by Drew Hayes
“Half-demons would be new to me. I’ve never met one in Winslow,” I admitted.
“With Agent Jenkins there, you likely wouldn’t have. Many of my kind avoid her type out of instinct, even if they don’t understand why.” He paused, and for the first time since we’d met, I could see Roderick choosing his next words carefully, rather than letting the conversation flow. “Half-demons can, if they wish, live as normal humans. So long as we don’t feed our demon-selves, we are functionally mortal. However, if we do allow our demon sides to feed, then we gain strength, longevity, toughness, the usual parahuman boons, along with some perks depending on our exact nature. What among the seven deadly sins is food for us depends on our demonic heritage. Mine, for example, is the sin of greed. Hanging around casinos or stock brokerages will fill me up in no time. That’s why we tend to refer to ourselves by our natures: thus I am known as a Greed.”
“Wow, that is a new one by me.” I stared at him for a little longer than was necessary, still watching for a pair of horns or a burst of hellfire to spring forth. Instead, there was just a patient expression waiting for me to finish my paperwork. With a few more signatures, I closed my pen and handed the stack of documents back over to Roderick.
“The parahuman world is a wide one, and if you work with us, you’ll learn more about it than you ever would have in Colorado.” Roderick checked the pages over, then tucked them back into his desk. “For now, though, I’m going to get everything prepared. When it’s ready, we’ll take you to a designated room and give you some sample work to do. Assuming your skills live up to your reputation, your freelancing application will be approved. It will take about half an hour, so I’d advise you to drink some blood and maybe grab a coffee. I’m sure Agent Jenkins will show you the way. When I’m ready, I’ll have Agent Davenport bring you down.”
Roderick rose from his desk, so I took the cue and followed suit. “Good luck, Fred. I truly hope you are able to join us, even if only as a freelancer.”
Well, at least that made two of us, even if we wanted the same outcome for very different reasons.
4.
“Come look, this is my desk!” Krystal dragged me across the cheap gray carpet, nearly spilling my newly acquired cup of coffee from the modest break room, toward a large room full of desks. It was, as I recalled from my corporate days, referred to as an open-concept office, which always felt to me like a fun way to say that a company didn’t want to spend the money on cubicle walls. Then again, given how rarely Krystal ever actually seemed to visit her home office, it did make a certain amount of sense that they wouldn’t want to dedicate too much floor space to agents.
We moved briskly through the largely empty room, as apparently, she wasn’t the only agent who spent most of her time in the field. The lone exception was a tall woman in the back, so broad-shouldered she could have been Richard’s cousin, and a pale male several feet away that I instantly recognized as a fellow vampire. That explained why there hadn’t been any windows since we walked in, at least. They had to keep the place parahuman friendly at all hours of the day.
“This is me.” Krystal pointed to a desk that was almost identical to every other one on the floor, save for the fact that it was messier and had three picture frames bunched up near her computer’s monitor. The first was of a couple I might not have recognized if Krystal and I didn’t share a hometown, but I’d seen her mother and father often enough to know who I was looking at. They lined up a little too well with my memory, actually, which meant the photo was an old one. Not surprising, since her mother had passed away while Krystal was in college. The next photo was filled with familiar faces. It was inside Charlotte Manor, and featured every one of our friends. Even Charlotte was there, dressed in a festive flapper outfit.
“Is this from the night we drove off Petre?”
“You know it. Everyone was there and dressed snazzy, so it seemed like a good picture for the desk,” Krystal explained.
My eyes moved to the final photo in the line, and had I been human, I’d have blushed so thoroughly that the other vampire’s stomach would have rumbled from the amount of blood in my face. This was a picture of Krystal and I, taken mid-kiss. Given the angle, she’d clearly held up her phone to snap a photo, doing it so slyly I hadn’t even noticed.
“I would have posed for a regular photograph.”
“Freddy, you always look stiff when we try to take regular pictures. I wanted one where you were you. And that meant getting your guard down.” She leaned in and whispered the next part in my ear. “But if you want to do a reshoot, I’m always game.”
Although my embarrassment deepened, and I frantically glanced around to see if we’d been overheard, I still appreciated what Krystal was doing. She knew I was nervous, and was trying to keep me from getting too in my head. Not that she wouldn’t have done the same thing in other circumstances—I often suspected my public shyness toward affection was why she loved teasing me so much—however, she might have been a bit less overt normally.
“Maybe when we get home,” I replied. “At the moment, I’m afraid all I’d be thinking about is whatever test awaits me.”
“Is that a challenge? Because if you think I can’t take your mind off numbers, then—”
The sound of running footsteps interrupted, followed by a familiar voice yelling, “Krys!” And then Krystal had a pair of toned, slender arms wrapped around her in a loose hug. June’s speed was impressive; I’d literally just scanned the room and seen no sign of her. Then again, as a half-fey, she had more than a few advantages in her favor. Once she released my girlfriend, I noticed that June didn’t look quite the same as before. Aside from the external alterations, such as her favoring jeans and sneakers rather than overalls this time, her eyes had also changed color. Before, they were a lavender that worked well with her blue-white hair, but today they gleamed a deep cerulean color. I hadn’t realized those with fey blood could shift such things, although that was hardly surprising given how little I knew about parahumans overall. There were just so many types of us, and each with our own quirks and traits.
“Hey, Fred, good to see you too.” June gave me a brief hug—nothing like the embrace she’d thrust upon Krystal, but still a steep improvement from our first time meeting at CalcuCon.
“What are you doing here? Get wrangled into filing some reports?” Krystal asked.
“No, we just got our assignments. There’s a nest of—” June’s words halted, her eyes darting to me. It began to dawn on me that I was something of an invader to the agents here, my presence restricting their ability to speak freely. After seeing the non-disclosure that Roderick had given me, I could see how seriously they all took confidentiality. “A nest of bad things, in a place, that need clearing out,” she finished. “What about you? You never come to the office unless you have to, and I don’t recall Fred having clearance.”
“He’s applying to do some freelance accounting work,” Krystal explained. “And I came along for support. Well, support, and to make sure he didn’t panic and lock himself in a broom closet. Mostly support, though.”
Another set of footsteps reached my ears—as well as Krystal and June’s, since they turned to look behind me. Both of them had instantaneous reactions: Krystal’s relaxed posture turned stiff, and her cheerful face grew unexpectedly harsh. For her part, June merely went from happy to uncomfortable. Even before I started to turn, I already knew what would be awaiting me there. I am, as indicated by job and history, good with numbers, and this wasn’t a difficult situation to add up.
June had been saying “we” a lot during her description of activities. That meant she was here with someone. I didn’t know a lot of agents, but I could think of one who would garner such reactions from these two. The likeliest candidate to go on a mission with June that would cause Krystal to suddenly turn harsh was June’s own brother: the agent who also happened to be Krystal’s ex-fiancé.
Sure enough, the man behind me was definitely
related to June. Same blue-white hair, same inhuman beauty, with flawless skin and powerful bone structure. Aside from gender, the biggest difference between the two was eye color, as he currently had a deep orange, and fashion-sense. While June seemed to favor comfort and function, like Krystal, this man was wearing an impeccable suit that had clearly been tailored specifically to fit his lean form. While I’d known since meeting June that Krystal’s old flame was a fellow half-fey, and therefore would be far more handsome than any human could equal, it was still intimidating to meet him in person. This was the sort of man Krystal had dated before me?
“Fred, let me introduce my brother: September Windbrook.” June had snapped out of her momentary awkward coma and stepped over next to the newcomer. “Bro, this is Fredrick Fletcher. He’s here to interview for accounting work.”
“Mr. Fletcher. A pleasure to meet you.” September offered his hand, which I accepted. To my surprise, I got a normal handshake in return. No squeezing or posturing, just perfect politeness. I hadn’t known what to expect from this fellow, but no one I knew who’d met him had seemed especially fond of the guy. Still, if he was willing to keep it civil, I certainly wasn’t going to object.
We finished our handshake, and his eyes turned to Krystal. No . . . that wasn’t quite true. His eyes passed over the desk and lingered for the barest of moments on the picture of she and I, then they continued on to Krystal. “Agent Jenkins. You look well.”
“Go fuck yourself, Tem.”
And there went the plan to keep things civil.
He stared at Krystal for a long moment, then turned to June. “We should get going. The case is time sensitive. Mr. Fletcher, good luck on your interview. Agent Jenkins, take care of yourself.” With that, he began walking once more, neatly sidestepping Arch, who was making his way into the room as September left.
“Sorry, I should have warned you he was here too. I just . . . sometimes it slips my mind that it’s an issue,” June said.
Krystal grabbed her fellow agent and pulled her close, giving the woman a tight hug. “Don’t worry about it. Ever. His shit has nothing to do with you and me, okay?”
“Thanks.” June gave Krystal a hug back, then extricated herself. “I have to go, though. September is the one who got the plane, and he might not wait for me. The nest thing really is time sensitive.”
“I understand,” Krystal told her. “Give me a ring when you get back. Maybe we can meet up in Winslow. You’d love the crowd I’m running with now. Never a dull moment with that group.”
“Sounds like a plan.” June lingered for a moment longer, giving me a brief nod, and then darted off after her brother.
Arch, using the void of diplomacy that allowed him to ignore social cues in that way that only he really could, walked right by her and approached us. “Fred, they’re ready for you.”
Moments prior, I’d been dreading Arch’s arrival, mind entirely occupied with fears, most of which were quite irrational, about what sort of test the Agency would put me through. The silver lining to our encounter with June and September, however, was that it had driven such worries completely out of mind.
I leaned in, forcing away my shyness for a brief moment, and gave Krystal a kiss on the lips. “I’ll try not to take too long.”
“Take as much time as you need, Freddy. Go kick the shit out of this test.” Krystal pulled me in and kissed me back, although hers was far less gentle or brief. “I’m fine. It takes more than seeing some asshole from my past to rattle my cage. My life is too damn good to let dipshits like Tem bring me down.”
With nothing else to say and time burning, we finally stepped away from each other. “Arch, please lead the way. It seems I’ve got some accounting to do.”
5.
The room itself was reminiscent of the hall we’d gone through when entering the building: vacant space surrounded by stark white walls with a few arcane scribblings painted in seemingly erratic intervals. It was empty, save only for a simple desk with a white top and a folder holding a dense stack of papers. My instructions were the height of simplicity: do the work. No time limit, although I assumed my speed would be part of the equation as much as my precision. They wanted to see if I really did have the skills to succeed at the jobs they might hand me, and that meant testing every aspect of what my accounting entailed.
Rest easy, dear reader, because I am not going to bore you with the details of what was in that folder, both because I am utterly certain you have no desire to read the fine fiscal details, and because, even now, I make it a point never to air Agency business. All you need to know is that the work was complex, taxing, and tough enough to make for a thrilling challenge. Nearly every section dealt with some manner of the tax code for various parahumans, and without my usual access to reference books, it took all I had to work through them. If I hadn’t spent the last year constantly dealing with the subject matter, there was no chance I’d have been able to complete it. Which, looking back, was almost certainly the point of the test in the first place.
It’s hard to say how long I was in that room for; with no clocks on the wall and my mind absorbed by the task at hand, time seemed an unnecessary concept. This was, in truth, a somewhat common occurrence for me at home as well. It’s surprising how easy it is to lose one’s self in work without the biological needs of the living to act as regular interruptions.
All I knew was that, as I finished entering numbers in the final column, the door creaked open and Roderick made his way through. Holding out his hand, he accepted the file wordlessly as I made one last pen stroke and offered it over. Silence reigned as Roderick perused my efforts, turning the pages slowly, scouring each one. Perhaps it was meant to be an intimidation technique, an oppressive silence to force any falsehoods from my mouth as time wore on. However, I actually rather enjoyed the quiet. It was an element I was accustomed to, yet had managed to get less and less of as my life had become filled with more chaotic people. Besides, I had nothing to hide, and had done my best on the task given to me. If I fell short of their requirements, then I simply wasn’t good enough. Terrifying as the consequences of that would be, it didn’t change the fact that nothing I did now would change the outcome. So I sat, meeting Roderick’s silence with peaceful quiet of my own, until he was nearly to the end of the pages.
“Remarkable.” He ran his finger down the page, no doubt adding up my totals in his head to double check them. “I’ll admit, Fred, I initially had my doubts about you. As a whole, vampires don’t tend to go in for this sort of work, so when rumors about one not only doing it, but doing it well, began to circulate, I had some misgivings. Your association with two of our agents, to say nothing of your more prestigious clients, certainly painted the picture of a man amassing connections and influence while playing the role of a harmless number cruncher. But even if that’s the case, you’ve certainly gone the extra mile. We included plenty of obscure parahuman loopholes in here, things you never would have encountered as a living accountant. To have done such good work on this document speaks to a man who is pursuing his craft ardently and constantly improving.”
“I’d like to be more offended by the suspicions, but given my dealings with other vampires, I have to admit I understand. Although, perhaps the reason you don’t get more of my kind working as accountants is more due to the clan system than an actual aversion to the job.”
Roderick paused, looking up from the papers for the first time since he’d gotten them. “That’s an interesting sentiment, coming from someone who just founded his own clan.”
“A move born of necessity,” I explained. “Given the thoroughness of your research on me, I’d be foolish not to assume you know what happened between myself and the House of Turva. But in dealing with them, I also saw what life was like for other vampires, the ones who don’t get abandoned by their makers and left to their own devices. And when I did, for the very first time, I felt a sense of gratitude to Quinn, monster that he was. If I’d been made norma
lly, then I would have been put into one of those clans. My own goals, talents, and desires would have become secondary; I would have become a cog in their machine, serving the clan’s greater goals.”
“You got all that from a couple of meetings?” Roderick asked.
“Much of it, yes. But some came from speaking to my new employee, Lillian, over these past few months. Lillian, a fellow vampire, who, when freed from the oppressive rules of her original clan, chose to take on the same trade as me of her own volition. Perhaps the reason you don’t get more vampire accountants, or botanists, or data analysts, or any other manner of more mundane jobs, is because they aren’t permitted to pursue jobs they might like to.”
Silence fell upon us once more as Roderick turned the final few pages and snapped the folder shut. “Not every clan is the House of Turva, Fred. Some allow their members a great deal more freedom. But all of them do demand a high level of fealty, and most are greatly concerned with image and reputation. We know the system is archaic; most parahuman systems are. Change usually only happens between generations, so when people live as long as we do, it is a far slower process. It does happen, however. You’re proof of that.”
“I highly doubt I’m the first vampire to be abandoned and take up a less than impressive career,” I said.
“No, but you are the first to allow non-vampires into your clan. As founding members, no less. It was a bold decision, one that sent ripples through the parahuman community.”
Though Roderick’s face was still placid and his tone calm, those words sent shivers through my spine. In general, I’d found that the less attention I garnered from other parahumans, the happier and less deadly my life tended to be. Me sending out ripples of any kind was dangerous, especially in a community that was probably already less than happy about my supposedly boring job tarnishing their suave image.
