Good to the Last Drop (Live and Let Bite Book 4) Read online

  “As far as your boyfriend, not only is Marco a big boy, he can probably kick your undead ass should you step out of line.” He sharply tugged at the bottom of his windbreaker. “Like it or not, you’re in love with him, and I can only assume that, what I can read from a creature like Marco, is that he may even love you, too. Get over it.”

  Chapter 2

  Many Happy Returns

  January 1st San Francisco

  Marco looked at his phone, reading email. There was yet another email from his… “friend”… Yana, who had the unmistakable handle of CyberWicca and a bunch of numbers afterward that meant nothing to him. Email had become the primary mode of communication with Yana; her cell phone bill wouldn’t handle the amount of information she wanted to give him.

  Besides, I get the impression she’s distracted half the time as she writes these.

  The source of the presumed distraction wasn’t hard to figure out: a woman named “Jackie.” All communication with Yana had gone from mournful and depressed over the death of her girlfriend Tara to overly excited over a new woman named Jackie, who was apparently…very fast and overly affectionate.

  While Marco was familiar with the old practice of Irish wakes taking people out into the potato fields for a roll in the clover, he didn’t think a turnaround of less than a month was included.

  Marco frowned to himself. Eh. I suppose she’s happy?

  He saved her email as new, wondering if he should bother replying other than asking about the rest of the San Francisco brigade—the email was overly hormonal for Yana, who he hadn’t suspected had a sex drive.

  Then again, after Nuala, I guess I should be glad that she’s going near sex ever again. I suppose it’s healthy? He sighed, wondering if he would have attempted the redemption of a vampire had he known what the assassin had done with, or to, his witch.

  Marco sighed and scrolled down the rest of the email list. The one email account he was looking for wasn’t there. Which shouldn’t be a problem, because why send an email when you could be doing some…other things.

  And, seriously, what are you worried about, moron? You made out, you both love each other, she told you her real name … maybe, assuming that wasn’t the painkiller … She’s not a scared teenager in her first relationship, is she? And me, I’m a predator, a self-trained killer, I am…

  …such an idiot. He who hesitates is roadkill. You’re now a smear on the pavement. You let her get away. I don’t care if this Bosley person called her away. I should have told that blonde bloodsucker to suck my –

  The PA student growled to himself and closed the phone, a hairsbreadth away from smashing it. He had been in the hospital now for weeks, but no one had even blinked in his general direction. Not a single vampire, good or ill. Not even the one he wanted to see.

  He’d even missed Christmas. Freaking vampire assassin.

  He closed his eyes and did what he’d been doing every time he got angry for no reason at all. He said an Our Father, and ten Hail Mary’s, and a Glory Be to round it off.

  Marco looked around the hospital parking lot, cursing the darkness outside. Why did I have to be kicked out of the hospital after dark? Seriously, San Francisco, what is your damn problem? Or is everyone just out to get me? Honestly, why me? Did I do something to offend You, Lord?

  He picked up his luggage, and prayed very hard that his ride would be there, and hadn’t been turned into a snack along the way.

  “This the bruiser we want?”

  Marco flicked his eyes left. He whirled and grabbed the woman approaching him. He lifted her up in the air like she was a leaf, a moment before kissing her.

  His broad smile caught the light as he let Yana down on the floor. “Um, hi, Marco.”

  “How are you, sexy lady?”

  Yana, who still didn’t know what to do with him, said, “Ah, good. Marco, I’d like to you meet—”

  Marco whirled on Yana’s companion, an olive-skinned brunette, and smiled, remembering Yana’s emails. “You must be Jackie, I could smell the hormones.”

  She smiled and shook hands. “You must be Marco; I can smell the attitude.”

  He gave a Gallic shrug. “That may just be my aftershave.”

  “How are you?”

  He glanced the woman up and down. Objectively, he was certain she was attractive. She was a sturdy 5’6”, with a frame that was more inverted triangle than hourglass, with wider shoulders and a larger upper body. Her outfit was a standard leather jacket, even leather pants – which he saw as nice, knife resistant clothing. Though her jacket was zipped up part of the way, and he couldn’t tell if she wore a shirt underneath. He was a little worried about reading too much into that.

  Well, Yana at least went for a woman who could probably hit well enough. Body strength helps. Legs have enough muscle on them for kicks, if one is into that sort of thing.

  “Take a picture,” she told him, “it’ll last longer.”

  “You even steal my lines,” he muttered. His smile didn’t flicker. “You’ll do. You’ve got the right attitude. I presume you’re already in the know on the vampire thing?”

  “A little. Though Yana tells me there aren’t many of those left kicking around.”

  Marco arched his brows. He knew that San Francisco didn’t really have a vampire population until recently—so little that they didn’t have a local Vampire Association—but this was ridiculous.

  Marco looked at Yana. “Are we thinking that the vampire infestation is over?’

  “Um, Merle has a thought on that.”

  Marco cocked his head. “And that is?”

  “That aside from the initial influx we saw, you may have attracted them. And you’ve dealt with most of the ones who came in before you did.”

  Marco opened his mouth to object, and then thought it over. He had been going through a few busy months. He had gone on several rampages, including one that may have lasted a few months, depending on who you asked. After someone blew up his father’s hospital, he had kicked over all the vampire nests in the area. He had proceeded to launch a reign of terrorism that leaned heavy on terror. Then he’d killed a whole club full of vampires by locking them in and set it on fire. Then blew up an assassin with a swarm of ninjas. That had been eventful.

  Maybe the general extinction of vampires in town wasn’t that much of a surprise. Marco had made the town a little off-putting for the locals.

  The brunette punched Marco in the arm. “Don’t look so depressed, we’re doing our jobs.”

  Marco arched a brow. “Our? How long have you been at it?”

  Jackie shrugged. “A few months. Surprised I didn’t run into you guys earlier. Especially in September. I guess you were behind all the devastation?”

  Yana shook her head and jerked her thumb at Marco. “Him.”

  Jackie blinked, then nodded. “Oh, he led it.”

  Yana shook her head. “All him.”

  Jackie looked Marco up and down, and… Sheesh, she actually just licked her lips. Wonderful, Marco thought.

  “Niiiiiice,” she stated. “Not bad. But you’re not that much to look at.”

  Marco didn’t object to that. She was right. He was 5’9”, and most people described him as having a body like a dancer—more like capoeira than ballet, though. His blond hair and blue eyes went strangely with the last name of “Catalano,” and probably better paired off with “Hitler Youth.”

  “Ah, so charming.”

  They walked Marco outside to a large black SUV, which looked more like a small truck with armor plating—in fact, if he didn’t know any better, Marco would’ve sworn it was a fully-armored Army Ford F-350—mobile video system, onboard PC, night-vision screen, high-voltage door handles, bomb detection, that sort of thing.

  “It’s a loan from Merle,” Yana explained.

  Marco merely raised an amused eyebrow.

  The passenger side door opened, and Tiffany sat in the driver’s seat. Tiffany was as vapid as her name implied, and she was a walking
stereotype—blonde, buxom (silicone, not natural), and would have fit in better with Los Angeles than San Francisco. The only reason Merle kept her on was that she was good with numbers. The only reason Marco didn’t kill her was that he was too busy to hide the body.

  “Oh, Marco,” she huffed. “No one’s eaten you yet? Now we have to waste our time on you.”

  Marco rolled his eyes. “No need. Just get me to the city. I’ll be fine.”

  Yana pouted a little. “You sure? Okay…how’s Amanda?”

  Marco sat in silence, looking at the scenery go by him. He didn’t ignore Yana so much as consider her query. He had barely spoken a word to Amanda since she’d left for the city. It was as if nothing had happened between them.

  “She’s fine,” he answered.

  He closed his eyes and started praying again.

  Chapter 3

  Recruitment

  January 1st, New York City

  Lady Jennifer Bosley, President of the New York City Vampires Association, was not only powerful but very, very rich. “Old world, old money, I can buy and sell China ten times” rich. If anyone had known she existed, or if she had all of her money in the same place under one name, she would have been one of the top ten richest entities on the planet, including nations.

  Like many other wealthy vampires, they tended to buy entire apartment complexes, and leave the outside alone, turning the inside into a luxurious palace. On the outside, it looked like a gang-ridden neighborhood had declared war on her building. Inside, it looked like a modern-day palace. Her office was the size of a large living room. The carpet was Persian, the tapestries were European, the paintings were by old masters—some of which Amanda knew as having gone missing during World War II—and the bookcases had nothing but first editions.

  Usually, Jennifer Bosley came into her domain very relaxed. The first time Amanda Colt had met her here, Bosley came in wearing a dark green tracksuit—she knew she was rich, and she didn’t need to prove it to anyone.

  Today, however, Bosley had left Amanda waiting in the center of her office, and didn’t come into a room like a woman who owned the place, but like a soldier who needed a brawl. Bosley was even wearing dark camouflage pants and deep green top. Her form was curvy, and it still showed in the unflattering outfit, and she no longer moved with the effortless grace of the undead, but with long strides of a woman in a hurry.

  Her blonde hair terminated at the base of her neck, with her hair at the sides tucked behind her ears. Her full lips were unadorned, and her brown eyes seemed to just cut through whatever she saw.

  She was also smoking.

  Bosley threw herself onto the edge of her desk. “Hello, luv,” Bosley said, her usually posh British accent reverting to something more “urban London.”

  “Hello, Madam President.”

  Bosley smiled around her cigarette and drew on it deeply. She took it out, blowing the smoke off to the side. “Call me Jen. You and I need to talk.”

  Amanda Colt nodded slowly. She wasn’t entirely certain what to do with herself. Even though she had been in Bosley’s offices before, she still wasn’t used to it. She had only dressed in a long-sleeved sweater and jeans. She was about 5’6,” with long red-gold hair that went to the small of her back in a golden fall, eyes that were a warm, liquid Frangelico brown with her Siberia-pale skin.

  “What can I help you with?” she said, only slightly accentuating her Russian accent.

  “You’ve got some support on your side, don’cha? I remember ’earing about it before the summer.”

  Amanda nodded slowly. “Da. You have met Enrico, you know we have … resources.”

  Bosley nodded. “See, what I mean here is, well…” Her eyes locked on Amanda’s and started to glow a deep, burning red. Her fangs came out around her lips, and she talked through them as though she’d had millennia of practice. “Those little bastards blew up my professional offices and tried to bury me. Your war is now my war, and I want to kill the little blighters before they even realize that we’re at their throats.”

  Amanda nodded carefully, shocked that Bosley had gotten this riled. She had always been the most controlled, self-possessed vampire Amanda had ever met. Hell, Bosley had once claimed that the source of her power came from being purely pragmatic.

  “Are you sure you wish to go there?” Amanda asked. “I would hate for something to happen to you.”

  The glow in Bosley’s eyes faded, and a corner of her lips quirked up. “Concerned fo’ the state of my soul, are ya?” She popped the cigarette back into place and rolled over the top of her desk. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a cross. She pressed it to her skin and waited.

  After ten seconds of silence, Amanda shrugged. “I guess you are good.”

  “After a fashion, luv.” She placed the cross back in the drawer. “We’re at war. War isn’t de facto immoral. And if this isn’t a just war, we’re probably all quite screwed.”

  “You seem quite angry.”

  Bosley smiled, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, luv, you ’ave no idea.” She tossed herself back into the seat, resting combat boots on the desk. “Now, tell me what you know.”

  Amanda finally relaxed enough to sit down in the chair across from Bosley. “You have noticed the increase in devil worship?”

  Bosley smiled. “Where would you want to start? The headlines, or the French Revolution, when the Terror really got dark? Dipping bread in the blood of the freshly decapitated.” She grimaced. “It was tacky even then. You can talk about the rise of Moloch—America’s Cold Spring ’arbor back in the twenties, when they sterilized, euthanized, and murdered…what do they call the retarded now?

  “Inconvenient.”

  Bosley nodded. “Sounds right. You’ve got your eugenics, your World War II, Soviet Lenin worship, making communism a religion, Hitler’s Norse gods, Obama worship… I can go on forever. What are you thinking of? Vampires in the gulags and the camps?”

  Amanda shrugged. “All of that. Remember The Council?”

  Bosley nodded. “The big boogeyman, The Council? The black helicopters of the vampire world?” She sighed. “I know of it.”

  Amanda nodded. “The demon from September, ‘Mister Day’? He was one of them. As was Nuala.”

  Bosley nodded. “Yes. I had heard of a Mister Day that made political connections.”

  “He also managed to get into the United Nations.”

  Bosley’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me that The Council…is now a council? A UN council?”

  Amanda nodded. “That is what we surmise.”

  Bosley grimaced. “We’re going to need more guns.”

  Chapter 4

  The Trap

  January 2nd, San Francisco

  Marco Catalano, being unusually stubborn for someone who was both male and only partly Irish, walked through the evening, looking around the crypts of San Francisco to see if there was anything that didn’t know well enough to stay dead. In the back of his head, instead of a casual prayer, he had started going through a rock rendition of the Our Father, in German. It was a good tune to have while hunting.

  Because Gregorian chant is not something I want to hunt vampires to.

  “Marco.”

  He turned and looked at the new girl—Jackie. “Hi there.” He looked her over and sighed. “You look quite nice this evening.” He glanced at his watch. “Or should I say morning?”

  She shrugged. “Just call it ‘late.’ What are you doing out?”

  He looked out at the dark of Grant Street in Chinatown—he was in between cemeteries at the moment. “Hunting, or going for a walk. Something like that.”

  “Oh. Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure, I might as well be falling apart.”

  They continued to walk down the street of the opulent neighborhood until they reached the docks along Fisherman’s Wharf. The skyline of the next city glowed in the not too distant horizon, along with a harbor cruise ship that was traveling around the bay with its continu
ously partying passengers. This view was lost on the two patrollers, mainly because all they saw was two women about to be sucked dry. Two targets were good for the concentration.

  “I’ll go for the one on the left, you the right. Sound good to you?” Marco looked over at Jackie to see whether she agreed, and found the space where she had been standing empty. He looked up to see her going at it with the two vampires.

  Marco sighed. “Or we can just charge into the fight without thinking. That’s a classic.”

  Marco pulled out a turpentine-soaked stake and headed after the newbie. One of the melodramatically-dressed Goth vampires saw him coming and charged head-on, letting out a stereotypical horrid hiss. He briefly considered stapling the vamp’s hand to his forehead. His angst would send him to dust more quickly.

  “Dress normally, would you?” Marco growled, dodging to the right. “This isn’t a game.” Marco rammed the stake home as though he were clothes-lining the vampire.

  Marco plucked the stake out and placed it back in his belt as the vampire turned into dust. “Waste not, want not.”

  Marco looked over to see Jackie being backed up against the railing by the other equally-overdressed vampire. He was about to go and help her when he took a second look. He knew he didn’t need glasses, yet he could swear he saw a look of enjoyment on the young woman’s face.

  Marco rolled his eyes. Yana had spent weeks fretting over how scary he was, and she had managed to hook up with a girl who seemed to enjoy killing the damned as much as he did.

  Without hesitation, she leaped on the vampire, grabbed his head, and started making out with him… it seemed. She actually spat water into his mouth.

  The vampire pushed her away and dropped to his knees, grabbing his throat as it disappeared under his fingers. Jackie smiled as his neck collapsed in on itself, along with the rest of his body. He then turned into dust, spilling into the breeze and blowing all over her hands, clothes, face, and hair.