Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World)

by Steffan, R. A.

  “Rans will be right in front of you, and I’ll be right behind,” Zorah said. “If you start acting weird, we’ll keep you from getting any closer to it.”

  “Thanks,” Len said, and steeled himself for what he was about to see on the other side of the hole in reality.

  Rans slipped through the portal, disappearing from view. Len took a deep breath and stepped through as well. He heard Zorah arrive behind him, but the most immediate thing to hit him was the overpowering stench. Life had returned to the dead zone, all right—but it was the kind of tiny life that turned wilted plants into compost and corpses into puddles of slime and stink.

  His stomach turned over, but he forced the nausea down with skills honed during two years spent in the medical field. Cautiously, he looked around. They were about twenty feet from the sharp boundary between normality and destruction. Slime mold clung to the dead grass and fallen leaves, with the occasional sickly looking mushroom poking up from the decaying mulch of plant matter.

  The human bodies had all been removed, but the tiny, feathered remains of birds and other small animals still littered the road, covered with buzzing flies. Len closed his eyes for a moment, moving his attention inward. A chill prickled along his nerves, emanating from the awful expanse in front of him, but it didn’t drag at him this time, or try to pull him in. Zorah held his left arm in a firm grip, just in case.

  He opened his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s just rotting plants and dead birds.”

  Len shook off her hold and walked forward, his feet under conscious control this time. He couldn’t deny the shiver that went through him when he stepped across the boundary, but that was the extent of his body’s reaction. No fireworks went off in his synapses. His muscles didn’t seize and convulse.

  They headed after the others, who were already halfway down the block. Len couldn’t help gawping at the sight of familiar houses framed by the utter wrongness of an unfamiliar landscape—green replaced by the blacks and browns and sickly yellows of putrefaction.

  His house was nearby, with all his belongings. Would it still look the same inside, except for a dead houseplant or two and some spoiled food? Would the vegetables in his refrigerator have shriveled into brown lumps under the Hunt’s influence, or were they already dead because they’d been harvested?

  Maybe he could go inside once they were done. Throw some of his things into a suitcase, since it seemed unlikely people would be allowed to return to this neighborhood anytime soon. A chemical spill, they’d called it. He wondered how long they would try to hold to that lie if the Hunt kept coming back, ranging farther and farther afield each time.

  Ahead of them, the five Fae and Nigellus came to a sudden stop at the corner of Len’s street—where the Hunt had first appeared after Zorah and Rans had arrived at his house with Albigard’s unconscious body. Zorah grabbed Len’s arm again, holding him back.

  “Wait. There are other Fae here,” she said. “That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

  “No,” Rans replied grimly. “It most certainly was not.”

  They approached cautiously to find a wary standoff taking place at the intersection. Three unfamiliar male Fae stood at one apex of an unfriendly looking triangle. They glared back and forth between Nigellus, who formed another corner, and Albigard, who was standing with Teague and the sidhe. The two vampires joined Nigellus, Zorah tugging Len along with them.

  It had been fairly clear back at the command post that they were on Teague’s territory here in St. Louis, and unsurprisingly, he was the first to speak. “Emissaries. What is the reason for your presence here?” he demanded. “I was not informed of this visit.”

  Unlike Teague, the newcomers weren’t making any attempt to blend in with human clothing. To be fair, neither were Albigard or the sidhe in their buckskin and unbleached linen—but these three had taken things several steps further. They were dressed for battle, Len thought, with leather armor and swords at their backs.

  His unease ratcheted up by several notches.

  “We have been sent on Oren’s direct orders to assess the situation, after reports that the Wild Hunt had been seen on Earth,” said the one standing on the right. He had a cruel sneer and a scar running down the side of his face.

  “Who’s Oren?” Len asked in a low voice.

  “Head honcho of the Unseelie Court back on Dhuinne,” Zorah replied under her breath. “And a real asshole, to boot.”

  “A real arsehole who also happens to be Albigard’s father,” Rans added, equally quietly.

  Zorah’s head whipped around. “Wait, what?” she asked, failing to keep her voice down. Several of the Fae leveled brief glares in her direction.

  Len frowned. “So... Albigard’s, like, royalty or something?” Unlike Zorah, he spoke low enough not to draw more attention than they already had. “Huh. That explains some things.”

  “In a matter of speaking, he is—but don’t forget the part where the Court sentenced him to death or eternal exile for breaking the rules one too many times,” Rans replied.

  From the ‘asshole’ comments, Len got the impression that Daddy Dearest hadn’t exactly been leading the charge to acquit his son from charges of wrongdoing. He had personal experience with a father who’d appointed himself judge and jury for his son’s perceived crimes—not that Len was actively looking for shared life experiences with the stuck-up Fae fucker, but he still knew what a knife to the gut something like that could be.

  Albigard stood warily on the fringes of the discussion as Teague finished filling the newcomers in on recent events. He held his hands clasped behind his back in what should have been a casual posture, but his knuckles were white with tension. The reason for his apprehension became clear when the apparent leader of the trio sent by the Court scowled at Teague.

  “This elaborate scheming is unnecessary,” he said. “And fraternizing with a demon, no less. The Court will hear of this. We will take the traitor back with us. He has exhausted any remaining goodwill he might once have enjoyed within Dhuinne. The Hunt will follow him there, and come to heel once it has devoured him.”

  “It will not—” the cat-sidhe began, but the cu-sidhe immediately interrupted with, “That’s what we said! It sounds much simpler that way.”

  The pair of shape-shifters moved abruptly, rounding to face Albigard—who, in turn, began to back away warily, putting space between them. Len watched in amazement as his loose clothing melted from the neck downward, reforming as it went into dark leather battle armor similar to that worn by the Court emissaries.

  Both vampires tensed as though ready to spring to his aid. Almost faster than Len’s eyes could follow, Nigellus swung up a blocking arm.

  “No.” His voice snapped like a whip, eyes glowing with red flames as he swiveled his head to pin Rans and Zorah with an unyielding gaze. “The treaty. You will not interfere publicly with Fae business.”

  A low growl caught in Rans’ chest, but both vampires froze in place—fangs bared and eyes blazing as bright as the demon’s. Len watched them silently fight against Nigellus’ control and lose. If he’d had harbored any doubts whatsoever that Zorah was capable of committing murder, the look on her face in that moment would have erased them.

  Len didn’t think he’d been an intended recipient of the demon’s snapped order. He’d just happened to be on its periphery. Even so, he was as paralyzed as the vampires—any attempt to move or speak simply didn’t work. It should have been terrifying, or infuriating... he’d punched Albigard in the jaw for something far less extreme than what the demon had just done to him. But even his emotional reactions had been dampened.

  All Len could do was stand there like a waxwork doll, watching as the Fae contingent split down the middle and turned on itself.

  Teague faded to the side as both Albigard and the Unseelie delegation lifted hands glowing with sparking magic, ready to strike. The cat-sidhe moved between them, arms raised palm-out in a clear attempt to forestall the opening sa
lvoes.

  “Stop this immediately, all of you!” the diminutive Fae cried. “We must—”

  The words were cut off as the cu-sidhe changed form and sprang—one of the terrifying hellhounds lunging at the cat-sidhe, while the other sprang at Albigard. It snapped powerful jaws around his arm, heedless of the sparking magic that flickered and died out beneath its grip.

  The cat-sidhe transformed as well, darting out of the way of crunching jaws and leaping onto the hellhound’s back instead. Needle-like teeth and claws latched onto the cu-sidhe’s scruff as it twisted this way and that, trying to reach the smaller creature. Meanwhile, Albigard was doing his best to stay on his feet as the other cu-sidhe shook his trapped arm violently back and forth like a terrier with a rat.

  I should be doing something about this, Len thought distantly, still mired in the passivity enforced by Nigellus’ will. They’ll take him to Dhuinne to die, and leave Earth as a feast for the Hunt. They don’t give two shits about the human realm.

  But his thoughts remained just that—idle musings, with no force behind them.

  The three Unseelie emissaries took advantage of whatever the cu-sidhe was doing that seemed to be interfering with Albigard’s magic, raising their hands in a simultaneous flinging motion. Ropes of light flew through the air and wrapped around Albigard’s body, sending him crashing to the ground. The cu-sidhe let him go as his limbs snapped together tightly, trapped by the magical bonds as sure as any shibari rope Len had ever tied. Albigard cursed and struggled to no avail as the giant black hound stood over him, drool dripping from its curled lip.

  NINETEEN

  RANS TWITCHED HARD next to Len, still fighting against Nigellus’ implacable control. The cat-sidhe and the second cu-sidhe sprang apart from their clinch, both of them shifting back to human form as they squared off.

  “Enough!” cried the cat-sidhe, looking as flustered and disheveled as... well... as a cat who’d just tangled with a massive dog ten times its size. “You fools! You’ll ruin everything! Can’t you see?”

  The leader of the contingent from Dhuinne stepped forward, lording his height over the smaller Fae. “I see an escaped prisoner—a traitor— and I see you standing with him, alone. Sidhe or not, Oren has several questions about your recent involvement with this criminal.” He jerked his chin toward Albigard, lying on the pavement bound and under guard.

  The cat-sidhe straightened, green eyes flashing. “Do not presume to threaten me, Unseelie.”

  Teague cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him.

  “You’ve already captured the fugitive. He’s safely restrained. Now, if we could perhaps discuss our next steps?” he said, sounding equal parts bored and irritated. “As I was saying before everyone decided to start throwing magic around in the middle of a human street, we have a bigger problem.”

  “I have only one problem,” said the leader of Oren’s contingent, “and that problem has been dealt with.”

  But Teague didn’t back down. “As emissaries from the Court, you are of course welcome in St. Louis at any time. However, as I am the warden of this overkeep, it is long-accepted practice for you to meet with me and discuss the reasons for your visit before taking action that could result in damage to territory under my control.”

  The Unseelie eyed Teague with a sour expression. “I fail to see how recapturing an escaped prisoner damages your territory. We will take him away; the Hunt will follow. Both our problems are solved.”

  “The Hunt will not follow!” the cat-sidhe snapped. “Are your ears broken?”

  Teague raised a quelling hand. “As I attempted to convey before, the Hunt is not crossing between realms to fulfill its orders against the condemned. Not anymore, at least. He has been in hiding for some time now in the city he used to oversee, hundreds of miles from here. Yet rather than follow him, the Hunt returned to this existing weak spot in the veil, feeding indiscriminately on life from the human realm rather than seeking its assigned quarry.”

  The Unseelie leader paused. “What are you saying?”

  The cat-sidhe hissed. “What do you think he’s saying, cretin? We must close the rip in the fabric between realms, or it will continue to grow wider, causing chaos.”

  Nigellus spoke up for the first time since he’d silenced the vampires and Len. “This issue is larger than a single prisoner, Emissary. Larger, even, than the politics between our races. Do you think I would be here risking a diplomatic incident if it were not?”

  The Unseelie eyed him. “You are a demon. Sowing chaos is all the reason you need. You show up with vampires at your side and expect me to believe it’s an act of altruism?”

  Nigellus returned the stare, measure for measure. “The vampires are under control, as you can see,” he replied, the words dry as dust. “Believe me, risking a major conflict with the Fae in the course of repairing the boundary between realms is actually quite far down my list of desirable ways to expend my time and energy.”

  Arrogant bastard, Len thought, wishing he had the same resistance to demon influence that he apparently had to Fae influence.

  Albigard watched all of this silently from the ground, his chest rising and falling in harsh, silent gasps as his fate was debated. Len wondered if the magic that kept him physically restrained also prevented him from speaking on his own behalf. He looked like he was fighting full-blown panic at the prospect of what was about to happen to him, and Len’s heart sped up in sympathy.

  “My proposal is this,” Teague said, before the others could continue sniping at each other. “Assist us in closing the gap in the veil, and... afterward take your prisoner to Dhuinne as you originally planned. Then, both of our problems will truly be solved.”

  Zorah, still trapped by Nigellus’ command, made a small, punched-out noise of dismay. Len felt disgust slide through the layers muffling his emotions, as the protégé who had supposedly been loyal to Albigard casually threw him under the bus. First Albigard’s father... now this little punk-ass bastard. No wonder the Fae had a bad attitude and no people skills.

  Teague looked down at his former mentor, and there was genuine remorse in his face. “You were a good commander, and always fair to me. I regret the way this has ended, but our need to control the Hunt carries more weight than your continued survival. And in the end, you are a traitor to our race.”

  Albigard’s eyes slid closed.

  The other Unseelie appeared to weigh Teague’s words for a few moments, exchanging glances before the leader nodded. “Very well. There is no harm in patching the damage to the veil before we depart, I suppose. Let us discuss the particulars.”

  The Fae fell into cautious conversation, though the cat-sidhe still looked spitting mad. Len felt the grip on his mind and body ease as Nigellus turned his full attention on Rans and Zorah.

  “I will release you now,” he said, “but I will not allow you to act against the Fae. Not even to protect your friend.”

  Both vampires whirled on him, fangs out and fists clenched—looking every inch the predators they were.

  “We may already be your political pawns, Nigellus,” Rans snarled, “but do not presume to make us your literal puppets as well.”

  Nigellus didn’t back down from his fury. “Have no illusions, Ransley. I care for you a great deal, and your regard is important to me. But I care for the treaty and the current peace between Hell and Dhuinne more.”

  Len left them to their face-off in favor of crossing to Albigard, who somehow seemed to have been largely forgotten, even though he was the focal point of the current shitshow. He knelt next to the Fae, whose eyes were still tightly closed. His breathing was ragged and too fast, as though he couldn’t draw in enough oxygen. Len was painfully familiar with the feeling.

  “Hey,” he said, taking careful note of the flinch of surprise he received in return. “You’re hyperventilating, Blondie. I’m going to raise your upper body a bit. That should make it easier for you to breathe, all right?”

  Albigard turned his face away. �
��Leave me alone, damn you,” he managed between gasps.

  “Yeah, sorry, not happening,” Len said. “Come on, let’s get your breathing under control. Slow and deep. In and out.”

  He got an arm beneath Albigard’s shoulders and hoisted him up enough to scoot in behind him, so he could support the Fae’s back against his chest. Albigard tensed, and Len was struck—not for the first time—by the strength of the invisible barrier he held around himself. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had touched the guy except to punch him or shove him.

  Or bite him, in the case of the cu-sidhe.

  Albigard’s muscles were stiff, at least in part because of the magical bonds that still held his limbs trapped tightly against his body. Len wrapped an arm around his torso and placed his palm flat against the center of his chest, where a human’s heart would be, hoping to give him something to help ground him. Sure enough, the Fae’s heartbeat thundered beneath Len’s touch, slamming against his ribs like a wild thing trying to escape its cage.

  Zorah slid in beside them, evidently having left Rans in charge of the ‘yelling at Nigellus’ end of things. She cupped Albigard’s cheek with one hand. Len felt a faint shiver go through the Fae, but the panicked edge to his breathing was already beginning to ease.

  “Tinkerbell,” she said, sounding anguished. “We’re... we’re going to figure something out, okay?” Visibly getting herself under control, she began to feel along the arm nearest to her. “How do we get you out of these bonds?”

  As far as Len could tell, there was nothing there for her to find. Nothing physical, anyway.

  “You don’t,” Albigard rasped, his body relaxing against Len’s by degrees.

  Jesus. The Fae were going to haul him off so they could throw him into the maw of his childhood nightmares, and unless Nigellus had a sudden change of heart, there wasn’t a damned thing any of them could do to stop it. The true horror of the situation struck Len like a blow.

  Rans joined them, crouching on Albigard’s other side. He still looked like he wanted to tear someone’s throat out and wasn’t feeling all that particular as to whose throat it was.