The Last Vampire: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Apparently so,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral since I actually had no freaking clue why we were here.

  “Cool,” he said. “Turns out you picked a good place for it. Let me get the others up here and we’ll show you what we’ve got.” He turned toward the back, where the press had just begun to power down, rumbling into silence. “Yo—Isaac! Óliver!”

  The redhead—Isaac, I was assuming—returned with another man following behind. The third member of the Weekly Oracle crew was a tough-looking Hispanic guy with shoulder-length black hair. My eyes fell to the empty left sleeve of his shirt, and I quickly dragged them back up, not wanting to stare. Something about his bearing made me think ex-military, and I wondered if he’d lost his arm in combat somewhere.

  “You’re the ones after the EMF data?” he asked, a faint Mexican or Central American accent coloring his voice.

  “Yep,” Rans agreed. “That’s us.”

  Óliver nodded and pulled the remaining chair around to the front of the desk. “D, did you get all that shit plotted on the map last night?”

  Derrick leaned on the edge of the desk. “Yeah, it’s in the file dated yesterday. The pattern looked pretty clear.”

  “Pattern?” I asked as Óliver pulled up the file. Everyone clustered around to look over his shoulder—me included.

  It was Isaac who had pity on me. “We have EMF meters set up at a bunch of area hotspots that sit on the ley lines crisscrossing northern Illinois and Indiana. Sometimes, if you plot the times and locations of the readings, patterns emerge. Derrick has some theories about energy waves related to sunspots affecting the strength of trapped ghosts.”

  I shot a look at Rans, still utterly in the dark as to our purpose here. He’d hidden his amusement from earlier behind an unreadable poker face, however, and there were no clues to be found in his expression.

  “Let me see it,” he said, his focus on the screen.

  Derrick pointed at the map that appeared. I recognized Chicago sitting on the bank of Lake Michigan, along with a portion of the two states around it. Several red dots of various sizes with timestamps hovering above them covered the visible area.

  “The size of the dot indicates the magnitude of the highest readings in the last seventy-two hours, with the timestamp showing when the peak occurred,” Derrick said, tracing a finger along an arc defined by the biggest dots.

  It meant nothing to me, but Rans nodded. “Right. So the biggest power surges are all following that single ley line, heading from west to east at a high rate of speed.”

  “Weird,” Isaac said. “Have there been any solar flares during that period?”

  “No,” Óliver grunted. “The last big one was six days ago.”

  “It doesn’t do a damn thing for my pet theory,” Derrick offered wryly, “but does it help you at all?”

  Rans straightened and flashed him a charming smile. “Possibly so. Whatever the case, I appreciate the assistance, lads.”

  Derrick shrugged. “The data needed to be collated anyway. You want a printout or a file transfer of this?”

  “No, no,” Rans said. “Not necessary. I just needed to see the pattern.”

  Óliver looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You got a different theory about these readings? Because at this point, I’m open to just about anything.”

  Rans shook his head. “Not really. At least, not one I’m ready to air yet, but you know how it is. Every piece of data helps.” He turned his attention back to me. “Perhaps we should leave these gentlemen to their work now. Ready to head out?”

  I’m ready to get some freaking answers, I tried to project with my expression, but aloud, I only said, “Sure.” I smiled at Derrick. “It was really great to run into you in meatspace, Hypnos. Keep on fighting the good fight, okay?”

  I let my smile encompass the other two, as well. Derrick awkwardly shook my hand, while the others acknowledged me with brief nods. After a final brief farewell, Rans ushered me back up the stairwell and out the door leading onto the street.

  “Care to explain all that?” I asked once we were outside.

  “Certainly. First things first, though.” He eyed me up and down, a very strange look on his handsome face. “’TeamEdward4eva,’ Zorah? Really?”

  I stared at him blankly for a beat before the implications registered. Heat flooded my cheeks.

  “I was sixteen when I chose that username!” I protested. “It was a popular series—millions of people read it!”

  He had that look again—the one that said he was battling back laughter only with extreme difficulty. “I swear, if the word sparkle passes your lips…”

  “Real women crave the sparkle,” I muttered, casting a glare up at him. “That was my sig line.”

  A single bark of laughter escaped his control. “Bloody hell, luv.” He shook his head. “Ah, well. It could be worse. If you’d been Team Jacob, you and I might be having a serious problem right now.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I feel like I should point out that my being a teenage girl at the time excuses me for all of this. Whereas you’re seven hundred years old, and you’ve clearly got strong opinions regarding a girly young-adult vampire story.”

  “Boredom is a powerful motivator,” he said, before visibly wrestling his amusement back under control. “Now, though, we really do have other things to worry about.”

  I sobered, because yeah—that was putting it mildly. “So talk. Why do you care about ghost-hunting all of the sudden?”

  “Because they aren’t tracking ghosts. They’re tracking Fae travel along the ley lines. They just don’t realize it.”

  “Okay, explain that to me,” I said. “The magic and ghost stuff was never really my thing, ironic as that now seems. Ley lines are supposed to be… like, energy highways, right?”

  “In a way. Originally, humans became aware of them when several people noticed that large monuments and religious structures tended to be built along particular map lines, even though there was no coordination or purposeful planning to make it happen that way.”

  I frowned, mulling that over. “So… what? People built monuments in certain places because of invisible energy paths running through the area?”

  Rans shrugged. “Theoretically. Depending on who’s telling it, humans were either spontaneously drawn to the ley lines, or they were drawn to the concentrations of Fae nearby—since Fae use the lines for magical transportation across long distances.”

  My thoughts turned back to Albigard and his portals. “Oh. Is that how Tinkebell was able to whisk us from place to place?”

  But he shook his head. “No. Alby is a powerful magical practitioner in his own right. Many Fae can fold local space to move short distances. The ley lines are for global travel.”

  I started to glimpse where he was going with this. “Meaning Fae were traveling along the line on that map we just saw, and this was happening around the time Dad disappeared. You think it’s connected?”

  “I had a theory,” Rans said. “One that Derrick’s data supports. The Fae tend not to travel back and forth from wherever they’re stationed on Earth very often. There’s no way to prove it conclusively, but the timing makes it likely they were transporting a high-level prisoner… or a high-level collaborator.”

  My throat went dry. “Transporting him where?” I rasped.

  “To the Fae world of Dhuinne. The ley line you saw on the map leads directly across the Atlantic Ocean to County Meath in Ireland. And the weak spot between the two realms—the gate used to move between the worlds—is inside a burial mound on the Hill of Tara.”

  My brain didn’t seem to want to work at the moment, but I forced myself to follow the logical steps he was laying out anyway. “Are you saying that my dad isn’t on Earth anymore?” Even speaking the words aloud made me feel cold, despite the summer heat reflecting off the concrete.

  His eyes cut to me, assessing my reaction. “I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

  Jesus.
If he was right, what was I supposed to do now? I swallowed hard.

  “We should go visit the westernmost place where Derrick’s equipment picked up high readings,” I said, thinking it through as rationally as I could. “If they were traveling west to east, that should be the point they left from, shouldn’t it? Maybe we can find more clues there.”

  Rans was still watching me. “You really want to traipse up to a Fae-controlled site and start asking questions, Zorah? Because if I’m right, Caspian’s mates would be pleased as punch to whisk you away to join your father—and not for a touching family reunion.”

  The panicked feeling I’d been holding at bay for the last day or so was clamoring in my stomach, threatening to break loose and consume me. I was already a fugitive. Even with Rans protecting me for reasons I still couldn’t claim to understand, realistically, how long was I going to be able to avoid the Fae? I couldn’t just attach myself to Rans like a leech for the rest of my natural life, in hopes that he would continue to beat off my pursuers with a stick… or a sword.

  “What, then?” I asked, hearing desperation seep into my voice.

  I hadn’t been joking, back at my dad’s place. Right now, finding him was the only thing driving me forward. Even if I failed—even if my attempt resulted in my capture rather than his rescue—I still had to try. If I let my only remaining family member languish in my enemy’s hands while I hid myself away like a terrified mouse in a hole, what kind of daughter did that make me? What kind of person did that make me?

  “I thought we’d pass this new information to Alby and see what he can make of it,” Rans said, looking at me as though he was weighing the likelihood of me losing my shit right here on the street. “He’s better positioned than either of us to learn something useful, although I can always do a bit of quiet aerial reconnaissance on the place at night, if need be.”

  Right. Because my vampire lover could turn into mist and fly. Fuck. What had my life become?

  “Do you really think we can trust him?” I asked, not much liking this plan. “Albigard, I mean?”

  He paused, looking thoughtful. “There are… reasons why Albigard wants to stay on top of what’s going on within the Unseelie Court. Those reasons are self-serving—but, these days, they’re also in conflict with what most of the rest of his race wants. That makes him an ally in some respects, if not necessarily others.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” I asked sourly.

  “Until he isn’t. Quite so.”

  “I really don’t like this,” I told him.

  “I’d gathered,” he said.

  We’d covered maybe half the distance back to the car and were passing a small encampment of homeless people. They’d set up on the boundary of the rather derelict area where the Weekly Oracle kept their cheap basement offices and a busier area with open storefronts and foot traffic.

  Rans glanced at the makeshift tents, and then at a fast food restaurant down the block. “Time for lunch, I think.”

  I glanced at the angle of the sun, thinking that it seemed awfully early. “More like brunch, I’d have thought.”

  “Brunch, then.” He was rummaging in a pocket. A moment later, he came up with a couple of folded bills. With a jolt, I realized they were hundreds.

  “I’m… not really all that hungry yet,” I told him, eyeing the cash.

  “As you like,” he said. “I am, though. Someone seems to have sucked me dry last night, and I haven’t had a chance to refill yet.” He lifted my hand and pressed the money into it. “Do me a favor and get enough food for—” He broke off, glancing over the homeless encampment again. “—roughly a dozen people. Then bring it back here. Consider it your good deed for the day.”

  I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Are you about to drink blood from homeless people?”

  “Yes, I am about to drink blood from homeless people, after which I will provide them with some spending money, along with a free meal for them and the rest of their compatriots.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Does that offend you?”

  I stood there for a minute, holding the breath I’d drawn to speak. “No,” I decided. “Not so long as you don’t drain them as badly as you drained me that first afternoon in St. Louis. Because… I’m sorry, Rans, but that really sucked.”

  A grim little smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Last night with you was intense, luv—but not quite as intense as a shotgun blast through the chest. I’ll try to mind my table manners.”

  I nodded, mostly satisfied by the reassurance, and started to turn away before another thought struck me. “Is it safe for me to, you know…” I gestured at the restaurant down the street.

  “The Fae aren’t watching the entire city around the clock. We’re no place near your father’s home, government offices, or any travel hubs. It’s fine.”

  With that, he peeled away and approached a skinny kid who was lounging in front of one of the makeshift tarp tents. Rans crouched in front of him and after a brief conversation, the kid called to some of the others nearby. Rans shot a glance over his shoulder at me, as though wondering why I hadn’t left to buy the food yet. His blue eyes were glowing.

  I pivoted and marched down the street to buy hamburgers. Or possibly breakfast sandwiches if it was still too early for the lunch menu. Should this be bothering me more? I wasn’t sure. The feeling in my chest might possibly have been distaste. It also might have been burning, territorial jealousy at the idea of Rans’ lips closing over someone else’s neck… his teeth piercing someone else’s skin.

  I stood in line, resolutely not examining the feeling any closer. When I reached the counter, I bought breakfast sandwiches and hash browns—muttering something under my breath about picking up food for the office when the cashier eyed the hundred dollar bills curiously.

  When the order was finished I hauled the ridiculous, oversized bag back to where I’d left Rans. Apparently, the grisly part was already done, because he was lounging with casual equanimity against a wall, chatting with an old guy whose beard was stained yellow.

  On the one hand, I had no particular desire to watch Rans drink blood from random people. But on the other hand, I had a vague impression that I was being managed. That he’d sent me away specifically so I wouldn’t make a scene while he was doing the dirty deed. Or deeds, since I gathered he’d intended to drink from more than one. None of the people around him looked upset. Had he mesmerized them into forgetting what had happened? Probably, I thought, remembering those glowing eyes glancing back at me as I’d left.

  More importantly, though, none of them looked weakened or debilitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have worried. Rans had seven freaking centuries of practice at this, after all. I took a deep breath and strolled up.

  “Hey,” I said awkwardly. “Who wants breakfast sandwiches and hash browns?”

  Within moments, I was the most popular person on the block—surrounded by people in thrift store clothing and ragged military surplus gear. They helped pass everything around, making sure everyone got a fair share.

  Almost everyone, at least. When the crowd cleared, I noticed an elderly woman hanging back in the shadows. Her short, iron-gray hair stood up in wild wisps pointing every which way, and her cheeks had the sunken look that came from missing too many teeth.

  “Hey, Alma,” called the skinny kid Rans had been talking to when I left. “You okay back there? Come get some food.”

  But Alma only scowled at him.

  Not wanting the poor old dear to miss out on a hot meal, I rummaged for the last container of hash browns and approached her, pasting on what I hoped was a non-threatening smile.

  “Hey, Alma. I’m Zo—” I caught myself and substituted my fake name. “I’m JoAnne.” God, I was still appallingly bad at this whole thing. I extended the styrofoam container. “I’ve got some hash browns left—”

  The container and its contents went flying as Alma knocked it out of my hand with unexpected viciousness. I gaped at her
in surprise as her lips peeled back, revealing gums populated by a few rotting teeth.

  “Demon girl!” she hissed, pulling a makeshift blade out of her jacket and plunging it toward my face.

  SIX

  I STUMBLED BACK, but a hand appeared unexpectedly in my vision, catching the old woman’s wrist in a grip like iron. She shrieked in Rans’ face, her expression unhinged. Manic.

  “Well, bugger,” Rans said as he caught her other arm, restraining her. “Maybe I should have expected something like this.”

  “Alma!” The skinny kid and a couple of other people were hurrying toward us, alarm clouding their faces.

  I scrambled out of the way, feeling my heart thudding against my ribcage after the unexpected jolt of adrenaline. Rans twisted the shard of sharpened metal out of Alma’s hand, and caught her again when she tried to go for his eyes with her nails.

  “Jesus, Alma—what are you doing?” the kid cried, skidding to a stop in front of her. “You need to calm down… you’re gonna bring the cops down on us!”

  A fresh sliver of fear pierced me. My last couple of encounters with the cops had taught me that the old maxim, ‘Always trust a policeman’ didn’t hold true when you were a fugitive succubus hybrid on the run from a bunch of pissed-off faeries. If law enforcement did show up, there was a damned good chance the Fae would find out I was here—and Rans, too.

  “Filthy hell-spawn!” Alma was screeching. “Abomination!”

  Rans’ eyes pinned me. “Go to the car. She may calm down once you’re out of sight.” He rummaged in his pocket one-handed, the other hand still holding Alma’s wrists trapped. Keys arced through the air across the short distance separating us, followed by his phone. I caught both items as he spoke again. “I’ll take care of this. If I don’t catch up to you in ten minutes, call A.C. from the contact list and let him know what’s happening. A.C. is for Atlantic City… got it?”

  “G-got it,” I stammered, realizing that must mean Nigellus.