by Drew Hayes
If I’d had any lingering doubts, his mention of the cage confirmed that the note had truly been authored by Gideon. Only he and I knew what had happened inside the magical structure another dragon had built to imprison the King of the West. He’d poured his magic through me, using me like a puppet to break the enchantments and had fundamentally altered me in the process, to say the least. After all, it was that experience which had left me immune to silver.
“It’s Gideon,” I declared, tucking the note away in my pocket. I would burn it later, just to be safe. The less said about the incident with the cage, the better. “Let him in. Charlotte, can we use the dining room for a meeting?”
“Certainly. Dinner isn’t for another hour, and I can push it back as needed. I’ll prepare some light snacks and finger sandwiches in the meantime.” Charlotte vanished—or rather, her human avatar did. The real Charlotte rarely moved, save for when she felt like rearranging her structure.
I stepped over to the door, taking Arch’s spot as he slipped out of view, Deborah right on my heels. “Hello there. I’m Fredrick Frankford Fletcher. May I ask your name?”
“I am Gadspur, loyal servant of the King of the West and the emissary trusted with his missive to you.” Gadspur bowed again; from this angle, I could detect a slight bulge on the back of his suit jacket, right around the shoulder blades. The glimpse was too brief to figure out what the lump was, and besides, it was rude to stare.
“Gadspur, why don’t you come in and we’ll show you to the dining room. I’m very curious to see what made Gid—er, the King of the West send you over.” Using Gideon’s formal title wasn’t something we generally did, but today I’d make an exception—partially because Gadspur seemed more comfortable speaking about the dragon in formal terms, but also for the sake of Deborah. Though she knew that we were connected, I much preferred her to think my relationship with Gideon was purely business. The fact that we were . . . well, not quite friends, but closer to it than most outsiders would guess, could complicate things. The less familiar we seemed with the King of the West, the better.
I just had to hope that whatever business he wanted wouldn’t nullify that perception beyond repair.
2.
“The Jewel of Temecula.” I read the words again, something familiar wiggling in my brain. “I know that word. Isn’t that a town in Alabama?”
Lillian shook her head. “That’s Tuscaloosa. Temecula is in California.”
“Yes, this job is only for the Jewel of Temecula; the Scepter of Tuscaloosa has yet to be found, as it was stolen thirty years ago.” Gadspur’s explanation served only to leave me with more questions, but I put them aside for the moment. There was business to attend to.
After sitting down in Charlotte’s dining room, Gadspur had opened his briefcase to reveal . . . a lot of documents. Not quite the thrilling revelation I’m sure the others were hoping for, but I considered it a welcome sight. I’d half-expected a small dragon to pop out of there, or perhaps a magical blade we were supposed to sink into some evil creature’s chest. Instead, I got exactly what Gadspur had promised: a business proposal.
The deal was relatively straightforward. Gideon wanted to hire Fletcher Accounting Services to act as an escrow holder for a deal he was in the process of making. Apparently, he’d located an item for sale that he desired to purchase; unfortunately, neither he nor the seller fully trusted one another. As a neutral business entity, we would take possession of the Jewel of Temecula upon Gideon issuing a deposit for half its cost. After that, we would bring it to Gideon, at which time, he would make the rest of the payment.
I was tempted to ask why he didn’t go fetch it himself, but I already suspected the answer. Part of it would be for image: a mighty dragon was hardly expected to run his own errands. On top of that, however, it was likely a safety precaution. When Gideon used his power, he wasn’t known for being gentle. If something went awry and he had to fight, to truly do battle, then anyone or anything nearby could easily be engulfed in the damage. The one time he’d been encouraged to let loose was against a fellow dragon, and the only reason the site of that encounter had not been destroyed was because Sally was within its walls. Without Richard’s daughter to temper his fury, there was quite literally no telling how much havoc Gideon could wreak.
“The proposal is straightforward, and the terms are generous.” I was underselling it quite a bit; if these were the terms Gideon would pay merely for delivery, then I didn’t want to imagine what he might be shelling out for the item. “However, I do have one central concern about this job. Why me? Or rather, why my company? Surely Gideon has contacts with more experience at this sort of thing, so why is he paying a firm with no history in such work?”
Gadspur didn’t seem perplexed by my query; he didn’t even fidget. Now that I was paying attention, I realized that Gadspur barely seemed to move at all, unless he was speaking. When he did shift, his motions were stiff, deliberate, as if he took constant and great care. “The Jewel of Temecula is an item of great might, with many powers, but not all of them are desirable. One aspect of its magic is an aura of temptation that draws all living, sentient beings to use it. Normal humans lose control of themselves, try to steal the Jewel and wield its power for themselves. Anyone without proper magical training would, of course, be incinerated by such magic, yet the next person would still try to use it even if they’d witnessed the destruction. Beings of great willpower and intellect, such as the King of the West, can resist this temptation, though it is impossible for most mortals. As a member of the undead, your kind are not susceptible to the Jewel’s temptation, Mr. Fletcher; that is why your company was chosen.”
Not quite the explanation I’d have predicted, but it did make sense. If Gideon needed a company he could trust, who also happened to be staffed by the undead, then Fletcher Accounting Services fit the bill. Technically speaking, we had yet to employ anyone other than Undead Americans: Lillian and I were both vampires, and Albert was a zombie.
I was concerned about the notion of taking Gideon’s task while being observed by Deborah, though. While she was as nice as one charged with determining my life or death could reasonably be, I wanted to keep her as far from Gideon as possible. The closer she got, the greater the risk my secret would come out.
Unfortunately, I also couldn’t risk turning the job down. Even setting aside the fact that denying Gideon a favor was a dangerous position to take, I felt obligated to accept. If the Jewel of Temecula was so powerful that Gideon not only wanted it, but was willing to jump through all these hoops, then it wasn’t something I wanted to see turned loose upon my city. Another company might be willing to take the job, but they wouldn’t have a member of the Blood Council with them. Should something go awry—and when dealing with Gideon, it was best to assume it would—then Deborah had a better chance of fighting off whatever challenges we might face than nearly any other parahuman in the city. Her presence was no doubt part of why Gideon had contacted me to do this: he knew she was here, and he knew she was powerful. To use my situation to his advantage . . . well, that kind of cunning was exactly what dragons were known for.
“Does the client have any limits on how many of us can facilitate the transfer?” I asked. As a team, this might be doable, but if the seller wanted me to come alone, we’d have an issue.
“While they did not specify a body limit, they will be expecting only a single vehicle,” Gadspur explained. “So long as your team does not exceed that, I cannot see why there would be any objections. Safe delivery of the merchandise benefits all who are involved.”
One vehicle. That was actually more generous than I’d hoped for. Assuming we borrowed an SUV from Arch, we could convey up to six people comfortably. We likely wouldn’t even need that many, since the only vampires here were Deborah, Lillian, and myself.
“We can work with that. When does the client want to meet?”
“Midnight.” Gadspur managed to look a touch sheepish, as though even he knew how clichéd that
time choice was.
“Right, but midnight on what date?”
“This one. Tonight.” Gadspur tapped his hand on the table, as though he worried we wouldn’t get the meaning from his words. “The Jewel of Temecula will draw many interested parties once it is in the open. It is being brought to Colorado right now, and from the moment it arrives, until it is in the hand of the King of the West, it is in danger. The faster the transfer is done, the safer the situation will be, and so the Great One has released information to no one until tonight, the evening of the transaction.”
That was cutting things tight. My schedule for the evening wasn’t crammed, but there were things to do. Still, I could shuffle my plans as needed for a task this important. It would have been rude not to check with the others, though. “Lillian, Deborah, do either of you have issues with doing this tonight?”
“I can make it work,” Lillian replied.
“I go where you go,” Deborah added.
To my surprise, Arch checked his watch and grumbled something that sounded like satisfaction. “You said midnight? Good. Based on the meeting location, that should give him enough time to get here before you need to head out.”
All eyes turned to the agent, who looked up expectantly, fully aware that we’d be staring. “I’m sending Albert with you. He and Neil have been doing a lot of training under me, but there’s no substitute for actual field experience. Although they’re a team, there will be times when they get separated or have to tackle separate challenges, so this is an excellent chance for Albert to get more experience under his belt. Unless there’s a reason you wouldn’t want a weapon of destiny at your side during this job?”
It was strange to picture Albert, the Albert I’d known and worked with for years, as anything other than my cheerful assistant, but he’d been diligently working with Arch since leaving my employ, and it would be silly to assume he hadn’t grown or changed in all that time. True, he still seemed like the same old Albert when he was in Charlotte Manor; however, I’d been with Krystal long enough to know that there was a difference between being at home and being in the field. Agents, and those training alongside them, let different parts of their personality show depending on the situation.
“No objections from me. Albert is a trusted friend and is always welcome. I hope we won’t need that sword, though.”
As he pulled out his phone, Arch chuckled darkly under his breath. “I remember when I was still naïve enough to have hope.”
3.
Our few hours of preparation time flew past. In what seemed like mere moments, we were piling into one of the rotating SUVs Arch seemed to keep around for Agency business. Deborah insisted on driving, and no one tried to fight her for the opportunity. I took the passenger seat, in case anyone was watching for me, in particular, to make sure we were who they’d been expecting. That might seem like a stretch, but if the seller knew the name of the company Gideon was sending, then one quick search online would turn up general information about me, including pictures; I figured it was best to err on the side of caution. Besides, Albert needed the extra space in the back seat, given that he had a sword resting in his lap.
My former assistant had shown up roughly fifteen minutes before it was time to depart, and despite the fact that it had only been a few weeks since we last saw one another, I almost didn’t recognize him. As I said earlier, zombies don’t change naturally: they’re animated corpses and therefore done with things like aging and growth. However, a skilled necromancer could use their magic for bodily alterations on corpses, dead or undead, as necessary, and when I caught sight of the slight widening of Albert’s shoulders, I suspected that Neil had been helping him add muscle. That wasn’t what made Albert look so different, though. No, that honor went to the twin shifts in his hair and wardrobe. Gone was his shoulder-length hair; Albert had trimmed his mane into the bed-head looking mess that was popular these days. Less to grab in a fight, I presumed. He’d also traded in his usual ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt for dark, functional clothes, a few charms that glittered with an odd sheen, and some protective gear here and there. It wasn’t how he dressed when we were hanging around Charlotte Manor, but then again, this wasn’t a night of leisure. We had a job to do.
Thankfully, the physical shifts seemed to be the most major changes in Albert. He still greeted everyone cheerfully and had his usual grin slapped into place. The only behavioral difference I could spot was that he moved with more grace, and more carefully, than he had before. Not a bad change, to be certain, but still one that I took careful note of. As the leader of his clan and a friend, it was my responsibility to keep an eye on Albert. So long as he was happy with his life’s new direction, I wouldn’t intervene. That was what mattered most. If ever that stopped being true, I needed to be ready to help guide him in a direction that would suit the man he was now, not the man I remembered my assistant being.
Conversation in the car was sparse. There wasn’t much to say at this point: we were going in with all the information we had, and until we arrived, there wouldn’t be anything new. Mostly, we listened to the radio and stared out the windows. All of us felt the impact of our keyed-up nerves, though we had no reason to be scared yet. If someone was going to try to attack or rob us, it wouldn’t make sense to do so until after we had the Jewel of Temecula. Unless a criminal was planning to impersonate us (which honestly just seemed like far more trouble than it would be worth, especially if they were already strong enough to deal with two accountant-vampires, a member of the Blood Council, and a zombie wielding a weapon of destiny), then there would be no reason to not just wait until we had the item, and then kill us.
“Hey guys, before we get there—and I’m sorry if this is a silly question, but—why do they call it the Jewel of Temecula?” Albert piped up from the back seat as we exited the highway and approached our destination.
It wasn’t a silly question at all. I’d been wondering the same thing since hearing the name, but since it didn’t apply directly to the job, I’d been holding off on my curiosity until we made the delivery to Gideon, expecting that only he would have the answer. As it turned out, I had underestimated my bodyguard.
“When America was founded, it wasn’t just humans who rushed to explore and conquer as many parts of it as possible. Parahumans were here too, remember, and we went to work uncovering lost or hidden artifacts that had been squirreled away throughout the millennia. Some of the items found were complete mysteries, all knowledge of them or their creators lost in the sands of time. For those, the discoverers generally named the items after the locations where they were found. Thus, a gem found in the Temecula Valley became the Jewel of Temecula.”
“Doesn’t tell us much about what it does,” Lillian noted. “I’ve always thought that was part of why they used that naming convention. Fewer people will try to steal a Jewel of Temecula than the Gem of Mind Control, or the Orb of Endless Money, or whatever magic this one houses.”
A slight rattle from the back announced that Albert had adjusted his position, shifting the sword. “Huh. So the Blade of the Unlikely Champion isn’t the only arcane object with a super-vague name.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to understand what the heck that title is even supposed to mean and have gotten nowhere. There are just too many potential interpretations.”
“Telling you something that leaves you knowing less than you did before . . . sounds to me like a mage named that weapon.” There was a slight edge to Deborah’s voice with that comment, although it could have been because we were drawing near to the address we’d been given.
The location didn’t look like much: an old warehouse with a stone wall and a steel gate to keep trespassers out. Only when we drew close did I catch the small details that marked recent renovation. A patch in the wall here, new hinges there, all tiny giveaways that this place wasn’t as derelict as it might seem. As our vehicle drew close to the gate, someone stepped out from behind the wall, flashlight in
hand. They were clothed in a black ensemble complete with a ski mask to obscure their face. The beam of light came through the windshield, stopping on first Deborah, then me, before clicking off completely. The stranger stepped back out of view, and seconds later, the gate began to slowly part down the middle. We took the cue and drove forward, guided into one of the warehouses by the flashlight of our gatekeeper.
As we pulled in, the doors sealed shut behind us and more bodies came into view. There were at least a dozen people here, all of them dressed in dark, tactical clothing and built like they could find their way to the gym while blindfolded. They waited, tensely, as we piled out of the SUV one by one. I half-expected someone to make noise about Albert’s sword, but curiously, not a single person mentioned it. Perhaps they were expecting those of us who would transport such an item to be armed, or maybe Neil had worked some magic to keep the weapon from drawing too much attention. Whatever the cause, no one said a word as we slowly exited the vehicle. Only when we were all out did a voice finally rise.
“Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, of Fletcher Accounting Services. You are prompt. I respect that. You may call me Sebastian.”
The fellow who spoke had been tucked away behind some old boxes, and unlike the others, his ensemble boasted a bit of flair. A charcoal gray suit was wrapped around a bright emerald shirt and adorned with a matching pocket square, topped off by a smiling face with just enough laugh lines to denote experience. The salt-and-pepper temples helped the impression, as well. His most important feature, though, was the briefcase clutched firmly in his right hand.
