The words were sharp, but Edward only lifted his eyebrows. “Forgive my bluntness, Ransley—but you’d do well not to turn away the prospect of assistance at this point,” he said.
“Edward’s right.” The words came from my father, and I looked at him in consternation. “If you’re looking to take out that demon bastard for good, and his boss can help, then you need him.”
“You don’t know what Nigellus has done, though,” I said, caught between the knowledge that they were both talking sense, and my feelings of betrayal and anger on Rans’ behalf.
Dad scowled. “He’s a demon, Zorah. I imagine he’s done all sorts of things. What’s your point?”
My jaw clenched. “You know that blood wine the tithelings are so fond of?” I gestured at Rans. “Nigellus has been stealing his blood to make it. He’s been doing it in secret, and he’s been doing it for centuries.”
Dad stared at us. “And?” he asked.
I stared back. “What the hell do you mean, ‘and’?”
My father continued to look at me like he couldn’t believe he’d contributed genetic material to such a lack-wit. “He’s a vampire, you said. Do you mean to tell me he hasn’t been stealing other people’s blood in secret for... what was it? Seven hundred years?”
I gaped at him. Behind me, Albigard let out a bark of honest-to-god laughter.
“Besides, it doesn’t look like having it taken has hurt him any,” Dad continued inexorably. “And that blood wine is what keeps the tithelings healthy and young, right? So it was for a good cause.”
“Oh, Darryl Bright,” Albigard said, still clearly amused. “Consider any debt you owe me for arranging your transport from the Fae realm paid in full. This exchange may well be the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
My eyes flew to Rans. He looked pale in a way that I’d only seen on a handful of occasions before—most of them involving some combination of knives, bullets, and complete exhaustion. Edward was watching him, too, with compassion showing in his deeply lined face.
“Ransley, you must know that his intention was never to hurt you,” Edward said, as though choosing his words with great care. “Surely you can believe that, after all this time.”
The words echoed what Nigellus himself had told Rans, before he’d left us alone with Guthrie and returned to Hell.
I regret that my actions caused you pain, Ransley.
My chest felt tight with things I didn’t want to examine too closely. Rans appeared to be faring a little bit better, but only marginally.
“When it comes to Nigellus, Edward—I don’t know what to believe these days,” he said. “After one’s mind has been repeatedly bent by a creature too powerful to resist, it does tend to complicate matters of trust.”
“As your countless victims over the centuries can no doubt attest, bloodsucker,” Albigard added, with way too much relish.
I glared daggers at him. “So can yours.”
The Fae only waved the words away. “Ah, but I’ve never claimed otherwise, now have I, demonkin?”
Silence fell over the room for a long moment.
“If you believe Nigellus will consent to fight again on our behalf,” Rans told Edward, “then return to Hell and have him wrap up his political battle against Myrial in three days. Bring him back here, and we’ll have the final confrontation on our own terms.”
Edward nodded.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked Rans, holding his gaze and trying to see beyond the mask he was wearing for the others.
“I don’t see that we have a choice, if winning is the goal,” he said evenly.
Trust me, his blue eyes conveyed.
“All right,” I said eventually. Then, I turned back to Albigard. “What about you? Will you stay and help us?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You believe Caspian will be involved when this attack comes?”
“No guarantees,” I said, “but it seems likely, yes. You’re the one who said he’s threatening to trash the treaty with or without the Court’s go-ahead.”
Albigard’s gaze went distant, and an expression that could only be described as hatred flashed across the Fae’s regal features—almost too fast for me to register it.
“Then I will stay.” He visibly recalled himself to his surroundings, and looked around my family home with disdain. “But not here. Perhaps I will renew my acquaintance with Leonides. At least his taste in residences is better.”
“Ooh, ouch. Another vicious burn, Tinkerbell,” I told him. “At this rate, I’m going to need therapy for my damaged self-esteem. Have fun, but try not to fry any of Guthrie’s electronics, all right? We might need to call or email him.”
Albigard made a dismissive noise and waved a fresh portal into existence. Rans stopped him with a gesture before he stepped into it.
“Thank you,” Rans said, sounding as though the words tasted bad. “For staying, that is.”
Albigard’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “I am staying because of my business with Caspian. Nothing more.”
“Of course you are,” Rans told him, and waved him off.
The Fae’s sharp green eyes raked over me, and then he was gone, his portal closing behind him. I took a moment to hope he wasn’t about to walk in on Guthrie in a compromising position, like Rans and I had done on the cruise ship at St. Kitts.
Or, then again, maybe getting an unexpected eyeful would be just what Albigard deserved at this point.
Edward sighed and rose from his chair on creaky knees. “I’ll arrange transport for your father and I back to Vallecito in a few hours. Darryl, you can stay at the vineyard house while I contact Nigellus.” Dad drew breath, probably to argue—but Edward raised a hand to quell him. “It’s relatively secure, and people will be less likely to look for you there than here. I’m still tasked with your safety, after all.”
Mind you, I’d drawn breath to argue at exactly the same moment. Like Dad, I thought better of it before the words could leave my mouth. My father was... okay. Ish. He seemed more or less his
