pulled my fangs free to hiss in warning at the intruder, my legs still wrapped tightly around my prize. A hand on the back of my head guided me back to the smear of blood covering rapidly fading wounds, and suddenly the intruder seemed unimportant. I clamped my jaws over that tempting column of flesh and put the interruption out of my mind, writhing in pleasure.

  “Sorry, mate...” The words vibrated through the skin beneath my lips, and I hummed happily. “I, uh, think this may end up requiring more than just blood. I’m afraid I didn’t really take the succubus aspect of things fully into account.”

  Silence. Then, “O-kay. That’s considerably more information than I needed or wanted. I’ll... just be outside, then. Like, way, way outside. As in... somewhere that’s not here.”

  “Probably a good call.” For some reason, my meal’s response sounded more than a little strained.

  * * *

  The next few snapshots were in roughly the same vein, only without the interruptions from uncomfortable-sounding voices, which was nice. The only real downside was that I kept blacking out again whenever things seemed poised to progress from ‘nice’ to ‘earth-shatteringly awesome.’

  I got really close once, but then the stupid sun crept over the stupid horizon with its stupid light and its stupid heat, and suddenly I couldn’t keep my eyes open or move my arms and legs any more.