Last Vampire Standing (3 page)

“Yeah, well, tell that to my mast—” His gaze slid to Saber. “I mean to Vlad, the Atlanta head honcho.”

“Vlad?” I echoed. “As in Vlad the Impaler?”

“It’s not the same guy,” Jo-Jo assured me.

“But still. A mother named her kid Vlad on purpose? That’s just gross.”

“Well, he had an old mother,” Jo-Jo said. “No, wait, I mean he’s old, so his name was probably hip at one time.”

I curbed the urge to roll my eyes. “What does your human sponsor say about you leaving Atlanta?”

“I don’t have one, Princess.”

“But you have to have one. The Vampire Protection Act specifically requires each vampire to have a sponsor.”

“A thousand pardons for contradicting you, Your Nobleness, but after five years, if you’ve proven yourself to be a completely reformed biter, you no longer need a sponsor.”

I gawked at him, then Saber, then searched the yard for Maggie. She stood not far away and, since it was quiet enough to hear a seagull poop, she’d heard every word.

“He’s right, Cesca,” she said.

My world tilted. Again. Why hadn’t Maggie told me this tidbit months ago? That she didn’t have to sponsor me for forever. That we didn’t have to live partly joined at the hip for the rest of our lives.

That someday she’d want me to go away.

I drew a breath that was supposed to calm me. Instead I got another snootful of Jo-Jo’s sour blood scent. And heard the Listers’ car pull into the driveway next door. Yikes. They
so
didn’t need to see a vampire standoff.

“Tell you what, Jo-Jo,” I said, proud I sounded so reasonable and in control. “We’re shooting off fireworks at Crescent Beach. You can come, too, and for heaven’s sake, use the public shower while you’re there.”

Jo-Jo cringed. At the mention of heaven or a shower, I couldn’t tell, but he finally nodded.

“What about my request for refuge, Royal Beauteousness?”

“We’ll talk about that later.”

“Okay,” he said, almost puppylike now. “Who’s giving me a ride?”

The sound of feet pounding the ground as our guests fled to their cars might’ve been funny if I hadn’t heard Hugh Lister’s shout from his front yard.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, these assholes are trampling my goddamn ferns.”

“Bless his holy name,” Selma said.

Jo-Jo blinked at me. “Bless whose holy name?”

“Never mind. You got all the way here from Atlanta, you can walk to Crescent Beach.”

“Thank you, Francesca, Princess Vampire.”

Jo-Jo wasn’t thanking me an hour later. He flew to the beach instead of walking and looked more bug encrusted for the effort. So, while the guys set up the fireworks, I made Jo-Jo stand fully clothed under the outdoor shower and scrub with a bar of soap I’d bought at Handy Mart. He didn’t utter a single protest but only muttered, “I live to serve,” like a mantra. Once he was reasonably clean from his hair to his heels, he dried with a spare towel from Saber’s SUV.

March and Balch put themselves in charge of lighting the fireworks, which was fine by me.
I
wanted to snuggle with Saber on our blanket under the waterfalls of lights.

What I got was Jo-Jo trying to “attend” me. Between his, “Do you need this, Princess?” and “Let me get that, Princess,” my own fuse burned. When I told him to park it and be quiet, the jester wasn’t happy. Well, excuse me, but what did he expect after crashing our party? As for giving him sanctuary, I’d set him straight when we got home. Find out how he knew about my title and send him on his way. To where, I didn’t care.

The fireworks ended too soon, but since Jo-Jo’s clothes were nearly dry, Saber let him ride home with us. My honey was scoring extra points for that kindness tonight, and I’d show him my appreciation as soon as we booted Jo-Jo out the door. Which would be in about ten minutes if my libido had a vote.

Maggie’s white Acura and my aqua SSR truck were in the driveway, so Saber parked his black Saturn Vue at the curb. Maggie waited with a scowling Neil under the old live oak tree in the front yard as Saber herded Jo-Jo toward the gate that led to my cottage.

When I approached, Neil turned his ire on me. “You’re not letting that vampire stick around. No way in hell.”

Maggie laid her hand on his arm. “Neil, Cesca can have any guest she wants in her home.”

“Not if that guest will be a threat to you.”

“I promise he won’t be a threat—right, Jo-Jo?” I said, sensing that he loitered with Saber just beyond the gate.

“Your Most Royalness, I will protect with my life any friend of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neil said. “Talk is cheap.”

“Silver bullets aren’t,” Jo-Jo called again.

Neil blinked. “What does that mean?”

I cracked a small smile. “He has delusions of comedy.”

“He’s a comic?” Maggie asked.

Neil snorted, and Saber echoed it. I ignored them both.

“I promise he’s not staying.”

Maggie had a peculiar gleam in her eye but only said, “Thanks for all your help with the party. We’ll finish cleaning in the morning before you go to bed.”

I waved as Maggie dragged Neil up the sidewalk to the house. I’d clean tonight, surprise Maggie, and then we’d have a talk about that vampire sponsor issue.

I caught up with Saber and Jo-Jo by the tiki bar on my patio. When I opened the cottage door, Jo-Jo whistled.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.”

I loved my living room, too, from the bamboo floors to the rich honey color on the walls, to the espresso-colored wood and leather furnishings. But I wasn’t letting Jo-Jo sidetrack me.

“Don’t get used to it.”

I deactivated the silent alarm system, then made a mental note to reset the code. Jo-Jo probably wouldn’t break into my home. Heck, thanks to Saber, my security system rivaled the president’s and the pope’s combined. However, there was no point in tempting an unknown vampire.

I meant to tell Jo-Jo to sit, but my hostess manners kicked me in the conscience. “Do you want a refreshment, Jo-Jo?”

The vampire slid a look at Saber. “I could use a bottle of warm blood, my princess.”

“You haven’t eaten tonight?”

“No, my lady. I arrived in town before sunrise and laid low until I found you. I didn’t travel with blood.”

Okay, so I had to give him credit for not being cranky with hunger. I uncapped a Starbloods bottle and popped it in the microwave, then uncapped a beer for Saber and grabbed a glass of ice chips for myself. I do love my new fridge with crushed ice in the door. Napkins and beverages on the teak tray—another splurge for my new home—and I was ready to deal with Jo-Jo. Until I handed him his drink, and he scowled at the label.

“Not to complain, Your Tastefulness, but do you have anything to drink that’s less, um, girly?”

“Like what? Fang Bang? Monster Mash?”

Saber snorted. “I imagine O Positive would do.”

“I don’t stock a variety of vampire drinks,” I reminded Saber, then looked at Jo-Jo. “It’s this or nothing.”

“Of course, Your Graciousness. Caramel macchiato is fine.”

He sat stiffly in the coffee-colored, cloud-soft leather chair opposite from where Saber and I sank into my matching couch. The old vampire, who didn’t appear any older than I did, also looked better now that he had cleaned up. His shaggy shoulder-length hair was sandy blond instead of just plain dirty, and even the wound on his forehead didn’t seem so raw. However, I was not—with a billboard-sized
N
—getting involved in his problems.

And caramel macchiato is
not
girly.

I didn’t hold my nose while Jo-Jo drank, but I didn’t watch him, either. By the time he’d finished, recapped the bottle, and set it on the dark wood coffee table, I was ready to crawl down his throat to drag the truth out of him. On the other hand, Saber got people to reveal all kinds of things just by chatting. Did I have that much patience?

Jo-Jo cleared his throat. “Will Your Magnificence give me leave to speak?”

“As long as you knock off the royal name-calling,” I snapped. So much for patience. He gave a short nod, and his gaze settled on Saber. “I saw your name in the paper with that of Her Highness. I know you used to hunt us, and I know you’re a special investigator now. May I speak freely?”

“I won’t arrest you for past crimes, if that’s what you mean,” Saber assured him.

“Thank you.”

“Okay, so take it from the top,” I said with a flip of my hand. “You’re Jo-Jo, a jester.”

“
The
Jester,” he said without an ounce of modesty. “I performed in the courts of medieval Europe, my princess. Kings vied for my services and loyalty. Why, I—”

“Jo-Jo,” I interrupted.

“You want me to fast-forward again, my lady?”

“Yes. I assume you were turned in the Middle Ages and couldn’t work anymore.”

“I might have if I’d been able to juggle.”

“I thought juggling was part of the whole jester shtick,” Saber said.

“It was, but you see, I wasn’t used to having vampire speed. I lost control of the knives and, uh, took out a few members of an august audience.”

“Such as an entire royal family?” Saber asked.

Jo-Jo shrugged. “Only one crown prince and a visiting head of state, but then the bloodlust hit me and, well—”

“You vamoosed out of town,” I finished. “What then?”

“I found refuge with a master vampire and relearned to juggle so I could earn my keep entertaining for his court.”

“How did you get to the States?” I prodded, intrigued in spite of the whole kicking-him-out thing to come.

“I immigrated with a small band of vampires in 1871. I moved out West for a while, then to New York City. The others moved to the South.”

If he was telling the truth—and he did seem sincere—then I’d already been buried for decades when he came to this country. So how did he know my title? I itched to ask, but Saber cut in.

“How long have you been in Atlanta?”

“Since about 1930. Before that I worked in vaudeville.”

Saber arched a brow. “Onstage?”

“I may not have been a headliner,” the vampire said with exaggerated dignity, “but I had a gift for making people laugh. Even if we couldn’t do the matinees.”

“We?”

“I had a partner for my routines. Jemina. I met her in New York City. We moved to Atlanta together.”

“Is she still living?” I asked.

His brown eyes blurred, and a wave of sadness hit me.

“Yes, but she says I’m too far behind the times. I’m not funny anymore, and she doesn’t want me.” He touched the wound on his head. “Her new boyfriend gave me this.”

“With a silver knife?” Saber fired. “He’s not a vampire?”

“Oh, he is, but he seems immune or something. Anyway, I knew there was no use in staying, so I used Google Earth to navigate to St. Augustine, and here I am.”

“Which brings us back to the real question,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“To ask for your help.”

“Help doing what?”

He clasped his hands together so tightly, his knuckles whitened even more than a vampire’s should. “To build a new career. I want to be a stand-up comic.”

Saber and I exchanged a glance of disbelief.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to teach me to be funny again,” Jo-Jo hurried on. “The thing is, even if I had a good routine, Master Vlad runs his nest like a fiefdom. We have jobs—I’m a technician on a computer help line—but our jobs are low-profile. He’d never let me work in a comedy club. Even if a higher salary increased the amount of tribute I could pay him.”

“Tribute?” I echoed. “Like taxes or like protection money?”

“I think of it as room and board.”

I frowned. “Can’t you just move out? Leave the nest but still live in Atlanta?”

“Not and stay alive.” Jo-Jo shuddered. “The master would make an example of me. He may track me down and execute me just for leaving. That’s why I asked for your protection.”

I should’ve said that I didn’t want any part of this. That bucking the head vamp in Atlanta was
so
not going in my day planner. But, darn it, this is supposed to be a free country. Even for vampires. We’re a flipping protected species, for heaven’s sake. Almost nothing makes me fighting mad, but injustice will do the trick. This Atlanta creep was cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if he thought he could kill vampires just for leaving his highly illegal—if ignored—nest.

“Cesca,” Saber said, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Let’s excuse Jo-Jo and talk privately for a few minutes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that look you have. Do us a favor, Jo-Jo. Take a walk.”

“To where?”

“Around the block.”

Jo-Jo glanced at me, then bolted for the door. At least he didn’t slam it.

“Now just what look do I have?”

“Your avenging angel look.”

“It’s unfair, Saber.”

“I know, but do you want to pick this battle?”

I turned to him, took his hands in mine. “Do you? Vlad sounds like the kind of guy you used to hunt.”

“Yeah, he does, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be here if the jerk does come after Jo-Jo. Or you.”

“And I might not be able to take on Vlad, because I don’t have enough superpowers?”

“You’ve barely explored your superpowers, but you can defend yourself to a point. And we have the Vampire Protection Agency for backup.”