by Hayes, Drew
“Always,” I replied honestly.
“When we were first dating, before Quinn attacked, I was terrified of what would happen when you found out the truth. I kept wanting to tell you and finding reasons to put it off. But then, after everything went down and you saw me partially transform, you didn’t run. Instead, you did the most Fred thing I can imagine: you sat with me while I still had red eyes and claws to have a frank discussion about our relationship. Because… you still saw me, still knew I was in there, no matter how the outside changed. That was the night I realized just how far this relationship had the potential to go.”
We kissed again, more briefly this time, and when we broke apart, it was my turn to speak. “Given our current agenda, I hope that’s a decision you’re happy with.”
“Have to wait and see,” Krystal shot back. “Sure, the love and support are nice, but we all know a wedding is really about the cake. Feels like that’s going to be a deciding factor on whether or not this was a smart call.”
“Well then, seems we will have to sample quite the wide array. I wonder if they have any parahuman-specific flavors.”
The sharp peal of laughter from Krystal was music to my soul. “Freddy, brace your stomach. You are in a for a wild-ass ride.”
4.
Over the course of the next few hours, Krystal and I proceeded to look at an array of stores, all open despite the late hour. Our first was a flower shop run by a lovely woman with leaves growing out of her hair, whose wares included tulips that sang a soothing melody and several gnarly looking plants with what certainly appeared to be working mouths. Krystal quickly steered us toward some flower I’d never seen before whose petals gave off a gentle, shifting glow. It was lovely, and I agreed to the choice, only to be shown ten more before we settled back on the original selection.
That was, in essence, the theme of the day. Krystal was a woman who knew what she wanted—that had always been the case—yet she was also open to the idea that there might be options she hadn’t considered. In effect, it meant that we knew within the first five minutes of arriving at each shop what her choice would be, but then had to do a full circuit before actually making the selection. It was a day of wasted time, a truly inefficient way to handle our tasks.
And I loved every minute of it.
In my time away from Boarback, I’d almost forgotten how it felt to not be… different. Here, everyone was parahuman, from the naga waitress slithering to her shift at the diner to the crow-like man resting atop a nearby roof. No one gave either a second glance, nor was a mere vampire enough to draw attention. It wasn’t that I changed how I was acting or behaving—more that I no longer had to affect the constant effort of being aware of what I did so that I might ensure none of it betrayed my true nature. Outside of being at home, or around only loved ones, this was one of the few times I felt that sense of awareness fall away. I didn’t need it. Not here.
Spending such time with Krystal doing incredibly mundane tasks only made the day better. We weren’t an agent and a vampire, with all the worries that entailed. We were a normal couple shopping for a wedding: having deliberations, reeling at prices, imagining how the day we were building would ultimately shape out. I deferred to Krystal on most items because, as the sweater vest demonstrated, I was not renowned for my sense of style. We did meet halfway on a few items, though, including a color scheme with substantially less red than Krystal advocated for. She loved her signature color, but I convinced her that a vampire wedding festooned by crimson was a little passé.
It was hard not to think about vampires as our day wound down. After the initial cake-tasting, in which we were shown around by what seemed to be an array of small creatures working as one, we offered some feedback and were told to come back the next day. Evidently, this was their process, as Krystal took the dismissal without umbrage.
With that done, we returned to the hotel, where Krystal grabbed a quick nap while I caught up on work. So far, Lillian was holding down the fort quite well, but there was no way I could take off the duration of our trip entirely. We were slammed, scrutinizing more and more prospective clients weekly. It was an excellent problem to have: word of our reputation was spreading, especially among parahumans. Unfortunately, we simply didn’t have the staff to keep up. While Lillian had proven an apt study over the years, and could now handle everything of intermediary difficulty and lower, I was still taking on the harder cases. We needed more people; that had become clear long ago. The problem was that I had yet to even hear about another parahuman accountant who wasn’t already spoken for, such as those who kept books for the Agency.
Recruiting was an option, presuming I could find someone trustworthy, competent, and actually interested in learning the occupation. It was a slower route, certainly, but Deborah had gotten me thinking about longer-term solutions during our time together. I could hold out for a perfect new accountant to fall into my lap, or I could lay the groundwork now, so it wouldn’t be a problem in the future. I knew my luck and had no question which path I should bet on. Slow, steady, and reliable won the day every time.
Until then, I was stuck keeping the plates spinning. By the time I got to a solid stopping point in my work, Krystal had woken up, grabbed a shower, and dressed for the less enjoyable outing on our agenda. This time, I noticed she didn’t leave her gun in the room. Maybe because she’d be acting as an agent, or perhaps she just wanted to send a message. I truly hoped it wasn’t because she planned to use the thing. Fine a shot as she was, it was going to take more than a mere pistol to stop a member of the Blood Council.
Stowing my laptop, I took the time to adjust my current outfit, though I saw no reason to change. Deborah knew what she was getting, and besides, they’d already ruined one shirt and vest so far. I certainly didn’t intend to have my formal wear shredded.
Krystal was waiting by the door, no longer quite so at ease. I hated that Deborah’s assessment stole that respite from her, even briefly, but it was better than my being taken in the night and locked away in some secret testing cell. We had to play nice. That was the only way this situation stayed viable.
“You ready?”
If I said no, that I wanted to bolt, I knew she would back me. We’d have to suffer the consequences, but this was still my choice. I could flee, if I really wanted to.
“Ready as I can be.” Running was a final option, a bell that couldn’t be unrung. So long as the Blood Council was upholding their end of our deal, this was the better tactic. Should that change, I’d reconsider my options.
Together, we left the Bristle Inn through the front door rather than the tunnels, a new night coating the sky. Finding the Blood Council would be easy, at least: Sheriff Thorgood had shown us where they were staying on the drive over. It was a substantial manor resting atop a modest hill, fenced and fortified from every angle.
This was not, as I’d initially suspected, some holding the Blood Council owned in case of random trips to Boarback. Rather, the estate was the equivalent of a floating embassy, the sort meant to house those of high stations: people too important to put up in the town’s hotel, yet who still required lodging. The manor could be rented, albeit only by specific parties and with a fair amount of red tape, principally to discourage anyone from dropping by. Sheriff Thorgood had been quite open about that last part; he had no inclination to let Boarback become a tourism spot. It was a community first and foremost, one he intended to keep intact.
We could have called for a car, but we enjoyed the walk. Both of us could easily outpace a human, so the trip didn’t take too long. Mostly, it was an excuse for another moonlit stroll through the city. The Blood Council might be able to force themselves into our getaway, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t make use of every moment they didn’t own.
Sadly, the walk eventually came to an end as we arrived at the manor’s gate. I was expecting some sort of guard to be waiting, and in a way, I was right. Only, we got a far more dangerous guard than I’d thought would be assigned
to handle the front gates.
“Glad you both found the place.” Deborah stepped out of the shadows, the large metal blockade behind her grinding into action as she moved. Whether she’d hit a switch, or someone inside had incredible timing, I couldn’t tell, but it did make for a lovely display of coordination.
“Hard to miss,” Krystal replied. “You two get settled in nicely?”
“I did; Claudius has been on a tear since last night.” Deborah chuckled under her breath. “Despite everything I told him, he didn’t truly believe in your condition until he saw it for himself. Sent the man into a tizzy. He’s been devising other aspects to test, now that he knows there’s something to investigate.”
I bristled slightly, wondering what fresh horrors my previous compliance had unlocked. Deborah caught note of my stiffened back and continued. “Don’t worry. Unlike Claudius, I did know we were coming here for real work, and I made sure the tests we have planned are the most vital ones. For all his excitement, he hasn’t presented one experiment that was important enough to bump another off the list. I appreciate that you’ve given us this time, and you should know that we respect it.”
Uneasy as I felt about working with the Blood Council, Deborah’s approach did relax me somewhat. Then again, that was no surprise. She was a vampire of untold age who’d spent weeks getting to know me and my friends; she knew exactly which technique to use on me at any given time. Still, if I had to have a handler, it didn’t hurt to have one who was good at her job.
The smile on Deborah’s face dimmed. “On that note, I thought you should have a bit of say in how the night goes. I won’t lie to you: some of what’s coming will be very unpleasant. We can scale up or down, depending on your preference. Start small and work your way up, or complete the hardest exercises first and let things grow progressively easier.”
For some people, I suspect it might have been a difficult choice, but I knew myself too well. The anxious, worried nature I was born with would go wild if every test I had to take was more challenging than the last. I’d certainly get in my own head, imagining more and more dangerous tasks still to come. Handling the hardest task first, on the other hand, would let me know that I could take on whatever came next. I already had enough people to watch out for; I didn’t need to work against my own brain, as well.
“If it’s not too much bother, I’d like to start with the more difficult side of the spectrum.”
That earned me a nod. “I had a feeling. Follow me, and I’ll explain.”
Perfectly on cue, the gates finished opening. Had she controlled the pacing of our entire conversation? I wanted to dismiss the idea as ludicrous; however, spending time with Deborah had taught me never to assume that anything was impossible for her, especially when she had a chance to plan. I didn’t ask about the gates as we followed her into the building, since she was busy telling me how the night would begin.
“Fred, what you need to understand about tonight is that your immunity to silver represents more than a neat trick. What we are, as vampires, could be described as cursed corpses. We’re dead bodies, with the soul bound and flesh animated solely thanks to magic. It’s why silver hurts us: it disrupts the spell that keeps us sustained. For you to be completely immune to silver means that something fundamental in the magic that makes you a vampire has changed.”
We strode through a large marble entrance that was beautiful and also surprisingly generic. Then again, a rented space probably did better by keeping the decor neutral. The loud snaps of our shoes on the hard flooring echoed around the empty house, announcing our presence to what I hoped was still a limited number of company.
“Or just dragon magic,” Krystal added. “Let’s not pretend their shit doesn’t regularly break the few rules of the arcane we kind of understand.”
To my surprise, Deborah agreed. “Precisely. Everything I’ve said is based off our understanding of magic, most of which is little more than theory. It very well could be some unexplored side effect of sustained draconic magic that’s run through an undead body. But you can see why that is a distinction we need to make, and soon. Between being immune to silver and resistant to a sire’s compulsion, there’s a very real chance that Fred is a new form of vampire. We can’t assume any of the standard abilities, outside of blood-drinking, work as normal.”
I almost asked about the blood thing before realizing that Deborah had seen me drink from an dead mage and temporarily gain the power to see magic, so that was one she already knew about. We kept walking—down a hall, toward a beeping noise that was gradually edging in through my selective attention. As soon as I paid it my full attention, I knew what it was and stopped in my tracks.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly serious, and I’m not talking about you,” Deborah shot back. “You wanted to start with the hardest task, Fred. Where did you imagine that would lead?”
Krystal was looking between us; her hearing couldn’t catch the shrill beeps through the walls. “Freddy? What’s going on?”
“I know what the first test is. They want me to try to turn another human into a vampire.”
5.
“Opening with murder in front of an agent. That’s a bold damn move.” Krystal didn’t reach for her gun just yet, but her hands didn’t exactly stray from her belt, either.
Deborah, unbothered as always, produced a stack of pages from her back pocket and handed them to Krystal. “First off, we do get a set amount of legal turn-attempts per year; that’s part of the treaty. Secondly, if you’ll look through this, you’ll find everything to be on the up-and-up. We knew who was coming to this, Agent Jenkins, and all legalities have been observed. Lastly, Fred, will you at least hear me out? Listen to the full situation before you reject it.”
They were asking me to kill someone. Dressing it up as a turn-attempt might sound nice, but the odds of success were so low, this was like betting a life on a roulette wheel. That assumed I even could turn people: as Deborah had just pointed out, my vampire abilities weren’t quite right. My guts twisted at even the idea of it, and on my own, I might have taken a stand right then and there.
Until I heard the slight gasp that escaped Krystal’s throat. She looked up at Deborah, eyes narrowed. “This is bald-faced, emotional manipulation.”
“If it’s that obvious, can you even call it manipulation? I prefer to think of it as presenting a palatable option to an ethical man,” Deborah countered. “Fred, I know you. I know your limits, and I am telling you, this is one you should at least consider.”
I looked to Krystal, who was still glancing down at the documents. “Be careful, Freddy. I don’t like the way this was set up for us, even if I can’t say they broke any rules. But… maybe it is worth a listen.”
It was rare for Krystal to be unsure about anything. Whatever she was reading must have rattled her. Much as I still wanted to reject the idea outright, it was clear there was more at work here than I was yet grasping. Better to understand things fully, and then make my choice.
“Okay, Deborah. You’ve earned that much trust. I’ll listen to what you propose.”
She motioned for us to continue, and we arrived at a simple door. Stepping through, we found ourselves on the viewing side of a one-way mirror. In the adjacent room lay a woman hooked up to dozens of tubes and machines—body thin, eyes sunken, though there was still a slight sparkle in them. She wasn’t gone entirely. Sadly, it was clear from the context that she wouldn’t be around much longer.
“This is Sherilyn—Sheri to her friends and family. Advanced cancer, as you can probably guess. Hell, you’d be able to smell it if you went in there. Sheri has three kids: two boys and a girl. Her husband died of a heart attack last year. As things stand, she’ll likely be dead before the end of the month, if not the week. She leaves behind a grand total of five thousand dollars to provide for her now parentless children.”
It was heartbreaking; however, I wasn’t sure that killing her sooner was really the right thing to do.
That said, staring into the room, it was hard to feel as secure in my position as I had been before. Would a wild swing at undeath be worse than slipping away? Were I in her shoes, would I risk it?
“If I try to turn her and fail, her kids lose even the chance to say goodbye.”
“They’ve already said their farewells. Her family thinks she’s been taken off for a last-ditch, experimental treatment, which, in a way, she has,” Deborah explained. “Besides which, no, that’s not all that changes if you fail to turn her. In exchange for her participation in this experiment, Sheri’s children will receive trust funds and access to custodians and legal advisors to help them until they come of age. Even if you fail, you’ll be giving her peace of mind that her kids are provided for.”
No wonder Krystal had called this emotional manipulation. Deborah was cutting off all my objections before they could even be properly raised. Given that her entire job was planning and anticipation, it was to be expected. That didn’t make it fun to experience, though.
“I see. So, if I succeed, she becomes a vampire, presumably with a better support network than the one I started with. Should she perish, her children are provided for. The only circumstance in which nothing improves for her is if I refuse to even try. Is that about the cut of it?”
There was no shame in Deborah’s face as she shrugged. “You’re a kind person, Fred. You care about people, even those you’ve never met. In a lot of your life as a vampire, that’s been a boon, but it also makes you incredibly easy to handle—assuming one has the gall to be straightforward about it.”
I could hardly accuse her of playing it subtle; that was overwhelmingly true. She’d even chosen the same disease that had claimed Krystal’s mother, meaning that there was no way my fiancée could stay truly objective. Even as Deborah and I talked, Krystal was looking hard through the glass. The sight was no doubt stirring up old memories; it was amazing she could stay so composed.
