And that was plausible, I supposed.
“Okay... well... I’ll see if Guthrie has a bag of rice in the kitchen that I can stick it in to try and dry it out,” I said. “Otherwise, I owe Edward a new phone. Not to mention, my thanks... again.”
Nigellus gave me a pleasant half-smile, though the tension in the room still felt elevated. “Think nothing of it. A phone is easily replaced. Your life, less so.”
That sentiment... should have been touching? Instead, I could only think that there was a certain air of cold calculation beneath the words. It was a stark reminder that while Nigellus might be both charming and useful, his actions stemmed from a distinctly self-serving motive.
Rans steered the conversation to a different topic—one that was, if possible, even more fraught with subtext than the previous one.
“If Myrial allows Guthrie to live long enough for anyone else to hear of his turning, it will shift the balance between Hell and Dhuinne.”
He was pacing again, clearly on edge. Even after holding him in my arms outside, I knew that I still had no true understanding of what his actions with Guthrie had cost him on a personal level.
“Yes,” Nigellus agreed thoughtfully.
I knew the demon must be salivating at the thought of a second source of vampire blood—assuming he could somehow keep Myrial at bay long enough to make use of it.
Rans halted. “And...?”
Nigellus shifted in his chair. “Perhaps once Mr. Leonides has recovered from the turning, it would be best if I took him directly under my protection. I am in a better position than either of you to counter whatever moves Myrial might make next. And if I took him to Hell, he would additionally be out from under the threat of the Fae weapon.”
Red alert klaxons immediately went off in my head, and I was on my feet before I registered the intent to move. My reaction was nothing compared to Rans’, though, and I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been expecting just such a gambit.
Instantly, Rans transformed from tense but quiet to a full-on papa grizzly bear... vampire edition. He rounded on Nigellus, eyes blazing and fangs extended, and I was quite certain I’d never seen him look less human and more monster than at that moment. A shiver traveled up my spine, but it wasn’t one of fear. I was at his side in two strides, standing shoulder to shoulder with him between Nigellus and the unconscious vampire on the bed.
Power crackled off of Rans as he squared up to the demon he’d called mentor for centuries. When he spoke, his voice held the resonance that could bend human minds, striking terror in anything with a pulse and warm blood in its veins.
“Enough. I think we all know what lies behind your touching expression of concern,” Rans said, driving each word home like a coffin nail. “And you’ll take this man to Hell over my staked and decapitated body.”
Nigellus’ dark eyebrows drew together in apparent consternation. “Ransley—” he began, but Rans cut him off sharply.
“No. The time for games is over.” Rans’ aura filled the room like storm clouds, anger rolling off him in waves as the moment of confrontation finally arrived. “I have only two words for you, Nigellus. Blood. Wine.”
End of Book Four
The Last Vampire: Book Five
By R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf
ONE
“I HAVE ONLY two words for you, Nigellus. Blood. Wine.”
Ransley Thorpe’s vampiric aura filled the room like a storm cloud; anger rolling off him in waves as the moment of confrontation with his long-time mentor finally arrived. I tensed as I stood at his right shoulder, the pair of us forming a flimsy blockade between the powerful demon of fate before us, and the unconscious form of Rans’ closest friend on the bed behind us.
Guthrie lay insensible, recovering from his transformation into a vampire—only the second one currently in existence, and the first to be turned since a Fae weapon nearly destroyed the species during the last great war between the realms. Rans had only agreed to turn Guthrie because the alternative would have been certain death for a man we both cared about. Now, we’d ensured that while he might have a chance at survival in the near-term, he would become a pawn in a millennia-old struggle for the rest of his days.
Rans had known and trusted Nigellus for centuries. Only recently had I discovered that for much of that time, Nigellus had been manipulating him—draining his blood for use as part of a self-serving plot to raise a new army of demon-bound vampires in Hell. The vampires would, he hoped, be impervious to the magical Fae weapon that had ended the war and ushered in an uneasy peace. Even worse, Nigellus had been controlling Rans’ mind, excising the memory of each violation after it happened.
The last few days had been an exercise in frustration, for me at least. Despite this ground-shaking revelation of his betrayal, Nigellus had been all that stood between us and capture or death at the hands of our many enemies. Whatever else could be said about him, his need for Rans’ blood meant that the demon was highly motivated to ensure our physical safety.
Rans had insisted, quite correctly, that it was in our interests to keep our knowledge of Nigellus’ actions to ourselves. That had changed, however, the moment the demon gained a potential new source of vampire blood in the form of Guthrie. It hadn’t taken Nigellus long to suggest that Guthrie would be safer with him in Hell. The worst part was, he was probably right about that—from a certain perspective, at least.
Being in Hell would protect Guthrie from the Fae weapon, should the demons’ old enemies realize that a new vampire had just come into existence. Rans’ continued survival had been included as a clause in the peace agreement that formally ended the
