Deadly Assessments

by Drew Hayes

  From there, it was a brief whirlwind of activity. Between Asha’s statement, the evidence, and the tape, there was no question as to who was at fault for the murder of Phineas and the destruction in the office. Once we’d been thoroughly interviewed, Deborah and I were released. Mercifully, one of the agents backed our vehicle right to the front door, over the sidewalk, so that we could enter under the shade of an overhang. Once inside, we drove carefully back to Charlotte Manor, with promises to meet up with Asha once she was released. As she’d been on the premises longer, she had more to tell, and the agents weren’t keen on us sticking around once they’d heard our side of the story. I couldn’t really blame them. Having two vampires hanging about was likely unnerving on its own—all the worse when one of them was shirtless and coated in monster guts. I’d done my best to wash off in the sink, but this was a job for at least a shower, possibly a firehose.

  The ride was largely silent until we arrived at Charlotte Manor. As I parked beneath the shaded overhang entrance and unbuckled my seat belt, Deborah spoke up. “I think, after seeing how you handled yourself last night, that it’s time for us to have a lesson, Fred.”

  “A lesson?” My curiosity was piqued. Admittedly, I’d always wanted to learn more about vampires, and the prior night had only made me more curious. “What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s better if you don’t know. Adapting to surprises is always a good skill to hone. Just don’t make any plans for tonight. I know your schedule is open, so keep it that way. I didn’t realize just how much you still had to learn. You . . . there are some things about you that demand education. Honestly, I’m somewhat shocked you’ve managed to survive for this long. Your friends must have been picking up a lot of the slack.”

  While that seemed like a needlessly cruel way to phrase it, I couldn’t exactly disagree with her point. “They have. I’m not much of a combatant, I know. I’ve honestly never had the stomach for it. I do my best, I try, but I know it’s the people in my life who have gotten us this far.”

  “See, that’s the thing, Fred. You’re comparatively weak, and you seem to know it, yet you insist on acting like you’re strong.” Deborah shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll go over it later. No sense in doing this by half-measures. There are lessons you need, but not with the sun overhead and that stinking goo still on your torso. Let’s go rest, get a good meal, and definitely a shower. Be ready for a field trip at sunset.”

  The passenger door opened as Deborah saw herself out, darting inside quickly despite us being protected by the shade. I couldn’t fault her for that; being in the open during the day felt dangerous, like one wrong step could cost us our lives. For someone as careful as Deborah, that level of risk must be unbearable.

  The more time I spent with Deborah, the more I was growing to fear her. Legends about the Blood Council were one thing; I’d grown accustomed to seeing the humanity behind feared figures like Richard, agents like Krystal or Arch, and even slivers of decency in mythical beings like Gideon. Deborah had that humanity, as well, though I didn’t find it nearly as comforting. Most parahumans swung their power around as the first and final solution to every problem. Deborah, on the other hand, took nothing for granted. She used her mind more than her raw skills, which made those skills all the more dangerous. If most people’s humanity was a doorway to their gentler side, hers was a wall she used to shore up her weaknesses. She’d even said it herself earlier that night: Deborah knew she was mortal, knew she was vulnerable, and took steps to make sure those liabilities wouldn’t be used against her.

  If she decided to kill me, I was growing steadily more confident that there would be no respite. No tricks, no red tape, no angles we could exploit to save me. She wasn’t a brute; she would consider and defend against those possibilities. In a way, it was funny. The more time I spent with Deborah, the more human—and helpless—I felt.

  Had Krystal been home, I’d have gone up to talk with her. As it was, I found myself wandering the halls of Charlotte Manor, despite my dire need for a shirt and a shower. Part of me wanted to knock on Arch’s door, to see if he knew more about the Blood Council or had some insight into what I should expect. Ultimately, I chose not to seek him, or any of the others, out. Not out of fear that they would have no information to share, but rather because every time I went to dial a phone number, I remembered Deborah’s words.

  My friends had been picking up a lot of slack for me. She was right. I’d never been under any delusion that I was an actual threat or force to be reckoned with in any capacity outside an audit. And in the beginning, that had been fine. Things were different now. I was the head of a clan; people were counting on me. The actions I took, or failed to take, would impact my friends’ lives. Deborah had come to assess if I was fit to lead the House of Fred. In truth, I wasn’t sure she would, or should, decide in my favor.

  But if there was any chance of my making it through this, I needed to be better. To be the kind of person who deserved my friends’ trust, who could be counted on when the need was dire. If a lesson from Deborah could get me closer to that, then I owed it to my clan and myself to tackle it head-on.

  After a long shower and a deep mug of blood, I settled into bed. As always when the sun was overhead, sleep came naturally, momentarily dulling my worries about what the night ahead would bring.

  Part 3

  A Lesson in the Woods

  1.

  It was difficult to predict what sort of lesson a teacher like Deborah might impart. Perhaps we would review vampiric lore, allowing me to learn more about our history, our ruling structure, and our abilities. There was also a chance she might throw me into a ring with several therianthropes to see if I could fight my way out. Deborah had said that, as my bodyguard, she wouldn’t allow me to be killed, but that protection only lasted until she’d decided whether or not I was fit to lead a vampire clan. If I had disappointed her, there was no reason for her not to let someone tear me apart.

  With some effort, I shook such thoughts from my head. There was nothing spur-of-the-moment about Deborah: if she decided to kill me, it would be with forethought and deliberate execution. That thought was, strangely, a bit comforting as I dressed for the night. Eschewing my normal loafers, I opted to wear some sneakers that had gotten little use since their purchase. Slacks were replaced with jeans, and a simple long-sleeved shirt took the place of my preferred sweater vest. Mobility and durability: not features I expected to need, but after all the lessons Deborah had imparted on thinking ahead, I hoped to show that I was paying attention.

  In a small backpack, I stashed my enchanted flask topped off with blood, sunscreen, a spare phone charger, and an extra-large umbrella. Having only the words “field trip” to go on, I’d chosen my supplies with as much attention to their general usefulness as possible. Sealing up the bag, I threw it over my shoulder and headed downstairs.

  Deborah was already there, clad in an outfit not dissimilar to my own: jeans, boots, and a dark turtleneck with a thick vest on top. No bag, although that vest did look like it had a lot of pockets. She gave me an approving nod as I made my way down the stairs. “I half-expected you to show up in your usual sweater vest.”

  “I already lost one last night. I’m not sure what you meant by ‘field trip,’ but I assumed I’d have to replace another sweater if I didn’t adapt my attire accordingly.”

  “Smart move.” Deborah turned toward the door, nearly bouncing off the old woman version of Charlotte, who was stepping out from behind the counter.

  The weary eyes swept over the both of us—an odd touch of pageantry, since I knew that Charlotte could see and hear all within her walls. Finally, the old woman’s eyes settled on me. “Would you care for dinner tonight? Arch, Neil, and Albert are all out training, and Lillian has client meetings, so it would be just the two of you. I’d be happy to take requests.”

  It was tempting—as a rule, I never turned down Charlotte’s culinary talents—but Deborah was already shaking her head. “Mu
ch as it pains me to decline, I’m afraid that Fred and I are on a strict schedule tonight, with no time for delays. If all goes well, I expect we’ll want quite the breakfast, though.”

  “I’ll be sure to prepare something special,” Charlotte replied. Again, the old woman’s eyes were on me. “And I’ll make sure the others know you’ve stepped out together. If they ask, where should I tell them you went?”

  “No spoilers, Charlotte. Part of tonight’s adventure is the unknown.” Deborah reached over and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling down a few quick words before she folded it in half. “Should anyone need to reach us for some reason, show them this.”

  Charlotte accepted the page, a slow wave of relief spreading over her face as she read what Deborah had written. “I’ll do just that.”

  “Good. Now, Fred, I wasn’t kidding about the strict timetable for tonight. We need to get moving.” Deborah was out the door before her sentence was fully finished, and I followed, pausing only briefly to throw a grateful glance at Charlotte. It was clear what she’d been trying to do, and I appreciated the concern.

  There wasn’t much discussion after that. An SUV I’d never seen before was waiting outside, and when Deborah slipped into the driver’s seat, I noticed that she didn’t need to adjust so much as a single mirror. We were on the highway in minutes, only we weren’t heading toward Winslow’s downtown metropolitan area for a change. Instead, we were going farther out of the city, toward the wilderness and what passed for mountains in our region. Winslow was never a popular ski destination, like many other Colorado towns. The terrain was too rocky, and the mountaintops too low, but that didn’t mean we were without elevation. Deborah drove on those ascending roads for two hours, taking us up into the mountains while Winslow fell steadily behind.

  To my surprise, no destination appeared before us, no landmark I could use to deduce our ultimate location. Even as she began to slow, pulling over onto a modest shoulder meant for resting, I was at a loss as to where we were. There was nothing around. Part of me wondered if perhaps this lesson involved having to navigate our way back to town, or demanded that I finish ascending the mountain on my own. Again, I wasn’t sure what lessons I would be expected to take from such experiences, but that’s why I was the student, not the teacher. Whatever our destination, we had clearly arrived, and I followed Deborah’s lead as she removed her seat belt.

  “Okay. Now that we’re almost ready, tell me what you brought.” Deborah pointed to the backpack resting in my lap, in case I hadn’t taken the message from her words alone.

  “Blood, sunscreen, an umbrella, and an extra charger for my phone.”

  “Not bad. Good variety, majority of them with multiple uses. Most vampires your age would have only brought the blood, or nothing at all. I have to say, that might be the most interesting feature about you, Fred. New vampires are almost always drunk on their power, certain that no being in the world can best them. The delusion doesn’t last long—especially not in proper clans, where a leader can put them in their place—but the ego often persists for a while. You, on the other hand, seem extremely aware of how vulnerable you are. If the majority of vampires lean too much on their undead side in the early years, then you’re the opposite, someone who has robed himself in his humanity.”

  “The company I keep helps me retain perspective,” I added. “It’s hard to feel exceptional with people like Krystal, Richard, and . . . Arch in my life.” For a moment, I’d been prepared to list Gideon in that final spot, but at the last minute, I veered away. The Blood Council knew I had an alliance with Gideon, but that wasn’t quite the same as me talking about him as a casual acquaintance. The more distance I kept between myself and the King of the West in their eyes, the less likely they’d poke around and find out about my unusual condition.

  “They are all exceptional. However, we vampires are no slouches either. I think it’s time you gained a proper understanding of exactly what it is you are, and what you can do when truly pushed.” Like a striking serpent, her hand snapped out and snatched the backpack from my lap before I had time to do more than reflexively twitch. I had no idea what kind of blood Deborah had previously drunk, but it was clearly from something fast. “For this lesson, however, you don’t get supplies. Tools are useful, and I applaud you for thinking ahead; however, the point of this exercise is to see what you can manage on your own. No tools, no tech, no spare blood. Tonight, we’re going old school.”

  My mouth opened to ask what, exactly, that entailed. Unfortunately, the words never actually passed my lips. In another flash of movement, Deborah’s open palm slammed into my sternum, the exact same place she’d hit me the night before. There was a brief sensation of something against my back—in hindsight, I would realize it was the door snapping off the chassis—and then the whistle of the air was there to greet me.

  I could see the SUV as I hurtled backward. I could make it out atop that highway shoulder, Deborah staring at me intently as I began to plummet and lose sight of her. She hadn’t just knocked me out of the car; she’d knocked me off the side of the mountain, too far into the air to even try to grab hold of the steep terrain. Trapped in the open air, with no way to make my way back, I fell, my body crashing at last against a small boulder formation far, far below.

  2.

  Killing a vampire is no easy feat, as I’ve mentioned. Outside of the specific methods previously described, there’s almost no way to bring us down for good. Hurting a vampire, on the other hand, is much more achievable than some might think. We are hardy, yes, yet not so tough that a gunshot (or fall from a mountain) won’t cause us injury. The difference is that our bodies are in a state of near-constant repair. So long as we can stay fed, our bodies will eventually heal nearly all damage.

  That said, I still ached like hell as I finally stirred atop the boulders. Since the attack came at night, I didn’t even have the small mercy of passing out from the pain. I had to remain fully conscious as my bones and flesh knit themselves back together. The process was hardly enjoyable—at some points, barely tolerable—so I think it forgivable that, in my recovery, I didn’t notice Deborah’s arrival. All I knew was that, when I finally sat up, she was sitting on a nearby rock formation, waiting patiently.

  “If the lesson was to never take off my seat belt until I’m ready to get out of the car, then lesson well learned.”

  “You’ve still got a sense of humor. That’s a surprise. I half-expected you to try to tear my throat out for what I just pulled. Although, if you were the type to choose that path, then I suppose we wouldn’t really need to do this in the first place.” Deborah was calm, yet taut, like she was ready to spring away at a moment’s notice. Despite her words, she clearly wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t try to attack, and even with our difference in abilities, she wasn’t leaving any openings. “How do you feel, by the way?”

  “Sore, obviously.” As I got to my feet, another feeling struck me, so great I almost lost a step. It was a deep, fierce sensation that rose up from the middle of my stomach and stretched out to every nerve in my body. “Also, I’m hungry.” That was an understatement: for a fleeting moment, I felt like I was hunger itself, all my instincts crying out for nourishment. Slowly, I managed to reassert myself, but it was still an unsettling sensation. Healing that much had taken a lot out of me. I clearly needed to eat.

  “Just hungry? After a fall like that, I bet you’re bordering on ravenous. It took me a while to properly asses your diet, how often you eat, and the quality of the blood you consume, but after a few weeks, I’ve managed to put it all together. If my estimates are right, that injury should have drained you deeply. Soon, possibly within the hour, that desire to feed is going to overtake your rational, human mind. You’ll fight back, of course, and though you have proven curiously willful in that regard, you will eventually break. Everyone breaks. When that happens, you’ll be no better than a wild animal until the Hunger has been sated.”

  There was something about the way she said the
word “Hunger” that implied capitalization. She talked about it like a living entity, one that would assert itself over me. It was a dire warning, but as I made my way down the boulders to the rough ground below, I found myself somewhat disappointed.

  “I have to say, I was expecting more from the Blood Council. Trying to turn me into a monster was what my sire did the first time we met. Well, the first time post-turn, anyway. You could at least be more original.”

  There was no laughter from Deborah, not even a knowing smile. She was serious as she watched my movements, aware of every twitch I made. “Is that what you think? That I want you to be a monster? No, Fred, nothing could be further from the truth. The point of this lesson isn’t to make you into more of a vampire; it’s to teach you how to stay human.”

  “That’s the one thing I actually seem to be good at.”

  A rustle of movement hit my ear seconds before Deborah slammed her hand into my spine, sending me sailing forward to smash against a tree trunk. It hurt, though it was nothing compared to the pain of the fall. Far worse was the feeling that rippled through me as my body repaired the minor wounds—that same living roar that grew in my stomach and screamed through my veins reappeared. Only this time, it was much stronger. I was starting to see why Deborah talked about the Hunger like it was a living thing.

  “You’re good at it in the way a person who has never touched alcohol is exceptional at not getting drunk. You’ve never felt the desire, Fred. Never had to wrestle with that beast in your belly, the one that demands to be fed. When you were turned, you barely tried to hunt before you decided to buy all your blood, and when that went south, you started using Agency avenues. You’ve never been truly empty before; when you get injured, there’s blood close at hand. But this is something you’ll have to face one day, whether you want to or not.”