Read Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) Online
Authors: Drew Hayes
Tags: #undeath and taxes, #fred the vampire, #Vampires, #paranormal, #the utterly uninteresting and unadventurous tales of fred the vampire accountant, #vampire humor, #paranormal satire, #vampire satire
Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3)
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COPYRIGHT
Bloody Acquisitions
© Copyright 2016 by Drew Hayes. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover design by Ashley Ruggirello
Cover art Copyright 2016
Interior formatting by Ashley Ruggirello
Edited by Kisa Whipkey and Rae Oestreich
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-942111-35-1
Electronic ISBN: 978-1-942111-36-8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.
REUTS Publications
Table of Contents
A Hunter in the Streets
A Sheriff in the Country
A Lawyer in the Mansion
A Spy in the Company
An Accountant in the City
Dedication
This book, the third in a series I wasn’t sure would get off the ground beyond the first, goes out to the wonderful readers who’ve made this possible. Thank you for taking a chance on the strange tales of a socially awkward vampire accountant, whose stories I hope to be telling for a long time to come.
Preface
I almost certainly do not know you; however, I shall assume you are a lovely person, and it is my loss for not having yet had the opportunity to meet you. Still, I must assume you and I are connected in some way, for the works you are about to read are selections from a journal of my memoirs. I compiled these not in the belief that the stories within are so compelling they must be told, but rather because I found my unexpected life transition to be so shockingly uneventful—at least initially. I place the blame for my aggrandized expectations squarely on contemporary media, filling my head with the belief that a ticket to the supernatural also put one on an express train toward coolness and suave charm.
This is simply not the case. Or, at least, it was not my case. I recorded my journeys in the hopes that, should another being find themselves utterly depressed at the humdrum personality still saddling their supernatural frame, they might find solace in knowing they are not the only one to have felt that way. Given the lengthy lifespan of many of the people with whom I associate, there is no guarantee they will have passed on by the time this is read. Therefore, names have been changed as I deemed necessary.
So, dear reader, whom I suspect is a wonderful person merely in need of a bit of reassurance, take comfort in my tales of uneventful blundering. One’s nature is hard to change; sometimes even death is insufficient to accomplish such a task. But be assured that, while you might find yourself still more human than anticipated, you are far from the only one. You will eventually discover that under the movie stereotypes, imposed mystique, and overall inflated expectations, each and every one of us is at least a touch more boring than our images would indicate.
And that is not a bad thing.
—Fredrick Frankford Fletcher
A Hunter in the Streets
1.
“While I’m glad you don’t fall into the old female stereotype of having lots of shoes, part of me wishes you did. I’d much prefer to be lugging around high heels than yet another box full of guns.” As gently as I possibly could, I set the cardboard cube down on Krystal’s empty counter. Normally, there was nowhere near enough kitchen space cleaned off to fit even a single glass, let alone a whole box of armaments, but today was different. Today, her entire apartment was almost stripped bare, with much of the furniture going off into storage or being returned to the rental locations they’d been taken from.
Today was moving day, which was why I’d been roped into helping to haul the possessions she was keeping—including what had to be an illegal amount of firearms even for an agent—off to her new home.
“Don’t be such a baby. My collection is nothing. You should see the armory that Arch carts around everywhere.” Krystal emerged from her bedroom, a duffel bag packed with more of her knives, batons, and other melee gear rattling on her shoulder. “Plus, like I’ve been saying ever since the word came down, this is ultimately all your fault. Once the Agency found out what a deal you’d gotten for Arch, they didn’t see the sense in paying for me to have a more expensive, less defended apartment.”
