Undeath and Taxes

by Drew Hayes

“You do?” Cliff Puckett looked at me like I’d just promised him immortality along with a free puppy.

  “This ought to be good,” Troy said, clearly less impressed than Cliff.

  “Simply put, the, er . . . person posing as a ghost seems to be primarily concerned with Mr. Price taking ownership of this house. If we draft a document that legally binds him from ever doing so, or permitting one of his associates to do so, the threat is removed and there is no more reason to keep us here.”

  “Except that the people pulling these strings have now threatened, imprisoned, and attacked us,” Troy pointed out. “These guys are pros. Even if we swore up and down that we wouldn’t go to the cops, and we meant it, they still wouldn’t take the chance on letting us go.”

  “Troy is right.” Mr. Price rose from his seat on the bed and walked to the middle of the room. “Fred, your idea is outside the box, and I like that, but the only way it could have worked is if we were dealing with an actual ghost. Since that’s obviously ridiculous, our only hope is to find some way out of this place before the people pulling the strings get bored and try to kill us.”

  “I really feel like they would be content with just the contract not to try and buy the place,” I protested. But even as I spoke, I could see my words falling on deaf ears. The others, not knowing what I did about parahumans or the laws they lived by, were stuck facing the ridiculous assumption that there were real people behind what we were experiencing. Without knowing the truth, they would never agree to my plan, and for very logical reasons. The only way I might bring them around was to tell them what we were really facing.

  Of course, even if I wanted to out the supernatural to them, there was no guarantee they’d believe me. Humans were very stuck in their belief that there was nothing hiding in the darkness, even as those very things slipped up beside them and asked to borrow a cigarette.

  “Lads and lady, I think we’re past the point of trying to stick together,” Mr. Price said. “Right now, our only hope is to cover enough ground to find a way out of this place. That means we’re better off working in teams. Since I’m the main target, I’ll go alone.”

  “No way. You’re the main target, so the minute you’re alone is when you’re in the most danger.” Asha thrust her finger over to Troy, whose brow immediately furrowed as he sensed his partner about to volunteer him for something. “Troy might be one arm down, but he’s still a big guy. If we’re going to split up, we’ll do it smart. Take Troy along. Between the two of you, I bet you can handle a lot of challenges.”

  “You up for that?” Mr. Price asked Troy.

  “At this point, I’d rather be on a team of two ass-kickers than watching over the small folks,” Troy said, pulling himself off the ground. “No offense, you guys.”

  “None taken,” I replied curtly.

  “Fred, Cliff, and I will form the other team,” Asha said.

  “Actually, I think I’ll be fine on my own,” I said. Despite my initial hurry to get to them, it had become clear that if I wanted to stop Charlotte, I was going to have to get some work done. With them gone, I could talk to her, ideally buying myself a little time, and then knock out the paperwork. If she refused . . . well, I’d just have to work fast.

  “Fred, we just got you back,” Asha pointed out.

  “Which is why I think I’ll be fine. If these . . . people . . . wanted to kill me, they already had the perfect opportunity. Obviously, I’m not high on the priority list, so I should be all right. Plus, more teams means we can cover more ground.”

  Asha’s stare had elevated from curious to downright scouring as she searched my face for some signal of what was going on in my head. The woman was too observant for my own good; the longer she stuck around, the harder it would be to deal with the secret side of our predicament. At long last, she gave a small nod and turned to Cliff.

  “You ready?”

  Cliff responded by rising from his seat and trudging over to her—the walk of a man who has already accepted his fate and is just plodding down the path to meet it.

  “Mr. Price and Troy can take the third floor; Cliff and I will finish looking over what we didn’t check on the first. Fred can finish out the second floor, since we barely got anything explored before getting snared in this room. We’ll meet back here after an hour to share findings. Everyone good?” Asha looked around the room, waiting for questions. When none came, she tapped Cliff on the shoulder, and the two headed out the door. Mr. Price and Troy were only a few steps behind.

  I made a show of checking over the rest of the room, then, when they were gone, I carefully pulled the door shut.

  “Charlotte, would you be so kind as to manifest? I’d like to have a discussion with you.”

  “Sure, Fred. Since you asked nicely.” Charlotte was sitting on the bed, still wearing the image of the young brunette woman in the early-century dress. She gave me a polite smile as she watched me jump a bit in surprise. “Didn’t go the way you expected it to, did it?”

  “Things could have gone better,” I admitted. “But I maintain that there is still a way to keep you safe without hurting anyone.”

  “Your contract idea? That was cute, but I’ve listened to Theodore Price talk business too many times to believe he wouldn’t find a way out of it, even if you could find a trick to make him sign.”

  “I didn’t expect such a contract to succeed. It was just a ruse to get them to stay close while I worked. I really do think I have an idea, but it’s going to require some time for research. Would you be so kind as to delay the execution for a few hours? Also, if you wouldn’t mind allowing me access to my phone so I can use the internet, that would help as well.”

  “An outside line and time to work in?” Charlotte let out a soft tinkle of a giggle. “You must really think me foolish. If I gave you that, I’d have a nest of vampires swarming through my halls in no time.”

  “I promise, I’d only use it for research. No outgoing calls.” I adjusted my glasses slightly, a touch worried that my next statement would give too much away. At the point Charlotte and I had reached, it was a necessary risk to tell her something of the truth; I just didn’t want to destroy my imaginary leverage. “Besides, I don’t associate with any other vampires. I was turned and left, and when I did meet my sire, he was . . . well, he was not a pleasant person. I won’t call anyone: accountant’s honor.”

  Charlotte looked at me for some time before speaking, her dark eyes searching my face for signs of falsehood. “All right, Fred. You seem earnest, and you’ve conducted yourself like a proper guest since arriving. I’ll give you one hour of safety for the others, and very limited use of your phone, which I’ll be watching closely. There is one thing you should know, however.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The clock starts now, and any time you spend explaining to her comes out of your hour.” Charlotte pointed behind me, which caused me to spin quickly around.

  Standing there, with the door cracked halfway open, was the dumbstruck face of Asha Patel.

  7.

  “Fred . . . what the hell were you talking about with that girl?” Asha pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped tentatively into the room. “And where did she go?”

  A darting glance back showed me that Asha was right, Charlotte had indeed vanished into nothingness once more. Bad as the situation was, I also made sure to check my watch. The last thing I wanted was to get someone killed because I went a few minutes over time.

  “Where’s Cliff?” I asked.

  “Waiting outside a restroom where I gave him the slip,” Asha replied. The wonderment on her face was slowly being replaced by aggressiveness. Clearly, she didn’t like being kept in the dark. “I knew you were hiding something, so I decided to double back and see what you were up to. Though I didn’t expect to find you chatting it up with some lady about vampires.”

  I winced, just the teensiest bit, at the mention of the V-word. Part of me had hoped she’d missed that part of the conversation
. “Let’s start from the beginning: how much did you hear?”

  “That is not the beginning, Fred. The beginning is you telling me what the fuck is going on, not trying to keep as much of this to yourself as possible.”

  I took my briefcase over to the writing desk and set it down, then popped open the clasps and pulled out my laptop. This was done both because it was necessary, and to buy myself a few seconds with which I might consider my situation. Asha was here, she was tipped off to things not being what they seemed, and she wasn’t the type to let all this go. I could either tell her the truth, lie, or try and physically force her out the door. Given my degree of discomfort with confrontation, the last choice was already off the table, which only left trying to lie or telling her the truth.

  “Do you really want to know?” My voice came out lower than I meant it to. I was just trying to convey the seriousness of the question, but it almost sounded threatening in the context. “Asha, what you’re asking about . . . you can’t ever unlearn it. Right now, you’re still on the other side. With enough time and mental distance, you’ll be able to rationalize all of this away. Once you cross the gap, there’s no going back. It’s hard, knowing the truth, even for me. For you, I can’t even imagine. So, please, think hard before you answer. Do you really want to know?”

  I didn’t look at Asha as I set up my laptop, the slender silver marvel that I had probably spent too much on, but adored nonetheless. It took her until after I’d run the power cord and was halfway through syncing it to my phone’s internet connection (which had begun working again, thanks to Charlotte) for her to decide.

  “Yes. I want to know what’s going on.” Her voice was softer than before, but there was no hesitation in it. She’d thought it through and come to a decision. Sad as I was about the one she’d reached, I was selfishly a bit glad as well. With less than an hour left to work in, every bit of help I could get would make a difference.

  “The very, very, very short version is that Charlotte, the woman you saw, is actually a manifestation of the house we’re standing in. She was created by mages and enchanted to be alive, so the idea of Mr. Price tearing her down has her somewhat concerned.”

  “What about you?”

  “Ah, yes. That.” I turned around to face her, if for no other reason than it felt like the sort of news I should really deliver while looking someone in the eyes. “I’m a vampire, though you don’t have anything to fear. I buy my blood; I neither have the inclination nor skill to harm a living person. I’m sure this opens up a new avenue of questions, but as you heard, we’re working on a deadline, so please limit them to the truly essential.”

  “This is why you left the firm.” Asha walked over to the bed and perched on the edge, eyes wide and vacant as her mind raced to assemble a puzzle she hadn’t even realized was there. “It’s why you started your own accounting practice. The Fred I knew would never have had the guts to do that on a whim, it had to be out of necessity.”

  “A nine-to-five puts me in the path of too much sunshine than is good for my health. For the record, zero sunshine is my ideal amount.” I began pulling up files I’d thankfully saved to my hard drive, while also bringing up a browser window and opening a few tabs. I kept everything accounting related on the drive, since some parahumans lived outside cell and wi-fi coverage, but this situation reached beyond the tax code. I was going to need additional resources.

  “Wow. So vampires are real. And living houses, evidently. Anything else?”

  “Near as I can tell, almost everything else, in some form or fashion.” I clicked open a bookmark to a familiar site and scanned the page for what I needed. “Therians, who are what you’d call werewolves, though they come in many different breeds of animal, as well as zombies, mages, dragons, and devils; all of them are mixed in with the humans of the world.”

  “You’ve seen all those things?” Asha’s voice was tipped on the knife-edge between wonderment and suspicion. She was taking the news well—far better than I had when I woke up as undead—but a healthy amount of doubt was perfectly forgivable. Given the situation, it was actually the most rational response a person could have.

  “Truthfully, that was just a list of people in my social circle,” I said. “Anyway, the point is that we don’t exist in some lawless anarchy. Parahumans, that’s what we call ourselves, have laws and rights just like human citizens. We even have our own breaks in the tax code, to say nothing of the various laws that govern us. That’s what I’m looking for at the moment.”

  Asha rose from her seat at the edge of the bed. “Let’s pump the brakes for a minute: you’re saying your kind, parahumans, have rights and laws, as in the things that are written in the constitution and ruled on by judges? How would a thing like that even be possible?”

  “Remember, you’re getting the abridged version here, but parahumans were intrinsic in America’s founding. We helped create the nation, so it became a place where we were protected citizens, not monsters to be hunted.”

  “My parents really weren’t kidding about it being a melting pot,” Asha muttered, running a hand through her thick hair. “Okay, assuming all of this is true, and I’m cutting you a lot of slack with that one, why haven’t I ever run across any laws referencing parahumans? I’m good at my job, and I would have noticed something like that.”

  “Obviously, we have to keep our laws and codes separately,” I said. “I don’t how they did it in the old days, but for the last forty years or so, they’ve hidden them right in plain sight.” I tapped on my screen, pointing to the site I was currently downloading several .PDF files from.

  Asha leaned in over my shoulder, her eyes going wide and a derisive snort slipping through her lips. “Swords, Spells, and Stealth: Modern Justice. You’re fucking with me. An entire secret part of our society, composed of several different breeds of supernatural creatures, has their law books in a tabletop role-playing game?”

  “Law books, tax books, even a few historical accounts,” I replied. “It’s the perfect system, when you think about it. New editions come out periodically as things change, the documents can reference any type of parahuman needed without arousing suspicion, and the actual books are so boring that almost no role-player would actually bother reading them. A few people wonder how the company stays in business, but rumors of an eccentric billionaire who loves the game keep them fairly quelled.”

  “This . . . this is a lot to take in,” Asha said. “I mean, seriously. Tonight has been weird, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hop aboard the crazy train you’re piloting just yet. Can you prove literally any of this?”

  “You mean, aside from the magically closing doors, disappearing people, and unbreakable windows?” I turned upward, putting my face only a foot or so away from Asha’s, and opened my mouth. My fangs aren’t just on display for the world to see all the time; that would be unspeakably embarrassing. They usually only come out when I’m feeding, or when I’m riled up by a strong emotion. As I’ve gotten more accustomed to being undead, however, I’ve made a point of learning to do a few things. Marshaling my senses was one of them; controlling the extension of my fangs another.

  “Holy shit!” Asha backpedaled away, nearly tripping over her feet in the hurry to get away as she watched my canines lengthen and shift into the iconic fangs associated with my people. I tried not to take the reaction personally. It had been a hard night, after all.

  “You’re a vampire.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

  “Yes, and I don’t drink from people. We covered this already.” I didn’t enjoy being brusque, but I really did have only so long to work with. My teeth shrank back to their regular size as I turned to my computer. Only a little bit left to go on the first download.

  “Right . . . but that was just . . . talk.” Asha shook her head once, tumbles of straight dark hair flying about in every direction. “Right. You’re a vampire, we’re stuck in a pissed-off magical house, and you think you have a way to stop it?”

 
; “Its name is Charlotte,” I told her. “And yes, maybe. I remember a deduction that applies to ghosts who have exercised certain legal precedent. Unfortunately, my side of things only told me about how this action functioned financially and after it was used. Based on what I do know, however, it’s possible that the law could work for Charlotte’s situation as well. I just have to find it and wrangle through the legalese.”

  “Sounds like a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ to me.” Asha crossed the room slowly, her eyes not wavering from me as she drew close. It seemed she was willing to take me at my word for the moment, but trust that I didn’t view her as a meal would come over time.

  “Welcome to my world.” I clicked on the first document that finished downloading, bringing up the file. “This is all I can do, though. I’m not a good fighter, I don’t know magic, and I’m not nearly as foolhardily courageous as some of my friends. All I’ve got is a head for numbers and a willingness to slog through files and forms.”

  “But you don’t know much about law,” Asha pointed out.

  “Outside of the financial side of things, no, I don’t.”

  “Well then, put the laptop a little more center so I can see it too.” Asha leaned forward, and as she did, I heard her heartbeat pick up. She was still scared, possibly more of me than of Charlotte, but she refused to let it stop her. I found myself reminded of why I had admired this woman from afar, back when we shared a building.

  “Done and done,” I said, sliding the laptop over. “Now, all that’s left is to save the day with paperwork.”

  “Shhh. Be quiet, Fred. I’m reading.”

  8.

  “Shoot straight with me here: what are the odds this actually works?” Asha asked. We were walking down the stairs, back to the dining room where the evening had originally gone so spectacularly off the rails. If Charlotte had kept her word, the others would be joining us shortly, still alive and healthy. If she’d lied . . . well, I didn’t really have a great Plan B for that.