Undeath and Taxes (23 page)

8.

The ringing in my ears roused me—incessant bells clanging through my head and pulling me out of what had previously been a peaceful slumber. As I opened my eyes, I realized that I was no longer in the cube. Or, rather, that the cube no longer existed in any recognizable shape. Shattered metal surrounded me, huge chunks torn away and scattered about. Some of the  shards had even been wedged into nearby walls. Only minutes before, I would have found such a spectacular display of strength to be mind-boggling. After holding a fraction of Gideon’s power, I was more impressed by his restraint than anything else.

Getting to my feet, I was struck by how much my body ached. Since becoming a vampire, I’d been hurt more than once, but the general pains of wear on a body were a thing of the past. My natural resiliency and rapid healing negated daily damage faster than it could pile up. It seemed that was not the case with channeling dragon magic, however. I was going to need a healthy dose of blood—human, this time—before I was back at a hundred percent.

It was only after standing that I noticed the corpses around me. There were five of them, and I couldn’t recognize any from what remained of their faces, so I it seemed like good odds that none were Bubba and Amy. As I began trudging out of the room, it occurred to me that I should have been overwhelmed by the scent of their blood. Instead, it was something I’d had to mentally hunt for, sorting through the smells of the room to pick it out.

Once I made it outside the office, I heard a racket from several floors below. People were yelling, furniture was being smashed, and . . . and actually, that was all I could make out. The ringing in my ears had largely faded, but my hearing still wasn’t able to discern what was going on in any fine detail.

I was halfway to the elevator when I finally snapped to what was going on. (In my defense, being piloted by an ancient dragon is a mentally draining experience. But I got there eventually.) The runes in the building suppressed the power of anyone who wasn’t as powerful as the caster, or carting around the blood of someone stronger. Whatever Gideon had done must have used up all of the draconic power inside me. I was just a vampire again, and that meant I was as susceptible to the suppression magic as everyone else.

Truthfully, that fact should have terrified me, but, more than anything, I felt relieved. Carrying around even a small piece of Gideon’s magic had been a strange experience, more than I really wanted to deal with. Just being a vampire was plenty for me; I didn’t need to go augmenting myself like Quinn, my awful sire. It was good to be back to normal. Well, my version of “normal,” anyway.

I punched the down button on the elevator just as a giant roar shook the building. I nearly fell over, barely catching myself against the wall in time. Right, no vampire dexterity to compensate for my natural clumsiness. This would take some getting used to.

After the roar, I decided that stairs were probably a safer bet and made my way down the hallway to the nearest stairwell. At this point, I had no idea where I was heading, only that I wanted to make sure everyone was okay. I made it down three flights before I missed my footing. I grabbed for the railing, but my hands were too slow, and I ended up falling forward. I bounced three times before landing on my head.

Vampires can’t sleep during the night. It’s just one of those things I’d gotten used to over the years. But apparently, dragon magic isn’t to be underestimated, because I still managed to pass out at the bottom of the stairwell.

☼

When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the scent of the person who was holding me up. It hit me before I even registered that I was standing, or that I was outside the building, or any other of the inane details that followed. No, the scent came first, overwhelming every other piece of information and telling me exactly who I was near. It wasn’t a particularly rational way for my brain to process what was happening, but, then again, isn’t love supposed to be irrational by design?

“Easy there, big fella,” Krystal said, walking us another few steps forward. “You should start feeling better any minute now.”

She was right. Already I could tell that the small pains in my body were fading away, though the pronounced headache I’d suddenly acquired seemed to be taking its sweet time. I probably could have supported myself and stopped leaning on her, but I didn’t try. At that moment, I needed the proximity for a support that had nothing to do with the state of my physical being.

Krystal slid me onto a bench, and I pulled her with me. She didn’t resist, and the two of us were soon seated, staring at Richard’s building. A large chunk of the wall had been blasted out, and the pouring smoke told the story of a fire smoldering somewhere inside. In the distance, I could hear sirens as the various response teams raced to the scene, but none of the gala guests milling about looked particularly worried.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Not
everyone
everyone, but all of the gang made it through fine,” Krystal assured me. “Gideon punched into the room with Bubba and Amy in hand—well . . . claw, really—and dropped them with me before attacking the imposter. Arch and I started evacuating everyone, but when dragons fight there’s bound to be a few caught in the crossfire. Still, we cleared as many people out as we could. Arch even went and got Sally out of her room personally.”

“That was good of him.”

“I know Arch comes off rough, but he’s one of the good guys. Besides, it was the only way to keep Richard from charging up there himself,” Krystal said. “Anyway, we were nearly out when Bubba finally told me that you’d been left behind when Gideon popped out of his cage. I went hunting for you, only to find my boyfriend passed out in the stairs like a freshman after a kegger.”

“If only. Merlot hangovers have nothing on what Gideon left me with.” My head was slowly clearing as my vampiric healing kicked back into gear, but it was sure taking longer than I would have preferred. Were I a car, my gas light would no doubt have been on.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to have a long chat about that, once you’re feeling better,” Krystal said. “I’ve grabbed bits and pieces, but this seems like the kind of story I’m going to have to file a report about.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m warning you right now that the details will be fuzzy,” I told her. My mind wandered back into the cube and the conversation with Gideon. Already, I was trying to sort through it and get everything catalogued into a nice, prepared package for when Krystal asked her questions. As I sifted through, though, something stuck out to me.

“Krystal, do you know what a ‘tiamat’ is?”

“If memory serves, it’s a creature from dragon lore, named after the mythological mother of dragon kind. They’re supposed to be a sort of half-breed or something. They were revered because they could birth full-blooded dragons, but with a much higher rate, hence the mother-dragon reference. It’s very difficult for dragons to conceive, which is pretty much the only reason they don’t rule the planet. Why do you ask?”

Had there been any pulsing blood in my face, it no doubt would have drained away as the implications of her words set in. I might not know the details, but there was no doubt in my mind that I’d just stumbled across something far more important than a man of my level was meant to know. It was the sort of realization that would likely haunt my thoughts for some while, so I chose to veer away from it rather than dwell.

“Just curious. This whole thing has got me interested in dragons. By the way, what was this” —I gestured to the shattered part of Richard’s building— “whole thing, anyway?”

“Near as we could figure, a second attempt at a coo. Seems that new leader the other tribe elected had a lot more in common with the first than we realized. He was smarter, at least. Hired another dragon to neutralize Gideon when they made their move.”

“I was afraid it would be something like that.” I sighed. “Let me guess: this will put something of a damper on their diplomatic negotiations.”

“No, Fred. There aren’t going to be any more negotiations.” Krystal reached over and put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer. “That tribe locked up the King of the West. Even if Gideon were inclined to feel merciful, there are political ramifications to that which he can’t let slide.”

“You’re saying the other tribe will have to find shelter elsewhere.”

“I’m saying that, by the time the sun rises, there isn’t going to be a second tribe.” Krystal kept her eyes trained forward, watching the wind move bits of glass that littered the sidewalk.

I should have been shocked, or outraged, or grief-stricken for all those Gideon was no doubt already hunting down, but all of that would come later. In that moment, I was just too tired to muster up more than a cursory sense of sadness. It didn’t seem right to purge an entire tribe of therians based on the actions of a few; however, I could understand why Gideon felt it necessary. It was that fact, more than anything he was doing, that disturbed me.

“When you’re feeling better, we can go find the others,” Krystal told me. “They’re probably with Arch. He was rounding people up when I went back to get you.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. “After all this, I just want to see that everyone’s safe and go back to the apartment.”

“Same here.” Krystal rose from the bench, keeping her hand intertwined with mine as she pulled me up. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, leaving a slight smear of red lipstick when she pulled away.

“Let’s get our family and go home.”

9.

“You’re sure about this?” Arch asked. His eyes were narrowed; he was clearly still wary of the offer.

“It was never my decision to make, but she says it’s fine, so it’s fine,” I told him.

“Just be sure you wipe your feet,” Charlotte added. “I don’t need anyone muddying up my clean floors.”

It was three days after the fiasco at Richard’s, and I’d more or less gotten myself back to full strength. Admittedly, I still felt a touch off (not bad mind you, just off), but for all intents and purposes I was back in my regular condition. Once the dust had settled, and I’d heard the accounts from everyone about how much Arch had helped, I realized that we were indebted to him. There wasn’t much I could offer an agent, of course, but I had hit upon one thing that might benefit both him and someone in need of company.

“I know how to keep clean,” Arch said. He and Charlotte had been introduced the evening prior, and I’d left them to chat for a trial night to see if the arrangement suited all those involved. She hadn’t tried to kill him, nor he her, and both seemed amiable enough toward the other. I suspected that was as good as I was going to get.

“It’s true,” Krystal said. “You should see his desk. So organized it makes our records vault look like shambles in comparison.”

“Our records vault is shambles,” Arch said.

“Cynthia has her system, and I’m sure as shit not going to be the one to try and talk her into changing it,” Krystal replied.

Arch said nothing, which I was slowly learning to recognize was his way of yielding a point. Seizing the momentary lull in banter, I made a slight coughing sound in my throat so that we could get the discussion back on track.

“Regarding the matter at hand, I have some paperwork for you both to sign.” I reached into the briefcase set before me and pulled out the final sets of documents, sliding them over to Charlotte.

The four of us were in the Charlotte Manor dining room (a place where I’d all too recently been held hostage), hammering out the final details of Arch’s new living arrangement. Moonlight shone through the window, but, in spite of the late hour, Charlotte had agreed to make us a celebratory meal, and I could scarcely wait to be done with the meeting and on to enjoying her culinary artistry.

“Feel free to peruse the fine print, but you’ll find I worked in the finalized conditions,” I said. “Arch will pay a set amount of rent each month to retain one of Charlotte’s rooms, whether he is actually in town or not. That money will be used, at Charlotte’s discretion, for updating features and incorporating new technology.”

“Pretty curious to see what all this internet hub-bub is about,” Charlotte muttered.

“In return for the rent, Charlotte will provide Arch with three meals per day, weekly turndown and laundry service, as well as reasonable security,” I continued. “Everyone good with that?”

“Still a little insulted that my security is defined as ‘reasonable’,” Charlotte said.

“Don’t take it personally; you should see what he says about The White House,” Krystal said. “From Arch, ‘reasonable’ is about as high of praise as you’re going to get.”

“Guess I’ll have to take it.” Charlotte produced a pen from somewhere unseen and scratched her name into the paper before her. When she was done, she moved the pages across the table to Arch, who produced a gleaming metal writing implement and proceeded to do the same.

“Excellent. Now, I’ll just need to sign on as caretaker for the funds,” I said.

Arch slid the pages across to me, his pen still on top of it, which stopped inches away from where I sat. Like everything else he did, it was eerily accurate and precise. I still had no idea exactly what Arch was, and the more I dwelled on that fact, the happier I was with my ignorance. If my realization about Sally Alderson had taught me nothing else, it was that there was peace to be found in the darkness.

I plucked the pen up from the pages and quickly scrawled my signature across the final line. Looking it over, I noticed Charlotte had forgotten to put the date next to her name. It was a minor matter that I could easily have remedied, but it was better to get her accustomed to how contracts worked. There would doubtlessly be more in her future, as we brought her into the modern age.

“Charlotte, you need to put the date next to your signature.” I slid the pages back over to her.

“Sorry.” She reached forward, intent on picking up Arch’s pen, but when her fingers made contact, she let out a soft yelp and jerked them away. Small wisps of smoke rose from her fingers, and she stared angrily at the table’s residents. “What the hell! Why did you give me a silver pen?”

“My mistake,” Arch said. “I keep that one in case I need an quick, covert weapon. This one should be fine.” He pulled out a golden pen and held it out to Charlotte.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll use my own.” She re-summoned the same pen she’d used the first time, then pointed to the silver one still resting on the documents. “Someone get that thing away from me.”

Arch reached forward, but Krystal put a hand on his arm before he made it to the pen.

“Fred . . . why didn’t you notice it was silver?” Her voice was soft and low; though, based on the look in her eyes, I could sense that violence was only a few wrong words away. I could hardly blame her. I’d just been wondering the same thing myself. Silver grounded magic, and it was essentially poison to creatures composed of it—like me, or Charlotte. Touching that pen should have smarted like heck, but I hadn’t even realized it was made of the stuff.

“I honestly have no idea.” I reached over and picked up the pen, bracing myself for a shock, a burn, or even a low-level tingle. Instead, there was nothing. It was like I was holding any other piece of metal.

I heard the click of the gun before I saw that she’d drawn it. Krystal had the sight trained on my head, and at this range, I highly doubted she’d miss.

“Nothing personal if that’s really you, Fred, but after that fake Gideon, I’m not taking any chances.”

“Did I miss something?” Charlotte asked. She seemed remarkably calm, given that someone had just drawn a gun at her dinner table.

“Fred seems to be unaffected by silver, which should be impossible for a vampire,” Arch explained. “Agent Jenkins thus suspects that her boyfriend has been replaced by an imposter, most likely a fey, who doesn’t share that allergy.”

“Well, she’s wrong. This is the same Fred I met a few weeks back, and he’s definitely not a fey,” Charlotte said. “If anyone has made the veiling magic to beat my detection abilities, I’ve yet to see it.”

“Really? You didn’t mention that when you were listing your security features,” Arch said. His voice was slightly higher, and it was quite possibly the first time he’d shown genuine interest in something since I’d met him.

“Just one of those things. The mages who built me added a ton of features to make sure I could discern friend from foe. Now, since I only met Fred recently, I can’t say that this is the original one you two met, but he’s definitely the only one I’ve ever known.”

“Okay,” Krystal said, slowly lowering her gun. “But that doesn’t explain the silver.”

“Perhaps it’s only ineffective when applied externally,” Arch suggested. Before I could offer an opinion of my own, he had thrown a small dagger across the table and struck me in my shoulder.

“
Gaah
!” My yelp came as soon as the blade pierced my flesh, more reaction than an actual expression of pain. After a few seconds, I realized that the dagger didn’t really hurt at all. Reaching up carefully, I wiggled it a bit and found that, while it was certainly not comfortable, it wasn’t exceptionally painful either. “Actually, I would like to retract my scream. This isn’t really all that bad.”

“Pure silver,” Arch said. “And it doesn’t bother you in the slightest?”

“Sorry . . . but no. The fact that you just ruined my shirt, however, does have me a bit miffed.” I pulled the dagger out and set it on the table.

“It has to be a side effect from whatever Gideon did,” Krystal said. “I have no idea how that could have happened though.”

“Amy warned me several times that dragon magic is unpredictable.”

“We’ll have to call in a specialist,” Arch told Krystal.

“I very much dislike the sound of that,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Krystal reached over and took my hand. If she felt any compunction about such a tender action less than a minute after pulling a firearm on me, it certainly didn’t show. “We’ll figure this out. You’ve always been a bit different than most vampires; this is just another thing that makes you one of a kind.”

“Though, really, the accounting job is far more bizarre,” Arch added.

“I get the feeling that this is sort of a big deal,” Charlotte said. “So, if you all want to skip dinner—”

“No,” I sighed, shaking my head. “Charlotte, you will learn this sooner or later, but with us, there is seldom a time when there isn’t some worry or emergency to deal with. Curious though my silver immunity might be, I see no reason to skip an excellent meal over it. Besides, you and Arch have reason to celebrate. As of today, you have a full-time tenant, and he has a place to live.”

“Okay then, let’s eat,” Charlotte said.

The kitchen doors sprang open and the wait staff filled the dining room, trays of food already giving off aromas that made my mouth water. As they paraded around us, Krystal leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“I’m proud of you, Fred. A year ago, something like this would have had you in fits.”

“Sadly, I think I’m slowly beginning to build up a tolerance to the panic-inspiring events that seem to plague us,” I whispered back.

“Just don’t get too tolerant. I like you just the way you are, panic and all.”

“And I love you as you are, death-courting job and all.”

That wasn’t how I’d ever intended to say it for the first time. In truth, I don’t know that I had ever really intended to say it. That was the sort of thing that took more bravery than men like me were born with, but it seemed folly could intervene where courage dared not tread. But there it was—in Charlotte Manor, the sentient house, and surrounded by non-existent waiters and an agent I didn’t wholly trust, while still processing the fact that I might not be as back to normal as I hoped—I’d told Krystal Jenkins that I loved her for the first time.

She stared at me for a long moment, then gave me a tomcat grin and slid back to her chair. It wouldn’t be until later that night, when we were alone and the environment was more intimate, that she would echo my sentiment with her own voice. That was fine, I didn’t need to hear it right away. I’d known it for a long while, just as she had no doubt been aware of my feelings for her. Neither Krystal nor I were the most expressive of people, emotionally speaking, but it didn’t mean we were incapable of getting better.

Undead or alive, human or parahuman, everyone is capable of taking steps forward. Ours might have been moving at a lurching, unwieldy pace, but we were taking them all the same. It was irrelevant if we might have been a bit slower than more socially adjusted people.

We were taking our steps together, and that was all that really mattered.