Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (35 page)

“Feel free to come after me any way you see fit, Petre.” I reached back under the chair and grabbed one last document, this one kept apart from the others for good reason. “Just know that, when you do, you’re attacking more than just me. As of last night, Fletcher Accounting Services has officially signed on to do freelance budget auditing for the Agency.”

9.

It was my turn to smile as everyone else in the room stared with unexpected shock at the revelation, which I actually found quite confusing. Some had wide eyes, others gasped, and Krystal was opening and closing her mouth repeatedly, as though she kept deciding what to say and then changing her mind at the last moment.

“What? You said you were filled in all the way. You’re the ‘fucking air,’ remember?”

“I meant I knew about you starting a vampire clan,” Krystal snapped, my prompt finally giving her a set of words to start with. “But you signed on as an
Agency
contractor? How did you even know that was possible?”

“You mentioned it when we were in Boarback,” I reminded her. “Said it came with a lot of perks. I did some digging and found out that that included a certain level of protection.
That
was my plan tonight. You didn’t all really think I was planning to keep a whole gang of vampires at bay just by starting my own clan, did you?”

“Did Asha know about this?” Krystal demanded.

“Sure, she’s the one who helped me put it through.” From the look on everyone’s faces, ranging from uncertainty to betrayal, I gathered it was something she hadn’t mentioned during their meeting. While she technically shouldn’t have, and given that she had let them all join my new clan in secret, I had a hunch that she’d have given them a heads up on the contractor thing if they’d asked. “Wait, did you all barge in declaring that you already knew everything and wanted to help?”

“Well, we let Krystal do most of the talkin’,” Bubba admitted.

“Still, even if I told her we were up to speed, you’d think she would have mentioned it,” Krystal mumbled. “Freddy, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Being connected to the Agency is not exactly all smiles and tickle-fights, even if they just want you to crunch numbers. The reason the job comes with protection is because a
lot
of parahumans hate us, and aren’t shy about taking it out on the people who work with us.”

“Indeed we do,” Petre agreed. Truthfully, in the moment, I think we’d all nearly forgotten he was even there. “Mr. Fletcher, when I believed you had turned your allies into pawns to stave off being absorbed into our clan, I thought you a manipulative, cunning bastard, but at least I respected that. Throwing in with the Agency, however, is an unforgivable decision. You would scamper under the protection of those that murder our kind, all for little more than accepting the nature we were born with.”

“We only kill the ones who break the law.” Arch hadn’t completely put his gun away; instead, it was resting near his dinner fork, one motion away from being swept up again.

“Petty, pathetic laws that we were strong-armed into agreeing with,” Petre replied. All the anger was gone from him now; in its place was cold, empty hatred. There was no question about it, I’d definitely made myself an enemy this evening. It was a terrifying thought that I would dwell on endlessly later. For the moment, however, I tried to focus on the fact that he probably couldn’t hate me anymore when I made my big move.

“Tonight, you have done more than slight the House of Turva,” Petre continued. “You have betrayed your own kind. To take the sacred tradition of a clan and allow the common parahuman riffraff within its ranks was bad enough, but to then cast your lot with the Agency just for a small modicum of protection . . . Fredrick Fletcher, you are no vampire to me.”

“You know, I think I’m okay with that,” I replied. “If being a ‘real’ vampire means being like you and your clan, then I’m fine being considered something else. Hell, I’ll take it as a compliment. Because here’s the thing, Petre: your kind of vampire might have a giant clan with lots of people to take orders, but as Amy pointed out, my kind has a family. If that’s the deal, then I’d rather be a failure of a vampire any day of the week.”

“Let’s see if you can hang on to that sentiment when the House of Turva begins picking you all apart.” Petre turned to the last seated member of his party and called to her. “The work is done, Lillian. Let us return home for the night. There is no longer any need to serve such a useless man.”

“Lillian, stay right there.” I spoke before she even had a chance to pull her chair back, keeping Petre’s attention on me. This was the part I’d been trying to build toward, the thing I’d wished for, but never would have had the courage to try without my friends filling the room behind me. “Not to be rude, but I believe Lillian was given to me as a gift of friendship. Or does the House of Turva often rescind its gifts when it suits them to do so?”

“We do when we no longer wish for any sort of friendship with those we were dealing with,” Petre snapped. “I am willing to leave here tonight peacefully, Mr. Fletcher. Do not test my generosity any further than that.”

Krystal actually laughed at that point, short and harsh and so emasculating that even I felt wounded by it, despite the fact that it was aimed at Petre. “Are you really trying to pretend that
you
’
re
the one who is choosing to resolve things peacefully tonight? Freddy might be naïve, but the rest of us can do the math. If you throw so much as a sharp look at someone in this room, the three of you would get beaten halfway to your final coffins. As for Lillian . . . hey, Arch, you know protocol better than me: what’s the deal with taking back an official gift of friendship?”

“Legally complex, and often varies case by case,” Arch replied calmly. “It’s a tedious ordeal, usually more trouble than it’s worth for both parties. Still, if you both want to go down that route, I can make some calls to start the paperwork.”

“Or . . .” The idea poured from my mouth as fast as it formed, my eyes on the untouched place setting only a few feet in front of me. “We can settle it here and now, like real vampires. How about a test of strength, Petre? That should appeal to your proper ways.”

“You wish to fight one of us?” Though I’d expected him to be annoyed, Petre instead seemed cautiously intrigued. He was probably imagining getting to snap me in half while my friends looked on, but I had something different in mind.

“Oh no, nothing that barbaric. Besides, with the amount of parahuman blood in you, I know I wouldn’t stand a chance. I meant a much more personal, ego-driven strength. Strength of will. Krystal, do you or Arch happen to have any silver daggers on you?” I asked.

Without pause, Arch reached into his jacket and produced a gleaming silver blade. Everyone in the room (except Krystal and the mages) shrank back visibly, though my reaction was purely for show. Catching Petre’s eye, I nodded to the dagger resting in Arch’s hand.

“It’s a simple game. We take turns holding the dagger, and whoever can bear it the longest is the winner. No amount of blood either us might have in our system is going to help with that.” Technically, my words were true, as the blood in my system had absolutely nothing to do with how this could play out.

“Let me guess, if I win, Lillian comes home, and if you win, she stays?” Petre asked.

“No,” I said, looking at Lillian past Petre’s glowering countenance. “If you win, Lillian goes with you. If I win, Lillian gets to choose what she wants to do. Maybe she’ll still go home to the House of Turva. Maybe she’ll ask to join my clan, which she’s welcome to do. Maybe she’ll want to be an abandoned vampire for a while and see how she likes it. But the decision will be hers to make.”

Petre chuckled under his breath, turning to meet Lillian’s uncertain eyes. “I think you ensnared this one too deeply, my child. He thinks to win you a freedom you don’t want. Very well, Mr. Fletcher, I will play your game. But I have a condition: we will need two silver daggers, and we shall hold them at the same time. This way, there is no dispute about who drops first, and neither of us has the advantage of a goal to beat. You might think me foolishly prideful, but I’m not so dumb that I think you’d choose a contest you didn’t have a good chance at winning. Perhaps your pain tolerance is abnormally high, or you simply believe in your heart that you can do it. Regardless, I will not give you any needless advantages.”

“I’d say that’s more than fair,” I agreed. “Arch, do you have another?”

The blade was in his hand before I’d even finished the question. Rising from his seat, Arch walked toward Petre, and I made my way over to join them. The rest of the room backed up, giving us ample space. This was as much because we were near silver as out of desire to let the contest occur uninterrupted.

“These blades are both silver,” Arch announced. “I’d like you both to briefly touch, smell, or do whatever you need to confirm that, just so there are no accusations later on.” Petre carefully touched his thumb to both daggers, showing no outward sign of pain, but keeping the contact brief. I did the same, though I made myself appear to be hiding a wince each time.

“I will lay these in your bare palms simultaneously. You cannot touch, bump, or in any way physically interfere with the other. The first person to release their grip on a blade is the loser. Any objections or questions?”

Petre and I both shook our heads and held out our hands. Arch didn’t bother repeating himself; instead, he laid the blades across our flesh, releasing his hands once we’d gotten a firm grip. The silver still tingled a bit as I clutched it, unlike a normal metal, but I wasn’t flooded with pain and weakness the way it had once affected me. Even being near the stuff had worn me down to near human levels; chains of silver over my clothes had held me more than once. Actual skin-to-metal contact had burned, like touching something that was just a bit too hot at first, but with every passing second, the pain had grown steadily worse. Silver-insulated magic interrupted it, and for a vampire, that meant being brought back to the corpses we truly were.

At least, that’s how it was affecting Petre. For me, it was just the tingle, nothing more. It was possible Petre hadn’t been wrong when he said I wasn’t a real vampire anymore. Whatever Gideon’s magic had done to me, it must have changed my body in a pretty fundamental way for silver to leave me unbothered. Being different wasn’t so bad, though. Especially not when it gave me the opportunity to help my friends.

To his credit, Petre held out for a full minute before his composure began to slip. The steady hand holding his blade wobbled first, by only a few degrees, then progressively more and more as his placid expression melted to one of focus and pain. His gaze wavered between his own hand, mine, and my face, where he found an utterly untroubled expression. If I was going to go to all the trouble to make an impression, I felt like it should at least be a strong one.

“You have . . . good . . . pain tolerance.” His teeth were clamped together as his hand shook violently. All of his instincts were undoubtedly screaming at him to throw away the dagger, yet he was halting them through sheer force of will. In that moment, I dearly hoped I never had to face off against Petre in a genuine contest. The way silver used to hurt, I couldn’t have managed what he was doing for even ten seconds.

“I just have a really good reason not to let go,” I replied, voice steady and calm.

“Even if you . . . win . . . she’ll . . . come home.”

“You think so? Maybe you’re right. Why don’t you drop the dagger, and we’ll find out.” The truth of the matter was that I didn’t know if Petre was wrong or not. Lillian had certainly voiced frustration with her clan and the desire to not take their orders, but ours was still a motley lot to throw in with. She very well might choose to stick with what was familiar and at least relatively safe. But . . . they’d kept her from blood for a month before. That wasn’t punishment, it was torture. If there was even a chance she’d grasp for freedom, I owed it to her. Without Lillian, I never would have gotten the time and intel to create my own clan in the first place.

Despite my words, Petre kept hanging on to his blade. Another minute passed, and then another. At long last, as his whole arm was shaking, Petre let the dagger clatter to the floor. He’d made it three minutes and change, judging by the antique clock hanging on the dining room wall. Honestly, I was incredibly impressed at such a feat of willpower, even if I couldn’t afford to show it. For good measure, I waited several more seconds, making sure that Petre’s fallen knife was completely still, before releasing my own to join it.

“And Fred is the winner,” Arch declared, not so much as even one bit of enthusiasm or showmanship in his voice.

Petre was staring at me with a new look, something between respect and doubt, as he reached down and pushed his finger against my dagger. Instantly, he jerked his hand away, all his tolerance for pain used up on the amazing display he’d just put on.

“This is a trick,” he said. “Are you wearing some sort of enchantment?”

“Everyone knows you can’t enchant against silver,” Amy supplied helpfully from over my shoulder.

“Then a plastic, or a coating of some sort.” He grabbed my hand, and even though my friends all seemed to move closer, I made no motion to stop him as he examined my palm for some method of defeating the dagger.