The Last Vampire Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  Forget about my scruples, though—the plain truth was that something deep inside me howled in outrage at the idea of sleeping with another man. I tried to stomp on the little voice in hopes that it would shut up.

  Come on… don’t be stupid. We’re talking about a centuries-old vampire here. Do you expect that he’ll become celibate the moment you leave, and spend the rest of his immortal life pining for the American waitress who loved him and left him? As if!

  It didn’t help.

  The prospect of spending the rest of my—probably abbreviated—life on the run from the Fae while engaging in random one-night hookups to stay alive was appalling beyond belief. In fact, the very idea made me shudder.

  I wondered idly if I had to actually be involved in sexual activity to draw energy from it. Maybe I could become a professional voyeur, haunting raunchy sex clubs and paying desperate strippers to masturbate for me while I watched.

  Ugh. Now I felt positively queasy.

  Assuming I was strong enough to let Rans go before I dragged him down with me, the future was going to suck donkey balls. One thing was painfully clear, though. I was already becoming an addict. A vampire junkie. An undead groupie. A nosferatu…

  Something.

  It would be best if I kept my distance from Rans as much as humanly possible until we carried out whatever plan he and Albigard came up with, because I clearly couldn’t be trusted around noble, attractive men with chronic iron deficiencies and sexy English accents.

  I didn’t see any way that my own faerie-tale was going to end well at this point. I wasn’t sure if my dad’s storyline could be salvaged or not, though I was bound and determined to try—no matter what the cost. But there was no reason Rans couldn’t have a happy ending.

  He just needed to avoid being dragged into my modern-day literary tragedy. And if Nigellus could eventually manage to talk him out of his self-destructive quest to poke the hornets’ nest that was the war in hopes that answers would fly out, so much the better.

  I finished showering and exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body, rummaging through the small amount of clothing I owned for the least sexually suggestive options available, as a feeling of heaviness settled in my chest. T-shirt. Jeans. Done.

  When I ventured forth, it was to the sound of Rans’ muffled voice filtering through to me from the kitchen. I paused, but didn’t hear any sign of a second person. Entering, I found him engaged in a phone conversation, and my excitement surged. He lifted a finger to forestall anything I might have been about to say, and pointed at the phone, mouthing, Albigard.

  EIGHT

  I BIT MY LIP and perched on a chair, waiting. Rans’ end of the conversation was unenlightening, and I chafed at not knowing what was being said. Finally, he ended the call and looked over at me.

  “Well? What did he say?” I asked impatiently.

  Rans turned to face me. “He was able to confirm that a high-level prisoner was transported to Dhuinne from this area. No details, but it seems fairly clear that it was your father.”

  My heart rate sped up. “We have to go after him,” I said. “We have to sneak in somehow and—”

  “Zorah,” he interrupted, “One does not sneak into Dhuinne.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “There must be some way to get in!”

  Rans sighed. “I told you that the entrance to the Fae realm lies inside a burial mound in County Meath, in Ireland. Perhaps I didn’t make it clear that the entrance on the Hill of Tara is the only entrance. To say that it’s well-guarded is putting it mildly.”

  I set my jaw and rose, pacing as I thought hard. “Then we’ll have to… I don’t know… make it so that they let us in voluntarily. Like, a Trojan Horse kind of thing, okay? I have to get in there, Rans. I can’t just leave Dad in their hands! Maybe if I pretended to be a prisoner—”

  Hands closed on my upper arms, stopping my progress. I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t even seen him move, I was so focused on brainstorming ways to get to my father.

  “Zorah. Stop. You’re not marching into the Fae realm like some kind of sacrificial offering.”

  I glared up at him.

  “I’ll speak with Nigellus,” Rans continued, unperturbed by my scowl. “Possibly some other people, as well. Perhaps one of them can arrange some sort of diplomatic exchange with the Fae Court… some way to allow you contact with your father, and maybe get you off their hit list at the same time.”

  My lips were pressed together in a thin line. “And how likely is that?” I asked, my skepticism coming through clearly in my voice.

  He didn’t give ground, though. “I can’t know until I try, now can I?” he shot back, a hint of frustration visible on his face. “But I do know this—you are not walking into Dhuinne without a guarantee of safe passage from someone with the power to back it up.”

  “Yeah? How long is all this likely to take, assuming it can be done at all?” I ground out.

  “I’m not a fortune-teller, luv. Believe me, if I owned a functioning crystal ball, my life would be very different than what it is now.” The words were uncompromising. “I’ll call Nigellus next, and see what he has to say on the matter.”

  There was… something in his tone. Something that told me he didn’t think the diplomatic option would work, and that if it didn’t, he still wasn’t going to budge on trying to get me into Dhuinne either openly or clandestinely.

  My stomach churned, remembering what I’d said to him as I sat on the floor of my dad’s ruined condo, holding the torn quilt that had belonged to my mother.

  My only goal is to find my father. From this moment, that’s the one thing I care about. As long as it’s your goal, too, we’re good. If I get a hint that it’s not, then we have a serious problem.

  I didn’t want to end up in conflict with Rans. I really, really didn’t.

  “What if someone else went after Dad, instead of us?” I asked slowly. “Would Albigard do it? Could we… I don’t know… bribe him? Or offer to do something for him in return?”

  Rans’ expression hardened. “There are areas in which I trust Albigard, and areas in which I don’t. Sending him to deal with the Court face-to-face on your behalf falls firmly into the latter category.”

  I opened my mouth to say something angry—great, so you’re not willing to take me, but you won’t let someone else go either—but I stopped myself before the words could escape.

  “Fine,” I said. “Call Nigellus, then.”

  His expression was still set in a stony facade that covered a well of frustration. Rather than say anything, he thumbed through contacts and tapped one.

  “Nigellus?” he said after a few moments. “I need your input on something. There’s a bit of a… situation developing in Chicago.”

  I seethed quietly at having my determination to find and retrieve my father labeled a ‘situation,’ but I held my tongue as Rans concisely outlined what we’d discovered since arriving in the city.

  “If one wanted to attempt travel into Dhuinne under prearranged diplomatic immunity, where would one start?” The words were tight enough to imply that the last thing Rans wanted was to get anyplace near Dhuinne, much less inside it.

  He paused to let the voice on the other end reply, and a tendon in his jaw tightened. “Yes, I know it’s bloody dangerous, Nigellus—I’m not mentally deficient!”

  Another silence as Nigellus spoke.

  “Bollocks. There must be someone who has a contact within the Court,” Rans said. “You can’t tell me no one has a backdoor line of communication at the ruling levels. If that were true, the damned treaty wouldn’t have held for a decade, much less for more than two hundred years!”

  The back and forth continued as I watched, chewing on a thumbnail. I couldn’t make out anything of Nigellus’ side, but Rans’ side of the conversation grew more heated until he finally snapped, “The fucking treaty is in danger of breaking now! Goddamnit, Nigellus—” He broke off, and took in a deep breath, bringing his vo
ice under control. “Just… think about it overnight. Let me know if there’s anyone else who might have a different perspective on the matter.”

  Another pause, and Rans said, “Fine.” Then he hung up.

  I watched as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’ll consider the options, and maybe try to talk to some people,” he said, and I once again got that feeling of being managed.

  “Great,” I said flatly.

  “I’ll call a couple of other people I know,” he said, his reply equally toneless. “Why don’t you eat something and go get some rest. It’s been… a day. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Otherwise, we can take a fresh look at things in the morning.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I looked around the kitchen, my eyes falling on a fruit bowl. I grabbed a banana and an apple. “I guess I’m pretty tired after, well, everything.”

  It was hard, but I turned and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance, returning to the room where I’d spent the previous night curled in Rans’ arms. After a moment’s thought, I gathered my things and moved them to another bedroom. It looked more lived-in, and I guessed it was Tom and Glynda’s. Which… yes, was kind of a creepy thing for me to do. But I knew if Rans came in later and lay down next to me in bed, my determination not to get closer to him would crumple like a wet dishrag.

  Moving to a different room was a pretty clear hands-off message, and one I was reasonably confident Mr. Middle Ages Chivalry would respect. I plonked my stuff down on the dresser and flopped onto the edge of the bed, eating my apple and banana. Then I lay back on the bed, still dressed, and thought things over.

  Though it was early in the evening, I dozed a bit as the events of the day caught up with me. When I woke, it was fully dark outside, but I could hear the sounds of Rans moving around in the kitchen, along with the low murmur of his voice. He obviously hadn’t been lying about talking to other people, which I appreciated.

  It was still obvious that working out a diplomatic solution was a long shot, though. What was I going to do if no one could help? Leaving Dad in Fae hands for weeks while people who didn’t really give a shit about him talked and debated endlessly was not an option. Hell, I’d already dicked around for days while who-knew-what was happening to him.

  I felt a little sick at the thought of the hours I’d spent having sex with Rans… training with Rans… sleeping curled in Rans’ arms. All of this, while my father was a prisoner.

  At least, you hope he’s a prisoner, said my unhelpful internal voice.

  I shoved my doubts into the dark place reserved for things I didn’t want to examine too closely. The point was, the Fae could be doing anything to Darryl Bright right now, and I was lying here on a comfortable bed in a safe house, napping after my pleasant shower.

  What the hell kind of daughter was I? It was one thing to be unable to act yet. It was totally another to spend time relaxing and having a good time while my father was in the hands of my enemies.

  In the morning, I resolved, I would take action with or without Rans and his diplomatic solution. The point that everyone seemed to be forgetting—myself included—was that I was basically fucked no matter what happened. The Fae wanted me gone. The demons probably wished I didn’t exist in the first place, since my existence put the treaty at risk. I could count the number of humans who would be upset by my disappearance on one hand.

  The only person who seemed committed to protecting me was a single, slightly unhinged vampire… who also happened to be the person I cared most about protecting. Rans was the most likely person to end up as collateral damage in the Fae’s witch-hunt against me, and he was one of the two people in my life right now who I would die to protect.

  The realization struck me in the chest like a blow.

  And yet, the more I rolled it around in my mind, the more true it felt. I would die to protect my father because he was my family, and because I hadn’t been in a position to protect my mother in her time of need. But I would die to protect Rans because it seemed increasingly likely that I wasn’t going to survive being hunted by the Fae, and saving the man who had tried to save me would give my death some kind of meaning.

  I’d been moments from being whisked away by Caspian at the bus station in St. Louis. Alma’s knife blade had missed slamming through my eye and into my brain by mere inches, and the Fae hadn’t even known I was in Chicago at the time. My life hung by the barest of threads these days.

  Much of my life had been spent as a victim, and a fairly pathetic one at that. I’d been a victim of the gunman who’d taken my mother’s life when I was six. A victim of my father’s emotional distance and neglect. A victim of my chronic health problems, both physical and mental. Was it such an unreasonable desire to want to make one final, grand gesture before the Fae snuffed out my existence?

  If I failed, at least it would be on my terms. And besides, once they had me, why would the Fae need to keep my father anyway? They might make my skin crawl, but it was obvious the Fae were a civilized society in many ways. If they granted last requests, I would make mine my father’s freedom. Or, at the very least, his safety.

  And then it would all be over. Dad could congratulate himself on having been right all along about my coming to a bad end. Rans would be safer, and maybe Nigellus could convince him to back off in his quest to find out the details of how he had survived the war.

  While I… I would be gone. I wouldn’t have to run anymore. I wouldn’t have to feel this constant sensation of dread over what horrible thing was going to happen next in my life. I wouldn’t have to fight against my stupid emotions… my misplaced and pathetic feelings for someone who couldn’t possibly care for me the way I wanted him to.

  I would give Rans the night to come up with a better plan, just as I’d agreed—even though I knew with utter certainty that all of his efforts would be in vain. And in the morning? Well… I now knew exactly what I needed to do to fix all of this.

  * * *

  I didn’t sleep again that night. As the hours passed, I listened to Rans’ voice filtering through to me intermittently, barely audible through the walls. I had to give credit where credit was due; he obviously hadn’t been putting me off with his promises to talk to anyone who might be able to help.

  As the night wore on, though, the silences grew longer and the conversations shorter. He was running out of options, running out of ideas. As I’d known they would, all his efforts had come to nothing.

  Some childish impulse had me pretending to sleep when his footsteps approached along the hall. I heard him pause outside of the bedroom we’d shared the previous night, standing still and silent for a long moment as though contemplating the empty bed. Then his tread approached the closed door of the master bedroom. Another pause, and he knocked lightly on the door before opening it.

  The clock on the bedside table read a quarter to five in glowing red numbers.

  “Zorah, wake up.”

  I made a production of blinking awake and sitting upright, still not sure why I felt the need to act like I’d been sleeping. “Yeah?”

  “I just wanted to update you.” His normally smooth voice sounded tired and a bit raspy from all the phone conversations. “No joy yet, but we’ll try again later in the morning. I’m… going to have a kip for a couple of hours, so I can take a fresh look at things after I’ve had some rest.”

  I hesitated for a beat. “Okay.”

  He remained motionless in the doorway for the space of several breaths before he stepped back, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His footsteps receded, heading for the guest bedroom before the sound faded, muted by the carpet.

  I lay in Tom and Glynda’s bed, not moving, trying to decipher the small sounds coming from down the hall. I watched the clock, my mind a careful blank as the numbers changed in slow motion.

  Dawn’s not a great time for vampires.

  The words echoed in my memory as five o’clock rolled around… five-fifteen… five-thirty. As six a.m. approached, the ho
use had been silent for some time. I carefully got out of bed. Dawn’s gray light was just beginning to illuminate the unfamiliar room. I snuck over to the dresser where I’d dumped my meager belongings and pulled on a pair of sneakers. Then I retrieved one of my burner phones from my bag, moving as silently as I could manage.

  Phone in hand, I eased the bedroom door open an inch at a time. It hadn’t creaked when Rans had opened and closed it earlier, but I didn’t need any shrill squeaks giving me away. Tiptoeing along the hallway, I paused at the open door of the guest bedroom and looked inside. Rans was asleep on top of the duvet, his body displaying that same disconcerting stillness I’d noticed the previous morning.

  I’d only intended to ensure that he wasn’t awake, but I ended up standing there for far longer than I should have, watching him. He’d understand why I had to do this, I thought. He’d know I was only acting to minimize the damage to those around me.

  Wouldn’t he?

  My heart was thumping against my chest as I looked at those finely sculpted features barely illuminated by the dawn light. It was that powerful thud-thud-thud against the cage of my ribs that finally unglued my feet and got me moving again. I was afraid he might be able to hear it. To sense the thrum of blood through my veins.

  After a final lingering look, I crept downstairs and carefully unlocked the sliding door leading to the back yard. I winced a bit at the sound of the door sliding along the track, but I was committed at this point. I went outside into the muggy Chicago morning, the phone clutched in my hand.

  The back yard was on the opposite side of the house from the guest bedroom, but I still moved as far away from the house as I could get. The fence around the yard was a bit of a hodgepodge—chain link on two sides and wooden privacy fence on the other two. I wedged myself in the corner of the privacy fence and powered up the phone.

  Pulling up the contacts, I scrolled through the numbers I’d copied from Rans’ phone yesterday when I’d been waiting for him in the car, and selected the entry labeled ‘Tink.’ The cheap phone displayed a graphic of a bell ringing as the call connected. I held my breath, not sure in the least that the recipient of my early-morning call would even bother to pick up.