Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) (8 page)

“Holy hell.” For a rare change, Neil and I were in agreement, though he was the one who voiced the words. Albert seemed dumbstruck as well, all of us staring out the truck’s open windows in what I would later realize was incredibly impolite gawking.

“I never realized there were so many types of parahumans,” I said, finally marshalling some control of myself. “Even at CalcuCon, there wasn’t this much variety.”

“The cons are fun, but not everyone can travel easily.” It might have been my imagination, but Arch seemed a bit grumpier than usual, probably because he’d been forbidden from smoking in the sheriff’s truck. “Besides, those only attract parahumans looking to do business or meet up with others like them. They’re little islands of community in a sea of pretending to be human. These people don’t have that need. They’re always connected to the parahuman world.”

“Yeah, they are.” Albert hadn’t quite reached the point of hanging his head out the window, but I put a hand on his shoulder anyway, just in case. I understood the reaction. Even for beings like us, who could blend in with little effort, the strain of always pretending, always staying careful and aware, was like a weight we carried around.

As we drove up the road and pulled into the sheriff’s office, I felt that weight lift for the first time in years. This wasn’t a con where walls, tenuous and easily breached, had been erected to keep our secrets safe. Here, the world was truly kept at bay, and in this town, there was no need to pretend. We weren’t the oddities. We were just . . . people.

Sheriff Thorgood killed the engine and hauled himself out of the car, the rest of us following his lead. The office was a brick building, larger than I’d initially expected. Then I remembered the size of the furry man in gray slacks, and suddenly I could see why space might be important here. We walked inside to find a large central room with three desks, and a row of five cells at the back of the building. None were occupied, though they all had fresh blankets and a pillow resting on them just in case. Near the rear of the room, a small television was tuned into a baseball game on mute. Evidently, we’d caught someone relaxing before we pulled up.

There were two, and only two, candidates for who might be the baseball fan. Standing in the center of the office area, like they’d been waiting for us, were a man and a woman, both dressed in the same beige uniform as Sheriff Thorgood. The man had dark, spiky hair with what appeared to be red highlights, along with a lean frame and a sharp stare. The woman seemed entirely human, save for her eyes, which were bright yellow and a little too big for her face. Leeroy stepped forward and clapped his hands on both of their shoulders as he made introductions.

“Folks, I’d like you to meet the rest of the Boarback Sherriff’s Department. The fellow who puts too much mousse in his hair is Deputy Ixen, though you can just call him Nax. And this bright-eyed young woman is Deputy Saunders, though she just goes by Sable. For that matter, I don’t want to hear anyone calling me sheriff. I’m just Leeroy to friends. Nax, I think you’re the only one who has met Agent Jenkins.”

“Just Krystal, I get enough of that ‘Agent Jenkins’ shit in the field.” Krystal nodded at Nax, who met her gaze for only a brief moment. “Good to see you again, kid. Uniform suits you better than cuffs.”

“Joining Krystal today is her fellow agent, Arch; her boyfriend Fred; and the pair that came to meet Sable, Neil and Albert.” Leeroy pointed at each of us as he went down the list of names, making sure Nax and Sable knew who was who.

“So, you’ve got one too.” Sable started forward, coming close to Albert and then walking a bit past him to check out the sword strapped to his back. The black-and-gold scabbard that matched the hilt of his blade rested there, fixed in a harness that Arch had designed himself. Since moving to Winslow, the agent had been training my assistant on proper sword-wielding three evenings a week, and every other weekend. While no one was asking Albert to go out and start picking fights with his blade, it was agreed all around that him being at least somewhat proficient was in everyone’s best interest.

“Blade of the Unlikely Champion,” Albert told her, slowly drawing his sword from its sheath. The weapon almost hummed as it moved through the air, more magic than steel, or so we’d been told. Given that I’d seen him cut through the very enchantment that held a chimera together, turning it back into its base animals, I had no reason to doubt the assessment of Albert’s blade.

“That is a pretty one.” Sable walked across the room and reached behind one of the desks, pulling out a large single-bladed axe. It, too, was strapped into a harness, and she effortlessly pulled the weapon free from the straps and cover concealing its blade. “Mine is the Axe of the Forsaken Child. Obviously, it doesn’t have the gentlest of requirements to wield, but it packs a hell of a wallop.”

She spun the weapon easily, her years of training visible in the fluid grace of her movements. Bringing it to a stop, the bone-white blade extended outward, she moved the head of her axe closer, bit by bit, to the humming steel of Albert’s sword. Carefully, she tapped the edge of his blade against her own, and a soft, melodic tone echoed around us.

“Looks like these two get along.” Sable pulled back her axe and slipped it into its harness once more. “Sometimes they can be finicky, if the destiny of each wielder is in conflict. Good news, Albert. Looks like you and I aren’t meant to fight each other.”

“I didn’t even realize that was a possibility,” Albert said.

“All of these things are trying to drag their owners somewhere,” Sable replied. “How much we let them is on us, but there are many out there that are working toward different ends. When they touch, you don’t get a pretty chime, trust me.”

“Now that everyone, animated and otherwise, has been introduced, what’s say we go get some grub?” Leeroy suggested.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind dropping off my bags and showering first,” Krystal interrupted. “I was sitting a little closer to Neil than the rest of us on that flight.”

The necromancer’s face went flush and he lowered his head. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. I’ve gotten far worse on me in the line of duty. Still, wouldn’t say no to a good scrubbing.”

“All right, we’ll go to the inn, let everyone unwind and unpack, and then off to the diner,” Leeroy acquiesced. “Tonight’s special is chicken fried steak, and I’d have to arrest myself for the crime of letting you folks miss it if they run out.”

“It’s a CFS night? Hot damn, I’ll shower fast.” Krystal grabbed my hand and dragged me back out into the street, where she began shoveling the bags at me so fast that I didn’t get the chance to ask her why she was taking things
out
of the truck if we were about to leave the station.

3.

As it turned out, the reason Krystal had dragged all our bags out of Leeroy’s truck was that there was no need to get back in the vehicle to reach the inn. The Bristle Inn, Boarback’s one and only place of lodging, was within walking distance of the station. In fact, everything within the town square was walkable. While cars were needed to reach some of the neighborhoods and single homes further away, once a traveler was on the main street—which I learned was actually called Sunshine Lane—they needed only shoe leather to make it to any other destination.

The walk to the inn took around ten minutes, but it would have been five if Neil’s slower gait hadn’t caused everyone else to match his pace. Part of the comparative slowness was that he was one of the few humans in the group, magic-slinging skills notwithstanding, but it was also due to the fact that studying tomes of ancient magic wasn’t an activity that did much for cardio.

I’d expected the Bristle Inn to be like Charlotte Manor, quaint and dated, but in fact, it turned out to be one of the more modern buildings in town. Once we got to our room, a spacious area with a king-sized bed and a flat-screen, Krystal had explained that since Boarback got more than a few visitors in the form of agents and general parahumans, they’d invested in a nice place for people to stay. That was all she could muster before slipping into the shower, the water running so hot I could see the edge of the mirror beginning to fog within minutes.

While she showered, I unpacked my own small suitcase and changed into what I considered my more outdoors-y attire: jeans, sneakers, and a short-sleeve button down paired with a robin’s egg blue sweater-vest. My more formal clothes were quickly folded and carefully put away, which still left me with time to kill before Krystal finished her shower.

Pulling out my laptop, I was pleasantly surprised to find a Wi-Fi signal in our room, which I immediately jumped onto and began checking my e-mail. It had only been a day since the Colin incident, where I was hunted all over Winslow—a day which I’d spent hunkered down in Charlotte Manor with a laptop retrieved from my apartment, trying desperately to carve out a bit of breathing room in my work schedule. It helped that Krystal was busy setting up the trip, and that some of my parahuman clients understood that being hunted by an insane human can throw off a schedule. Still, I was barely treading water, so anything I could get done in the small bits of spare time I had would be a big help. Things were reaching a tipping point though, there was no getting around that. Either Fletcher Accounting Services would have to expand, or I’d have to start turning down work, a prospect which utterly galled me.

It’s impossible to say how long I was working before I heard Krystal’s voice making a “tsk” sound and saw a polished red fingernail begin to tip my screen forward, closing the laptop even as I hurriedly tried to save my progress.

“I did not book us this place so you could work.”

“You booked it because it’s the only hotel in town,” I countered, mercifully clicking the outdated icon of a floppy disk and shutting the laptop myself. “Good internet, too.”

“This place isn’t as podunk as you might expect.” Krystal grinned at me, and I noticed for the first time what outfit she’d changed into. A red flannel shirt tied off at the stomach, jean shorts that were far from Daisy-dukes but still quite higher than her usual sweats or slacks, all topped off with a beat-up straw hat perched atop her blonde head.

“You’re making such a clear case for that,” I replied.

“What, you’re the only one who gets to dress more comfortably?” Krystal asked.

“I was actually just wondering where you were going to hide your gun.” I nodded to the black belt and attached holster lying on the bed where she’d left them. Inside was her firearm, the one accessory Krystal never left home without. Earlier in the relationship, I’d considered the practice paranoid. After a few months, I wondered why she didn’t carry two.

“That thing will totally throw off my outfit. It can stay in the room. I’ll hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ so no one will come in and fuck with it.” Krystal turned, picked up her firearm, and set it to the side, completely missing the look of shock on my face. Fortunately, it was still there by the time she turned back, or at least, I assume it was, because she gave me a world-class roll of the eyes. “What?”

“You
never
leave your gun behind. Bubba took us night fishing, and you wore that gun belt over a bikini. I’ve seen you take it with you when you run downstairs to get mail. Can you blame me for being a little surprised?”

“I suppose I do have a bit of an attachment,” Krystal admitted. “That’s just prudence in my line of work. But it’s not necessary here.”

“Why not?” There was something in her eyes, something she was hiding. When it came to her job, Krystal was probably a master deceiver, but in her personal life, she so rarely said anything other than the blunt truth that it became obvious when she was trying to choose her words.

“Because in this town, we’re safe.” Krystal walked back into the bathroom, pulling out her toiletries kit and grabbing a stick of deodorant. “Aside from the petty bullshit that any place has, there’s no real crime here. No outside threats, either. You probably got a hint of how strong Leeroy is, and his deputies are no joke. Boarback is peaceful. Fun, too. After the diner, if there’s time before sunrise, we’ll hike up to Cervain’s Lake. It’s so clear you can see the moon’s reflection like you’re looking into the sky.”

Nice as that sounded, I still couldn’t help but feel like she was changing the subject, though from what, I had no idea. There was just something defensive about her excitement, like she was trying extra hard to sell me on how much she loved this place.

“And during the day, we can take the tunnels around to check out the shops. They’ve got all kinds of unique items here, handmade, the stuff you’d have to special order in the outside world. Some of the craftsmen out here are incredible; we hire them as independent contractors for the Agency sometimes. Of course, given our reputation, not many take us up on it, even with all the perks doing contract work provides. Oh, and everything is parahuman owned, obviously. They get a pretty good deal on land and lodging out here, so it’s a big sell for starting local businesses.”

At last, it all fell into place. There were many things about which Krystal would happily talk with neither prompting nor explanation, but the viability of starting a small business was not one of them. That was for my benefit, and I could only see one reason why she would bother to give me such information.

“Krystal,” I said, walking over so that she could see me from the bathroom. “I do run my own company, you know. I’m perfectly aware of what a sales pitch sounds like.”