by Al K. Line
"She told me, yeah."
"It's scary to watch, so be aware. She has to eat. She's small enough as it is, if she misses meals she wastes away really fast and it gets dangerous."
"Don't worry, I'll look after her."
"So will I. I'm happy for you, both of you."
"Hey, it's early days yet, but it's going good, yeah."
"Your funeral. Vicky's a, shall we say, handful."
"Haha, you got that right. But that's how I like my ladies, nice and feisty."
"Then you chose well, my hairy friend. You chose very well indeed."
Steve scratched at his full beard, full of product and not what I thought men should do to their hair. Different times I guess. Shifters went for the hipster look, and Steve pulled it off effortlessly. He was a good guy. Hopefully it would work out for him and Vicky.
There was a scream from upstairs. For some reason, I wasn't surprised. Something was starting, and this kind of crap was always part and parcel of another wildcat adventure.
Damsel in Distress
Steve and I bolted out of the room and dashed for the stairs, the going awkward as we kept getting in each other's way.
Wand was out of my pocket and shouting, "Yippee," as I took the lead and raced up the stairs. For a sentient stick, he sure got excited whenever he got pulled from the customized pocket that provided easy access to the hard wood.
"Hold your horses," I told Wand between pants.
"Been ages. I feel like letting off some steam."
"Yeah, well don't go nuts. The kids are up here, so whatever it is, wait until I give the go-ahead."
"Spoilsport."
Steve caught me up on the landing as I slowed and he gave me a strange look. He knew about Wand now, but it still took everyone a while to get used to me muttering to a stick.
Without forethought, we both entered the girls' bedroom—they liked to stay together even though they were old enough to have their own rooms if they wanted. Have I ever mentioned they were twins? I don't think I have. Well, they were. Two pale, blond, perfect children, taking after their father in hair color, thankfully not in girth. They were slight, like Vicky, already almost as tall as her though, so they'd buy clothes from grown-up stores when they were older, unlike their mum.
"What is it? What's happened?" I asked, half expecting to see either a maniac wizard, an elf, a faery, or something else annoying and magical.
"Mummy collapsed," said one munchkin.
"There," said the other, like we'd missed the figure of Vicky out cold on the carpet in between the two beds.
"Did anything happen? Was anyone here?" I asked.
"No, Mummy just keeled over. I think she's tired."
"I think you're right."
"Hey," said Steve, "why don't I read you your story while Arthur takes Mummy downstairs? Sound cool?"
"Yippee."
"Hooray. Uncle Steve's going to read to us again."
And with that, both girls hopped onto a bed and snuggled up together. Steve read a story while they cuddled in tight, their mum seemingly forgotten.
I slung Vicky over my shoulder and marched downstairs, then set her down on the sofa. Vicky murmured and came around a few seconds later.
"What happened?"
"You zonked out because you haven't eaten all day and you got too stressed. I've told you about this in the past." And I had. She'd been good for ages, but I guess we hadn't needed any serious hacking work done for a while, so she was out of practice plus this was more personal than it usually got.
"Sorry. Are the girls okay?"
"Fine, Steve's reading to them. Look, take it easy, okay? We'll sort this out, I have every faith in you. Just look after yourself and the girls first. Don't rush, or panic. You can do this but only if you're in control and focused."
"I know, guess I overreacted because all the money is gone. What am I going to do if I don't have any money?"
"You'll get it, and if you don't, then I'll give you some. Not too much," I added, "because this is your fault."
"Arthur, you are so mean sometimes."
Vicky began to cry. I went to make her a sandwich before I began patting her on the head and saying stupid things like, "There, there, good girl." Women seemed to hate that, even though I was only trying to make them feel better.
I entered the large kitchen of Vicky's Georgian house and nearly jumped a mile.
"I've got a job for you," said Ivan, looking about as vampiric as it's possible to look without blood dripping from your fangs.
"You can go fuck yourself," I said, then went to the fridge to get cheese.
"That's not very nice."
"I know. I told you, no more vampire work. I don't owe you anything, and after that Mikalus shit we are more than square. No more work for vampires. We're friends, you're Vicky's brother, but that's it."
"Arthur, this is important. Wasn't my little display enough for you? This is serious, you have to help. Actually, you have no choice if you want your money back."
"You motherfucker."
I believe this was the first time I tried to strangle Ivan. Or was it the second?
Family Fueds
"What's all the racket?" asked Vicky as she came running into the kitchen.
"Nothing," I said from my position on the floor, straddling Ivan with my hands around his throat.
"Get off him. What are you doing?"
"I'm strangling your brother because he's the one who nicked our moolah."
"What!? Is this true?" Vicky stared down at Ivan as I continued to throttle him.
Ivan nodded.
"See?"
"Fine." Vicky sighed. "Carry on."
I continued my pursuit of a dead Ivan but it wasn't going so well. However hard I squeezed, I couldn't seem to get a good throttle going. It was like squeezing steel, no give at all. Ivan stared up at me, smiling, not resisting in any way whatsoever.
As my fingers began to hurt he said, "Are you quite finished?"
I nodded and rolled off him then got up.
Ivan sprang to his feet, full of vitality, the vampire juices obviously flowing now it was dark outside and the call of the wild was upon him. I bloody hate vampires.
"Go on, tell her," I said, thinking of ways to kill him slowly and painfully.
"I was just telling Arthur that I need his help, yours too. Maybe yours even more than his."
"Tell her the bit about you stealing all our money."
"You didn't really? Tell me it wasn't you." Vicky's tears fell again, this time with a deep sadness born of betrayal by family. Nothing cuts deeper than that.
"I may have had your accounts moved, just to show you what we're up against. Have you got the money back yet?" Ivan brushed imaginary dust from his suit jacket, the black material spotless. Vicky kept an immaculate house, no dirt or dust on her kitchen floor. He ran his slender hands through slick black hair, as casual as if we were discussing the weather while Vicky cried and I plotted his demise. I hate vampires, did I mention that? I do, I really do.
"I can't believe you did this, to me. To us." Vicky began sobbing too much to talk.
"Everything all right here?" asked Steve as he sauntered into the kitchen and took in the standoff.
"No, Ivan was just leaving, weren't you?"
"No, I wasn't."
"Vicky?" Steve put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. She shook her head. He glared at Ivan and looked at me questioning what was happening. I shrugged, not knowing how much Vicky wanted to involve Steve in our business. Damn, why do things get instantly complicated when it involves family?
We remained like that until Vicky got herself together and wiped her eyes. Then, without warning, she approached Ivan, looked him in the eye, and slapped him hard across the cheek. The sound was surprisingly loud, and it took all of us by surprise, especially Ivan. He recoiled in shock, a hand to his cheek.
"Sister?"
"You dare call me sister after what you've done? You stole from us, our
money. Do you know how stressed I've been, how bad I feel? I let Arthur down, I let the girls down, I let Steve down, and you did it. Why?"
"Because he wants us to do something for him. I already told him, I don't work for vampires any more. We're quits, no favors owed. Done and dusted."
"And what about you, Vicky?" asked Ivan, his cheek red.
"We don't work for you now. If you'd asked me, I would have done whatever you needed, even if Arthur refused. You're my brother. But now? No. We won't do it."
"I thought showing you a little of what we're up against was a good idea. This is serious, very serious, and I need your help. Everyone does. This could get very messy very fast if we don't contain the problem. Maybe I misjudged. I'm sorry."
"Too late. Get out. Get out of my house. I don't even want to look at you." Vicky stepped up to Ivan again, and we all held our breath. Vicky may have been tiny and pretty harmless to look at, but she was still scary. She had this way about her, an inner confidence even when up against the nastiest gangsters, and this was a family matter so it wasn't like Ivan could have her bumped off.
She didn't slap him though, she did something much worse.
"You betrayed me. You know I get stressed about money and the future for the girls. You took that away from me so I'd help you? That's not what brothers do. Get out, and don't come back."
Ivan flinched like she'd hit him, the words stinging much more than a slap. "Please, let me explain."
"No. Get out!" hissed Vicky as she shoved Ivan in the chest.
"Time to go, mate." Steve stepped forward and squared off against Ivan.
"You heard her," I said, annoyed and disappointed with how Ivan had handled this.
"As you wish. I'll be in touch."
"Don't bother."
Vicky walked Ivan to the front door and shut it behind him. She came back into the kitchen and the tears fell in earnest. I left her in Steve's capable hands and went into the living room.
Some time later, Steve popped his head around the door and said goodbye. After Vicky saw him out she came and sat beside me on the sofa.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked, a little sparkle returning to her eyes.
"The plan? Get our money back and then go to bed."
It was a long night.
All Sorted
By early morning we were both destroyed. I hadn't slept in days, had only been popping in the day before because of the tech problems, and Vicky was already perilously close to a meltdown before Ivan had shown his ugly mug.
But we persevered, or Vicky did. I was mostly tasked with making coffee and giving moral support. Initially, we got nowhere, so Vicky became anxious and stressed all over again. I told her to relax, because obviously that was the right thing to say, which, perplexingly, led to a massive argument resulting in more tears and several pats on the head.
Then I had a brilliant idea. If Ivan had done this to teach us a lesson, that meant he'd probably got someone local involved. Maybe even got them to do the deed from his home or workplace. Vicky was dubious, but nonetheless she began trawling through nodes, boinking dongles, fracturing fireproof walls, routing serving staff for some reason, and regaling me with useless information about backdoors and IP addresses and other nonsensical gobbledygook until I became convinced she was just making things up. Every now and then she'd look up, say something about onions that work, which I took to mean she was on the right track, then get back to keyboard assault.
She chased down the source of the hack, but it took almost all night. Credit where credit's due though, because by early morning she'd managed to not only discover how it was done, but get the money back.
Turns out it hadn't even been stolen. I won't even try to understand how it worked, but the gist of it was that the hacker Ivan had hired hadn't actually transferred the money out of the accounts—they really were that well safeguarded—but instead had gone down a convoluted route where they'd set up fake sites, clones of the originals, and done some tech wizardry to make it seem like we were accessing the accounts when in fact it was all just looky-likeys.
Seemed like utter madness to me, but Vicky said it was incredibly clever and hard to do, tougher than hacking the accounts in the first place. I wasn't impressed with any of it, but Vicky was happy, and slightly jealous, so all's well that ends well.
It was with great relief that Vicky finished her work and sat next to me on the sofa. She looked awful, but she was smiling, and so was I.
"Nice job, grasshopper," I said, patting her head.
"Will you stop doing that. I'm not your pet."
"No, but you look like one. You want your brekkie for being a good girl?"
"Arthur! Why did he do it?"
"Ivan, you mean?"
"Of course."
"He said it was to show us what we were up against, what he and everyone else was up against, and that it would affect us all. Dunno. He's nuts. You know what he's like. Hmm, actually, that's not right. He never does stuff like this. Usually he just comes and asks for a favor or finds another way to get us to do his crap."
"Exactly. So why do this? And to me? His own sister."
"You'll have to ask him, but I want nothing to do with any of this."
"Wonder what's going on?" mused Vicky, with a look that was all too familiar.
"Don't go getting any ideas," I warned. "The vampires have been keeping a low profile, he's running them smoothly, I'll give him that, but I don't want to get involved in their nonsense. We did what he wanted before, wiped the slate clean. I am not interested."
"Okay, okay, just wondering."
Vicky's phone rang so she reached over and grabbed it. "It's Ivan."
"Do what you want."
She tapped the screen, said, "It's on speaker," then answered with a sharp, "What?"
"That's a rather abrupt way to answer the phone," said Ivan.
"What do you expect after last night?"
There was no reply for a few seconds then Ivan said, "Sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. What happened last night?"
Vicky frowned at me and I shrugged.
"You know, the hacking, stealing our money, or making it look like you had. Coming here and trying to force Arthur to do a job for you. That."
"Um, I have no idea what you are talking about. Is this a joke? You know I'm not good with jokes. I was calling to see if I could visit this evening, see the girls, and you of course. Are you feeling okay? Sorry it's so early, but I'm going to bed soon."
"Are you winding me up?" shouted Vicky, standing and waving her arms about theatrically like Ivan could see.
"Vicky, my dear sister, I don't know what you are talking about. I was in meetings all yesterday evening. What time are we looking at?"
"A bit after seven. Maybe half past. What is this? Why are you being so mean?"
"I swear to you I did not come to your house yesterday. I'll see you this evening. I don't know what kind of joke this is, but I am not amused." Ivan hung up.
"Mummy, what's all the shouting about?" asked a bleary-eyed sprog as she came dashing into the living room, closely followed by another angel in a pink nightie. "We were sleeping."
Vicky and I exchanged shocked glances. The call was odd, this was odder. We'd been so caught up in our work we'd forgotten how lucky we'd been to have the chance to work uninterrupted.
And so it was, for the first time in history, the kids were up after everyone else.
Back Home
Two tiny tots running about screaming, begging for cereal Vicky said was unhealthy, stomping their feet about needing to watch TV, whizzing from room to room in search of faery princess outfits, and tugging on a poor wizard's clothing made it seem like a good idea to leave, so I did.
Phew. Fighting evil overlords of the black magic variety is draining, but I hold my hands up to the parents of the world and admit, they have it worse.
After a kiss from the terrible twins, and a scowl from Vicky for leaving her in the midst of such early morning carn
age, I beat a hasty retreat by stepping into the hallway and pretending to go out the front door. I figured it best not to let the girls see me use the Teleron as I'd never hear the end of it. I'd be on a non-stop trip to the theme parks of the world.
I'd grown accustomed to using it a little more of late, but still found it disconcerting bordering on utterly terrifying, yet I couldn't be bothered to call a taxi.
I adjusted the Teleron, pictured the field beside the farmhouse where George, my darling daughter, and I lived, and then off I went only to appear there instantly. I checked I was still me, and not standing in the middle of a cow or something, the main reason why I hated using this thing, and then with a spring in my step I walked across the soaking ground to the farm.
George was already up and exercising one of the horses, which was weird, as she liked to lie in until a more respectable time. Guess the fact she had to care for the horses meant she was becoming accustomed to early mornings. She had help most days, but some mornings she was on her own, running her business, giving riding lessons, and offering stabling for an exorbitant amount. Here's a tip for you. If you want to keep hold of your money, never get a horse. George had done remarkably well, had a good business head on her shoulders. But I was still inordinately pleased to not have to tell her the family fortune was gone and all she'd inherit was my hat.
In need of coffee and breakfast, but wanting to see her beautiful face first, maybe even get a hug as there was nobody about so she couldn't feel embarrassed, I trudged across the fields, went through a gate, and walked past the stable block. The horses whinnied their protest at my passing; for some reason they hated me, and the feeling was mutual.
George was resplendent in a Barbour jacket, obligatory horsey leggings, riding boots that shone with oil, and her long auburn hair streaming behind her more gracefully than the horse she was running beside. She ran it around and around in circles in the sand where they got their exercise and people could fall off, hopefully without breaking any bones.
Every day since she came into my life I counted my blessings. However tough things got, whatever nonsense went on, I always tried to put things into perspective and remind myself that I had a charming, sensible, independent, warm, kind, beautiful daughter in my life now. She'd appeared from nowhere—I had no idea she existed—after her mum had died and with nowhere else to go she'd come to me. It was weird to start with, as I was used to living by my own rules, coming and going as I pleased. But although she was old enough to look after herself, we both found immense comfort in each other's company and being part of each other's lives.
