by Drew Hayes
“Fred! Good to see you again. And this must be your bodyguard, Deborah.” We exchanged a brief handshake before she went through the same ritual with Deborah. Asha was fully aware of Deborah’s actual role; I would never have risked putting a friend in her vicinity without making sure they understood the situation. She was a professional, though, and conducted herself as such, with Deborah returning the sentiment.
“A pleasure. I’ve heard great things about your work, Ms. Patel.”
Asha brushed the compliment aside with a wave. “Don’t let Fred oversell my skills. He’s obligated to hold me in high esteem since we often work together. One can’t very well short-sell the talents of someone they recommend.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean from Mr. Fletcher. Your reputation is spreading beyond him and his clan. The work you’ve done has been mentioned in other circles, as well.”
Now that got a reaction. Asha’s eyes grew larger, all signs of tiredness vanishing in a flash. Deborah noticed the surprise and quickly clarified. “Not in a bad way, mind you. I’ve just heard that you do good jobs for fair rates and excel at keeping your clients’ trust. Don’t worry. You have nothing to fear from me or the organization I represent. Besides, you are a lawyer, and we fellow bloodsuckers have to watch each other’s backs.”
It took both Asha and I a moment to realize that Deborah had made a joke. Not a particularly fresh one, admittedly, but it was still a surprise. Most other vampires I’d met, especially the older ones, were not the kind to make jokes, and from her face, I suspected that Asha’s experiences had been similar.
“I appreciate it,” Asha managed to mumble at last. “Anyway, let’s get out of the hall. I have a few forms for you both to sign, basic NDA stuff, and then you can meet the client. If he agrees to work with you, we move on to the more serious paperwork, and after that, you’ll be on your own.”
Stepping through the doorway, I felt a wave of something wash over me. It was like nausea that only lasted a split second. Were I alone, I might have dismissed it as anxiety, but Deborah’s face had crinkled into a frown as she made the journey.
Tentatively, she lifted her head and took a sniff. “Someone has taken great care in warding this place. The physical restrictions are decent, but the sensory dampeners are on a whole other level. I’m smelling and hearing barely better than a human. I take it privacy is a serious concern here.”
The statement took Asha back, but only barely. She was rapidly adapting to Deborah; much faster than I had managed—or perhaps was still trying to manage. “That’s correct. My client is a mage who deals in very special, very personal requests. Every room in here has been properly warded. He even hired the Clover twins to enchant the entire office and dampen supernatural senses. This way, we can have conversations without worrying about being overheard.”
“Or a killer can sneak up on us with much greater ease,” Deborah countered. “I’m not implying that this was the intent of the enchantment, only that it could have such an effect. The workmanship on this is incredible. I hadn’t realized that Ainsley and Zane were doing so well following their father’s footsteps.”
Slowly, I was learning not to be surprised by the amount of information Deborah knew. Our conversation in the car was just one of many reminders of how thorough she was in all things. Evaluating the House of Fred and our alliances would be no exception.
Together, we walked behind Asha as she took us down a wide hall, past a turn that led to several offices, and into a large conference room where stacks of paper were already waiting.
“Fred knows the drill, and Deborah, you seem like a fast learner. Read the pages, fill them out, and when everything’s in order, I have permission to introduce you to your potential employer. If you have any questions—I know you won’t, but this is boilerplate, so humor me—then feel free to ask. I’ll be back in five. I need to go check on the boss and make sure he’s ready to have the meeting when you finish.”
Never one to dally, Asha walked away as soon as she’d finished speaking, leaving Deborah and me alone with the task at hand. I thoroughly perused the documents, as I did before signing any form, and noticed that Deborah did the same. Apparently, she wasn’t going to trust my opinion on whether or not they were safe to sign. Given her constant caution, it made sense, especially since she didn’t know for sure whether I had her best interests at heart. Our situation was obviously an unusual one, at least for me. It occurred to me in that moment that I had no idea how many of these evaluations she’d done through her long life. Deborah might very well tell me, if I were to ask; she’d held relatively little back so far. I mentally filed that thought away as something to deal with later on, when we weren’t on a client’s clock.
The next few minutes were filled solely with the sound of scratching pens and flipping papers as we steadily made our way through the stacks of documents. While the details were vague, I was able to put together a few bits and pieces of the business model here and there. From what I could discern, it seemed our client did custom enchanting and creation, not unlike the Clover siblings. However, his business seemed very focused on discretion and privacy, which indicated that whatever it was he made, it might not be entirely legal, or was the sort of thing no one would want to be caught owning. While that didn’t narrow things down much, being so in the dark made me grateful for every scrap of information I could get.
Deborah finished mere moments after I did, setting her pages off to the side and twirling the pen in her fingers. “So much paperwork. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be the one signing these sorts of documents rather than the one handing them out. Takes me back to my own days working with the law. Of course, we didn’t have pens back then, and our version of paper wasn’t nearly so uniform or mass-produced.”
Stuck in a room, waiting for Asha, with nothing else to do until she arrived, my curiosity finally began to win out over the distance I was trying to keep between us. “Forgive me if this is rude, I’m still learning our culture, but is it impolite to ask another vampire, or any parahuman, their age?”
“Depends on the context. If you were to ask Petre of the House of Turva, it could be interpreted as you sizing him up, seeing how powerful he is. Not an act of aggression per se, but one that might imply unfriendly terms. If you were to ask me, it would be a different matter. The gulf between us is so wide that your question would indicate an academic curiosity, because we both know that regardless of the answer, you aren’t stupid enough to attack me. Same with other parahumans. Just use your head, be polite, and think through the context of your situation.”
“Then how old are you, Deborah? I have no idea what age the Blood Council vampires are supposed to be.”
“It varies,” Deborah replied. “And I decline to answer your question.”
That response caught me off guard. “You just said—”
“I said it was fine to ask. I’m not obligated to answer. A person’s age is their own business.” Her grin said more than her words; she’d baited me into this intentionally. I couldn’t very well press the issue, though. Deborah was right. It was her secret to share with whomever she chose. “There’s a better question you should be asking, anyway. One much more pertinent to our current situation.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, more from the sudden serious look in Deborah’s eyes than anything else. If she was concerned, then I certainly should be as well. “What question is that?”
“This was a sizable stack of papers. We’re quick readers, but neither of us is that fast. So why is it that we’ve finished all of this and Ms. Patel has yet to rejoin us?”
I barely had time to realize that Deborah was right before a faint sound hit my dulled senses. Sharp, shrill, and piercing, it was the kind of noise my vampire senses were always attuned for, as any predator’s subconscious would be. It was the sound of someone screaming.
Specifically, the sound of Asha screaming.
3.
I was out of my chair and halfway to
the door when a firm hand grabbed me by the shoulder. Deborah was behind me, eyes on the door as she gave a gentle yank and jerked me to her side. “Wrong. The bodyguard goes first.”
“Then hurry. Asha’s in trouble!” I tried to pull away, but Deborah held firm. Struggling was pointless. I may as well have been tugging against concrete for all the good it did.
Only when I stopped trying to break free did Deborah explain. “If she were in trouble, then rushing into danger and getting hurt would not do her any good. We’re vampires in the territory of a professional mage. Home turf, if you will. There are countless spells, wards, and traps that may be in effect as of this moment. Say you run out there and get frozen in place, or turned to ash. What happens to Asha then? Being strong is not the same as being all-powerful. You want to know how I lived long enough to get a seat on the Blood Council? Forethought. Planning. Caution and courage in the right measure. Now get behind me, and let’s not waste any more of her time. And calm down. Ms. Patel isn’t hurt. The scream of someone in pain is markedly different from what we just heard.”
I had no doubt a vampire of Deborah’s presumably ancient age would be able to make such a distinction, but that didn’t mean I believed her. She might be saying it just to calm me down. Still, she had raised several good points, and the most relevant issue was that me being lectured did nothing to help Asha. So I did as I was told. I stopped struggling and allowed Deborah to take the lead.
She was efficient, once she got to work. In no time, we were through the door and down a hall, Deborah scanning every surface around us and every corner we passed as we made our trek. It didn’t take long before a familiar scent hit my nostrils. Good as the wards were, now that we were close, there was virtually no magic that could keep a vampire nose from latching onto the smell of blood. It was the scent some part of my undead brain was always searching for, waiting for, hoping for. I didn’t greatly enjoy that part of my mind; however, it was there, so I did my best to make use of it when occasion demanded.
We followed the smell a little farther down the hall, to a large office with a door hanging askew. As soon as we stepped inside, we found Asha standing over the body of a middle-aged man (based on appearances, anyway) lying face down on the desk with a curiously large hole in the middle of his back. The wound was far too big for most weapons I’d seen; it would have had to be as big around as my fist to do that kind of damage. Asha was trying to tend to him, pressing paper towels from the bathroom into his wound, despite the fact that he was clearly already dead. As she shoved them in deeper, accomplishing nothing, I noticed her frantic breathing and the tears that leaked down her face.
Right . . . Asha was panicking, because that’s what humans did when they encountered their first dead body. She was a tough, smart, capable person, but no one was mentally prepared to walk in on a corpse in the middle of an office. No one normal, anyway. As I stood there, momentarily dumbstruck, it truly hit me how different the last few years had made me. Not my body. Not my diet. Me, Fred, the person. Someone was dead right in front of me, and instead of breaking down like the old me would have, I was trying to figure out what had caused a wound like that. A corpse was no longer a thing that gave me pause, and I wasn’t sure I liked realizing that about myself.
There were bigger concerns than the long-term effects of being a vampire, however. Someone was dead, which meant they’d been killed, and that meant we could all very well be in danger. Thankfully, Deborah was more on the ball than I was, striding over and carefully moving Asha aside.
“I didn’t . . . I kept knocking . . . he likes to keep his privacy, so I didn’t think anything of it . . . I . . . I finally came in, and he was . . .”
“It’s okay. This wasn’t your fault.” I was surprised by how soothing Deborah’s tone had become. She was almost tender as she pulled Asha over to a corner, settling her down on the floor with the utmost care. “Stay there. Take some time to cry, or shake, or whatever you need. Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a situation to handle.”
With Asha out of the way, Deborah walked right back over to the body. I expected her to examine the wound, or maybe check his pulse out of formality. What I hadn’t been prepared for was for Deborah to lean down and take a long drink from the open hole in the dead man’s back.
“What are you doing?” I started forward, then froze as her gaze whipped up, anchoring me in place.
“Learning. Based on how much the blood has cooled, he’s been dead for less than half an hour. May have even been alive when we first arrived. There’s no tingle of direct magic, so the wound was most likely made by something physical. And, most importantly, by drinking his blood, I’ve now confirmed that this is indeed the real corpse of a mage. Magic can fake a lot, but I’ve never met false blood that could fool a vampire’s tongue. We’re in a house of magic, Fred. Take nothing at face value. On that note, come over here and drink.”
An initial objection rose in my throat, and then halted. Nothing Deborah had said or done was without sound cause. The least I could do was ask for her reasoning. “Why do I need to drink?”
“Several reasons. One, you might need the extra nutrition if we end up in a fight. Two, sooner or later, you’ll need to learn how blood tastes as it cools in a body so that next time you’re in this situation, you’ll be prepared. And three, the main one, is that drinking from a mage gives you a touch of their power. We can’t wield magic directly as undead creatures, but a nip of this will allow you to push against wards, see through illusions, and several other nifty tricks that may come in handy before the night is done. Unless you prefer being trapped in a mage’s stronghold with a potential killer and no way to discern which paths or objects are real. Hell, a strong enough mage could have cloaked themselves and hidden in this room with us.”
Asha’s breathing picked up again, and I glanced around wildly, as though that would help. Mercifully, Deborah didn’t leave us in that state for long. “No one’s in the room. Or if they are, then they’re so powerful that there would be no point in hiding. Either way, we’re fine for the moment. Now, get over here and drink so we can have two sets of eyes worth trusting.”
My feet felt numb as I stumbled forward, staring at the dead body before me. Vampires drank blood. It was in us, ingrained to the core during our transformation. As much as I wanted to protest, Deborah had already built a logical enough case to convince me that it was a sound call. My body, on the other hand, required no such discussion. It was already guided toward the blood, instinct trying to override reason. I took my time, refusing to allow myself to indulge like an animal. This was a person once, a living being who had people who cared about him, not a snack to be gobbled.
Slowly, keeping a firm grip on my urges, I leaned down and took a carefully measured sip, roughly one of the same length that Deborah had drawn. It was cooler than I was used to from warming blood in the microwave, yet it still set off all the pleasure centers that blood tripped in our kind. As I started to straighten up, I found a hand on my back, keeping me in place.
“More. You’re not as old as I am, Fred. You need more to be fully useful.”
With my face inches away from the substance all vampires craved, it didn’t take more convincing than that to keep me drinking. As I did, I began to notice a sensation surrounding me, like an unseen scratchy blanket made of the very air draped over me. It was uncomfortable, so I tried to shrug it off, and as I did, it gave way, albeit only slightly. When the blanket moved, I felt a surprising surge in my limbs, strength I hadn’t even missed suddenly returning. The wards; that’s what was pressing us down. That’s what I’d managed to shake off slightly. They were still there, still trying to cover me when I let my attention waver, but for now, they were lessened.
“Stop.” The command came without warning, so I finished my last gulp and straightened up. Deborah seemed fleetingly surprised that I’d followed her direction, not that the expression lingered for more than a flash. “Can you feel them now?”
; “I think so. My senses are still dull, though.”
“These sensory wards were made by the Clover siblings. You’ll need far more power to punch through them,” Deborah explained. “Or some of their blood. It’s easier to fight off the magic of a mage whose blood you’ve drunk. That’s why the physical wards give so easily now; we just sipped from their creator. A man who, I think, it’s about time we learned the name of.”
Her gaze traveled over to Asha, who’d managed to pull herself together in the time I’d spent drinking. There was no saving the trails of tears through her makeup, or the shirt she’d gotten bloody while trying to help, but the panic had largely subsided to reveal the usual Asha back in place. She was still shaken, as any decent person would be, yet she’d marshalled control of herself in only minutes. There was a reason Asha had managed to survive this long in the parahuman world, after all.
“Seems safe to say that NDAs and the like are no longer a major concern,” Asha agreed. “I’ll tell you everything I know, but could we go somewhere else first? The body is . . . making it hard to focus.”
“Of course.” Deborah moved in a blur, arriving at the door before I had time to so much as even shift a foot. “But as I told Fred before, the bodyguard goes first. You two stay behind, and stay close. Until we know what we’re dealing with, take nothing for granted.”
4.
Much as my instincts were screaming that we should make for an exit, I followed Deborah. She led us back to the room where we’d filled out paperwork and thus, even farther from any means of escape. It felt contradictory, yet I remained silent as Asha and I trailed the elder vampire’s footsteps. Slowly but surely, I was learning that—at least until she decided to kill me—Deborah took her job as a bodyguard seriously.
