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

by Steffan, R. A.

  They’d survived. They’d even won.

  And things would go back to normal.

  Mouth dry, Len said, “So. I guess that’s it, huh?”

  Albigard was watching him very intently. “You wish to return to the human realm.”

  It hadn’t really been phrased as a question.

  “I mean... if there’s nothing more I can do to help here, I guess I probably should,” Len managed. And it was true—he needed to check in with the others. Let Kat know he was okay. Make sure he still had a job.

  The Fae nodded. “Very well.”

  The simple acceptance made Len’s stomach turn over. But what other response was he expecting?

  “Will you take Aesulna up on her offer, do you think?” he asked, mostly to have something to say.

  He liked the idea of Albigard being among other Fae who accepted him—who valued him—for exactly who and what he was. Len could picture him deep in conversation about magical theory with Leesa, or planning political strategy with Nezri and Danon. It made him feel better to believe that the prickly bastard wouldn’t end up alone, because the Forsaken wouldn’t let him be alone.

  “I will have to think on it,” Albigard said. “But perhaps you are right that it would... suit me.”

  “I really believe it would,” Len said past the growing lump in his throat. “If nothing else, I imagine Oren would be absolutely livid about the idea, if he were alive to see.”

  “Very true,” Albigard agreed. “Very, very true.”

  Silence stretched painfully.

  “Right.” Len cleared his throat. “So... I guess I should probably talk to the cat-sidhe now. I imagine they can get me through the gateway without pissing off the guards any more than we already have. And maybe they’ll give me a ride back to St. Louis, since I don’t have a passport. Or money, for that matter.”

  It seemed wrong to blurt out his intention to leave right away so casually, but at this moment, Len felt utterly incapable of addressing anything more personal. Not without immediately descending into stammering idiocy, anyway. He started to turn away—to head for the bedroom door and let the cat-sidhe know he needed to go back to Earth—but a callused hand touched his jaw, stopping him.

  Len’s breath caught, and he had to force himself to meet Albigard’s eyes without flinching.

  “You have my everlasting gratitude, for everything you have done,” said the Fae. “For me. For my people. For my home. I will not forget it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Len whispered hoarsely, and fled.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  A WEEK LATER, Len lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling of his borrowed nineteen forties two-bedroom bungalow and wondering what the ever-loving fuck he’d been thinking.

  The cat-sidhe had ushered him through the gateway to Earth, dragged him along the ley lines to North America, and portaled him back to his neighborhood. When he’d tried to thank them for all of their help, the sidhe had given him a pleasant smile, followed by an expression that looked suspiciously like pity.

  Sometimes it is necessary to make mistakes before growth may occur, they’d said—rather cryptically, in Len’s opinion. After which, the little Fae had turned into a cat and trotted away, leaving Len alone on the street corner where the Wild Hunt had first tried to rip its way into the human realm.

  He’d stood there, blinking—surrounded by tender shoots of green grass poking through the straw mulch covering the surrounding yards. Late summer was giving way to the brisk breeziness of early autumn. Len had oriented himself and walked the couple of blocks back to Zorah’s house, where he let himself in through the patio door and collapsed on the creaking couch, his mind whirling.

  The first day after his return, he’d dragged out his aging laptop to check his bank account balance, because he currently had no vehicle, no groceries to speak of, and no cell phone. Then he’d gone into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face before checking it again, because the balance was fifty thousand dollars higher than it should have been.

  The online entry was still there the second time he looked—BANK OF MALDIVES PLC PMT IAT $50,000, dated the previous day. At that point, he’d started cursing creatively.

  When he’d finished cursing, he’d checked the city bus schedule, dragged his ‘emergency cash’ envelope out of the slit in the upholstery at the back of the couch, stuffed four hundred dollars in his pocket, then headed out to buy a cheap phone and some food.

  Once he’d taken care of those two important errands, he checked the city’s website to find out what it was going to cost to get Rans’ motorcycle out of the impound lot, after he’d left it illegally parked on the Delmar Loop. When he had the relevant info, he emailed it directly to the vampire rather than dealing with it himself—since Len didn’t actually own the bike, while Rans could easily stroll in and mesmerize the staff to get his beloved Triumph back.

  Sorry I ditched your motorcycle, Bela, he added at the end of the message. World at stake, lives hanging in the balance, etc., etc. Also, did you deposit $50K in my bank account? Because if so, take it back.

  The reply came an hour later.

  As long as the Triumph is in one piece, you’re forgiven under the circumstances. And no, it wasn’t me. I don’t even know which bank you use, mate. Oh, and Zorah says welcome back to Earth. Did Alby come here with you?

  Len hadn’t emailed him back.

  The following day, he’d sent a message to Gina, because if the Brown Fox was open again, he figured he should probably find out if he still had a job or not. He tried not to focus on how hard he was finding it to care one way or the other, while still reeling from the events of the past few weeks.

  Hello, Len, came the reply. I understand you’ve been dealing with some rather extraordinary issues since the club reopened. Sally tells me she’s had Manuel running the kitchen in your absence, so talk to her about getting you back on the schedule. Everyone has missed you. Welcome home. Gina.

  He’d closed his eyes after reading the message. Manuel was twenty-three, a terrific cook, and had a sick mother to support. The promotion to Len’s old position would be life changing for him. He’d also be great at the job.

  Len didn’t reply to that email, either.

  More time passed. He started taking really long walks in an attempt to shut his brain off, trekking along the streets that had been sucked dry by the Wild Hunt. The neighborhood was slowly reemerging, as the grass grew and new families moved in. While he walked, he kept an eye out for any familiar faces—any hint that someone besides him had survived the destruction. There were none, but then again, he’d only known a couple of dozen people on his immediate street to say hello to.

  On one morning’s walk, he’d jolted out of a half-aware state to discover that his aching feet had carried him all the way to Carondelet Park. He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a freshly installed telephone pole. But in his mind it was broken, with a smoking wreck of a car wrapped around it. His hands were shaking as he walked back to the house.

  Several times during the week, Len reminded himself that he needed to call Kat and let her know he was all right. Each time, the prospect of pretending that everything was fine defeated him, and he told himself he’d do it the following day.

  On Sunday afternoon, a determined knock sounded at the front door.

  Sprawled on the rickety couch, Len stared at a cobweb on the ceiling and debated ignoring it. The knock came again, louder this time. It sounded like the knock of someone who wasn’t going away anytime soon. He rose reluctantly, the stiffness of his joints making him wonder just how long he’d been lying there. His spine creaked and popped as he stretched.

  A fresh flurry of pounding sounded just as he reached the front door, and he opened it with a certain sense of inevitability. Kat stood framed in the opening, with Gabe standing behind her, hanging back a couple of paces.

  “What the hell, Len?” she demanded, fist still poised in the air, mid-knock.

 
“Hi, Kat,” he said. “Sorry... it’s, um, not really a good time...”

  Kat stared at him for a beat, before putting a hand in the middle of his chest and pushing him backward a couple of steps so she could walk past him.

  “Invite Gabe in,” she ordered. “He’s too polite to barge.”

  “Er... come in?” Len managed, submitting to the steamrolling because there was no denying he really should have called her before now.

  “Thanks,” Gabe murmured, and slipped in so Len could close the door after him.

  Kat frog-marched Len to the sofa and pushed him down on it before sitting next to him. She didn’t even flinch at the furniture’s piteous groan of protest. Gabe hovered. Len considered offering him a chair, but was cut off before he could get the words out.

  “I had to learn you were back from Sally, you idiot!” Kat said. “From Sally! Tell me—what’s wrong with this picture?”

  “I’m sorry, Kat—” he began.

  She wasn’t done yet.

  “Don’t you ‘sorry’ me, Len Grayson! The last time we spoke, people around you were dying and you looked like you were one crisis away from a breakdown! Now you’re back here, hiding out in your house and not answering calls or emails. So start talking.”

  “I lost my phone,” he said, and knew immediately that the ridiculous evasion had been a mistake. Kat puffed up as if she was about to explode, and he hurried on. “Really, I am sorry... it’s been completely crazy for weeks now, and I’m not really, uh, dealing with it very well.”

  The threat of imminent explosion receded visibly.

  “So you thought you’d cut yourself off from your friends?” she prodded. “How’s that working out for you?”

  Len sagged, propping his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands.

  “About as well as you might expect,” he said. “Gabe... apologies, man. Grab a chair or something. There’s drinks in the fridge if you want one.”

  “Thanks,” Gabe replied. “Assuming you really want me here, I mean. I can give you two some privacy if you’d rather.”

  Len remembered the way Gabe had looked at Kat when he’d warned them to keep each other safe. His throat tightened.

  “No,” he said, looking up. “You’re fine. Make yourself at home and get ready to suspend your disbelief.”

  Once Gabe was settled, Len took a deep breath and started talking. It was surprisingly difficult to start, and surprisingly hard to stop once he got going. He detailed Albigard’s abduction after the car chase that destroyed the pimpmobile, their escape to the pocket realm, the fact that his erstwhile ghosts were actually necromantic animus, and how that animus had powered their travel back to Earth with the Wild Hunt hot on their heels.

  He told them about Albigard’s insistence on returning to the Fae realm, and their rescue by the Forsaken. He explained about the world tree, and the horrible moment when the Hunt had killed Albigard and nearly escaped Chaima’s grasp. He recounted Albigard’s unlikely resurrection, and the Hunt’s reappearance. He talked about confronting the Fae Court, Nigellus retrieving Rans and Zorah’s souls, and the sudden realization that they’d made it... that the crisis was over and they’d survived.

  While he didn’t share the gritty details, he also didn’t gloss over the fact that he’d fallen for—and fallen into bed with—a centuries-old Fae who lived in a different dimension. Someone with whom he couldn’t possibly have a future. He finished with the horrifically awkward conversation in which they’d both realized that fact at roughly the same time, and Len had slunk back to Earth before it occurred to him that he had no freaking clue what to do with the rest of his life.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Kat said, once he’d wound down like a broken toy. “What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, a bit desperately. “Kat, I don’t know. It’s crazy. It could never work. I mean... that’s what I was thinking, I guess?” He buried his face in his hands. “Jesus. This is whacked. He probably hasn’t given it a single thought since I left.”

  “You mean the same guy who glared holes through my skull for hugging you? Bet you a dollar he has,” Kat said dryly.

  Len squeezed the bridge of his nose. “And if he has? So what? I’m still human, and he’s still Fae. Nothing’s changed. This isn’t some fairy tale romance with a guaranteed happy ending.”

  Gabe—who’d listened silently to the whole sorry retelling—shot him a wry look. “A fairy tale romance? I think you’ll find it is, by its very definition.”

  Len groaned and started laughing, because that was better than the alternative. “Okay, now I see why Kat fell for you,” he managed, once he’d regained control.

  “Seriously, though,” Gabe went on. “Did you talk about this with him at all before you hightailed it back to Earth?”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Kat answered for him, saving him the trouble.

  “So... maybe try doing that?” Gabe said.

  “Right?” Kat agreed. “I mean, there’s got to be someone who can get a message to him. Maybe the vampires? They owe you big time, after all.”

  Len stamped on a little bubble of feeling in his chest that was probably hope. “What would that even look like, though? I mentioned the part about different dimensions, didn’t I?”

  Gabe frowned. “But for these guys, it’s just... poof. And you’re in a different world, or hurtling across the ocean through a magic portal and stepping out in St. Louis an instant later. So if you don’t want to live there permanently, commute.”

  Len opened his mouth to explain why that couldn’t possibly work, thought about it for a minute, and closed his mouth.

  “I have no idea if that’s even something he’d want,” he said instead.

  Kat didn’t roll her eyes at him, but it looked like a close-run thing. “So ask him.”

  “In that much of a hurry to be rid of me?” Len asked. “Now I see how it is.”

  She held his gaze, not letting him get away with trying to lighten the mood. “I just want you to be happy, you lump. And you’re miserable right now. So do something different, already.”

  Len tried to picture what happy looked like. It was surprisingly difficult. He’d managed content at times. He’d occasionally even graduated to fulfilled for brief periods—usually when he was running a kitchen and feeding people.

  He flashed back to a lazy morning awakening with a blond head resting on his shoulder, sunlight haloing the sleeping body tangled with his.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  Kat raised an eyebrow. “Is that code for ‘yes, Kat, I’ll do exactly what you and your awesome boyfriend suggest’?”

  “Yes, Kat, I’ll do exactly what you and your awesome boyfriend suggest,” Len replied meekly.

  Kat leaned over and enveloped him in a squishy, all-encompassing hug. “Good answer, babe. Now, promise to keep me informed of how it goes, and let me know whenever you’re in town so we can get together and dish gossip.”

  “I promise,” he said, and let himself be squished.

  The pair left soon after. Len watched out the window as Gabe opened the passenger door of his SUV for Kat before letting himself into the driver’s side. The engine roared to life a moment later, and they drove away.

  He stared after them for a bit longer, trying to gather his thoughts. Opening his laptop, he took a deep breath and tackled the backlog of emails he’d been ignoring. To Rans and Zorah—Sorry, I’ve been wallowing in my bad decision-making skills for the last few days. No, Albigard didn’t come back with me. In fact, that’s wrapped up with the previously mentioned bad decision-making, and now I need to get in touch with him so we can talk. Do you have a way to reach him?

  To Sally—I apologize for not getting in touch with you re: scheduling at the Brown Fox. That was really unprofessional. The truth is, Manuel needs that position more than I do. It’s also possible that I’ll be traveling back and forth to the Fae realm of Dhuinne quite a bit in the future. But if this plan blows up in my fac
e (probably not literally this time ha ha), I would be immensely grateful for a job tending bar the next time there’s an opening.

  He also emailed Vonnie with a much more concise version of the ‘help, I’ve fallen for a Fae’ speech he’d just poured out to Kat, because A) she deserved to know, and B) she could probably sympathize with an unexpected romantic attachment to a supernatural creature.

  When he was done, he took a shower, made himself a decent meal, and watched TV for a few hours before checking for replies to his messages. Sally wouldn’t see the work email until tomorrow. There was no reply yet from Rans. Vonnie, however, had sent him a supportive note that included the phrase ‘go get him, tiger’ in an apparently non-ironic way. She also apologized and informed him that neither she nor Guthrie had a way to reach Albigard while he was in Dhuinne.

  Figuring Rans would be a better bet on that front, he went to bed. If nothing else, Rans almost certainly knew how to reach Nigellus, and Len was willing to bet Nigellus had a way to contact the cat-sidhe. The faintly pitying look the sidhe had given Len when they parted was starting to make a lot more sense now, as embarrassing as that was to admit.

  Whatever the case, he’d done what he could for today. The fact that he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass—or rather, that Kat had pulled his head out of his ass for him—did wonders to combat his black depression. He fell asleep in only a few minutes, and was out like a light.

  He blinked awake the following morning to find the sun stabbing his eyeballs through the bedroom window, and the sound of an impossibly familiar eight-cylinder engine rumbling in the driveway.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  THE PIMPMOBILE was parked in Len’s driveway. Which... wasn’t right. He opened the front door, only vaguely aware that he was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else.

  “What?” he said to the empty air, as his just-woken brain tried to reconcile the shiny paintjob and lack of rust with the almost-but-not-quite familiar pattern of bullet holes in the quarter panel of the 1978 Lincoln Continental.