With a last look at my reflection, I nodded. “Yes. Let’s.”
* * *
“Hmm. From shadowy financier to the rich and immoral, to hospital blood bank thief,” Guthrie groused, shoving bags of red liquid into the villa’s refrigerator. He straightened, eyeing me warily. “Feeling better then, I take it?”
“Much,” I said. “I gather I’ve got you to thank for that. Thank you, Guthrie. Thank you for saving us.”
I could see his discomfort with my words, and I tried not let it affect me. He stood poised for a beat, weighing his reply.
“Zorah...” he began.
“It’s okay,” I said hastily. “You don’t have to—”
“You’re my granddaughter,” Guthrie continued, cutting across me. “The only grandchild I’ll ever have. And while it’s true I missed my chance to buy you extravagant birthday presents and warn you about guys like this asshole when you were growing up—” He jerked his chin toward Rans. “—that doesn’t mean I won’t tackle an armed gunman for you when the situation calls for it.”
I choked on something halfway between a laugh and a sob, pierced directly through my unbeating heart by his simple acknowledgement of familial connection.
“Oh, just go on and hug the crotchety old bastard,” Rans said, amusement coloring his tone. “He won’t bite.”
Guthrie shot him a flat look. “Ha. Ha. Bite. You’re a real comedian, buddy.”
Unable to help myself, I did as Rans had suggested. Guthrie allowed the embrace awkwardly, patting my back with one hand.
Rans smiled at us, lips twitching. “There you go. Told you, didn’t I? Just don’t ask him about his—”
Guthrie glared daggers over my head. “If the words ‘grandpa boner’ pass your lips, I’m walking out that door and catching the first plane back to St. Louis.”
I pulled away from him as my brain made the relevant connection, sorely testing the theory of whether or not vampires could blush. Apparently, we couldn’t—or I definitely would have been at that point. “Yeah, I’m... uh... really sorry about the succubus blood thing. Maybe we should...”
“Pretend it didn’t happen and never mention it again?” he suggested.
“Yes, that,” I agreed. Casting around for a change of subject, I asked, “So. What now? I imagine Nigellus isn’t going to know what to do with himself, once he finds out that he’s got three vampires to choose from. Aside from that tiny new wrinkle, though, aren’t we pretty much in the same catch-22 as before?”
Rans rested a hip against the edge of the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “We’re still in the middle of an ocean of saltwater. None of the Fae escaped alive to spread the word of our location... though that does still leave Albigard.”
“I don’t buy the idea that he betrayed us,” I said staunchly. “The circumstances just don’t make sense.”
“There’s no way of knowing whether he gave us up willingly, or whether the Unseelie had him under magical surveillance without his knowledge,” Rans allowed. “Either way, I’m in no hurry to go running back into his arms.”
“So we’re... what?” I asked. “Going to hide in a posh rental villa on a Caribbean island until someone successfully tracks us down?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the least appealing option in the world.”
Guthrie snorted. “It’s also not the most appealing. I’m sorry, Rans, but I’m not throwing in the towel and becoming a beach bum. I wasn’t joking before. I’ll be happy to set you two up with access to that account in St. John’s. But then I’m going home. Let the supernatural fuckers fight it out and do whatever they’re going to do to me. I’m not playing fugitive for the rest of my life.”
My stomach sank. “But, Guthrie...”
He only shook his head, though. “It’s different for you two. You’re not trapped in a demon-bond. I keep trying to tell you—I can’t hide from that. Rans, I got those phone numbers you told me about from Zorah’s phone. I’ll... consider my options, such as they are. But I’d rather consider those options from my own home. I’m pretty much done with trying to run from the past.”
He and Rans locked gazes for several seconds, neither moving so much as a muscle. Eventually, Rans gave a reluctant nod. “All right, mate. It’s your life to live.”
Guthrie mirrored the gesture, nodding back. “And I got a bit more of that life than I would have otherwise, thanks to you. Including the part where I have a granddaughter.”
His dark eyes cut to me. I met them, tears gathering. I had a feeling that anything I tried to say aloud was either going to end up as humiliating pleas for him not to leave, or as ugly sobbing. So I kept my mouth shut and tried to say everything with my expression, instead.
Guthrie swallowed and sighed, looking away. “Okay. Goodnight, you two. I’m going out in search of some distraction. We can get the account transfer done first thing Monday morning—I’ll be back well before then. Zorah... try to get some rest, all right? Don’t overdo things during the daytime, and, uh, make sure to use plenty of sunscreen. See? I can totally do this grandfather gig.”
I hugged him again, harder this time, and tried not to think of my father languishing in Hell... or of Guthrie potentially ending up a prisoner there, too.
Once Guthrie had left in pursuit of whatever distraction he was after, Rans gathered me into his arms, resting his chin on my head. I leaned against him gratefully, glad of the support.
“How long do you think we can stay under the radar out here?” I muttered into his chest.
“Until we can’t,” he said. “But in the meantime, we might as well make the most of our vacation, right?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Might as well.”
Inside, though, I was filled with the certainty that our safety here was fleeting at best. An endgame of sorts was coming—pieces closing in from all sides of the board, moving from square to square with us at the center. A war wasn’t a war without some kind
