by Hayes, Drew
“Not totally sure,” Krystal admitted. “Depends on how high the chances are. If it’s coin-flip good, I expect more overt manipulation like tonight: placing people in your life who would be good vampire candidates and finding ways to push you toward turning them. If it’s better than coin-flip—say, three out of four go well—they might risk having you attempt to turn some high-value human assets. Those are tricky, though. Kill one, and the consequences are severe. Much better than that, anything in the ninety percent range, and it gets sticky. A near-guaranteed turn is something the Blood Council would do almost anything to possess, and use.”
Krystal drove that point home, squeezing me a little to make sure I caught the inflection. The ability to choose who could become a vampire was a potentially game-changing one, and not necessarily in a good way.
“Luckily, you’ve only got one attempt left this year, and if you think human governments move slowly, you should see the pace an immortal one cuts. No way they’ll reallocate those extra attempts any time soon. It’ll be a decade at least before they have enough samples to calculate a success rate for you—years we can spend getting you ready.”
“How about we do the wedding first, then start preparing for an assault from the Blood Council?”
That earned me a poke in the ribs. “Some of us know how to multitask.” Moments later, I was snared by a kiss on the cheek. “But fine, I guess we can prioritize.”
We turned the discussion to our upcoming nuptials, moving away from thoughts of changing humans and long-term implications. There were much heavier issues worthy of consideration, but we had both reached our limit for the evening. Living a life like this, compartmentalization became paramount. Rough as the night had gone, this was still our mini-vacation/wedding-planning trip, and we intended to make use of the time, intrusive Blood Council or no.
Although, I had a feeling the events of this night would result in one more name being added to the guest list.
9.
The sunlight test passed without issue, as we’d known it would, after which Krystal and I returned to the Bristle Inn, this time driven over in one of the protected SUVs. For what I imagined was a plethora of security reasons, there were no tunnels to the mansion. Barely instants after she’d stumbled into bed, Krystal fell into a solid sleep while I went to work, running the office as best I could from a remote location. She awoke that afternoon, grabbed some lunch, and soon stole me away from the laptop as only Krystal could.
By the time evening arrived, we were raring to go, a list of venues in descending order of priority clutched in Krystal’s hands. This leg of the journey would require transportation, however, given the remote locations of some options. Walking out of the Bristle Inn, it was a tad surprising how glad I was to see Sheriff Thorgood waiting for us. He looked so innocuous, a simple small-town lawman with a wide frame and a hefty stomach, I’d have easily believed he was a former football player post career change. What he actually was, I still had little clue; all I knew for sure was that he was on Krystal’s side. I’d been parahuman long enough to realize that was the point that mattered most.
Krystal grabbed him in a hug and, accepting the inevitable, I gave a quick embrace as well, getting only partially crushed in the squeeze for my trouble. “Glad to see you both up and kicking! I take it there was no trouble yesterday?”
“No more than we expected, and less than we could handle.” Krystal slapped the bed of the truck, causing something unseen to rattle. “Now, let’s get cooking. Got a lot of places to see tonight, and our plane leaves a couple hours before sunrise.”
“About that,” Sheriff Thorgood began, motioning for us to hop inside the vehicle, “I was curious if you’d be interested in touring an extra spot tonight. Something special you might not have known about.”
The excitement in Krystal’s eyes threatened to light the cab on fire with its intensity. “Did Cragrulth finally get his underwater glass enclosure working?”
“For about three months. Then a big fish hit a fracture point, and it all went back to square one,” Sheriff Thorgood informed her. “But this is something different. Think of it as a hidden gem of Boarback.”
“I thought you showed me all the hidden spots.” There was a thread of playful accusation in Krystal’s tone.
If he heard it, Sheriff Thorgood chose not to engage, his cheerful energy unwavering. “I showed you all the ones I could when you were here. Things change, even in spots as remote as this one. Just trust me, you’re going to want to see this.”
There were a lot of ways I’d noticed Krystal and Sheriff Thorgood were close, but even if I’d had no prior knowledge whatsoever, the fact that she actually sat back and relaxed when around him would have spoken volumes. Krystal was not the type to “just trust” anyone, especially when it came to dealing with new things. She led the charge and loathed being kept in the dark. The level of faith she put in Sheriff Leeroy Thorgood was almost unmatched. I only hoped he lived up to it.
Puttering through town, I took note of the bustling evening. Therians in their semi-shifted form, small green creatures moving as a mini-mob, a hunk of what looked like living clay hauling a keg to the diner, where I could see Yenny, the naga waitress, serving what appeared to be an ogre, if I were to take a guess. All in all, it was a slice of Americana swirled together with the most ambitious parts of Halloween. I understood why Krystal loved this place. If I’d wound up here before putting down roots in Winslow, leaving might have proven too great a task.
We wove up through the town, past the outskirts and into the forest. This was a different direction than the one we took to the airfield, and while Sheriff Thorgood seemed to have no trouble navigating, I was immediately lost once we left the proper road. That wasn’t to say we were tearing through brush—there were tracks here and there—but this area was far less traveled than anywhere I’d been so far.
As we ascended, the truck began to grind, until Sheriff Thorgood slapped the dash once. With that, the grind vanished and we pressed forward. I resisted the urge to shoot a look over to Leeroy, chiefly because I knew there were no clues to be found from his form. Whatever he was, it wasn’t something I’d knowingly encountered before.
A steep bump sent me hurtling up, banging my head briefly on the ceiling. Looking down, I was shocked to find my seatbelt had come unfastened. Attempt after attempt to latch the safety device ended in failure, until finally, Sheriff Thorgood noticed my struggle.
“Sorry about that. The whole area is coated in… well, let’s call it a discouragement field, something to keep wandering souls from moving in this direction. The closer you get, the more things go wrong. One of the same ways we keep cars from accidentally finding us.”
“That’s going to make bringing people in tough,” Krystal pointed out.
“Not so much. I’ll turn it off for the wedding; didn’t seem prudent to leave this undefended in the meantime.” The ground leveled out suddenly, just as Sheriff Thorgood’s voice faded. Before us was a clearing bordered by a massive grove of trees.
I mean that in the sense that both the number of trees was massive and that the trees themselves were enormous. Even from a distance, I could see they were four times as thick as the trees we’d been driving through, and those were the ones on the fringes. Deeper in, I could see larger pillars of wood spearing the sky.
Krystal and I were both dumbstruck as the truck puttered along. For a moment, it seemed as if Sheriff Thorgood were going to plow right into the first trunk, until he slowed just as we drew close. A branch scratched the window, and to our shock, Sheriff Thorgood rolled it down.
“Evening, Douglas. These are the two we talked about. Bringing them around to see what they think.”
In life as a parahuman, it is often tempting to get jaded about the existence of magic. When anything is possible, one would think the extraordinary would lose its shine. Those sorts of ideas tend to fall away when faced with the mind-warping sight of ambulatory foliage moving out of the way, howe
ver.
I stared in open-mouthed shock as the massive trees rumbled, the ground rippling like waves as they slowly parted to reveal a path forward. Glancing over to Krystal, I expected her to be nonchalant as always, but instead found eyes as wide and awestruck as my own.
To his credit, Sheriff Thorgood didn’t make us ask. He was explaining even before his foot hit the gas, lurching us forward once more. “Few months back, had an old fey friend reach out with a problem. She’d been tooling around and created something unexpected: a living grove. Not the first of its kind, but you don’t see many popping up. This one came out small, not strong enough to survive in the wilds of the fey lands, and she didn’t have the heart to put it down. We haven’t had much use for this area since a mage accidentally tainted the soil, so I offered to take Douglas in. Works for both of us: he’s slowly purifying the corrupted dirt and gets a nice place where no one will bother him.”
As we rode, the trees continued to part, often just in time. It was like racing down a tunnel, straight at a wall, only to have each obstacle fall away at the very last moment—which is to say, the drive was incredibly stressful. Knowing that I could survive a car accident does not make them any more appealing.
Then, without warning, we were in a new clearing. No one spoke while the last sputters of the truck died. Silence was the appropriate reaction to what we saw.
I felt like I’d stepped into another world. High, interwoven branches blocked off any sign of the sky and moon overhead, yet there was no shortage of light. That was thanks to the countless white flowers growing along the trunks and branches, each emitting a gentle glow that collected to form ambient lighting. Huge, rolling plains of perfect grass formed the floor. Dozens of animals darted about, already they were clearing out quick; no doubt, they could sense a vampire had invaded their space. A large lake lay at the far east end, next to what appeared to be a rough structure, one that I genuinely could not believe was truly there.
Upon exiting the truck, I was able to confirm that my eyes were not playing tricks on me. There was a building growing from the ground. Quite literally growing, at that: it was formed of a dozen smaller trees, all growing and interweaving to form an actual structure. Amazing as it was, all of it, one thought did keep echoing in my head.
If this was too small a grove to survive the fey lands, what sorts of creatures roamed that world? It was a question I very much hoped I’d never discover the answer to.
“Now, there’s obviously a lot of work to do,” Sheriff Thorgood said. “We only had a few days to get started. Douglas will grow you a proper hall by the ceremony, and some smaller buildings, as needed. Whatever your wedding colors, he’ll have flowers to match. The branches can move if you want a moon overhead, or can stay in place if you were thinking of getting married in the day. There’s lots of stuff like that, but first, let’s you show you the big appeal. Douglas, please draw the curtain.”
More trees parted, farther back along the line this time, away from the truck. As they moved, new lights could be seen. One by one, I caught them, and as I did, I realized what we were seeing: Boarback, laid out below, the flickering lights of the town. No wonder the truck was straining, if this was how far we’d climbed. Not that I complained—Sheriff Thorgood’s instincts were certainly on the money so far as views went.
“It’s perfect.” Krystal was at my side, gazing out at the town she loved so dearly. For a moment, her eyes met mine, making sure we were on the same page. I was happy to nod my agreement. Even if it hadn’t been lovely and perfect, the joy on Krystal’s face was. That was all I cared about, so far as venues went. Well, that and coverage from the sun, obviously.
“Not perfect yet, but with some time to work, I bet we can fashion something magical for you.” Sheriff Thorgood chuckled at his own joke, though his eyes kept scanning, looking for things to improve.
To my surprise, Krystal’s face pinched. “You’re right. Not perfect yet. I’ll have a man I want to spend my life with before me, friends I truly love at my side, and now, an amazing place to hold the ceremony. But there’s something missing.”
As she turned to fully face Sheriff Thorgood, I realized it was probably not the first time I’d seen Krystal nervous, but no truly comparable occasion sprang to mind. She was fidgeting, shuffling her feet, holding one arm with the other, all the body language that tended to be more in my wheelhouse than hers. This moment scared her, actually scared her, and there were tremendously few things that could accomplish such a feat.
“Sheriff Leeroy Thorgood, I was wondering if you’d be willing to help out with the ceremony itself. Even if it’s silly, I always liked the traditional wedding setup. Except for that, I need… I’d like someone to give me away. With me and Dad on the outs, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have in the role.”
His response was one I should have seen coming, knowing the man even cursorily as I did. With seemingly no effort, he hefted Krystal up from the ground in a mighty hug, squeezing her like she was unbreakable. “I would consider it one of the great honors of my life to walk you down the aisle.”
That earned a sharp, joyful squeal from Krystal as she hugged him back. I tried to sidle out of the picture, but a rogue hand snatched me into the embrace. Sheriff Thorgood’s strength was something else, though I suppose I might not have struggled quite that hard to resist the communal embrace.
It seemed I was going to have to get more accustomed to this sort of thing. After all, Krystal clearly regarded Leeroy Thorgood as family, which meant soon, he’d be the same to me. Best to build up a hug tolerance now; once we came back, there was no telling how many joyful embraces might be coming.
And we would be coming back. Looking around at the unnatural forest, out onto the flickering lights of the town, and back to Krystal’s joyful face, there was no doubt to be had on that. We’d found our venue. Now, we just had the rest of a wedding to plan.
Someone New
1.
In the course of life, there are times when a truth, no matter how unpleasant, can no longer be ignored or denied. Such was my predicament a week after returning from Boarback, as my team and I readied for an essential task that I was nevertheless dreading. However, there was no bucking the obligation; it had to happen, and I was the only one who could see the job through. After all, it was my company, so I was the one who made hiring decisions.
Despite Lillian’s rapid education in the accounting field and my own constant dedication to work, Fletcher Accounting Services was simply growing too fast for us to keep up with. I could have turned down new clients, and had on several occasions, but it was hard to say no when parahumans reached out, given that I knew they had greatly limited options. It was my own wedding—or, more specifically, the subsequent weeklong honeymoon that had been promised—that pushed me to finally accept the inevitable: we had to hire more staff.
Ideally, we’d start with one or two new employees, the sort who could be carefully trained up as I had done with Lillian. Once everyone was competent, it would be simple to hand off more complex tasks to Lillian and trust the new help to support us until they were up and running on their own. Had those been our only considerations, it would have been a simple matter, but there was another complication to consider. Given how many of our clients and staff were parahuman in nature, we needed to hire another parahuman for the role. Getting a human clearance in the parahuman world was a huge pain, to say nothing of how clients might react. Asha had managed her position thanks to a deep well of ambition and resolve; it didn’t seem fair to ask that of someone showing up for an entry-level accounting position.
Of course, I was assuming we could even find parahumans who were interested. I hadn’t met many with a penchant for numbers, but I remained optimistic as I scanned over the application paperwork. Normally, much of this process would have been done online, except that parahumans tended to be more analog on the whole. While some would have undoubtedly figured out digital applications, I didn’t want to limit my potenti
al candidate pool. It didn’t matter what they came in knowing, so much as what they were willing to learn.
“Conference room is ready,” Lillian reported. She was clad in a business suit that I felt reasonably sure dated back to the ’80s, thanks to the shoulder pads, with some creative tailoring added in to keep the ensemble in style. It worked to create a professional image—at least as respectable as my sweater vest, if not more. We had to put our best foot forward, especially on unfamiliar terrain.
The essential nature of parahumans, even those of us who weren’t deathly allergic to tans, meant that we preferred the shadows to the light, which was why our interviews best served the applicants by being held at night. Unfortunately, that also limited our available locations to use for the event. Charlotte Manor had been ruled out, as she wasn’t fond of untold strangers suddenly traipsing around. Besides, Arch had called the idea of opening our stronghold a “security non-starter,” and then left to smoke, effectively ending the discussion. My next choice would have been renting space in Richard Alderson’s building; however, we didn’t want to compete with the club scene that comprised most of the downstairs—too many ways for applicants to get lost and things to go awry.
In the end, I’d settled on signing up for one of those shared, cooperative office spaces that were starting to catch on. The price to rent a conference room felt a touch high, though not exorbitant, and they were designed to accommodate a rotating array of strangers, often in situations just like ours. The one complication was that no such facilities were entirely run by parahumans. The best we’d found was what we were using: a facility that was human-owned, but where the graveyard shift was staffed by one of Richard’s therians. He was a nice young man named Hank, who’d barely raised his sleepy eyes from his computer when Lillian, Amy, Bubba, and I strolled into the building: a perfect fit for the night shift.
