Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (20 page)

“Do you think they’d assume you were an agent just from your normal style of dress?” I asked.

“Doubtful, but the more I blend into the background, the better,” she replied. “And plus, if it comes out that I’m your lady, no one will bat an eye.”

“You think they would normally?” I looked to Richard and Charlotte, both of whom had suddenly found things on the wall and ceiling to stare at with unwavering interest.

Krystal released her false walk, bounding the rest of the way down the stairs and over to me. “Freddy, I love you dearly, you know that. But the people who don’t know you as well as we do might think you come off a little . . . dull. I just thought this version of me might be easier to swallow for those who make the wrong assumptions about you.”

“Well then, I have to say you’ve failed.” Before she could reply, I leaned forward and kissed her, a very rare show of public affection spurred on by a combination of gratitude and fear. “You’re still much too lovely for the likes of me. I’m afraid there is just no amount of makeup or frumpy clothing that will ever conceal how beautiful you are.”

It was one of the precious few times in our relationship that I’d managed to be the one to take her by surprise, and I savored the slight blush in her cheeks as she hurriedly recovered.

“After a line like that, I’m damn sure not letting you get killed,” Krystal said at last. “Richard, tell me you’ve got a plan.”

Having finished staring at the wall, Richard swung back around and led us to the dining room. “The Turvas contacted me, saying they wanted to discuss business with Fred. I told them to call him themselves, he’s not hard to find, and they countered by saying it was business outside the normal spectrum and that they’d greatly appreciate an introduction. A gesture of friendship, they called it.”

The nerves faded from Richard’s voice, replaced by something far heavier. The man had an entire clan that depended on him, and he took that job seriously. While many would have seen it as a license to do as they pleased, Richard understood it was a duty, a burden, one he had to be strong enough to bear.

“Present company excluded, vampires can be a real pain in the ass to deal with. Their treaties give them a lot of freedom when it comes to hunting, as long they don’t kill their victims, and since therians in human form are allegedly hard to distinguish from regular mortals, it’s hard to go after them for taking blood from my people. So far, the Turvas have been playing very nice, keeping a wide berth from any parahumans and being discreet in their feeding. If I can, I’d prefer to have them keep that up. Violence would come with costs to both our sides, ones I don’t want to pay.”

“Again, Richard, it’s fine. You couldn’t very well refuse such a simple request without reason,” I reminded him. “And it might be all around better that you didn’t. That could have betrayed that we’re friends. As far as the Turvas know, I’m just someone you hired to save you money on your taxes. The more mundanely they see me, the less reason they have to show fear or be interested.”

“Still doesn’t sit right in my gut.” Richard opened the door to the dining room, where Charlotte was already waiting. She was surrounded by waiters—all of them also her, just in another form—that were holding serving dishes waiting to be opened. The table was currently cleared off, except for two pairs of place settings on opposite sides.

“As requested, a fine meal is waiting to be served at your leisure,” Charlotte informed us.

“Wait, what?” This wasn’t part of the plan; it was supposed to be a quick meeting. I certainly didn’t want to spend a whole dinner with these people.

“My idea, Freddy,” Krystal said, walking calmly over to one of the place settings. “Give me your briefcase.”

I complied, and she set the case down in a chair before one of the settings. Wordlessly, she picked up the utensils and handed them to a waiter, where they vanished into thin air. Reaching into a compartment on her sweatshirt, Krystal pulled out identical utensils, setting them down carefully in the same spots the original ones had been.

“A little bit of insurance, just in case,” she explained. “Having dinner justifies the place settings, and no vampire is afraid of a butter knife. But you aren’t going to be eating with the same tools as everyone else, Freddy. You’re going to have silver utensils. Specially made too, just like agent-issue tools, so that they won’t be easily detectable by scent.”

It was an odd kind of brilliant; silver was the ultimate double-edged sword in the parahuman world. The material hurt almost all of us, which made it both effective to use and dangerous to handle. As a result, very few parahumans messed with the stuff, and certainly none would think to suspect that a vampire’s utensils were made of it. Silver immunity was nigh unheard of among the undead.

“When, exactly, did you have silver duplicates of Charlotte’s utensils made?” Richard asked, bringing up an excellent point that I was a little ashamed about not noticing.

Krystal shrugged, barely visible through her oversized shirt. “Around the same time I moved in. Always pays to be prepared. I told her I was doing it, though she’s the one who gave me the molds.”

“Just be sure to pick those up when this is done.” Charlotte had moved several feet away from the table. As a being composed almost entirely of magic, silver was more painful for her than most parahumans. It meant a lot to me that she was tolerating it on her table.

“Agent’s honor,” Krystal promised. “And Freddy, I know I don’t really need to tell
you
this, but these are for defensive purposes only. Try to resist the urge to pretend you’re an action hero.”

“Somehow, I think I’ll find the self-control.” I hadn’t realized how on edge I was until I heard the squeal of tires from the parking lot. Evidently, I’d let my usual shutting out of the vampire senses lapse, because that noise was far too quiet to be heard with human ears. Still, I did appreciate the warning.

“Looks like our guests have arrived,” I told them. “Everybody into position.”

2.

I wasn’t surprised to see Lillian as one of the vampires who’d come out to meet me, though I was taken a bit back by her choice of wearing a pantsuit, as I’d assumed the last time she’d worn one was solely out of deference to their meeting with therians. She hadn’t really seemed like the type to embrace professional attire as habit, but I suppose I, of anyone, should have known better than to judge a book by its cover.

The man with her wore a lovely pinstriped number that I knew on sight had been hand-tailored. He was also one of the oldest-looking vampires I’d encountered, which, admittedly, was a sample size of three before him. A few wrinkles hung around his eyes, and his dark hair had gone silver in streaks along the side. His face was handsome, but approachable, the sort you’d find as a department head or neighbor that ran the HOA.

“Mr. Alderson, thank you for making the time to meet with us.” He bowed to Richard, not very deeply, but enough to show respect. For his part, Richard had his game face on, which consisted of being stiff, detached, and more than a bit terrifying. Unless these two had been drinking some incredibly potent blood, Richard could probably take them apart by himself. Unfortunately, that would also cause quite the incident between vampires and therians, which is why he was around more for show and friendship than backup.

“And you must be Mr. Fletcher.” The man turned to me, giving another bow. I rose from my seat and stuck out a hand. Bowing might be the way vampires did it, but accountants were taught the art of the handshake to show our respect.

“Yes, sir, Fredrick Fletcher of Fletcher Accounting Services.”

He looked at my hand for a few moments before taking it and offering a firm shake. “I am Petre, of the House of Turva.” The shake continued; he was waiting for something, though I had no idea what. It might have gone on forever if Lillian hadn’t stepped forward.

“Fredrick, it is common courtesy to announce the name of your clan in meetings such as this.”

“It is?” This time, I did bow, a little. I’d made the mistake, so it seemed like meeting him halfway on tradition was a good form of apology. “I’m terribly sorry. I don’t have a clan, as far as I know.”

“Your clan is your sire’s clan, unless you’ve been cast out,” Petre told me.

“My sire never taught me anything about that. He turned me and left me on my own. The only other time I saw him was when he beat me senseless and threatened to kill me.” Both Petre and Lillian seemed to shrink back at that news, the former finally allowing our handshake to come to an end.

“Then it is I who am sorry,” Petre said, quickly recovering himself. “The bond between a sire and their child is meant to be a sacred one. For you to have survived on your own, learning the way of the night without an instructor, is no small feat.”

“Well, movies helped a lot.” I appreciated the praise, but I really didn’t want them thinking more of me than was strictly necessary. “I knew to avoid silver and sunlight right off the bat, and since I didn’t plan on driving any stakes through my heart, that was already off the table.”

Petre regarded me with a long stare. There was a lot going on in those cool, pale blue eyes, most of which I was probably happier not knowing. “I suppose that is one benefit to our culture being absorbed and spread throughout the humans’ consciousness.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Fredrick,” Lillian butted in, offering a much needed respite from the intensity of Petre’s gaze. “And you’re not even hooked to a taxi this time. Makes you look more composed.”

“I appreciate your help that night,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. Anything that signified a debt between us could be dangerous, especially if this turned to negotiations. “You look well, yourself.”

“It’s only proper.” Lillian smiled like she knew something I didn’t, which was completely unnecessary. We were all keenly aware that she and Petre had things hidden up their sleeves, just as they no doubt assumed I had a few tricks, as well.

“If you’re done with introductions, can we get this moving? I have other tasks to see to tonight.” Richard’s voice was edging on an animal’s growl, his inner lion poking through. Rough as his tone was, I was glad for it, since it helped to keep things speeding along.

We all took our seats at the table as the kitchen door opened and a waiter breezed in, carrying a tray of crab cakes. Petre and Lillian both looked momentarily distressed by the appearance of staff, so I spat my words out as quickly as I could.

“It’s fine, this whole place is parahuman friendly,” I told them. “There’s a presence in the house, so everyone here is already in on the secret. We can speak freely.”

“What an intriguing establishment.” Petre watched the waiters closely, but Charlotte was doubling down on her avatar. Every step they made squeaked, each motion was clumsy enough to be human, and she was even replicating the sound of blood pumping through a heart. Unless either of the vampires tried to take a bite, they’d have no idea their waiter wasn’t real. “How ever did you find such a place?”

“I was called in to help settle some ownership issues and account discrepancies. Things went well, so they put my services on retainer.” Now that the conversation was finally steering toward business, I jumped on the opportunity to pop open my briefcase and pull out two identical sheets of paper.

“Since Richard called me here for a meeting, I took the liberty of putting together some information about exactly which services I offer, and the general estimations of hours needed for each task. As you’ll note, I have different projections for digital records versus physical ones, since that adds a lot of time, but the hourly rate stays consistent throughout.”

Petre and Lillian both examined their documents, looking them over dutifully despite the fact that I doubted either of them had needed such services in a very long time. As I’ve said before, parahumans are not the best at record-keeping in any capacity. Finally, Petre lowered his back to the table.

“You have quite the list of services, Mr. Fletcher. It’s not often one sees a member of our species take on such . . . thankless tasks. Those who are turned tend to lean toward grander spectacles, using their new abilities to reach heights unattainable by mortality.”

“I like to think I did the same. After all, becoming a vampire was what gave me the push to start my own company.” My smile was placid, as though I hadn’t even noticed that he’d tried to tactfully call me boring. If Petre thought I was going to take offense to something like that, he clearly hadn’t done much homework.

“Indeed.” His fingers ran along the edge of the page, crinkling it ever so slightly as it rested on the wooden surface of the table. “May I ask why you wished to share this with us? Perhaps you were looking for insight on what options need to be added?”

“A generous offer, but I’ve got it well in hand. I was showing you the price list because I have a policy of being upfront on cost with all potential clients. You called the meeting, so there’s obviously something you’re looking to book an accountant for, but it’s important to me that you have a fair sense of the price going in. All part of running an upstanding business.”

While that truly was my philosophy when meeting new clients, the odds of that being applicable here were slim. I’d decided that my best bet for making it through this encounter was to play it dumb. As an abandoned vampire with no clan and minimal knowledge of vampire society, it took very little acting to pull off. My hope was that if I could convince them I was a non-threat, that I was just an undead guy who was good with numbers, they’d see there was nothing to gain from dealing with me. Except maybe a reliable person to call during tax season.