The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  With a sense of vengeful justice warming the cold place in my chest that had once held a beating heart, I appeared at the douche’s side with inhuman speed, just as he was reaching out to hand the drink to the too-young girl.

  “Nope,” I said simply, feeling the burning sensation behind my eyes that meant they were glowing with an unearthly copper light.

  The guy went pale as chalk behind his carefully cultivated tan, the drink slipping from his fingers to land on the sand at our feet. And god, I could seriously get used to the rush that came with moments like this. I let my gaze fall on the girl, who was watching the interplay with her mouth falling open.

  “Go find some people who aren’t predators to hang out with,” I told her. “And don’t ever accept a drink from someone you don’t know well, without watching it being made and handed to you.”

  She nodded vacantly, her lips still parted in a soundless oh shape. Once she’d wandered away toward a group of people who looked closer to her age, I turned my full attention back to Douche-of-the-Day. The smile I gave him was probably terrifying. I’d learned it from Rans, after all.

  “So... got any friends at this party, Studmuffin?” I asked pleasantly. “Because if so, I’d just love to meet them.”

  * * *

  Studmuffin’s friends were hanging out a bit farther down the beach. There were three of them, college-aged or maybe a year or two older. They were currently arrayed in a half-circle around an attractive girl in a bikini, penning her against the side of a drinks hut and ignoring the fixed and slightly panicked-looking oh-god-someone-please-get-me-out-of-here fake smile on her face.

  Because of course they were.

  One of them looked up at our approach—a blond guy who could have made a casting call for Baywatch, in a pinch. “Chet? Where you been, dude?” His gaze fell on me, falling predictably to nipple level after sliding over my face. “Whoa! Score, man.”

  Jesus H. Christ.

  Studmuffin’s name was Chet? Seriously?

  Unfortunately, Chet wasn’t in a position to do much more than drool vacantly in his friend’s direction at the moment. Surfer Dude’s forehead furrowed, and the others also looked up from their target.

  I smiled my shark’s smile again. “Hello, boys. See anything you want?” Behind me, I was aware of a very familiar brush of supernatural energy, and my smile widened even further.

  Three sets of eyes fell on me, desire twisting through the air between us like smoke. Bikini girl squeezed through the gap left open when the guys turned toward me. She paused, shooting me a concerned glance, which was nice of her.

  “Go on, hon,” I told her, as a cool arm settled over my shoulder. I settled against Rans’ side and threw her a wink. “We’ve got this.”

  Rans’ frosty blue gaze ran over the little group. “Four of them, love? Goodness. Someone’s hungry tonight.”

  His tone was the overly cheerful one that should have made anyone with a couple of brain cells to knock together feel distinctly nervous. Surfer Dude exchanged a look with his two buddies, while Studmuffin stood off to the side and continued to stare glassily into the middle distance.

  “Right then, lads,” Rans said, his eyes going sharp and bright. “Party’s over for you tonight. Come with us. We’ve got a nice little cove nearby that’s ever so private.”

  I watched with a pleased half-smile as Surfer Dude and his friends’ expressions glazed over, growing calm and compliant under the force of my vampire lover’s gaze.

  * * *

  Blood from assholes probably didn’t taste any different than blood from nice people, but somehow it was infinitely more satisfying to drink. I was busy enjoying the dicks-du-jour when I sensed someone approaching the villa.

  “If I’d known we were having a party, I would have dressed for the occasion,” said a familiar voice.

  I looked up from the neck I was draining, to find Guthrie walking up the steps leading to the villa’s front porch. He looked... a bit less grim than he had the last time I’d seen him, perhaps. Meanwhile, Rans lounged hipshot against the table set across from the large sofa, where our four victims were silently waiting their turn for bloodletting.

  “That’s what you get for not RSVP-ing,” Rans said carelessly. “You’re in luck, though—the bar’s still open. Care for a vein, mate?”

  “I already ate, thanks,” Guthrie replied in a tone as dry as the desert.

  A bit sheepishly, I climbed off Surfer Dude’s lap and closed his wounds with a couple of drops of my blood. “Hi, Guthrie.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Hello, Zorah. Don’t let me interrupt.” Then he paused. “Unless there’s going to be sex involved, that is. In which case, do let me interrupt long enough to turn around and leave again.”

  Rans waved him off. “Not to worry. We got that part of things out of the way earlier.”

  I picked a small seashell off a nearby end table and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest. “‘Out of the way’? Really? Wow, and here I thought romance was dead.”

  “Yup. Real smooth one, Casanova,” Guthrie told him. “I’ll be out on the back porch when you two are finished with the Beach Boys here.” He gestured at our little collection of assholes.

  Rans snorted in amusement. Once Guthrie had disappeared inside the villa, I turned my attention to the last Beach Boy on the couch, smiling sweetly at him as I slid into his lap and tilted his head to one side.

  Afterward, I stood in front of the four hypnotized guys, regarding them with a frown.

  “So it really wouldn’t do any good to try to mesmerize them into not being assholes to women?” I asked, disappointed.

  My companion gave an elegant shrug of one shoulder. “You can certainly make the attempt. My experience is that it’s more of an ‘in the moment’ thing, rather than a tool for personality modification. You can convince someone to relax, or to forget what’s just happened to them. But you couldn’t convince, say, an alcoholic to stop drinking, or an adrenaline junkie to stay home and take up knitting.”

  “Hmm.” I pondered the issue for a few moments before turning my attention back to our victims. “Okay, boys. Here’s the deal. You went to a party at a private cove, but you can’t remember exactly where it was located. While you were there, a gang of really big, strong gay men started hitting on you and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It freaked you out. Then, you realized that you’ve all done the same thing to women in the past, and that you should stop acting like that.”

  Four sets of glazed eyes stared at me witlessly, making it impossible to tell if my words had penetrated in any meaningful way.

  Rans came to stand next to my side, taking over. “All right. Look sharp, lads. Up with you, now, and go back to the beach where you were earlier tonight. You don’t remember seeing us, or the man who was here a few minutes ago. Chop, chop!”

  He clapped his hands, and the Beach Boys scrambled up from the couch, stumbling down the stairs and heading down the winding driveway toward the main road like a bunch of drunkards. I sighed as I watched them go.

  “It’s not going to stick, is it?” I asked.

  “Hard to say,” Rans replied. “It might make an impression, I suppose... or it might just make them all rabidly homophobic in the future. Human brains are tricky that way.”

  “Damn.” It irked me that I couldn’t indiscriminately use my new powers to fix things. Or, rather, to fix people. It irked me even more that even trying to do so ran the risk of making things worse, rather than better.

  “Shall we go and see how Guthrie’s getting along?” Rans asked.

  “Sure. Why not?” I said, even as an unpleasant sinking feeling took up residence in my chest. Guthrie had come back in preparation for setting us up with access to an offshore bank account he had stashed here on the island. After the formalities were taken care of tomorrow, he would go back to St. Louis without us. And there, he would face the very same kind of danger Rans and I were currently trying to escape... unless we could somehow talk him ou
t of it.

  THREE

  “YOU’RE SURE YOU won’t reconsider?” I asked later, already knowing what Guthrie’s answer was likely to be. “I mean... spending a couple more weeks at a beachfront villa wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

  Guthrie sat on the edge of the villa’s sprawling back porch, one leg hanging off the side. His elbow rested on his raised knee. Beyond, the surf played tag with the beach as the moon prepared to set over the ocean, creeping downward toward its own distorted reflection.

  “Not the end of the world, no,” Guthrie agreed. “Just sort of pointless.”

  I swallowed the little dart of hurt that jabbed me in the heart, only to decide an instant later that I was basically done with swallowing disappointment related to my jacked-up family.

  “It wouldn’t be pointless to me,” I told him quietly, helping myself to a seat next to him. Rans stayed back, keeping his thoughts to himself and giving us space for a personal conversation.

  Guthrie’s eyes flew to mine, and regret flashed behind them as he took in my expression. “That wasn’t what I meant, Zorah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, I’m bad at this.”

  I forged ahead. “I only just found out you’re my grandfather, Guthrie. I want a chance to get to know you better, and I’m terrified that if you go back, you’ll be killed or... taken away,” I finished lamely.

  Guthrie swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes darted down and to the side for a moment, before he steeled himself to meet mine again. Awkwardly, he reached across the space separating us and gathered my hand in one of his.

  “See, that’s the thing, though.” His brow furrowed—a pained expression that silently urged me to understand what he was trying to say. “You two have some measure of protection out here. I don’t. And if Myrial wakes up one morning and decides to reach out and magically twist my head off, or implement some equally gruesome method of reaping my soul, I... really don’t want you around to see it.”

  A dull ache tightened my throat, threatening to cut off the power of speech.

  Rans rescued me from having to respond immediately. “To be honest, I think that’s rather unlikely at this point. As a vampire, you’re far too valuable to her.”

  Guthrie tore his eyes away from mine to look at him. “That’s complete guesswork and you know it, Rans.” He turned back to the view of the cove. “Look, both of you. I get that you’re worried about me. Hell, I’m just as worried about you, as much as it pains me to admit it. But here’s the thing. This isn’t something I can run away from. It’s a direct result of choices I made sixty-odd years ago. And, well... eventually you have to stop hiding, and face up to the consequences of your actions.”

  Tears burned at the backs of my eyes. If they fell, I wondered if they would be rusty with old blood.

  Probably so.

  “You were trying to save the woman you loved,” I protested, and—yup. My voice came out sounding all weird and choked.

  Guthrie’s fingers squeezed mine, his thumb worrying the backs of my knuckles. “Zorah, I made an actual deal with the devil. There are only so many ways you can spin that.”

  I shook my head vehemently, not entirely sure what part of his statement I was objecting to.

  Rans sighed. “Like I told you before, mate, it’s ultimately your life to live. I don’t have to like it, and neither does Zorah. Just... tell me you’ve still got those phone numbers I gave you, and that you’ll consider using them if it becomes necessary.”

  “I’ve got them,” Guthrie said. It was only half an answer, at best.

  The numbers in question—for Nigellus and Albigard, respectively—might or might not be useful to him. Hell, they might end up making his situation even worse than it was now... or at least more complicated.

  Silence settled over the porch, stifling in its weight. I floundered for some way to break it. Before I could come up with anything, Rans tensed. His eyes flared as his attention focused on the northern end of the beach, where the sand merged into a thick stand of tropical vegetation. I straightened in place and followed his gaze, aware a moment later of the brush of something unearthly against my consciousness.

  A slender figure appeared, pale skin and hair seeming almost luminous in the light of the setting moon. The stranger waved cheerily at us, altering course toward the villa with the ungainly gait of someone not used to walking in deep sand. Before she got close enough to speak to us, a dark shape darted across the intervening distance and leapt nimbly onto the porch.

  The huge black cat padded up to me and plopped down on its haunches, tail curling primly around its paws. A diamond-shaped patch of white fur on its chest shone in the moonlight, and slanted green eyes pinned me in its gaze as the creature gave a slow blink.

  I gaped at it. Meanwhile, the woman closed the final distance to the villa and stopped at the steps to the porch, panting with exertion.

  “Goodness me,” she exclaimed. “That was quite a trek!” Her pale eyes regarded us with interest, moving from Rans, to Guthrie, to me. “Oh, I say—three of you? How extraordinary! I have to admit, my dears, I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Erm...” I said, recognizing her as the crazy journalist lady who’d showed up at Nigellus’ house in California while we were staying there.

  She rolled right over me, though. “Now, my pretties—I don’t suppose any of you have seen Mr. Benecea recently? He’s still not returning my calls, the silly man.”

  Rans was still standing near the door leading inside the villa, tense and watchful. Guthrie shot both of us the universal look for ‘who is this person and what the hell is going on?’

  I looked at the cat again.

  “Hang on. It is you, isn’t it?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Light flared, and when I blinked my vision clear, an attractive, androgynous humanoid figure crouched where the cat had been. The cat-sidhe’s head tilted curiously, green eyes still fixed on me.

  “I bring news of your sire, demonkin.”

  Rans stepped forward. “How can you have news of someone residing in Hell, Fae?”

  The shape-shifter threw him an irritated look. “Because he is no longer residing in Hell, obviously. That is the news I bring—do try to keep up, vampire.”

  The bottom fell out of my stomach. “He’s... not...?”

  “Okay,” Guthrie said. “Can we just back up for a minute here?” He pointed at the cat-sidhe. “You’re Fae?” His finger moved to the woman—Neveah, if I was remembering right. “And you’re... what?”

  “A journalist,” the woman said helpfully. “Now, about Mr. Benecea—”

  Journalist? More like a stalker, I couldn’t help thinking.

  “Nigellus isn’t reachable at the moment,” Rans said in a hard tone. “He didn’t accompany us here.”

  Neveah’s entire demeanor drooped. “Oh. That’s quite a disappointment.” She turned a gimlet eye on the cat-sidhe. “I thought you said he’d be here.”

  The Fae stared right back. “I said he might be here. There’s a difference.”

  “Hmph. Well, if you’ve no more need of me, I’ll be off, in that case,” Neveah said. “If you see him, do let the infuriating man know that I was asking after him, won’t you?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned and huffed her way back down the beach, disappearing in the direction she’d come from. On the positive side, the bizarre exchange had given me enough time to drag my wits back into some kind of order.

  “My father,” I told the cat-sidhe. “Tell me everything you know.”

  The Fae eyed me as though I were dim. “I just told you. Your sire is no longer in Hell. That is the news, demonkin. It seemed important, so I thought you should be informed.”

  “But... that doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Humans can’t leave Hell without a demon-bond.”

  The shape-shifter shrugged. “Quite so.”

  No, I thought, as the realization sank into me. Oh... no, no, no.

 
; “He wouldn’t do that, though,” I replied, a bit desperately. “He promised.”

  “Where is he now?” Rans asked, more practically. “Do you know?”

  “He is at home,” said the Fae.

  “You mean Chicago?” I hazarded.

  “No,” said the creature. “Your home.”

  Silence fell for a long beat before Guthrie broke it.

  “Right, then.” His tone was resigned. “Are you sure you won’t be coming back to St. Louis with me, you two?”

  FOUR

  “IF I GO BACK, will I just be putting Dad in more danger, though?” I wondered. “I mean... no matter how big the target on my father’s back might be, the one on mine is probably bigger.” My hands tangled in my hair in frustration. “Argh. I warned him not to accept any demon bonds! Why would he do something like this?”

  Guthrie’s expression, which had wavered between wary and bewildered, closed off like a blast door coming down—reminding me that sometimes people had very good reasons for doing foolish things.

  The cat-sidhe shrugged. “Why do humans do anything?”

  Rans sighed. “Right. Well, it’s your call, love. Though you should probably make it soon, since the furball here would be our quickest method of moderately secure transportation.”

  I turned to the pixie-like Fae. “You’d take us to him?”

  “Not directly. I’ve never been there before.”

  “So, you can’t travel to St. Louis by portal?” I asked.

  “No,” said the Fae. “I suppose I could take you to wherever the ley lines run closest, though.”

  “We could fly the rest of the way,” Rans offered. “It wouldn’t be terribly far.”

  It took me a moment to realize that he meant fly as mist, because that was a thing I could do now. My eyes fell on Guthrie, and I frowned. “Have... um... have you done the whole ‘incorporeal’ thing yet?”