Deadly Assessments

by Drew Hayes

  Deadly Assessments

  FRED THE VAMPIRE BOOK V

  Drew Hayes

  REUTS Publications

  Deadly Assessments Copyright 2018 by Drew Hayes. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover design by Ashley Ruggirello

  Edited by Kisa Whipkey

  Book design by Ashley Ruggirello

  Electronic ISBN: 978-1-942111-53-5

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-942111-54-2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Preface

  Part I

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  II. A Bodyguard at the Meeting

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  III. A Lesson in the Woods

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  IV. An Issue in Escrow

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  V. A Verdict at the Trial

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  About the Author

  Special thanks to Erin Cooley, for always pitching in when I need her, and to my wonderful beta-readers for helping make this book the best it could be: E Ramos E, TheSFReader, and Pricilla Yuen.

  Preface

  I almost certainly do not know you; however, I shall assume you are a lovely person, and it is my loss for not having yet had the opportunity to meet you. Still, I must assume you and I are connected in some way, for the works you are about to read are selections from a journal of my memoirs. I compiled these not in the belief that the stories within are so compelling they must be told, but rather because I found my unexpected life transition to be so shockingly uneventful—at least initially. I place the blame for my aggrandized expectations squarely on contemporary media, filling my head with the belief that a ticket to the supernatural also put one on an express train toward coolness and suave charm.

  This is simply not the case. Or, at least, it was not my case. I recorded my journeys in the hopes that, should another being find themselves utterly depressed at the humdrum personality still saddling their supernatural frame, they might find solace in knowing they are not the only one to have felt that way. Given the lengthy lifespan of many of the people with whom I associate, there is no guarantee they will have passed on by the time this is read. Therefore, names have been changed as I deemed necessary.

  So, dear reader, whom I suspect is a wonderful person merely in need of a bit of reassurance, take comfort in my tales of uneventful blundering. One’s nature is hard to change; sometimes even death is insufficient to accomplish such a task. But be assured that, while you might find yourself still more human than anticipated, you are far from the only one. You will eventually discover that under the movie stereotypes, imposed mystique, and overall inflated expectations, each and every one of us is at least a touch more boring than our images would indicate.

  And that is not a bad thing.

  —Fredrick Frankford Fletcher

  Part 1

  1.

  “Posters, testimonial sheets, pricing pages, business cards, spare blood—”

  “Spare blood?” I looked up from my briefcase and over to the satchel Lillian was slowly filling up. “We’ll only be there for one day. Why not just eat before we go?”

  With a roll of her eyes, a gesture that had no doubt taken centuries to perfect—centuries I was well aware she’d had to do just that—Lillian deigned to answer my question. “In case of emergencies, Fredrick. What if something happens and we get injured? Vampires can heal, but doing so leaves us famished. Not the state either of us should be in when surrounded by a bunch of mundane humans ripe for the picking.”

  As much as I wanted to keep the parahuman aspect of my life clear from today’s event, Lillian made a case too compelling for anyone of sense to object with. I nodded my agreement for her to add the blood.

  This seems as apt a moment as any for a brief digression, wherein I explain that my employee was neither insane nor joking, as we were both proud Undead Americans—specifically, vampires. Yes, sorry to break the news to you, but the tales you heard as a child, the creatures you dismissed as mere fantasy, are actually quite real. Not only do parahumans exist, but we’re policed by the Agency, a government organization that makes sure every breed of supernatural creature keeps to the treaties they signed when America was founded. My fiancée, Krystal, is in fact an agent of that very organization, although today, she was going to take some time off to help us out. The more bodies we had in these situations, the better, and it didn’t hurt that Krystal had always been miles more outgoing than me.

  I was learning that the same was true for Lillian, not that this was surprising, given my general level of comfort when dealing with crowds and strangers. I still had to attend, regardless. Fletcher Accounting Services was my company, after all, and I was determined to show myself as an owner who made himself available. Besides, the Winslow Local Business Trade Show only lasted a single day, and after everything I’d been through in the past few years, even I could handle that level of social interaction.

  “Fred.”

  That was all the warning I got before Charlotte manifested a body in front of me—the usual one, in the classic dress she favored. In fact, Charlotte was Charlotte Manor, the enchanted house many of us had taken up residence in—for a fair price, of course. Aside from being warded to the point where even Arch, Krystal’s fellow agent, considered the home passably secure, Charlotte could conjure food and drink, run the entire place with perfect efficiency, and even change her layout as the need arose. Sadly, the most common way we utilized her skills was as an intercom, since the manor was vast and running around to trade messages wasted a lot of time.

  “Krystal would like you to swing by her room. There has been an issue with your plans for this evening, and she wants to explain in person.”

  I didn’t bother with a sigh; this was a risk I’d knowingly taken on when I asked Krystal to help. Being employed by a secret government parahuman organization came with a lot of caveats, not the least of which was that, when they called, Krystal was expected to answer. Her job was her passion, and I loved that about her, despite the fact that it often caused us some level of inconvenience.

  Along the way to Krystal’s room, I passed a window that looked out on the manor’s rear yard. Out there, in the early morning light which Charlotte’s specially filtered windows protected me from, I could see Arch, Neil, and Albert training. In the many months since Albert left my employ to train under Arch full-time, learning to wield his weapon of destiny, they’d gone on several trips, about which I was always left in the dark. When they were here, though, this was one of their regular times to
work. As a zombie, Albert didn’t change physically, not without magical aid, so the training-related shifts in his physique were relatively minor. His speed and technique, however, were visibly better, even to someone like me. Or perhaps it was because of my enhanced vampire vision that I could so easily track the force of his swing. Regardless, both Albert and Neil were improving under Arch’s tutelage. While I still didn’t know the real nature of that mundane-looking agent, he had already lived up to one of his claims: Arch was an excellent teacher.

  I didn’t dally long, making my way past the window to Krystal’s room. We’d talked about moving in together, but since the manor’s rooms weren’t huge and we were both prone to taking work home and spreading out, the potential clutter was an issue. We also hadn’t decided whether or not to keep living in Charlotte Manor with everyone, or move out on our own. It was one of the many things we needed to decide upon before the wedding—and, as I was about to learn, there was one particularly huge thing to be dealt with presently.

  Opening the door, I found not only Krystal, but her friend and fellow agent, June. Despite her brother being Krystal’s former beau, June and I got along well. She was kind and loyal, and so long as Krystal was happy, June was at peace with who she dated. I shuddered to imagine the fate that would befall anyone who broke Krystal’s heart, however. “Morning, June. I wasn’t expecting you. Should we ask Charlotte to set another seat at the table?”

  “Maybe something to go,” June replied. Rarely was Charlotte’s cooking turned down outright; she could put master chefs to shame with her creations. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  “That’s underselling it like no one’s business.” Krystal hurriedly threw several boxes of bullets and a huge knife into her backpack before turning to me. “Freddy, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to take off for a little while. I won’t be able to help with your trade show today. In fact, you should plan on me not being around in the near future. The next couple of weeks, at least.”

  June nodded. “If not longer.”

  Accepting as I was of the travel requirements for her job, that was still a surprisingly long stretch of time. “That’s quite a run. Is everything okay?” I asked as my fiancée disappeared through the open entrance to her closet.

  A moment later, Krystal emerged wearing a massive jacket, far too dense for the current climate in our city of Winslow, Colorado. “Relative term. Do you remember when we got engaged, and I told you there would be some extra paperwork to deal with?”

  “Of course.” I nodded. “We signed dozens of pages ensuring that there wouldn’t be any favoritism between my clan and the Agency because of our relationship.”

  “That was the easy part. Our real hurdle is the fact I used to be engaged to Tem. Fey engagements, even those of half-breeds, are overseen by their family matriarch, and fey are nearly as bad as dracolings when it comes to contracts.”

  “I would love to disagree, but if anything, she’s being nice about how awful they are,” June added. “Getting out of a fey contract is no easy feat.”

  This was a lot to process, especially when I was already wound up in preparation for the trade show. “Wait, I’m sorry. Are you saying that, in the eyes of the fey, Krystal is still obligated to marry your brother?”

  Krystal held her hand out, palm down, and gave it a light shake. “Eh, yes and no. They can’t make us go through with the ceremony, but until they release the engagement contract, I can’t wed anyone else and have it officially recognized under parahuman law. The Queen of Winter knows Tem and I are done, but she’s been hanging on to the contract until I needed out of it as a bargaining chip to cash in for something she wants. That’s why we’re hustling to get out of here: June and I are finally being granted an audience to receive my tasks. We’ll go before the Court of Frost, do some favors for the realm, and I’ll be free from the last vestiges of my former engagement at last. Really, I should have done this years ago. I just never seemed to find the time. Plus, well, it wasn’t a pressing issue.”

  Flinging a few more knives into her bag, Krystal crossed the room to give me a long kiss, which June politely turned away from.

  “Should I come along? I feel bad sitting on the sidelines while you fight for our marriage. It’s supposed to be a partnership.”

  “That’s a sweet sentiment, but this is between me and the fey,” Krystal said. “June can come only because she was a witness to the original agreement, which means she can help unmake it. Besides, you have a trade show, and an order to stay out of trouble. Arch will keep an eye on you while we’re waiting for your bodyguard.”

  I barely managed to hide my twinge of discomfort at the mention of a bodyguard. After an attack on my life some months prior, it had been decided that I would receive the services of one, though I wasn’t fond of the idea. Thankfully, the Agency was part of the government, with wheels that didn’t often turn too fast. The bodyguard had yet to be assigned, which meant I still had some semblance of freedom and privacy I could cling to for the time being.

  “I would say you’re the one we should be worried about, except we both know you’re safer on a mission to a frozen kingdom than I am walking the street. Still, be careful, please. I’m rather looking forward to our wedding.”

  “Me too, hence why I’m getting this done.” Another kiss, and then she was back to packing. “Oh, and don’t worry, I already called someone to come fill in for me at the trade show.”

  That was . . . worrisome. While I trusted our friends dearly, that didn’t mean I wanted every one of them representing my business in the view of humans. Bubba would be a good stand-in, save for his limited business acumen, and if Amy could resist taking anything that visibly altered her appearance, she would be a fine substitute. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but who did you get?”

  “Someone with a good head on their shoulders, who can speak to the sort of benefits you offer.” She grinned at me, and in that moment, I knew this day was about to go sideways before it had even properly begun. “Let’s just say I replaced myself with another loud blonde, only this one will bring in a very different crowd.”

  2.

  “Fear not, small people. Come forth and listen to the great works of Fred and his accounting firm!”

  Credit where it was due, Krystal had lived up to her word. Richard Alderson, ruler of the local therians, was indeed loud and blond. He was also staggeringly tall and wide, his thick muscles bursting out of the collared shirt and tie that desperately tried to contain his might. Aside from his position amongst the therianthropes—which is a general term for all who shape-shift into animals—Richard was an alpha-therian, meaning he was bigger and stronger than the rest of his already impressive species. That’s why, even at his smallest, he looked like a bodybuilder going through a career change. It was not the image I probably would have chosen for representing an accounting firm at a trade show; however, it quickly became clear that there was wisdom in Krystal’s selection.

  The Winslow Local Business Trade Show was being held in one of the larger venues available in the city, but we had managed to nearly fill it up. The event was being put on by the Winslow Chamber of Commerce as a way for local businesses to show themselves off to the community as a whole, allowing locals and other entrepreneurs to come see who was in their town and what services they offered. Connecting customers to businesses that would benefit them was the aim of the day, and I had two communities to try winning over: mainstream society, where a shrinking amount of my business was, and the parahuman community, in which I was rapidly becoming a staple. That was what made Richard such a valuable addition to the team: to humans, he was simply a hulking man, but no parahuman worth their salt would fail to notice a huge therian. After that, they would see Lillian, and eventually maybe notice me. The point was that they would know this was a parahuman-friendly establishment, and that was important.

  Unsurprisingly, I had failed to calculate another benefit of Richard’s presence. He was, to put it mildly, quite popular with
those whose tastes ran in that direction. In a show full of office drones and a few half-hearted models working for less than scale, he stood out like a burning muscular beacon, and people were noticing.

  For her part, Lillian was no slouch either, eager to show off all she’d learned since joining Fletcher Accounting Services. While she wasn’t fully trained or certified yet, Lillian had demonstrated incredible dedication to the craft, and she was making progress that would have been shocking from anyone else. There were few questions she couldn’t answer; for the most part, I was relegated to the rear of our booth, popping forward only when called for, or when the steadily dwindling stack of pamphlets needed a refill.

  It was on one such run that I nearly dropped a fresh stack of handouts onto a woman’s slender fingers just as she pulled away the last of the previous set. “Oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

  Her hand jerked away quickly, drawing my attention to her actual self: a well-dressed woman wearing an unexpectedly kind smile. The cream-colored suit she’d chosen perfectly complemented the dark tones of her skin, and the green pocket-square matched the precise hue of her eyes. She was composed, precise, the kind of person whose every movement and act portrayed intent. I cannot say for certain if it was the way she dressed, a supernatural sense, or simple experience, but I knew in a glance that she was more than human.