Oops.
“Yeah... so, it’s kind of complicated,” I improvised. “My mom was a politician, right? And she got... involved in some pretty heavy stuff before she was killed. Some of it’s coming back to bite me in the ass, and I had to leave town unexpectedly. But, for what it’s worth, I did end up bagging the hot British guy I had the ten-minute date with. Or he bagged me. Not entirely sure which.”
“The one you said was trouble?” she asked, trying to inject lightness into her tone.
You have no idea, I thought.
“Yep. That’s the one,” I said.
“That’s great,” she replied, still in that too-cheerful tone. “You go, girl! And... you’re all right now?”
“For the moment, anyway,” I told her... which was technically true. “Look, Von—even if you won’t let me help directly with whatever you’re dealing with, at least let me give you the phone number of a guy I know. Well, not really ‘a guy.’ My grandfather. He’s good with money stuff—”
Again, I was playing fast and loose with other people’s time and money. Before I could take the time to feel properly bad about that, though, Vonnie cut me off.
“No, really, Zorah, don’t worry yourself over me. I shouldn’t have called—it sounds like you’ve got enough on your plate as it is.” The words were rushed; she was trying to extricate herself from the call. “I’m really glad to hear you’re all right. You had me worried. I should, uh, go. I’ve got work in a bit. Say hi to your cute British guy, okay?”
“Okay, sure,” I said. “But... Vonnie...”
The quality of the silence on the other end changed. She’d already hung up.
“Damn it,” I murmured.
Staring at the disconnected call, I debated trying to call back. As it had before, my own sense of hypocrisy stayed my hand. I was about to go into an all-out fight against an immortal demon. I wasn’t really in a position to be saving anybody, myself included. With a sick feeling in my chest and stomach, I locked the phone screen and put it away.
Vonnie was a grown-ass woman. Not only that, but she completely blew me away in the adulting department—she always had. And she’d told me repeatedly that she was fine and had everything under control. Where did I get off assuming I knew better when it came to her life? I should worry more about my own life... even if my friend had sounded like she was on the verge of choking on tears.
“Fuck!” I cursed, louder this time.
The patio door slid open, and Rans stepped outside. Apparently, the snarling match between him and my father had wrapped up while I was on the phone. Yay.
“All right, love?” he asked, taking in my no-doubt troubled expression.
“Call from my friend Vonnie,” I explained tersely. “I think she’s in some kind of trouble, but she wouldn’t accept my offer of help. Is my father still in one piece? No depleted iron levels or rearranged internal organs?”
“He’s fine,” Rans said easily. “I did promise, after all. One thing about it, I can certainly see where the stubbornness came from in your family.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I shot back, feeling tired again.
“We should rest while we have the chance,” he offered, ignoring my jab. “Later today, we can get hold of Guthrie and see if he needs rescuing from Tinkerbell yet. Much as I hate to ask it of him, there are some logistical items that he’s better equipped to deal with than we are.”
I didn’t feel any better than Rans did about dragging Guthrie back into the mess so soon after the skirmish with the Fae, but—
“He’s kind of got a vested interest in the outcome of this,” I said. “If we somehow manage to take Myrial down, Guthrie gets a reprieve while she’s out of action, right?”
Rans looked grim. “Assuming she doesn’t try to cut her losses and reap him for more power during the fight.”
My mind balked at that image. “No,” I said, as though I could somehow will it not to go down that way. “That wouldn’t be strategic. She wants Guthrie alive and us dead, so she can corner the market on vampire blood.”
I hoped.
“With any luck, you’re right about that,” Rans agreed, not sounding any more certain about it than I did. “Come on, now. Rest. Sunrise is going to hit you before long, and we’ll both need all of it we can get over the next few days.”
* * *
Indeed, the following days were a flurry of activity. I’d expected Guthrie to be quietly pissed about being pulled back into our demon drama. Apparently, though, I’d underestimated his degree of hatred for Myrial. As we outlined our batshit-crazy plan, a hard light kindled in his dark eyes that had nothing to do with the eerie glow of vampirism.
“I’m in,” he said, with a surprising amount of relish. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
He and Rans brainstormed what we’d need by way of transportation and supplies. A van. A chainsaw. A metric fuck-ton of bagged salt. A private and deserted place to hide out for a spot of light dismemberment and Fae portal-making afterward.
Another surprise was the degree to which Guthrie and Albigard seemed to be getting along. The Fae had basically invited himself to stay with Guthrie until the endgame arrived, and could frequently be found sipping wine on the rooftop patio, the autumn sun burnishing his pale hair with a deeper golden aura.
When I mentioned my surprise at their apparent rapport, Guthrie shrugged and said, “At least he’s quiet,” while giving Rans a rather pointed stare.
Rans only snorted. “You love me, really.”
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Guthrie said.
I hid a smile, despite the grim circumstances. But there were still several things that needed
