The Last Vampire 3 by R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf

Author:R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf [Steffan, R. A. & Woolf, Jaelynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: OtherLove Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

RANS MAINTAINED A WARY stance midway between the two of us, while I examined the demon with as much thoroughness as she’d examined me. She was no longer dressed for clubbing. Leather and lace had been replaced by a black sleeveless mock-turtleneck and tailored black trousers with practical ankle boots sporting low, chunky heels. Her age was difficult to pinpoint—she could have been anywhere from mid-thirties to late forties… had she been human.

Since she was a demon, she’d probably been around to see the dinosaurs come and go, if Nigellus was to be believed.

“And what have you heard about me, exactly?” I asked, drawing my spine straight and holding her dark eyes. These days, I was bringing new meaning to the term ‘being out of one’s depth,’ but that didn’t mean I was going to show it to this entitled demon bitch who thought she could paw her hands all over my vampire.

The demon tilted her head. I couldn’t help noticing that her chestnut hair had been swept up in an elegant twist—not a strand out of place. The contrast with my oh-god-why rat’s nest could not have been more pronounced.

She continued to regard me with a pleasant little smile. “Talk in Hell is rife with stories of the daughter of a cambion who’s taken up with the last vampire. You, my dear, are an enigma wrapped in an impossibility.”

Terrific. Not only was I an enigma again, but I’d also become grist for the gossip mill in Hell. Every time I thought my life couldn’t get any weirder…

“I prefer to go by Zorah, thanks all the same,” I said sourly. “And who do I have the honor of addressing, pray tell?”

“My name is Myrial,” the demon replied without hesitation. “Please, forgive the familiarity… but may I ask what your mother’s maiden name was?”

“Hawkins,” I replied cautiously. “Why?”

She smiled, revealing white, perfect teeth. “Just idle curiosity, dear.”

“The number of cambions since the end of the war must be quite small,” Rans put in rather pointedly. “Given the treaty provision forbidding demonic interference on Earth.”

“Oh, indeed so,” Myrial said in airy tones. “Vanishingly small, I’m certain.”

I stared at her, trying to get some kind of handle on what might have brought her here. “So, you’re… what? Trying to get a scoop on the story for the demon gossip rags? Does the National Enquirer publish a Hell edition?”

She laughed—a rich, bell-like sound. “No, no. Nothing like that. I came to let you know that the latest Tithe has been delivered from Dhuinne. My understanding was that one of the tithelings is of… particular interest to you, shall we say.”

The words hit me like a Mack truck. Somehow, I couldn’t seem to emotionally keep on top of what was happening here on Earth, with random people popping up to try and kill me, while also keeping on top of what was happening with Dad. One or the other of those things continually reared its head when I wasn’t expecting it and threw me into a fresh tailspin.

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