Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (2 page)

While “fault” seemed like an aggressive term, there was no denying that I had set in motion the chain of events which resulted in Krystal’s fellow agent, Arch, moving into the animated house on the outskirts of Winslow, Colorado known as Charlotte Manor. On top of coming with three meals a day and all utilities included, Charlotte was also something of a magical fortress, built by a commune of insane mages and meant to repel all but the most powerful of attackers. Granted, not everyone would be thrilled by the idea of living in a home that was self-aware and always watching, but for people like Krystal and Arch, the loss of privacy was well worth it to be able to sleep with both eyes shut.

But perhaps I should step back briefly, in case those last few lines seem like the raving of a madman or incomprehensible gibberish. My name is Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, and I am a Certified Public Parahuman Accountant. Also, a vampire. Despite what film and television might have led to you believe, joining the undead does not inherently make one suave, cool, or even particularly more socially competent. What it does do, however, is thrust you into a community that lives in the normal world’s shadow, a society comprised of parahumans. That very community has technically endangered my undead life several times, but it has also helped me meet a variety of friends I would never have run across in my mortal days, so it’s not that bad of a trade. Krystal, my girlfriend, makes her living working for the agency that polices our kind, ensuring that all the laws and treaties of our various peoples are upheld. It keeps her on the road a lot, which is just one more reason why moving to Charlotte Manor made more sense than her previous arrangement.

We hauled our respective loads down the stairs, setting them into the back cab of Krystal’s pickup truck, where she’d saved a space specifically for the weaponry. My hybrid was already filled with the more mundane objects like clothing and dishes, rather than firearms and blades. She had the security clearance to be walking around with half a riot squad’s arsenal; I didn’t, and even for vampires, traffic stops are still a possibility.

“And that . . . is it.” Krystal slammed the door closed, causing me to jump as I waited to hear the guns go off, despite her assurances that they were all unloaded. She chuckled, but didn’t call me out on being startled, likely because I was in the middle of doing her a favor. “Bubba and Amy should be about done with their load by now, so once we get the dangerous stuff inside, we can break for night-lunch.”

Much as I wished she’d think of a new term for our customary meal around midnight, being my equivalent of a mid-day point, I was never going to object to enjoying Charlotte’s cooking. While it’s true that I primarily need blood to survive, I can still dine on human food. My body gains no nutrients from it, but that’s never really the best part of eating a fine meal anyway, is it?

“I just have to swing by my place real quick to fire off an email,” I told her. “Promised to have some acquisition forms sent out before morning.”

“Can’t Albert do that?” Krystal asked.

“You already dragged Albert and Neil into helping you move,” I reminded her. “They took the first couple of boxes. And anyway, there’s a bit of prep work to do, which puts it out of Albert’s depth. Great assistant or not, some tasks require my personal touch.”

Krystal leered at me for a few seconds—her way of letting me know I was on thin ice—before finally relenting with a sigh. “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t take too long. These boxes aren’t going to unpack themselves.”

“I promise to be as quick as possible,” I assured her.

“I’d prefer you promise to hire some more help,” Krystal shot back. “Even vampires need rest, you know.”

She had me there. When I first got my CPPA license and began courting parahuman clients, I’d been fearful there wouldn’t be enough business to sustain the investment. What I discovered was that this was a hole in the market that desperately required filling, and over the past few months, it had been all I could do to keep up with the influx of new clients. Fletcher Accounting Services needed to expand, which was far easier said than done. Parahumans might be in ample supply, but precious few of them wanted to make their living as accountants.

“It would be nice,” I agreed. “My original plan was to get Albert trained up as he grew more familiar with the practice, and then pay for him to obtain the necessary accounting degrees. But with the sword training, that’s just not viable.” Several months prior, Albert had pulled the Blade of the Unlikely Champion from its sheath. Technically, that didn’t come with any built-in responsibilities; however, everyone had agreed it was best he get comfortable using it, just in case. Which, in fact, was why Arch had moved to Winslow and needed somewhere to stay in the first place. Despite seeming human, Arch was quite old, and renowned for his abilities as a trainer, among other things.

“I’ll keep an ear to the ground, just in case I come across any good candidates.” Krystal pulled open the door to her truck, then paused to lean in and give me a short, but forceful, kiss. “Don’t take too long with your work, or I’ll let them start night-lunch without you.”

“Only a few minutes, at most.” She let it be, getting into her truck and heading off before I’d so much as gotten my own car’s door unlocked.

The truth of the matter was that I knew exactly how long the work would take, and it would be seconds, at most. I’d purposely left it undone specifically so I’d have an excuse to split up from her when the last load was packed. I’m not a terrible liar, but Krystal is an agent for a reason, and telling the truth made it far less likely that the real reason I was going back to my apartment would be uncovered.

After all, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise housewarming party without the surprise part. Or a cake, specially ordered from a bakery back in Krystal’s and my hometown of Kent. It was a favorite of both of ours, and a nice way to ring in the new with the old. But I needed to hurry. The plan was for everyone to distract her with unpacking while I picked up the cake and brought it to Charlotte Manor.

Turning on my engine, I started to floor it, then remembered my car was full of Krystal’s possessions—some of which were almost certain to be illegal for a non-agent to have, dishes or no—and resumed a far more moderate pace.

2.

It turned out to be a good thing that I was driving so carefully, because, if I’d come racing up to my building, the spiky metal balls hurled under my tires might have caused me to completely spin out of control. As it was, I held on to the wheel as three of my four tires blew out at once, foot pressing on the brake so hard that I worried I’d snap it off, until I came skidding to a merciful stop a few feet from the curb. Thankfully, the late hour and lack of nightlife in my neighborhood meant the streets were clear, so I didn’t hurt anyone as I scrambled to get my automobile halted. That didn’t last long, though. I’d barely begun to reach for the door, my fingers shaking from shock and fear, when a new figure stepped out from a nearby alley.

He was tall, with close-cut brown hair and a scar just below his left eye. A large brown coat concealed most of his body, but when he moved, I could catch a peek inside, which was not a comforting sight. Wooden stakes, bulbs of garlic, the telltale shine of guns, silver chains, and several other bulges I couldn’t quite make out during my brief glimpse all sent my usually anxious mind into overdrive. His hands dipped inside, coming out with a pair of pistols. Krystal could have told me the make and model, but all I knew was that they were big, and would undoubtedly punch a bloody hole in any part of me they were aimed at.

I froze, fingers still wrapped around the handle, until he motioned for me to get out of the car. With only one good tire, escape was off the table, so I didn’t have a lot of choice. Besides, I was sure this was some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe an agent had been given the wrong address for a rogue vampire, one who didn’t adhere to the law as carefully as me. A simple call would sort it right out. At least, that’s what I told myself as I climbed slowly out of my car.

“Don’t move. Don’t try anything.” He barked more than spoke, gesturing with the guns. Now that I was out, I could catch a glimpse of his eyes for the first time, and I noticed how wild they seemed. Every agent I’d met was a bastion of control—even Krystal’s chaotic attitude came with a carefully measured understanding of how much force was needed. But this man . . . I felt like he could begin firing at any moment. That certainty I’d had about the misunderstanding began to erode, ever so slightly.

“Empty your pockets on the ground.” It struck me that I might just be getting mugged, which was an oddly comforting thought. Possessions could be replaced, and some crook was far less dangerous than a person actually keyed in to the parahuman world.

I did as I was told, dropping my wallet, car keys, and cell phone to the concrete. As soon as the last item hit the ground, he took quick aim and fired, causing me to jump back and turning my phone into nothing more than plastic debris. Undead or not, guns are scary things, especially when pointed at you, and I decided it was time to try and start extricating myself from this situation.

“I’m not sure what charges are being leveled at me, but I’m willing to go along peacefully,” I told him. “If you could reach out to Agent Jenkins, I’ll trust her to arrange proper representation. We do still get lawyers, right?” It had never occurred to me until this very moment, yet it suddenly seemed strikingly relevant. America’s constitution did provide representation for all its citizens, but parahumans had a somewhat different set of rules. Since they helped form the country, they’d negotiated their own sets of laws to accommodate the need for things like hunting and magic. Sometimes it meant we could get away with more than normal humans, sometimes less. I imagined due process had to be factored in there somewhere, though.

“Representation?” He sneered at me, those wild eyes twitching irregularly. “You think I’m dumb enough to take you to the cops? I know what you are, and I know those cells couldn’t hold you for long. Isn’t that right,
vampire
?”

The way he said it, like it was a big reveal . . . I think I was supposed to react more. Like the silver chains and garlic didn’t give away what he thought he was confronting. Although, now that I finally had a chance to think about it, why would an agent bring garlic? Vampires are allergic to it, but only in the sense that our lips get puffy and our throats sore. It’s useless in any real capacity, and an agent would definitely know that.

“You’re not affiliated with the Agency, are you?”

“Keep talking nonsense, and I’ll do this right here in the street,” he snapped. “No, I’m not part of whatever organization you use. Just a man who saw what was happening and couldn’t stand for it any longer. Took me a long while to find this town’s first vampire, until I thought to stake out the local hospital’s blood supply. Your little flunky didn’t want to talk, loyal one you’ve got there, but I got it out of him eventually.”

“You didn’t . . . ?” Granted, what Dr. Huerta and I had was purely a business relationship—he sold me blood and I, in turn, worked the hospital’s books to keep them afloat come tax season—but I certainly didn’t want the man dead.

“No, I don’t kill humans. Just monsters.” Slowly lowering one of the guns, the other staying tight on my center of mass, he pulled out a length of silver chain from under his coat and tossed it onto the sidewalk in front of me.

“Wrap yourself.”

“And if I do, then what?” It wasn’t that I was suddenly feeling brave; it was more like the rational part of my brain was finally beginning to outpace my fearful reaction to the sudden surprise. Whoever this man was, he obviously wasn’t an agent. While that made him weaker, physically, it also made him more dangerous. Agents were part of something with rules; they were accountable. That seemed unlikely with my would-be kidnapper, which meant going along peacefully could be more dangerous than making a break for it. Well-prepared or not, there was no way he could keep up with the strength in my undead legs and lungs that didn’t need air.

“Then we go for a drive, and when we get somewhere more private, you’re telling me everything you know about all the other bloodsuckers in this area. If you do that, then I’ll make it quick. If not . . . well, I’ve got nowhere to be, and you monsters seem to be able to take a lot of punishment.”

If I’d had any lingering doubts about the value of running away versus trying to reason this out with him, those words killed them. This man was unhinged, and while someone obviously needed to deal with him, that . . . well, that was what agents were for. My best bet was to escape, contact Krystal, and let her know there was a madman who fancied himself a vampire hunter on the loose.

He was staring at me, and the longer I waited to touch the chains, the tighter his grip on the trigger grew. Getting out of here without any bloodshed seemed more or less impossible, but I could at least keep it minimized. Leaning forward, I started to reach for the chains. When I was a few inches away, I saw him relax just a bit. Little as it was, I still seized the opportunity, lunging to the side with balance precious few humans could hope to match and launching into a dead sprint down the sidewalk.

I felt the bullet hit at the same time I heard the gunshot, tearing through the back of my shoulder and wedging itself somewhere around my spine. If not for the natural toughness of my vampiric body, it likely would have carved straight through me. As it was, the bullet stung, and the shock of the impact caused me to stumble slightly.