Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (17 page)

“We have to do something.” The words came out of nowhere, Asha and I having fallen into what had become our usual silence as we worked on organizing the assets. She broke that silence, looking up from her work with a pinched, tired expression on her face. “Judging by how often I’ve slept, it’s been three days in here, and I’m going to lose it pretty soon.” Evidently, I was wrong about time being meaningless, at least for those who still had mortal bodies to keep track of.

“We’re almost done,” I said. It was meant to be a hopeful statement, but the words only highlighted the larger issue at hand. We’d been focusing on the work because it was what we could do. Once that was over, we’d have nothing else. It became a waiting game to see which of the twins would break first.

“That’s the problem.” Asha laid her hand on the thick stack of parchment that was Herbram’s enchanted will. “A few more hours of ironing out the detail work, tops, and we’re finished. Unless we can think of a way to find another set of enchanting tools passed through their family, we’re going to be stuck here.”

“Is that an option? Not inherited tools, I mean, but this set has a value. Could we get a set that’s comparable in terms of power?”

“Doesn’t seem likely,” Asha replied. “You’ve seen how important these are to the family; my understanding is that most mages treat the really potent stuff the same way. Even if there was an open market for them, it doesn’t help us in here. That’s the sort of deal we’d have to have in place before one of them was willing to sign.”

“And splitting the items up is off the table?” I’d gone through the history of every piece in Herbram’s enchanting tool kit as I assessed their cumulative value; there were six, in total. If only the twins were willing to divvy them up, then perhaps we could get out of here.

“Doing that would mean they either both get a weakened set, or have to agree to work together.” Asha jerked a thumb toward the window, where that familiar red glow still lingered in place. “These really seem like the kind of people who are willing to work together?”

“Sadly, no,” I admitted. “Though they’d clearly be better off if they were willing to do so. I can’t imagine what’s stirred up so much animosity between them.”

“I’ve got a guess,” Asha said. “We both know this stuff is newer to me than it is to you, but I did a little research when I got offered the job. From what I can tell, Herbram telling his kids to split the inheritance however they saw fit is an oddity in the mage world. Normally, Herbram would have bequeathed the tools specifically to one of his children, essentially choosing which of them he trusted to continue his work. When he didn’t do that, he left them both out of sorts. Neither knows who he wanted to have take over, which makes it all the more important to prove themselves by doing so.”

“Huh. I am beginning to suspect that Herbram Clover might have been something of an asshole.”

“Or just didn’t understand how things are between siblings.” Asha stood from the desk, taking a long stretch that produced audible pops from her back. “I think I’m going to ask Ainsley for a shower to use. Living in these clothes for the past three days hasn’t been my idea of fun, and I’m sure it’s no treat for you either.”

I hadn’t mentioned it, for obvious reasons, but there are precious few humans that can go unwashed for three days and not be picked up by vampiric nostrils. Thankfully, my selective attention was excellent, so I’d put the inevitable scent of sweat and time out of mind, right up until she mentioned it.

“While I’m up there, I’ll see if I can make any headway with her, competitive sister to competitive sister. Maybe you can drum up a conversation with Zane,” Asha suggested.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any siblings to use as common ground,” I said.

“No, but if memory serves, you know your way around a bottle of wine. Seems like common enough ground to start with.” She finished her stretch, laid a pen between the pages of a ledger to mark her spot, and made her way out into the hall.

I worked for a while longer, both to find a good stopping point and to try to plan out what on earth I could say to Zane that would move things forward. Not surprisingly, nothing sprang to mind. Aside from us being trapped in a dimension cut off from the real world, it was hard to argue with either his or Ainsley’s points. Alone, either of them would falter, Ainsley’s temper driving off customers while Zane’s skill lowered their reputation for quality. With enough work and training, one of them might be able to grow and overcome the limitation, but there would still be lost ground to recover.

Eventually, I faced the fact that no brilliant bolt of insight was going to strike me and rose from the desk to head downstairs. Brooding wasn’t productive, and if I talked to Zane, there was a chance I might uncover something that could get us free. The trip down was quick, though I got a bit turned around near the kitchen, as I’d only seen bits of the massive estate. Fortunately, I finally remembered that people who spend their days in wine cellars don’t tend to take shower breaks, so I sniffed around until I located Zane’s pungent scent. From there, it was just a matter of tracking it through an empty house and down into a wine cellar bigger than my apartment.

I’ll admit, for as much as I like to think myself wise enough to be content with my own earnings, I was filled with jealousy at the sight of their cellar. Climate-controlled, gently lit, and filled with rows upon rows of gleaming bottles. The ones I recognized, which were fewer than I’d expected, were the sort of vintage that sat near the top of wine lists in fancy restaurants, serving as conversation fodder for what kind of person would spend so much money on a single bottle of alcohol. Red, white, even the odd rosé, all lined up in rows upon rows of carefully sorted bottles. It was like walking into a wine library, or museum, and I idly wondered how big my business would have to grow to justify this level of extravagance.

The sound of clinking glass drew my attention to one of the rows at the far end of the room, where I discovered Zane leaning against a wall, a bottle of merlot in one hand and a burrito in the other. At least Bubba had been making sure the mage didn’t wallow on an empty stomach. Slowly, I made my way over, though it wasn’t until I was less than a few feet away that Zane bothered looking up.

“Ah, there’s my undead worker. How’s the will coming?” His voice was a little slurred, though not nearly as bad as I’d expected from the number of empty bottles rolling around near him. Perhaps he’d been going slower than the rest of us realized, or maybe mages had a higher tolerance than I knew. Neil was too young to drink, and Amy tended to prefer her own work, so I didn’t have a great example to work from.

“It’s almost done,” I told him. “We’ve found a way to split it all up evenly. The last part is determining which of you gets the tools.”

“Those damned things.” Zane lifted the bottle to his lips and found it nearly empty, so he set it aside and began to search for another.

“Here.” I grabbed one of the few wines I recognized from the shelf, a cabernet sauvignon that I’d always wanted to try, and handed it to him. “You may as well stick to red, since you’ve made the commitment.”

“An excellent idea.” Instead of reaching for a wine opener, he pulled out his wand and mumbled what sounded like gibberish under his breath before tapping it to the top of the bottle. To my surprise, the cork began to worm its way upward, eventually dislodging and falling to the ground with a small
pop
. He took a long draw from the bottle, then offered it to me. “Care for a sip?”

“You should really decant something like this first.” I took the bottle anyway and slid down to the ground next to him, taking a deep whiff of the wine before allowing it to actually hit my tongue.

“It’s just the cheap stuff.” He leaned back, letting his head rest on the cool stone wall behind us. “Always assumed they’d go to Ainsley, you know.” It was a bit of a topic jump, but with how little we’d both talked, I had no problem sussing out his meaning.

“The tools?”

“Of course, the tools. She’s a better enchanter than me. Better than Dad, too, and he had over a century of experience on her.”

It was a good thing I’d yet to sip the wine, because I would have snorted it out at his words. I knew that mages lived longer than most people, though I’d never thought to ask why, but over a century . . . that was more than I’d been expecting.

“It just seemed like a lock, you know,” Zane continued, either unaware or unbothered by the surprise in my face. “Ainsley was the one who could do the best enchanting, so she would be the one who got the tools. I was just the guy who did the talking, worked the deals, and got us a few extra percents on the bottom line.”

“That’s nothing to undersell,” I told him. “Businesses live and die by their profit margins.” Now that the wine’s scent had fully been appreciated, I allowed myself to take a small swallow from the bottle. It was so heavenly that for a moment I actually forgot the situation and just allowed myself to revel in the joy dancing along my tongue.

“Do we particularly look like we need the extra margins?” Zane gestured to the cellar, but he just as easily could have been pointing to the house, the estate, as a whole. “No one cared that I brought in more money; there was always so much of it. At least, that’s what I thought.”

I handed him back the bottle, which he took a glugging drink from, spilling more than a few drops down his neck to an already stained shirt. “What changed your mind?”

“Well, he didn’t leave the tools to Ainsley, did he? He left it up to us to figure out who should get them. Sort of felt like Dad was giving me a chance. Saying that I could get them, if I proved myself worthy.” He sighed and took another drink, then handed me back the bottle. “Instead, I’ve gotten into a pissing match with my sister just like when we were kids, dragged a lot of innocent people along for the ride, and hid away in the cellar. Truly, a son to be proud of.”

“In all fairness, Ainsley is being just as stubborn, and she’s locked herself in her workshop.” I’m not sure why I felt bad for Zane. He was part of the reason we were stuck, and none of things he just said were untrue. Even more, he seemed like the kind of person I should have despised. Wealthy, charismatic, and handsome, he’d been handed all the advantages in life that I hadn’t, yet I couldn’t bring myself to hold that against him. I guess I just knew a little too well what it was like to not be what your parents were hoping for.

“For her, this probably feels like a robbery. The tools were supposed to be hers, and now she’s scared of losing them to her screw-up of a brother. Can’t say I blame her for digging in. Truth is, Ainsley should get the tools. I understand it, you know, deep in my gut, but I just can’t bring myself to let go.” He pulled out his wand once more, rolling it gently between his fingers. “I’m a lot of things, and I’ve made peace with most of them. I just don’t want to be a quitter. I want to fight. I want to prove that I can make the old man proud, too.”

It was hard to think of a way to fault him, or to argue with that sentiment, so, instead, I just took another sip from the bottle of wine. Somehow, it wasn’t quite as magical as the first time around. Maybe I’d already gotten used to it, or, more likely, Zane’s sadness just made it impossible to find such joy in a fermented liquid.

I could see that he was nearing the breaking point, guilt slowly gaining on pride and determination. He’d break in a day or so on his own, and if I pushed him carefully, we might be free in the next few hours. Yet, to my own surprise, now that the key to our escape was within reach, part of me didn’t want it. Not like this. Zane was right; he deserved the chance to prove himself, just as Ainsley did.

And I was beginning to have an inkling of an idea of how to give them just that.

7.

Based on Bubba’s meals and Asha’s need for rest, it took another day to do the fresh contracts. We probably could have pounded them out in half the time if we’d raced through it, but the one good thing about being trapped in a timeless pocket dimension is that there’s no compulsion to rush. Instead, Asha and I took our time, crossing every “t” and dotting every “i” to make sure our work was airtight. Given that we were dealing with mages and an enchanted will, it seemed prudent to leave no wiggle room anywhere in our documents. That was the sort of thing that would just open up more trouble down the line.

Finally, when we were sure the language was word-perfect, we waited until Bubba made a food delivery, and then asked him to bring everyone to the study. Less than ten minutes later, Ainsley, Bubba, Amy, and Zane entered the room, in that order. No words passed between the siblings as everyone took their seats, though Amy filled the silence by asking Bubba about his recipe for the omelets he’d made that “morning.” When everyone was seated, I looked to Asha to start things off. She was the lawyer and main employee, after all. I was just the numbers guy.

“Before we get going, let me double check. Are either of you willing to let the other have the enchanting tools in exchange for the lion’s share of the rest of the estate?” Asha’s eyes darted between Zane and Ainsley, neither of whom spoke, though both looked far less stalwart than they had when first making their ultimatums. I had a hunch that, now that they had both cooled down, it was as much a matter of pride as it was actually wanting the inheritance.

“About what we expected,” Asha continued. “Fine, then. You’ve forced Fred and me to really think outside the box on this one, since none of us want to spend the next forty years stuck in here. So, here is what we’re proposing as a compromise.”