The Last Vampire 3

by R. A. Steffan

  I flushed, not pleased at the reminder.

  “There are also imps,” he continued. “They tend to attach themselves to any being or location with magic, and are able to draw power from that. Then there are demons of fate. They draw power from the fabric of reality itself.”

  I thought of the timeless depths of Nigellus’ eyes. “I’m guessing Nigellus is one of those?” I asked.

  “A very powerful one, yes.” Rans crossed his arms, a hint of tension visible in his shoulders.

  Maybe that little tidbit should have surprised me. Somehow, it didn’t.

  “Did he take a lot of human souls before the treaty?” I wasn’t sure why, but the idea bothered me.

  Rans’ blue gaze grew very serious, and his eyes held mine unblinkingly. “Don’t ever underestimate him, Zorah. Nigellus is legion, and he contains multitudes.”

  The words sent a shiver along the length of my spine.

  “He’s your friend, though,” I said, not sure if I was arguing with him, or just trying to understand. For some reason, I desperately wanted Nigellus to be one of the good guys, despite the fact that he was a demon.

  Like me.

  “He has been… my haven, when things are at their darkest,” Rans said, very carefully. “He’s the one who found me after the Fae destroyed the rest of my race, and prevented me from following them into true death when I learned what had happened. I suspect… he may also be the one who negotiated for my life at the end of the war.”

  Your continued survival is mandated within a clause of the peace treaty, vampire, the Fae Magistrate had told him.

  My throat grew tight.

  “I guess that puts Nigellus firmly on the same side we are,” I managed eventually.

  Rans’ gaze never wavered. “I hope it does,” was all he said.

  I hoped so, too. “Anything else I should know about him?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Edward is bound to him. He has been for a very long time.”

  I let that sink in, thinking of the sweet octogenarian butler.

  “Another treaty violation?” I asked in surprise. If nothing else, it seemed far too blatant an act for someone as canny as Nigellus.

  But Rans shook his head. “When I say he has been for a very long time, luv, I mean exactly that. There was no treaty when Nigellus bound Edward to him.”

  “Whoa.” I blinked, fitting that piece of information into the puzzle that was my life now. “Okay, so Uncle Demon has been keeping Edward on ice for centuries, instead of gobbling him down for the extra power? Why?”

  Rans pushed away from the low wall and wandered along it, looking out across the city. “Because he likes him, presumably. Edward claims Nigellus has given him the final say over the time and manner of his death, and I believe him. If Nigellus were planning to harvest Edward, he’d have done it when things turned against the demons during the war. When he needed additional power the most.”

  Some of my fresh misgivings about Nigellus eased. I silently decided that if I did end up stuck in Hell and needed a demon-bond to get out, I’d ask Nigellus rather than anyone else. Assuming, of course, that I could be demon-bound in the first place, when I already had a life-bond with Rans.

  Something told me that asking whether that was possible wouldn’t go down well, so I kept silent on the subject. With luck, I’d have the magical key to Hell’s door encoded into my succubus DNA, and the subject would never come up.

  Thinking of the life-bond brought me around to another thing, though.

  “Next question,” I said. Rans glanced over his shoulder at me, so I rose and went to stand next to him. Beyond us, St. Louis glimmered like a million jewels in the dark. “You said demons can will some of their power through a bond with a human to extend their life indefinitely. Can vampires?”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

  I let my shoulder brush his. “Can you push power through the life-bond to extend my life, so you won’t be sentenced to death with me in a few decades?”

  He looked so surprised that I almost wanted to shake him. The urge grew stronger when he said, “You seem far more concerned about that eventuality than I am, you know.”

  I scowled up at him. “I heard what you told Nigellus about being ‘weary of life.’ That doesn’t mean I like what I heard.”

  His face closed off. “No, luv. I can’t magically stop you from aging. Not by—” He paused, then gave a faint shake of his head and continued. “Not by pushing power at you. If I could do that, I’d just lock you up somewhere so we could shag each other day and night until you got tired of me. It certainly sounds a lot more enjoyable than most of the other available alternatives.”

  My treacherous demon nature agreed with him. I shifted restlessly, attempting to ease the sudden ache between my legs. “Now you’re just trying to distract me,” I accused.

  “Too right,” he agreed. “Is it working?”

  Bastard. Almost despite myself, I reached up a hand to cup his cheek, drawing him down until his lips covered mine in a kiss. My arms went around him, pulling him to me until we were pressed together from chest to knees.

  Clearly, it was working very well.

  FIVE

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING brought with it an almost unbearable heaviness, as the significance of the date hit me at the same time as the blinding morning sun.

  “Up with you,” Rans prodded, looking bleary-eyed as only a vampire at seven a.m. could. “Shower, dress, eat something. We’re going out.”

  I tried to blink the grit out from under my eyelids. “Huh? But lunch isn’t for hours yet…?”

  “It’s not. But first, I’m taking you to see what state your house is in,” he explained, and my stomach sank a little further.

  “Oh.”

  Rans only raised an eyebrow. “Might as well get as much emotional trauma as possible out of the way in one day. You’re going to be miserable, but there’s no reason you can’t be productive at the same time.”

  He had a point. I muttered something semi-intelligible and stumbled off to use Guthrie’s spectacular guest bathroom. An hour later, I was clinging to Rans’ back as his black Triumph sped through traffic. He’d unearthed a helmet from somewhere for me. That—combined with the fact that we weren’t being pursued by a carload of pissed-off Fae—meant the experience was a lot less hair-raising than my first ride with him had been.

  Rans brought the bike to a sedate halt in the driveway of my little house and deployed the kickstand. I eyed the scratches and dents on the front door with trepidation. It looked like the police had broken in the front rather than bothering to try the back door first.

  “You really think it’s safe for me to be here?” I asked, a hint of skepticism creeping into my tone.

  He shrugged. “Frankly, luv, I think you’re going to have to stand up and stake a claim on your life, unless you want to end up hiding in the shadows from now until doomsday. The Fae Court agreed to let you go, and any Fae who came at you now would be defying that order.”

  I stilled as I considered the idea that I might be safe. Could I somehow step back into my old life?

  But, no.

  As Rans had said at the airport, all this meant was that the terms of engagement had changed. I didn’t know yet how that was likely to manifest, but maybe it was a moot point. I wasn’t sure I could go back to my old life, knowing what I now knew about myself and the world around me. Or perhaps more to the point, the worlds around me.

  I stepped off the bike.

  Rans followed. Even if I hadn’t lost my house key long ago, the front door looked like it had been nailed shut with a couple of boards. But this entire farce had begun with a broken patio door lock. I was willing to bet that St. Louis’ finest hadn’t gone out of their way to repair it after rifling through my belongings. And, indeed, the back door slid open on its tracks with an unpleasant grinding noise.

  The interior was on the bad end of what I had mentally prepared myself for. Furniture
lay upended; some of it broken. My possessions were scattered randomly on the floor in such volume that it was clear they’d emptied every shelf and drawer in the place. I couldn’t stop a small noise of distress from sneaking out.

  Rans surveyed the carnage and shook his head in disgust. “Vicious twats,” he muttered. “Right, then. We’ve got about three hours before we need to leave and meet Guthrie. What do you want to focus on this morning?”

  I tried to organize my thoughts, which were in roughly the same shape as my living room. “Um... fix the lock. See if some of my clothing is salvageable. And… look for important papers, I guess? Though I’ve been using a fake identity more than my real one lately.”

  He nodded. “That all sounds reasonable. Is there a hardware store nearby?”

  For the next three hours, we worked in companionable silence. Rans replaced the lock on the patio door—which only seemed fair, since he’d been the one to break it. Meanwhile, I sorted through the detritus of my former life, swallowing a fresh stab of grief whenever I stumbled across something with sentimental value related to my mother.

  I’d had a small collection of photos, some in frames and some not. Many were torn, but I gathered the pieces up carefully and put them in a box to deal with later. A couple of them were still intact behind the broken glass of their frames. Those, I carefully stowed in an old backpack I’d unearthed from the mess in my bedroom. I also packed some additional clothing that had been strewn around the floor.

  As far as I could tell, all of my important papers and documents had been taken away. The realization twisted something inside me unpleasantly. It was just so… intrusive. I felt like I’d barely made a dent in the chaos when eleven-thirty rolled around and we left, locking up behind ourselves.

  “I’d worry about whether they used my bank statements to close my account or put it on hold, or something,” I tried to quip. “Only it probably had more cobwebs than money in it to start with.”

  Rans clasped my shoulder as he went around me to mount the bike. “If it’s any consolation, money causes as many problems as it solves.”

  I let out an indelicate snort as I strapped on my helmet. “Sounds like a saying coined by a rich person.”

  “Probably,” he agreed, as I settled the backpack across my shoulders and got on behind him. The roar of the engine cut off anything else I might have wanted to say.

  * * *

  On any other day, I would have enjoyed lunch. People went to Blueberry Hill for the atmosphere more than anything else. The place was something of an institution in St. Louis, and I got the impression Guthrie was a regular. Over the five decades since it had opened, the restaurant had become a sort of pop culture museum, with a jukebox collection, taxidermy on the walls, and dozens of display cases full of everything from old music memorabilia to Pez dispensers.

  It didn’t hurt that the burgers and fries were pretty good, too.

  Guthrie and I ate and chatted about the local music scene, while Rans pretended to sip a cherry cola. Despite the aura of old sadness that hung over him like a cloud, I liked Guthrie. He was smart, interesting, and had a dry sense of humor that he wasn’t afraid to aim in Rans’ direction as required. All in all, it was a nice way to kill ninety minutes of a day that I desperately wanted to be over. Guthrie eventually excused himself to head to the airport for his business trip, leaving us alone.

  “Back to my house for more cleanup?” I asked, dreading the idea.

  Rans shook his head. “Not today. That’s a multi-day job no matter how you look at it, for one thing. Since I’m guessing you won’t let me pay someone else to do it for you, we’ll at least need to bring along some bags for the refuse, and rent a lorry to haul the broken furniture to the dump.”

  “Lorry?” I asked, wracking my brain for the English-to-American translation.

  “A truck, you American Luddite,” he clarified. “For now, we’re going back to the penthouse. I’ve something specific in mind for this afternoon.”

  ‘Something specific’ turned out to be code for utilizing Guthrie’s home gym for what Rans generously labeled training. From my perspective, it felt more like being alternately pummeled by a stronger, more experienced opponent, and forced to the edge of my endurance on a succession of treadmills, ellipticals, and weight machines.

  “This is never going to work,” I complained as we squared off, well aware of how ridiculous the idea of me trying to fight off Fae with a sword or dagger was. For Christ’s sake, I was a waitress.

  “Not with that attitude, it won’t,” Rans agreed, and swept my legs out from under me almost casually. “But as long as you refuse to utilize your other skills in a fight...”

  I gritted my teeth, and tried for the hundredth time to implement the countermove he was attempting to teach me. Shock of shocks, it didn’t work.

  When I glanced up to find the sky dark beyond the wall of windows, I was surprised. If the idea had been to distract me from my worries, the hours of abuse masquerading as a workout had done its job, I supposed.

  “What time is it?” I asked in a daze.

  Rans glanced outside as well. “Time for a shower, followed by a soak in the hot tub. I expect the fireworks will be kicking off soon. Seems like as good a place as any to watch from, and your muscles will thank you tomorrow.”

  I frowned at him. “But… I didn’t think to look for my swimsuit when we were at the house. I don’t have anything to wear.”

  His slow blink was about as innocent as a hunting lion’s. “And your point is…?”

  I blinked back. “Um, never mind. I’ll just go take that shower now.”

  Half an hour later, I was naked in a rooftop Jacuzzi, leaning back in the arms of an equally naked vampire. My robe lay abandoned on a chair nearby, snuggled up to the loose pair of track pants Rans had been wearing. Fireworks lit the sky, the thunderous explosions of sound muffled by the distance separating us from the riverfront.

  Rans had been right on at least one count—my muscles were thanking me already for the massaging jets and soothing heat of the water. I let my head loll back against his shoulder, aware of the hard length pressed to my back and the thread of sexual energy flowing from his body to mine. He smoothed my hair back from my temple as a fresh starburst of purple and white exploded in the sky.

  “Try something for me,” he murmured against the shell of my ear.

  I made a questioning noise. Exhaustion was starting to overcome my ennui surrounding this anniversary, but his words kindled a spark of curiosity.

  His erection nudged my ass, sending a new tingle through me. “I can’t be around you like this without wanting to shag you, luv,” he said. “But I want you to see if you can isolate the feeling of my animus flowing toward you.”

  “I can,” I said lazily. “I’ve been able to do that for a while now. Why?”

  “Because I want to see if you can block the flow,” he said. “Just temporarily, mind.”

  I straightened enough that I could crane around to look at him, not liking that request. “Again—why?”

  He eased me back to rest against him as I had been doing before. “Because cultivating that ability will be important for something else I have planned in the next few days. This is just a test run… dipping your toe in the hot tub, as it were. We’re not shagging right now. I’m hard for you—that’s all. It’s a trickle, not a blast from a fire hose. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you to block me out.”

  “So, you want me to stick my finger in the hole like the little Dutch boy and his dike?” I grumbled.

  He snorted. “Are you trying to be provocative?”

  I elbowed him in the ribs, feeling how the flow of his energy flickered as he absorbed the blow with a muffled oof.

  “Vixen,” he grumbled. “How did you know I like it rough?”

  “Lucky guess,” I retorted in my most withering tone. “Are you going to tell me why you want me to do this?”

  “For now, I’m just interested to see how much co
ntrol you have over it,” was all he said.

  Even though the request still made me mildly uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t articulate, now I was curious, too. I wriggled my ass against his dick, zeroing in on the sensation—trying to determine where it originated and how it flowed into me.

  When I concentrated, I could feel warmth growing in the same chakra Caspian had instructed his magical lackey to attack when I’d been his prisoner in Dhuinne. That made sense, I supposed, though it also reminded me of things I really didn’t want to think about on today of all days.

  Or... maybe those awful hours of torture were exactly what I should be thinking about. Somehow, my magic had protected itself from the Fae’s attack. The problem was, Rans’ animus wasn’t a threat to me. Quite the opposite. It was nourishment. Support. My succubus nature didn’t want to shut it out.

  “You’re over-thinking this, aren’t you?” Rans asked, flexing his hips.

  I sighed. “Probably. I’m not sure how to convince my body it doesn’t want what you’re offering.”

  He paused for a moment. I could almost hear the gears turning inside his head.

  “All right,” he said eventually. “Let’s reframe it, then. We’re not lazing in a hot tub, enjoying the celebration of your uppity little colony’s independence. We’re someplace else. I’m in danger. I can’t afford to leak any of my power out through my cock—I need to keep it all for myself.”

  Almost despite myself, I pictured Rans in Caspian’s hands, fighting for his life. Something inside me jerked painfully, and the flow of animus cut off like a valve had been shut. My heart thudded with sudden adrenaline.

  “Thought so,” he murmured. “Although it might be helpful if you continued breathing.”

  Air exited my lungs in an ugly rasp. I dragged in a fresh lungful to replace it and swallowed hard. “You… felt that?” I asked, my voice a croak.

  “Of course I did.” His hand slid up to rest between my breasts, over my pounding heartbeat. “Now we’ll just have to work on triggering the mechanism without triggering a panic attack at the same time.”

  “This isn’t a panic attack,” I whispered, as I focused on my heart rate and breathing, willing them back to normal. Unfortunately, as soon as the spike of adrenaline faded, I felt the connection between us open again. It was reduced, true—but that seemed to be more a case of Rans’ sexual desire having waned in the face of my mini-freakout session than by any control I was exerting on the process.