The Fangs of Freelance

by Drew Hayes

  “No one will help you. No one will save you. Not your drugs, not your guns, not your gods. For I am a force beyond your comprehension. I am a killer, a ruler, a king of these shadowed lands. And my name is dragon.”

  At the last word, something in the air seemed to snap. It was like a brief wave of air washing over us, and when it was done, the spell was broken. Broken for the parahumans, anyway. Everyone wearing a mask had fallen to the ground, clutching themselves—some praying, some still weeping, some just babbling incoherently. Gideon had kept his word, though. None of them, aside from Cat Mask, had so much as a single scratch.

  “Someone call the agents to clean these messes up,” Gideon commanded. His eyes, shadow, and voice were all mercifully back to normal. “I promised Sally that we would take a ride on the carousel.”

  7.

  The relationship between traditional law enforcement personnel and agents is a strange one. While the agents have higher clearances and the authority to get away with hand-waving off very reasonable questions from officers, the normal cops still always seems to know that something is off when they deal with one. That said, police officers are also generally experienced enough to see the difference between a fight they want to pick, and an easy win that it’s better to just roll with.

  Finding an entire gang of meth dealers ready and willing to surrender as soon as they saw flashing lights was just that sort of win. In the days to come, we’d learn that these people were originally employees of the maintenance company hired to keep the place up. One of them, Cat Mask, had seen the opportunity in a remote location with almost no oversight. He recruited some of his fellow workers and crooks, set up shop, and suddenly the carnival wasn’t quite so abandoned anymore. As an added boon, Lonnie’s grandfather had apparently done some bootlegging along with his moonshine business. That, or there was some other reason for hidden tunnels running between the attractions. The honeycomb of routes beneath the grounds allowed the meth dealers to vanish when the maintenance workers came through for their monthly cleaning. It was an ideal set-up, until a few parahumans came sniffing around looking to restore the place.

  I sat on the lowered tailgate of Bubba’s truck, watching as Krystal barked orders at several overworked and visibly annoyed officers. The night had taken such a strange turn. All I’d wanted was an evening out, getting my mind off my vacant assistant position. Which, to be fair, I hadn’t really dwelt on since we arrived. But still . . . I’d been enjoying the work until things went crazy. This had been planned as a simple, normal gig. Sure, the owner was a therian, but a carnival was a carnival. It wasn’t supposed to end in a gunfight. Staring at the once again closed gates, part of me wondered if it was always going to be like this. Were my days of routine work behind me for good? Sure, I liked the occasional burst of excitement; yet I’d also really treasured the straightforward task of normal accounting work. It seemed like the deeper I got into the parahuman world, the fewer and further between the mundane moments became. And as a freelance accountant for the Agency, I was in pretty damn deep by this point.

  From behind a cop car, Gideon and Sally emerged. They’d finished up on the carousel before the police arrived and were now strolling about killing time while Richard finished giving a statement. Bubba and I had completed our conversations more quickly, since we were just hired help, while he needed to explain his presence here. It was strange to watch the children—well, one child and one dragon—knowing what Gideon had done to those people. I had tried to talk to a few of the crooks while we waited for Krystal, and none had let out more than gibberish and whimpering. They’d been broken on a fundamental level. Maybe they’d improve with time, but I doubted they’d ever truly recover. And that had been Gideon showing mercy. Even though I was a vampire, I’d still grown up human, with human ideals and morality instilled in me. I sometimes forgot that such wasn’t the case with all supernatural creatures. They had their own ideas of right and wrong. Ideas I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to fully understand.

  The truck sank down as Bubba took a seat next to me on the open tailgate. He followed my eyes, staring at Gideon and Sally as they chatted with an officer who did her best to keep them from paying attention to the parade of criminals being marched to cars. Bless that woman’s heart, she was trying to protect them from understanding what had happened. She had no idea that one of the children she wanted to shield was the very thing those hardened criminals were scared witless of.

  “Why do I have a feeling there wasn’t bourbon or vodka in that flask of yours?” I’m not sure where those words came from; I certainly hadn’t planned on confronting Bubba about what I’d seen. But the moment I opened my mouth, that was what came out. Perhaps some part of me was dwelling on the night Amy had accidentally turned Bubba into a giant, flame-coated version of himself, which Lillian and I had needed to punch down so he could be cured.

  “Amy’s a determined gal. She ain’t one to let a single failed experiment put her off course.” At least he wasn’t trying to deny it or play games. Dealing with Bubba was refreshing; he was one of the few people in my life who tended to shoot straight by habit.

  “So that stuff would have done what? Turned you into Nightmare Bubba two-point-oh?”

  “Nah, we passed that a long time ago. I think this is version eight or nine, but Amy’s the one who keeps track of that.” Reaching to his pocket, he tapped the top of the flask gently. “And it’s a hell of lot better than the one you saw. I don’t lose control anymore. Trust me, Fred, I wouldn’t have even considered drinking the stuff around my friends if it wasn’t safe. Especially with Sally on the scene.”

  I believed him. Bubba wasn’t the sort of man to take careless risks with others’ lives. I only wished he showed the same amount of concern for himself. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t see why you need it in the first place. You’re plenty strong and tough on your own. And you help Richard as an assistant, not a mercenary. Why do you need more power so badly that you’re willing to go to these sorts of lengths?”

  Bubba laid his hand on the top of his truck bed, using it as an armrest. “First off, if you think working for the head therian of a tribe doesn’t involve busting some heads, then you don’t know jack about the job. But yeah, I can deal with most of that on my own. I grew up a runt, and that means I learned to handle myself early on. The potion is because . . .” He paused, rubbing his face and adjusting his ballcap.

  “Damn it, Fred, I can’t rightly explain this kind of shit to you. Since you got turned, you’ve always had more power than you needed. A little dollop of vampire strength is more than enough to get you through a life of crunching numbers. You don’t know what it’s like to be around people outside your weight class every day, dragons and mages and alpha therians who tolerate you, maybe even like you, but ain’t your peers. Imagine you spent all your time around accountants with much higher educations and certifications than you’ve got, and they let you pitch in on the little stuff, but left you behind whenever a big case came in. Would you accept that? Be happy just to be hanging around? Or would you start upping your own education in the hopes of one day standing alongside them?”

  “I guess I don’t know,” I admitted. It was strange. Though I tended to think of Bubba as vastly more experienced and powerful than me, the truth was that, in the therian world, his small shifted form did make him weak. Weaker than he should have been, at any rate. While I’d been mentally lumping him in with the likes of Richard, in truth, Bubba was probably closer in power to me than the head of the Winslow therians. “I’ll try not to judge, Bubba. This is your life, and if Amy is the one making the potions, then at least I know she’ll be safe. Just promise me you’ll be careful going down this road. You’re not our friend, any of us, because of your strength. You’re our friend because you’re you. And I think we’d rather have you be human than lose you entirely.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate . . . it means a lot.” Bubba seemed to falter, his long speech having used up most
of his words for the evening.

  “Also, if you’re trying to catch up to others, aim for Richard, not Gideon. I don’t even want to imagine what kind of potion Amy would need to whip up to put us on his level.”

  “If that recipe existed, I think all the dragons would band together to destroy it,” Bubba said. “They’re not big on competition.”

  We looked over to Gideon and Sally again, the latter of whom was now wearing the policewoman’s hat. “Do you know what leardrun means? I heard him call Sally that, but I’ve got no clue what language that even is.”

  Bubba nodded, albeit slowly. “It’s draconic, doesn’t have a perfect translation to any other language. The closest we’d get on the words is ‘dear one,’ but that can’t really encompass the meaning. It’s a word they use for a being they prize above all others, beyond life itself. There’s no direct relationship implied. It can be used between friends, siblings, and spouses freely. What matters is the context of it, that the word is a pledge to shelter, aid, and protect their dear one in all situations, regardless of the cost. Dragons take their words, and their promises, very seriously.”

  That more or less fit with what I’d guessed the meaning would be, although I’d underestimated the depth of the sentiment. To his credit, whatever else could be said of Gideon, I had always seen him treat Sally just as the word implied. There were legends of kings pleading with dragons lesser than he, only for their words to fall on deaf ears, but Sally had held Gideon back with only a simple demand.

  “Do you think he loves her?” It was another question I hadn’t intended to ask, yet it popped out all the same.

  “I don’t know if dragons have the same concept of love as we do,” Bubba replied. “I don’t know if Gideon is even capable of love. But I know that he’s devoted to her. He reshaped himself and lived as a child solely so that she would grow up with a friend and guardian at her side.” Bubba paused again, though this time, it wasn’t lack of words that stalled his tongue. He’d grown nervous at the topic, which was fair with Gideon so close; it would be foolish to assume he couldn’t hear us. “Fred, do you know what Sally is?”

  “Not all the details, but . . .” I turned to him, not wishing to speak this out loud even if it wouldn’t fool Gideon. This was more for the sake of discretion; some things were not to be uttered in public regardless of circumstances. Carefully, I mouthed the word “Tiamat” before turning away. Gideon had explained part of the situation to me once, and while I didn’t have all the details of what made Sally into one, I knew that a tiamat was a being who could birth dragons, yet wasn’t subject to their issues with low conception rates. Tiamats were named after a dragon mother-goddess for that reason. “I don’t understand everything that comes with that, but that makes her special, right?”

  “More than special. Crucial. If one only comes every thousand years, it’s a miracle. They need her, and he knows that. That’s why Gideon prizes her above even his own life. He’s just one dragon. Sally is vital to their entire species.”

  “She’s just a kid.” I watched as Sally gave the woman back her hat, and for an instant, I saw Gideon’s gaze turn to us. There was no threat in his eyes, no smile promising bloodshed. He didn’t care that we were talking about them. He probably barely even cared that we existed. The only one he gave a damn about was standing at his side.

  “For now. One day, she’ll grow up, and when that happens, a lot of dragons are going to try and make demands of her. If nothin’ else, I’m glad she’s got one in her corner. Gideon is dangerous, powerful, and ain’t got much regard for human life. But he’s promised to protect her, and I’ve never seen him break his word. Whatever is waiting for Sally on the other side of adulthood, at least Gideon will make sure she meets it on her terms. That’s more than the rest of us would be able to do for her.”

  We were interrupted as Richard made his way over, finally released from police questioning. “Well, this whole thing turned into a pain in the ass. So help me, if I find out Lonnie had any idea of this, I’m going to knock his oversized teeth out.”

  “Lonnie is a wererat. They ain’t known for their guts, and I sure as shit don’t expect he planned on a group of drugged-out crooks bringing you down,” Bubba said.

  “All the same, I think I’m going to pass on this investment opportunity. Sorry to drag you both out here for nothing other than a shootout.”

  My eyes finally left Gideon and Sally, turning once more to the gate of the carnival. “Actually, Richard, you should reconsider that.”

  Richard looked at me like I’d just suggested he shave off his golden locks and start wearing a bright blue wig. “You’re joking. The place is a crime scene.”

  “True, but eventually, it will be cleaned up,” I said. “And when that happens, you’ve got a carnival in surprisingly good shape that can be restored at a reasonable cost. But even better, you have a network of tunnels running underneath. With a little re-tooling of the rides, some shading and sun-proofing, along with bigger seats, you could make a carnival that was parahuman-friendly. You’ll tremendously expand your customer base. Plus, during October, let them visit in their natural states and poof: instant haunted park the likes of which no one else can match. There’s money to be made here, Richard. Bring in some experts to do a serious assessment and get real numbers, but I’m sure they’ll back me up on the profit potential. I might even throw in some cash of my own, if you’re open to other investors.”

  He followed my eyes, staring past the gate to the worn-down carnival inside. Only now, he was seeing what it could be, instead of what it was. “If I was part-owner of this place, I could close it off occasionally so that Sally could come through without Gideon needing to kill anyone.”

  “Bring along your friends and loyal employees, turn the whole thing into a morale-building event,” I added.

  “All right, Fred, you’ve got me interested again. I’ll hire some pros to figure out what it will cost to turn this place around, then see if it’s worth the investment. You can stay in the loop, too, if you were serious about buying a stake.” Richard winced as soon as the word was out of his mouth. “Sorry, poor choice of phrase.”

  I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. And I’m definitely interested. It’s time to diversify my portfolio anyway, and I like the idea of putting cash into something that makes our town a little better.”

  After the night we’d been through and what I’d seen Gideon do, maybe it was only a small bit of good to try and bring a place of fun and entertainment back to town. But it would still be some amount of positivity, and at that point, I was willing to take whatever I could get.

  A Negotiation at the Table

  1.

  “Shirts, slacks, sweater vests, socks and sundries, shoes, my flask of blood, some backup blood in case we get trapped in a time loop, laptop, snake-bite kit, flashlight, rope, bottle of water, flare guns, a compass, a lock pick set, and a ten-pack of batteries. What do you think?”

  Krystal stared at me from her seat next to the bed, occasionally peeking over the side of my suitcase to see if the items I was listing were really in there. “I think it sounds like you’re packing for a weekend at some sort of camping sex resort, not hanging out with a couple of mages. Snake-bite kit and a flashlight? Freddy, vampires don’t get poisoned by something as mundane as snakes, and you have perfect darkvision.”

  “For now, I do. One random spell and for all we know: poof! Suddenly I’m as a blind as a human in the shadows.”

  “Okay, and the lock pick set? I’m pretty sure you have no idea how to use one of these,” Krystal said, reaching over and snapping it up from within the bag.

  “True, but I have access to the internet, tutorial videos, and depending on what’s happening, I might be highly motivated.” I grabbed the lock pick set back and tossed it into my suitcase, along with the other odd accoutrements for the trip.

  In all honestly, I knew Krystal was right and I was being a touch ridiculous, but
I felt as though there was some merit to my attitude. Mages were one of the aspects of the parahuman world I understood the least. Therians and vampires, even demons and dragons, I could wrap my head around. Different species, the evolution of strange viruses or creatures that spawned in unique environments—there was a path to understanding those for one as rooted in a life of normalcy as me. But magic, and those who wielded it, was a whole other story. The mere idea that a few drops of herbs and spoken words could conjure power to defy the laws of nature was just a little too much. It hadn’t really been that bad at first. I considered what Amy did just exceptional use of natural plants and a bit of off-brand science. But then I’d spent several days in a time-bubble conjured by a pair of bickering mages: the Clover twins. That was when I’d first started to get a taste of just how far outside the bounds of reality magic was able to operate. I’d walked away more than happy to never get too involved with the practice of magic again.

  And yet now I was going to meet a grand mage, which was apparently similar to, yet quite distinct from, an archmage. Amy had stopped by earlier that day to let me know that the head of her district—yes, it seems mages sorted themselves by districts in their hierarchy; news to me as well—had requested a meeting with me. Not as myself, mind you, a humble accountant able to help streamline most businesses. No, the grand mage was calling on me as the head of the House of Fred, one that Amy had joined in a show of solidarity last year. I’d known even then that there would be a price to pay for such things, so there was no chance I could, or would, shirk the duty. I just wished I had a better idea of what to pack.