The blade arced back toward its owner but she caught his fist and for a moment, the two of them stood locked against each other. She squeezed but the bastard had strong hands…the knuckle-cracking, she remembered. He must have been among those vampires who gained especially powerful claw-like nails upon undeath. When he grinned, his fangs seemed almost impossibly long.
Sooner than she would have liked, Gabriel’s injured right arm lashed out toward her. Five knife-like talons raked through her abdomen and his left hand overcame her strength to hurl both her and the sword across the room.
“Ha,” he jeered. “You’re strong but at the end of the day, I’m still bigger than you. That always counts for something.” He lunged.
She rolled aside and her enemy’s claws raked through the air over her head. Seizing her fallen sword, she threw it up into the ceiling, where it stuck.
Her opponent pounced in another vicious attack. She avoided the bulk of his assault and kneed him in the gut, but one of his huge hands grasped her right thigh, ripped through the flesh, and cracked her femur.
Taylor gritted her teeth against the pain, shoved him back, and launched herself up with only her left leg. She used her preternatural power of flight to remain airborne long enough to seize hold of the sword and kick him in the face.
As he spun from the blow, she yanked the blade free and lashed it down as she fell. It split the other vampire’s back from the base of his neck to his waist and severed the spine in the process.
“Gah!” he cried, the sound strangled and undignified as he flopped forward into the corner.
She moved in for the kill.
“Wait!” Gabriel gasped and looked at her with crazed reddish eyes while he held one of his impressive claws out. “Haven’t you considered that—”
She swung the sword with every ounce of strength she had. It sheared through the four fingers of the outstretched hand seconds before it passed through the flesh and bone of his neck. His final comment was left unsaid and his head toppled from his body and rolled to the center of the floor.
“No.” She gulped a breath. “You stole my coffin and tried to murder me while I slept. That act said it all. Anything else you might want to monologue about is a waste of both our time.”
The decapitated corpse had nothing further to say.
The vampire sheathed her weapon and limped to the middle of the chamber, where she picked up the severed head by its short brown hair. She rested a moment while her body healed itself.
“What a night.” She sighed.
Once her legs were back to full capability, she climbed to the first floor and tossed the unconscious human guards out onto the lawn. When she was satisfied no one remained alive inside, she returned to the dead dwarf and borrowed his flamethrower. With it, she set fires in a few key locations that would allow for maximum conflagration.
The entire mansion—or what was left of it after the blast on the third floor—grew brighter as the blaze spread to engulf its foundation, the roaring flames drawing sparkles off the lapping waters of the nearby small lake.
Taylor was already back at her car before police cruisers and fire trucks began to converge on the burning estate. She waited in the shadows as they passed. Gabriel’s head rested within a black bag at the foot of the passenger’s seat. She always carried an extra bag or two, just in case.
In peace and quiet, she drove the short distance to Harrison and her home. Gabriel might have had a few other lackeys around, but she highly doubted that any of them had the capability or the will to cause her further trouble. She—and Remington—had destroyed all three of the conspiracy’s leaders.
When she arrived at her house, she left the muscle-car parked in the driveway and took the black bag with her out to the backyard. The night’s blackness was turning, by now, to the dim ash-lavender of pre-dawn. She’d finished her work barely in time.
“Now,” she said, “so no one tries to get this little trophy….”
She and Presley had dug a fire pit in the rear of the property on one of the slopes of the rocky hill that rose above the trees with clear exposure to the sun. She pulled Gabriel’s head from its bag and set it in the middle of the pit, facing east.
“Goodnight, sweet prince.” She turned and walked to the mansion, looking forward to her rest.
The vampire’s head did nothing. Its face remained frozen in a bestial expression of cornered-animal fear and anger. It did not react until the amber blaze of the sun crept over the horizon and its deadly rays first scalded and blistered the white skin before the entire skull was engulfed in a wreath of flames.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harrison, Westchester County, New York
“No,” Remington insisted, “three of a kind beats two pair.” He planted a finger firmly on the central card of the trio.
Riley made a high-pitched scoffing sound. “That’s nonsensical. Two pairs consist of four cards, and you only have three.”
He put a hand over his eyes. “It’s not the number of cards”—he sighed—“since we both start out with five, anyway. It has to do with the mathematical probability of how they match. Three of a kind is statistically less likely than two pairs, hence it’s more valuable. Don’t you know anything about market forces?”
Behind him somewhere, he thought he heard gentle steps coming up from the cellar.
The fairy made a little “uh” sound in her throat. “I know, for one thing, that beautiful young women are always highly valued. Why aren’t you interested in me? I even wore this dress for you after you suggested it.”
Recalling that he still hadn’t picked up the next batch of honey, Remy said quickly, “Oh, you look lovely in the dress, and I mean that. But poker is serious business. Now, please acknowledge defeat.”
She protested again that the game’s rules were absurd, and he again tried to explain the basics of mathematics to her until a woman’s voice, gentle but firm, interjected.
“Enough,” Taylor proclaimed. “Listening to you two bicker is giving me a headache. Remy, I can’t believe you, of all people, are trying to explain maths. Also”—she gestured to the fairy—“I appreciate you bringing her here, but I really don’t need a snack right now, thank you.”
Riley gasped. “What?”
Remy flapped a hand toward the fairy. “Ignore her, she’s fucking with you.”
The vampire floated through the foyer and over their game but left the cards totally undisturbed. The two watched her pass and shrugged at each other.
“Oh,” she said, paused at the kitchen doorway, and turned, “there is one other thing, though. Riley, could you please give us a demonstration of your magic powers?”
He thought that odd since he already knew that the fairy could do a wide variety of helpful things. Hastily, he glanced at Riley. She still looked nervous at the prospect of Taylor taking a bite out of her, so she floated up and spread her arms.
“What would you like me to do, madame?” she asked.
Taylor tapped a finger to her lips, extended her hand, and spread it wide in the air. “Show Remington your ability to grow…say, to my size, and to hide your wings. He might find that…useful, at some point.”
She turned away from the two of them and walked into the kitchen, where Presley was waiting for her having finished the preparation of her cup of red salt tea.
“Madame.” He handed her the hot beverage upon its saucer.
“Thank you, Presley.” She accepted it and after a few sips, she said, “I’d best check on the excitement in the foyer. When is the tow truck coming to deal with the Tesla that Remington borrowed?”
The butler folded his hands behind his back. “Tomorrow. Shall I make funds available or will you simply mind-wipe them?”
“The latter,” she replied. “I can’t have the poor fellows blabbing about my modifications.”
She turned and walked over the threshold.
David Remington stood there, his mouth agape, and practically drooled on the floor. A
cross from him stood a beautiful young woman, totally naked and wingless, about five-foot, only a few inches shorter than Taylor herself.
“See?” the fairy said and twirled to show off. He shuddered as her buttocks came into view and when, as she stopped herself while facing him, her breasts gradually ceased jiggling.
She looked at the man across from her and frowned with concern. “What’s wrong with him, though? He stopped talking when I changed.”
“Oh.” The vampire sipped her tea. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll snap him out of it momentarily and he can drive you home. First, return to your usual form.”
“Okay.” A few silver sparkles flashed where the woman had stood and a tiny fairy fluttered in her place. She was still naked, the miniature dress she’d worn having fallen to the floor when she transformed. Her laugh tinkled as she fluttered down to retrieve it.
Taylor walked closer to Remy, who still resembled an abnormally fresh zombie, and slapped him. “Wake up, Remington!” she ordered in her command voice.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, stumbled back a couple of steps, and raised a hand to his reddening cheek. “Yes, I’m awake. What the hell? Why did you do that?” He glanced frantically across the carpet and saw, with obvious disappointment, that Riley had returned to her natural form.
He cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious, and sidestepped toward one of the big easy chairs. He grabbed a pillow and placed it on his lap as he sat and pretended to rest his elbows on it. “I’ll…uh, sit here and rest for a moment,” he mumbled.
Riley floated toward him. “Are you okay, Remy?”
“He’s fine,” said Taylor. “Remington, you’ll be pleased to know that I have no intention of actually paying for the repairs to my car, which means I won’t have to garnish your wages.”
“Oh! Well, thank you.”
“However,” she continued, her tone more strident, “please do not do that again. Even if you think I’m in danger. You could have easily used your own car for the job. And, of course, you wouldn’t be down to your second car if you hadn’t totaled the first one by your own actions. Still, I appreciate your concern for myself and my coffin. At least you thought you were helping me.”
The bulge under the pillow was shrinking by now, and Remy had begun to act like himself again. “Think nothing of it,” he blustered. “It made for fascinating on-the-job training.”
She nodded. “Now then, would you be able to drop Riley off at her nest on your way home? It’s only a short detour, and there are certain creatures that sometimes prey on stray fairies the way hawks do upon sparrows.”
He glanced at Riley, who stared at him with big dewy eyes.
“Oh…I suppose. She has been rather helpful. And besides, we can stop along the way for the honey.”
The vampire finished her tea, and Presley appeared to accept the empty cup and saucer. “Good. Keep up the good work, Remington.”
The butler nodded toward him. “Indeed, sir. Keep up the good work.”
He set the pillow aside—a little nervously—and stood, collecting both Riley and his deck of cards on his way out. The two waved a brief goodbye before they disappeared out into the night.
Watching him, Taylor shook her head. “Males…. No offense, Presley.”
“None taken, madame,” he rejoined. “At least, not at my present age.”
Por’s Bar, Lower Manhattan, New York City
“Yes,” Remington went on after a short pause for a swig of his Bloody Mary, “ultimately, everything went off without a hitch. And it would never have worked out so well without me. Taylor even acknowledged my indispensability to the agency, albeit in a tactfully indirect sort of way.”
Porrillage nodded and occasionally remembered to raise his eyebrows and look interested. “Oh. Yeah, good job.” He pulled the lever to dispense beer into a mug for another patron, who ignored Remy’s spiel.
“At this rate,” he continued, “I’ll be up for another promotion in no time. The company will be a joint partnership—as it was always intended to be. And, of course, that will come with a pay raise attached. I always knew I was destined to be a proper, successful businessman. And somehow, it seems right that I’d turn out to have a talent for mitigation projects. Even of the more dangerous variety.”
Por continued to nod about once every five or six seconds as he rushed around the bar doing his job.
He stopped talking long enough to drain his beverage down to about a quarter of its original volume. When the bartender climbed up to offer a martini to a sullen-looking male elf who’d wandered in, the monologue resumed.
“Yes,” he said, “I’d only been working there maybe a week and already, I pulled off a truly epic rescue, retrieving Taylor’s coffin from all those guys. And a werewolf. Not many men would have been capable of such a thing, even with an attractive fairy sidekick at their beck and call.”
The gnome looked at him, his gaze steady and even. “Didn’t you say a couple of minutes ago that she wasn’t actually in any danger? How does that work?”
Remy recalled that Taylor had ordered him not to divulge the secret of her sleeping arrangements, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting it out. Instead, he responded with, “Oh, right, but that’s not the point. If she had been in danger, my actions totally would have saved her in an extremely heroic fashion.”
Por patted his hand. “Whatever you say, buddy. Do you want another Mary?”
“Nah,” he replied. “I probably ought to get going soon.” He sipped the last of the vodka-spiked tomato juice and even thought about eating the stalk of celery. In fact, that reminded him of something.
“Also,” he announced, ignoring the way the proprietor’s shoulders slumped a tad at the continued sound of his voice, “I finished cleaning my apartment by myself and have kept it orderly and spotless ever since. Half my friends said it couldn’t be done, but they clearly underestimated the Remington resolve. And my recent attempt at cooking my own food—for the first time ever—was largely successful. I only burned the edges of the spaghetti. The majority of it was perfectly edible. I couldn’t recycle the can, though.”
The bartender poured out another beer for a customer at a table who’d requested a refill and handed it to the waitress. Looking at Remy, he put his hands on his hips and said, “Well, Mr Davis, that’s an impressive achievement. Slaying a werewolf and preparing canned spaghetti, both in the same week.”
Remy beamed. “I know, isn’t it?” He leaned back, basking in the warm glow of the gnome’s admiration.
Por shook a finger at him. “Make sure you tell Taylor about that, too. The spaghetti. I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”
So what he’s saying is that I can emphasize how valuable to the company I am even more by touting my personal achievements that aren’t directly related to anything to do with the agency. Yes, Taylor really will have no choice but to admit she’s better off with me around.
“Right, then,” he stated, slapped the bar’s surface, and left another business card under his palm. “Bill me, as usual. You know how good I am at paying my tab in a timely fashion. I need to get back to accomplishing things. Thanks for all your advice, Por!”
He slid from his stool to the floor, swayed, and waved as he headed to the entrance, where Stanislaw awaited him. He wasn’t quite sure, though, why the gnome constantly shook his head.
Epilogue
Sotto Suolo, Chelsea, New York City
Remy stepped up to the front entrance of the restaurant. He felt a brief pang of unease when he recalled the dread of the place he’d had the first time he’d been there. But that was before he knew the proverbial score.
With Taylor meeting him, he had nothing to fear.
“Mr Davis!” The hostess greeted him as she opened the door. “Please step inside. Ms Steele is waiting for you.”
“Good to know, thank you,” he acknowledged.
The woman showed him to the extreme rear corner. He noticed that no one else was present
in the dining area out of respect for their privacy.
The vampire sat, as she had on that first fateful evening, with her face hidden in shadow. Not that it was necessary anymore, but he supposed it was tradition.
“So,” he said as he seated himself across from her, “I’ve learned to make my own spaghetti—and quite competently, I might add—but it’s always better to have the professionals do it, I suppose. And I’m famished.”
She waved a red-nailed hand gently. “Order whatever you want, Remington. We’ll say this is my treat.”
He smiled. “Much appreciated.”
“Although,” she added, “I’m pleased to hear that you’ve finally acquired a few of the basic skills that most human beings learn when they’re about twelve.”
“Thanks.”
A waiter approached and he ordered a cup of coffee—decaf this time, given how early he’d been rising—and a platter of spaghetti with house-made meatballs and extra parmesan.
The server jotted notes on his pad. “I will have your coffee at once, sir.” He trotted off toward the kitchen.
As he left, Remy sighed. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but thanks to you, I now can’t get images of five-foot naked fairies out of my head.” He paused. “In certain circles, that would sound…different, wouldn’t it? But, well, I wonder if it’s even worse in this one. Since I’ve always had a strict prohibition against…other…uh, species.”
He sensed rather than saw Taylor’s smile. “Have you seen her again since then?” the vampire asked.
“No,” he admitted. “Seeking her out was tempting, but I’d have to navigate all the preternatural politics again without getting paid for it.”
She drummed her fingers on the table. “I think you will see her again and probably sooner rather than later,” she explained. “The fae hate failing to get what they want after all…and that fairy wants you.”
Remy swallowed and did not answer right away. Instead, he studied the menu, despite having already ordered.
“What else?” she asked. “You mentioned something about requests but did not clarify what that meant.”
Last Ditch Effort Page 26
