The Last Vampire- Complete series Box Set

by R. A. Steffan

  Silence reigned for a beat.

  “Okay, sorry,” Finn said, at length, “but that’s still kind of creepy.”

  “Is it?” Rans asked. His eyes glowed eerily in the hut’s candlelit interior, and the curl of his lip bared a hint of fang. “You lot have been drinking my blood for centuries without my permission, and you don’t hear me complaining.”

  “Oy. Put a sock in it,” I said. “Seriously, Rans—no taking out your frustrations with Nigellus on my friends. It’s not like they knew.”

  He waved away the words and strode to the hut’s tiny window, looking out at the village beyond.

  Sharalynn looked warily between us. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “Nigellus was stealing his blood—” She tipped her chin toward Rans. “—and using it as the magic ingredient in the wine that slows our aging and keeps us all healthy?” She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because he thinks he might need more vampires to use as cannon fodder in a future war,” Rans said bitterly. “Whenever hostilities with the Fae break out again.”

  Sharalynn’s expression hardened at the mention of the Fae.

  “The weapon the Fae used before to kill the vampires was a magical one,” I explained. “Nigellus has got it into his head that because the tithelings were exposed to Dhuinne’s magic as infants, they might be immune to the Fae weapon as vampires. So, since the end of the war, he and the other demons have been... stockpiling you, I guess—for lack of a better word.”

  Finn scowled. “If they wanted us to fight the Fae for them, they could have just said so.”

  My throat ached with the knowledge that the seeds of hatred had already been sown within the little human enclave in Hell, sending out invisible roots beneath the surface.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry to become one of Hell’s foot soldiers,” Rans said in a low monotone. “As career choices go, I can’t honestly recommend it.”

  Sharalynn still looked troubled.

  “But in the meantime, the blood wine has kept us all healthy and youthful,” she said. “You make it sound like some evil act, but that hasn’t been our experience.”

  Rans turned away from the window, giving her his full attention. He’d gotten his glowing gaze under control, I noticed.

  “Eternal life,” he said. “And is that really what you want?”

  Sharalynn’s eyes slid to Finn, his pleasant visage marred by the large port wine birthmark that had robbed him of confidence, holding him back from approaching Sharalynn for years.

  “Eternal?” she replied. “I don’t even know what that means, really. But, yes, I want as many years as I can get, to spend with the people I love.”

  For a bare instant, Rans looked like he’d been struck. His eyes flew to me.

  And I wasn’t sure if that was a conversation I wanted to have with other people present—especially since I was fairly certain that in his heart of hearts, Rans no longer resented his immortality. The bitterness he felt over it was mostly habit at this point, after living with it for so long.

  “That’s... an understandable desire,” he said, the words emerging hoarse.

  “Yeah,” I agreed without hesitation. “It really is.”

  It was not, however, a desire that meshed well with becoming a vampire and fighting in a supernatural war. I considered pointing that out, but in the end, Sharalynn wasn’t the one we needed to convince.

  A knock sounded at the door, left open to allow the breeze into the house. Edward poked his head inside.

  “Hello, Sharalynn, my dear,” he said. “Hello, Finn. I’m afraid I must pull these two away for the meeting now. Sir? Miss? If you’d come with me, please?”

  Sharalynn met my eyes, her dark gaze still troubled. “Will you be staying here for a bit after you get done talking to the elders?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her. “But whatever the case, we can both pretty much come and go as we please these days. I imagine we’ll be around, off and on.”

  She nodded, and came forward to pull me into an embrace. “I was really sorry to hear about your father, Zorah,” she said. “I liked him a lot.”

  I let the wave of grief crest over me and break, the process of doing so having become increasingly familiar over the past several days. Breathe through the stabbing ache. Close eyes tightly to hold back bloody vampire tears. Swallow a couple of times to push everything down into the silent space behind my ribcage. Clear throat twice to prevent croakiness in response.

  “Thank you, babe,” I told her, hugging back. My voice was almost level. “It meant a lot for me to know that you were here, looking out for him.”

  I was still finding it oddly difficult to come to terms with the fact that my father had other people who cared for him. Which was a strange thing to get hung up on, I suppose, because why shouldn’t he? The idea of him having this whole other life that I hadn’t been a part of was painful, but... maybe in some ways it was a good, bittersweet sort of a painful, knowing he hadn’t been as desperately alone as I often pictured him being.

  Sharalynn gave me a final squeeze and we let each other go. I gave Finn a quick hug, too, even managing to quip, “Don’t worry, big guy—I don’t bite. Much.”

  He let out a nervous laugh, and I heard a faint snort from Rans next to the window as the tension in the room eased. We followed Edward toward the meeting hall at one edge of the village’s central square. This was where I’d first met Fatima, after Nigellus brought me here to see Dad. Later, it was where I’d danced and engaged in other erotic but harmless displays meant to encourage voyeurism so I could feed from the natives’ animus.

  Now, it would be the place where Rans and I—hopefully—hashed out an agreement with Nigellus and the other demons that everyone could live with.

  Despite my new undead stamina, I was just... tired. So tired of all the drama, all the politics, all the running and fighting. I wanted it to be over. Perhaps wishing for such a thing was optimistic of me, but at least most of the involved parties were ready to sit down and get everything in the open.

  Finally.

  My gaze met Nigellus’ as we entered the long, rectangular one-story structure. The same heavy table I remembered from my first visit here still dominated the space, but this time most of the chairs were occupied. In addition to Nigellus and several demons I vaguely remembered from my appearance before the Council a few weeks ago, I recognized Baalazar, as well as Fatima, Li Wei, and many of the other titheling elders. A few of those present nodded at me, and I gave an awkward little finger wave in reply.

  “Please,” Nigellus said, rising and gesturing to a pair of empty chairs. “Join us.”

  I shot a sidelong glance at Rans as we seated ourselves, trying to gauge how he was taking all of this. He had his poker face on, but I knew how badly it had freaked him out to even come here in the first place. As a group, vampires had apparently internalized the whole ‘abandon hope, all ye who enter here’ mythos of Hell to a truly visceral degree.

  For Rans, though, it was too late to worry about such things. He was already bound to a demon. He had been for centuries. No one could un-ring that bell. Hell was not a prison for him, any more than it was for me. Not physically, anyway.

  “If we could begin, now that everyone is here,” Nigellus said, before sitting down again.

  What followed was nearly five hours of discussion, during which the titheling elders were informed of what, exactly, was in the blood wine they’d been consuming, and why it was important. It still broke my heart that the humans’ reaction to the revelation that they might someday be expected to go forth and battle the Fae on Earth was basically, ‘oh, yeah, cool—we can see where that might be necessary at some point.’

  The villagers were such a bunch of sweet old hippies in so many respects... but in the end, they still belonged to the same species that had decided nuclear bombs and chemical weapons were both great ideas that should totally happen. I’d caught glimpses during my time here of their ingrained hatred for the Fae, wh
o’d stolen them from their families on Earth and bartered them as chattel to their adversaries. But I hadn’t fully appreciated the ramifications of that hatred until quite recently.

  In the tithelings’ minds, Fae were ‘the Enemy’ with a capital E, and demons were their generous benefactors who provided everything they needed and asked nothing in return. The concept of vampires was as foreign to the elders as it had been to Sharalynn, but if I’d expected them to be horrified by the idea, I was in for a shock.

  “So, we would become stronger and gain magical powers like flight?” Fatima asked. “And our blood would have the same healing and restorative powers as the blood wine, only more concentrated?”

  Next to me, Rans looked like someone who’d expected this discussion to go exactly the way that it had.

  “Well, yes,” I said. “But that’s not really—” I trailed off. Not really what? The point?

  “You’ve already said that you don’t need to harm people in order to feed from them, correct?” asked one of the elders whom I did not know well. “If the Earth is populated with vast numbers of humans, then there would seem to be no reason why the existence of a few hundred more vampires would pose a problem.”

  “You’d all have to be bound to demons before you could go there, though,” I pointed out.

  “As you are bound?” the elder prodded. “As Nigellus’ servant Edward is bound? Has such a bond not saved all of your lives at some point?”

  “Several times, yes,” Edward said quietly.

  “Not all demons are like Nigellus,” Rans said tightly.

  Fatima raised an eyebrow. “We have lived with the demons for a very long time, Ransley Thorpe. Do you consider us children, incapable of judging character or making choices for ourselves?”

  Rans looked very pointedly at Nigellus. “That depends. Would the tithelings retain free will regarding their choices to be turned or not to be turned? To be bound, or not to be bound... and to whom?”

  “Of course they would,” Nigellus said easily.

  Rans’ eyes swept over the other demons present. “And the Council agrees with this?” he pressed.

  Baalazar frowned. “Free will and the ability to enter into contracts lies at the heart of demon society. Which is more than can be said for our enemies, who prefer to manipulate and coerce.”

  “And what about Myrial?” I asked boldly.

  The imp’s expression soured. “Myrial utilized free will in an attempt to shift the balance of power across the three realms,” Baalazar said. “Doing so had consequences. Those consequences will continue to ripple throughout Hell for some time. But Myrial’s actions do not impact the ability of the tithelings to choose their own futures.”

  Maybe I was finally growing into my demon heritage, because I heard the unspoken subtext. The demons were legitimately unconcerned about allowing the tithelings to choose, because they were confident that with the right encouragement, most of them would choose to go fight the enemy they hated.

  “All of this is quite theoretical at the present moment,” Nigellus said.

  He looked somewhat out of place amongst his demonic brethren, wearing his striking human guise. I wondered if the illusion was for our benefit.

  “Is it, though?” Rans asked tersely.

  Nigellus raised an eyebrow. “It is. The Fae Court is in no more of a hurry to restart the war than the Council of Hell. Why would they be, when they have all they want of the spoils from the last clash?”

  Several of the other demons shot him disgruntled looks, and I got the impression he touched on something of a sore point regarding the outcome of the conflict they preferred to describe as a ‘messy draw.’ Still, none of them disputed the assertion outright.

  “You have the Council’s word that we have no intention of raising a new vampire race during peacetime,” Nigellus continued. “Furthermore, you have my personal guarantee that our position on the matter will not change without first consulting all parties involved.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” said Li Wei, who’d been largely quiet during the discussion.

  “We will, however, still require vampire blood on a regular basis, in amounts sufficient to imbue the tithelings’ wine with its magical properties,” Baalazar added implacably.

  Rans grew tense beside me. “I gave my word long ago to allow Nigellus to harvest my blood as he saw fit... in exchange for services rendered.” His eyes cut to the demon of fate. “Or so I am informed.”

  “You can have my blood, too,” I blurted, thinking of Sharalynn asking for more years with the man she loved. “But in return, you have to promise not to bother Guthrie Leonides. He’s an innocent bystander to all of this.”

  “An innocent bystander who sold his soul to a demon,” Nigellus pointed out mildly. “But I believe we can accommodate that provision, on the condition that other sources of vampire blood remain available to us.”

  And there it was—the last loophole closed, the last ‘i’ dotted and the last ‘t’ crossed. In exchange for our blood, the demons wouldn’t hound Guthrie, and they wouldn’t force the tithelings into vampirism or soul-bonds without their consent. We’d just done our very own deal with the devil... or rather, the devils... and I wasn’t at all sure how to feel about it.

  I glanced at Rans, just to check in with him. He gave a small nod.

  “We agree,” I told the assembled ruling bodies of the demons and the tithelings.

  Nigellus nodded as well, and rose. “Very well. In that case, please come with me, and we’ll seal the contract with a modest donation of blood from each of you. As it is, Hell’s store of blood wine is nearly running dry.”

  EPILOGUE

  IF I’D EVER wondered how Nigellus had managed to drain Rans for so long without anyone being the wiser, I had my answer half an hour later. I sat in a small room at the back of the meeting hall with Rans, while Edward, Fatima, and Li Wei looked on. Nigellus stood next to the end of the rectangular table where the five of us were seated, his attention fixed firmly on a pair of crystal decanters.

  As I watched, garnet liquid appeared in each container, the level rising up from the bottom an inch at a time until they were both roughly two-thirds full. As the liquid welled up inside the sparkling vessels, a faint sense of weakness washed over me.

  “How are you doing that?” I asked, a bit woozily.

  Nigellus looked at me with hooded eyes. “The same way I would call your spilled blood back to your body should you ever become critically injured. The same way I recalled Edward’s corporeal form to a living state when he was foolish enough to step in front of Myrial and get himself torn apart.”

  Edward shot him a tolerant look. “If you didn’t want me stepping between Myrial and an innocent, sir, you should have told me so ahead of time.”

  In the end, Edward’s sacrifice hadn’t been enough to save my father from the supernatural power struggle in which we’d become embroiled. I closed my eyes, but the wave of grief over his loss wasn’t quite as strong this time. Cool fingers twined with mine, and I opened them to meet Rans’ cerulean gaze.

  “I’m all right,” I said. “Just a little woozy.”

  “That will be quite sufficient for the time being,” Nigellus said, capping the decanters.

  Rans didn’t look nearly as bad as he had on the other two occasions when I’d seen him immediately after Nigellus had drained him. I gathered that meant the demon was taking roughly the same amount of blood as before, but splitting it between the two of us—rather than draining us of every possible drop to double his supply.

  That was... nice of him, I supposed.

  Li Wei spoke, looking between the two of us. “Do I understand correctly that you will need to drink the blood of humans to replenish what we have just taken from you?”

  “That’s correct,” Rans said evenly.

  Li Wei gave a small, decisive nod. “Then allow me to offer mine, as recompense. It seems only fair, under the circumstances.”

  “Yes,” Fatim
a agreed, “I concur. I offer mine as well, assuming I have your assurance that neither of us will be seriously debilitated by the process.”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine,” Edward assured them. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve played donor over the centuries. It’s a surprisingly painless process, really.”

  Nigellus eyed us. “In that case, I will leave you to your feeding. Ransley... Zorah... I assume you will both wish to leave afterward?”

  Edward frowned. “Regarding your return to Earth, there is, of course, still the threat of the Fae weapon to consider. Will the Fae decide that the existence of additional vampires voids the clause relating to Ransley’s survival?”

  Rans settled a hard look on Nigellus. “What do you say, Nigellus? You’re banking everything on the ability of individuals with exposure to Fae magic being immune to the weapon. Zorah wouldn’t exist at all without her little slice of Dhuinne’s power—a legacy from her father.”

  “She also shares a life-bond with you, though,” Edward pointed out. “And you have no such immunity.”

  “No,” Rans agreed, never breaking eye contact with Nigellus. “I don’t. Instead, I have a demon-bond. I would assume that the individual holding the other end of that leash will continue to act in a way that ensures the survival of his two vampire blood sources.”

  “Have I given you cause to think otherwise?” Nigellus asked in a deceptively mild tone.

  Rans made a disgruntled noise and looked away.

  “There is still Mr. Leonides to consider,” Edward said quietly.

  I rubbed the corners of my eyes—a weary movement. “If you think Guthrie will come to Hell voluntarily, you don’t know him at all.” I took a deep breath. “The way I see it is this. Myrial could have reaped Guthrie to strengthen herself when she and Nigellus were fighting. She didn’t, because she’s playing a long game. So long, in fact, that if it takes her centuries to pull herself together so she can continue to pursue it, she doesn’t seem all that bothered.”

  “Myrial’s decision does not seem particularly relevant to the Fae situation,” Nigellus said.