Undeath and Taxes (17 page)

6.

The hallway was empty, though I did notice the carpet in front of the door was slightly bunched up, as if a lot of movement had occurred in a short period of time. Maybe they’d tried to break the door down once I was cut off from them. Or perhaps they’d merely beaten a hasty retreat to safer grounds. We were associates, not friends, after all.

A quick glance to the foyer of the house told me that they weren’t there, though I did notice one of the tables that held vases had been moved. Probably another attempt at using force to procure an exit; one that had met with obvious failure. With the foyer and main hall ruled out, that left me several areas on the ground floor to search, to say nothing of the expanse of rooms over my head. True, I could dart about frantically, bouncing from room to room until I hit something, but that seemed like a risky strategy. With so much space to work in, Charlotte could easily keep shuffling them to different areas as I searched, like a magician slipping cards up her sleeve.

Sound was obviously a possibility; however, the way she’d managed to muffle my companions the moment the doors closed hinted to the fact that either the rooms were magically soundproof or Charlotte could make them so; either scenario rendered my hearing useless.

I did have one more trick up my sleeve, though it was one I was loathe to use. All vampires, at least so far as I knew, have a sense of smell as keen as a bloodhound. Though I actively blocked it out the vast majority of the time, I too possessed that skill. What’s more, the thing I was searching for was what the primal part of my undead brain was wired to track: humans. It would have been easier if one of them had cut themselves—the scent of blood sang out so fiercely that it took all my willpower not to be overwhelmed if I was close to it. Still, vampires hunted plenty of non-bleeding humans, so I should be able to follow their trails.

My eyes closed as I tried to extend my sense of smell. The last time I had attempted any real tracking was several months back, when we thought Amy was kidnapped and were trying to find her. Ultimately, that hadn’t been the case at all, but it had still given me the chance to practice a bit under Richard’s guidance. Therians could track far better than vampires at anything save for blood, so it was a worthwhile learning experience. Short though his tutelage was, I still remembered the basics. I mentally combed through the scents of the house, searching for one I recognized.

The first one I located was, unfortunately, the worst of the lot. Cliff Puckett, the determined man who had run two miles after his car broke down, was still leaving a musty, sweaty trail of scent wherever he went. As soon as I found it, I nearly gagged, then wondered how on earth I’d missed the thing in the first place. My selective attention was better than I gave it credit for.

Following Cliff’s scent was effortless in terms of tracking, but required significant willpower in that I had to force myself not to try and lose the lingering odor. I trailed it down the hall, to where Cliff had entered and exited the dining room, back to the foyer where it hovered near the front door. From there, it trailed around through the parlor room and began ascending a staircase.

As my pursuit continued, I tightened my hold on the briefcase clutched in my hand. The longer they were away from me, the higher a chance Charlotte would attack. I might have let my worry turn to panic, if not for the simple fact that I’d yet to catch the scent of any blood. Powerful as Cliff’s funk was, not even it could overcome the red flags my brain would throw if I caught scent of the life-essential liquid. No blood meant, hopefully, that no one was dead yet. There were certainly bloodless ways to kill, but I doubted an animated house would have access to them. Or perhaps I should say I hoped she wouldn’t, as I really had no idea what Charlotte was capable of. My knowledge of the parahuman world came from tax codes and movies, neither of which was especially helpful in this situation.

After several minutes of carefully following the odorous smell of Cliff Puckett, it at last came to an end. I found myself standing in front of an oak door with a golden knob, which I will admit did go well with the red carpet and trim adorning the upstairs hall. It was closed, and I heard not so much as a peep from inside, but the sweat trail Cliff had left behind didn’t lie. This was where at least some of the others were.

I grabbed the knob and tried to turn it, finding so little give it seemed as though the thing had been welded into place. I tried again, giving it some of the undead
oomph
, and found I could move it ever-so-slightly. So, Charlotte’s stopping power could be overcome by brute force, just not the sort that any human could generate. It was good to know; however, I preferred to avoid such tactics whenever possible.

“Charlotte,” I said, keeping my voice down just in case she decided to start broadcasting my words to the other side of the door. “I would very much like to go see the others, but your door seems to be jammed. I wonder if you’d be so kind as to open it up for me.”

Another twist of the knob, another failure.

“Let’s be reasonable here. I’m being polite, and despite the fact that we both know I could knock down the door, I really don’t want to. It’s a lovely piece, excellent craftsmanship. I realize you don’t think I’ll find a compromise, but the least you could do is let me try. Please.”

There was a slight sound from the door, and this time when I tried, it opened so easily it seemed like the hinges had been greased. I pulled back the oak barrier to find myself looking into a sizable and lavish bedroom. It had white carpeting, gold trim, a hand-crafted writing desk, and a four-poster bed that looked downright elegant. If not for the threat of violence, I might have enjoyed this establishment’s accommodations enough to book an evening for Krystal and me.

“Fred? You’re alive?” Asha rose from her seat, racing across the room and giving me an enthusiastic hug. “We thought you’d been killed!”

“Ah, no, just a little extra fear thrown my way,” I replied, carefully extricating myself from her grip. I understood emotions were running high, but propriety was still propriety, and I was spoken for. “Glad to see the rest of you are doing okay.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Troy grumbled. He and Cliff were sitting on the ground near a stone fireplace, his hand gripping his injured shoulder.

“After we tried to bust you out, then failed to break the front door down, we finally decided to start exploring up here to see if we could find anything useful. We stayed together, so when the door slammed shut, we all got stuck here as a unit,” Mr. Price informed me. “By the way, so far we’ve found all of jack-shit.”

“Whoever these people are, they really built themselves a hell of deathtrap,” Troy noted.

“Impossibly so,” Asha added, walking back to the middle of the room. “I mean that literally; some of the stuff they’ve been doing seems basically impossible.”

“With sufficient technology, anything can be done, or at least, appear to be done. Obviously, they threw a lot of money into special effects,” I told her. As I stepped in, I expected to hear the door slam shut behind me, but no such noise emanated. Evidently, Charlotte was content to let us leave this room now that I’d broken the proverbial seal. “Speaking of, I might have an idea that could get us out of this.”

“You do?” Cliff Puckett looked at me like I’d just promised him immortality along with a free puppy.

“This ought to be good,” Troy said, clearly less impressed than Cliff.

“Simply put, the, er . . . person posing as a ghost seems to be primarily concerned with Mr. Price taking ownership of this house. If we draft a document that legally binds him from ever doing so, or permitting one of his associates to do so, the threat is removed and there is no more reason to keep us here.”

“Except that the people pulling these strings have now threatened, imprisoned, and attacked us,” Troy pointed out. “These guys are pros. Even if we swore up and down that we wouldn’t go to the cops, and we meant it, they still wouldn’t take the chance on letting us go.”

“Troy is right.” Mr. Price rose from his seat on the bed and walked to the middle of the room. “Fred, your idea is outside the box, and I like that, but the only way it could have worked is if we were dealing with an actual ghost. Since that’s obviously ridiculous, our only hope is to find some way out of this place before the people pulling the strings get bored and try to kill us.”

“I really feel like they would be content with just the contract not to try and buy the place,” I protested. But even as I spoke, I could see my words falling on deaf ears. The others, not knowing what I did about parahumans or the laws they lived by, were stuck facing the ridiculous assumption that there were real people behind what we were experiencing. Without knowing the truth, they would never agree to my plan, and for very logical reasons. The only way I might bring them around was to tell them what we were really facing.

Of course, even if I wanted to out the supernatural to them, there was no guarantee they’d believe me. Humans were very stuck in their belief that there was nothing hiding in the darkness, even as those very things slipped up beside them and asked to borrow a cigarette.

“Lads and lady, I think we’re past the point of trying to stick together,” Mr. Price said. “Right now, our only hope is to cover enough ground to find a way out of this place. That means we’re better off working in teams. Since I’m the main target, I’ll go alone.”

“No way. You’re the main target, so the minute you’re alone is when you’re in the most danger.” Asha thrust her finger over to Troy, whose brow immediately furrowed as he sensed his partner about to volunteer him for something. “Troy might be one arm down, but he’s still a big guy. If we’re going to split up, we’ll do it smart. Take Troy along. Between the two of you, I bet you can handle a lot of challenges.”

“You up for that?” Mr. Price asked Troy.

“At this point, I’d rather be on a team of two ass-kickers than watching over the small folks,” Troy said, pulling himself off the ground. “No offense, you guys.”

“None taken,” I replied curtly.

“Fred, Cliff, and I will form the other team,” Asha said.

“Actually, I think I’ll be fine on my own,” I said. Despite my initial hurry to get to them, it had become clear that if I wanted to stop Charlotte, I was going to have to get some work done. With them gone, I could talk to her, ideally buying myself a little time, and then knock out the paperwork. If she refused . . . well, I’d just have to work fast.

“Fred, we just got you back,” Asha pointed out.

“Which is why I think I’ll be fine. If these . . . people . . . wanted to kill me, they already had the perfect opportunity. Obviously, I’m not high on the priority list, so I should be all right. Plus, more teams means we can cover more ground.”

Asha’s stare had elevated from curious to downright scouring as she searched my face for some signal of what was going on in my head. The woman was too observant for my own good; the longer she stuck around, the harder it would be to deal with the secret side of our predicament. At long last, she gave a small nod and turned to Cliff.

“You ready?”

Cliff responded by rising from his seat and trudging over to her—the walk of a man who has already accepted his fate and is just plodding down the path to meet it.

“Mr. Price and Troy can take the third floor; Cliff and I will finish looking over what we didn’t check on the first. Fred can finish out the second floor, since we barely got anything explored before getting snared in this room. We’ll meet back here after an hour to share findings. Everyone good?” Asha looked around the room, waiting for questions. When none came, she tapped Cliff on the shoulder, and the two headed out the door. Mr. Price and Troy were only a few steps behind.

I made a show of checking over the rest of the room, then, when they were gone, I carefully pulled the door shut.

“Charlotte, would you be so kind as to manifest? I’d like to have a discussion with you.”

“Sure, Fred. Since you asked nicely.” Charlotte was sitting on the bed, still wearing the image of the young brunette woman in the early-century dress. She gave me a polite smile as she watched me jump a bit in surprise. “Didn’t go the way you expected it to, did it?”

“Things could have gone better,” I admitted. “But I maintain that there is still a way to keep you safe without hurting anyone.”

“Your contract idea? That was cute, but I’ve listened to Theodore Price talk business too many times to believe he wouldn’t find a way out of it, even if you could find a trick to make him sign.”

“I didn’t expect such a contract to succeed. It was just a ruse to get them to stay close while I worked. I really do think I have an idea, but it’s going to require some time for research. Would you be so kind as to delay the execution for a few hours? Also, if you wouldn’t mind allowing me access to my phone so I can use the internet, that would help as well.”

“An outside line and time to work in?” Charlotte let out a soft tinkle of a giggle. “You must really think me foolish. If I gave you that, I’d have a nest of vampires swarming through my halls in no time.”

“I promise, I’d only use it for research. No outgoing calls.” I adjusted my glasses slightly, a touch worried that my next statement would give too much away. At the point Charlotte and I had reached, it was a necessary risk to tell her something of the truth; I just didn’t want to destroy my imaginary leverage. “Besides, I don’t associate with any other vampires. I was turned and left, and when I did meet my sire, he was . . . well, he was not a pleasant person. I won’t call anyone: accountant’s honor.”