Authors: Drew Hayes
Charlotte looked at me for some time before speaking, her dark eyes searching my face for signs of falsehood. “All right, Fred. You seem earnest, and you’ve conducted yourself like a proper guest since arriving. I’ll give you one hour of safety for the others, and
very
limited use of your phone, which I’ll be watching closely. There is one thing you should know, however.”
“What’s that?”
“The clock starts now, and any time you spend explaining to her comes out of your hour.” Charlotte pointed behind me, which caused me to spin quickly around.
Standing there, with the door cracked halfway open, was the dumbstruck face of Asha Patel.
7.
“Fred . . . what the hell were you talking about with that girl?” Asha pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped tentatively into the room. “And where did she go?”
A darting glance back showed me that Asha was right, Charlotte had indeed vanished into nothingness once more. Bad as the situation was, I also made sure to check my watch. The last thing I wanted was to get someone killed because I went a few minutes over time.
“Where’s Cliff?” I asked.
“Waiting outside a restroom where I gave him the slip,” Asha replied. The wonderment on her face was slowly being replaced by aggressiveness. Clearly, she didn’t like being kept in the dark. “I knew you were hiding something, so I decided to double back and see what you were up to. Though I didn’t expect to find you chatting it up with some lady about vampires.”
I winced, just the teensiest bit, at the mention of the V-word. Part of me had hoped she’d missed that part of the conversation. “Let’s start from the beginning: how much did you hear?”
“That is not the beginning, Fred. The beginning is you telling me what the fuck is going on, not trying to keep as much of this to yourself as possible.”
I took my briefcase over to the writing desk and set it down, then popped open the clasps and pulled out my laptop. This was done both because it was necessary, and to buy myself a few seconds with which I might consider my situation. Asha was here, she was tipped off to things not being what they seemed, and she wasn’t the type to let all this go. I could either tell her the truth, lie, or try and physically force her out the door. Given my degree of discomfort with confrontation, the last choice was already off the table, which only left trying to lie or telling her the truth.
“Do you really want to know?” My voice came out lower than I meant it to. I was just trying to convey the seriousness of the question, but it almost sounded threatening in the context. “Asha, what you’re asking about . . . you can’t ever unlearn it. Right now, you’re still on the other side. With enough time and mental distance, you’ll be able to rationalize all of this away. Once you cross the gap, there’s no going back. It’s hard, knowing the truth, even for me. For you, I can’t even imagine. So, please, think hard before you answer. Do you really want to know?”
I didn’t look at Asha as I set up my laptop, the slender silver marvel that I had probably spent too much on, but adored nonetheless. It took her until after I’d run the power cord and was halfway through syncing it to my phone’s internet connection (which had begun working again, thanks to Charlotte) for her to decide.
“Yes. I want to know what’s going on.” Her voice was softer than before, but there was no hesitation in it. She’d thought it through and come to a decision. Sad as I was about the one she’d reached, I was selfishly a bit glad as well. With less than an hour left to work in, every bit of help I could get would make a difference.
“The very, very,
very
short version is that Charlotte, the woman you saw, is actually a manifestation of the house we’re standing in. She was created by mages and enchanted to be alive, so the idea of Mr. Price tearing her down has her somewhat concerned.”
“What about you?”
“Ah, yes. That.” I turned around to face her, if for no other reason than it felt like the sort of news I should really deliver while looking someone in the eyes. “I’m a vampire, though you don’t have anything to fear. I buy my blood; I neither have the inclination nor skill to harm a living person. I’m sure this opens up a new avenue of questions, but as you heard, we’re working on a deadline, so please limit them to the truly essential.”
“This is why you left the firm.” Asha walked over to the bed and perched on the edge, eyes wide and vacant as her mind raced to assemble a puzzle she hadn’t even realized was there. “It’s why you started your own accounting practice. The Fred I knew would never have had the guts to do that on a whim, it had to be out of necessity.”
“A nine-to-five puts me in the path of too much sunshine than is good for my health. For the record, zero sunshine is my ideal amount.” I began pulling up files I’d thankfully saved to my hard drive, while also bringing up a browser window and opening a few tabs. I kept everything accounting related on the drive, since some parahumans lived outside cell and wi-fi coverage, but this situation reached beyond the tax code. I was going to need additional resources.
“Wow. So vampires are real. And living houses, evidently. Anything else?”
“Near as I can tell, almost everything else, in some form or fashion.” I clicked open a bookmark to a familiar site and scanned the page for what I needed. “Therians, who are what you’d call werewolves, though they come in many different breeds of animal, as well as zombies, mages, dragons, and devils; all of them are mixed in with the humans of the world.”
“You’ve seen all those things?” Asha’s voice was tipped on the knife-edge between wonderment and suspicion. She was taking the news well—far better than I had when I woke up as undead—but a healthy amount of doubt was perfectly forgivable. Given the situation, it was actually the most rational response a person could have.
“Truthfully, that was just a list of people in my social circle,” I said. “Anyway, the point is that we don’t exist in some lawless anarchy. Parahumans, that’s what we call ourselves, have laws and rights just like human citizens. We even have our own breaks in the tax code, to say nothing of the various laws that govern us. That’s what I’m looking for at the moment.”
Asha rose from her seat at the edge of the bed. “Let’s pump the brakes for a minute: you’re saying your kind, parahumans, have rights and laws, as in the things that are written in the constitution and ruled on by judges? How would a thing like that even be possible?”
“Remember, you’re getting the abridged version here, but parahumans were intrinsic in America’s founding. We helped create the nation, so it became a place where we were protected citizens, not monsters to be hunted.”
“My parents really weren’t kidding about it being a melting pot,” Asha muttered, running a hand through her thick hair. “Okay, assuming all of this is true, and I’m cutting you a
lot
of slack with that one, why haven’t I ever run across any laws referencing parahumans? I’m good at my job, and I would have noticed something like that.”
“Obviously, we have to keep our laws and codes separately,” I said. “I don’t how they did it in the old days, but for the last forty years or so, they’ve hidden them right in plain sight.” I tapped on my screen, pointing to the site I was currently downloading several .PDF files from.
Asha leaned in over my shoulder, her eyes going wide and a derisive snort slipping through her lips. “
Swords, Spells, and Stealth: Modern Justice
. You’re fucking with me. An entire secret part of our society, composed of several different breeds of supernatural creatures, has their law books in a tabletop role-playing game?”
“Law books, tax books, even a few historical accounts,” I replied. “It’s the perfect system, when you think about it. New editions come out periodically as things change, the documents can reference any type of parahuman needed without arousing suspicion, and the actual books are so boring that almost no role-player would actually bother reading them. A few people wonder how the company stays in business, but rumors of an eccentric billionaire who loves the game keep them fairly quelled.”
“This . . . this is a lot to take in,” Asha said. “I mean, seriously. Tonight has been weird, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hop aboard the crazy train you’re piloting just yet. Can you prove literally any of this?”
“You mean, aside from the magically closing doors, disappearing people, and unbreakable windows?” I turned upward, putting my face only a foot or so away from Asha’s, and opened my mouth. My fangs aren’t just on display for the world to see all the time; that would be unspeakably embarrassing. They usually only come out when I’m feeding, or when I’m riled up by a strong emotion. As I’ve gotten more accustomed to being undead, however, I’ve made a point of learning to do a few things. Marshaling my senses was one of them; controlling the extension of my fangs another.
“Holy shit!” Asha backpedaled away, nearly tripping over her feet in the hurry to get away as she watched my canines lengthen and shift into the iconic fangs associated with my people. I tried not to take the reaction personally. It had been a hard night, after all.
“You’re a vampire.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.
“Yes, and I don’t drink from people. We covered this already.” I didn’t enjoy being brusque, but I really did have only so long to work with. My teeth shrank back to their regular size as I turned to my computer. Only a little bit left to go on the first download.
“Right . . . but that was just . . . talk.” Asha shook her head once, tumbles of straight dark hair flying about in every direction. “Right. You’re a vampire, we’re stuck in a pissed-off magical house, and you think you have a way to stop it?”
“Its name is Charlotte,” I told her. “And yes, maybe. I remember a deduction that applies to ghosts who have exercised certain legal precedent. Unfortunately, my side of things only told me about how this action functioned financially and after it was used. Based on what I do know, however, it’s possible that the law could work for Charlotte’s situation as well. I just have to find it and wrangle through the legalese.”
“Sounds like a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ to me.” Asha crossed the room slowly, her eyes not wavering from me as she drew close. It seemed she was willing to take me at my word for the moment, but trust that I didn’t view her as a meal would come over time.
“Welcome to my world.” I clicked on the first document that finished downloading, bringing up the file. “This is all I can do, though. I’m not a good fighter, I don’t know magic, and I’m not nearly as foolhardily courageous as some of my friends. All I’ve got is a head for numbers and a willingness to slog through files and forms.”
“But you don’t know much about law,” Asha pointed out.
“Outside of the financial side of things, no, I don’t.”
“Well then, put the laptop a little more center so I can see it too.” Asha leaned forward, and as she did, I heard her heartbeat pick up. She was still scared, possibly more of me than of Charlotte, but she refused to let it stop her. I found myself reminded of why I had admired this woman from afar, back when we shared a building.
“Done and done,” I said, sliding the laptop over. “Now, all that’s left is to save the day with paperwork.”
“Shhh. Be quiet, Fred. I’m reading.”
8.
“Shoot straight with me here: what are the odds this actually works?” Asha asked. We were walking down the stairs, back to the dining room where the evening had originally gone so spectacularly off the rails. If Charlotte had kept her word, the others would be joining us shortly, still alive and healthy. If she’d lied . . . well, I didn’t really have a great Plan B for that.
“By my guess, maybe fifty-fifty. It mostly hinges on Charlotte, but Mr. Price could mess things up if he refuses to go along with it.”
“You seem oddly calm for going in with only a fifty percent shot at getting us out of here,” Asha said.
I gave a small shrug. “Vampires don’t sweat. Otherwise, you’d see a lovely sheen of nervousness on my forehead. As for why I haven’t gone into full panic-attack mode, well, much as it pains me to admit this, fifty percent is actually pretty good odds compared to whatever trouble I’m usually stuck in.” I pointedly left out mentioning that the reason I’d pulled through on those other occasions was because of my friends; there was no reason to worry her right before showtime.
Asha stared at me for a moment, and then shook her head. “You know, in all of the weirdness of tonight—vampires, magic houses, supernatural laws, the whole bundle—I think you’re still the strangest part.”
We crossed the last step, settling into the foyer and moving toward the hallway. “What do you mean?”
“Fred, you were the quietest, meekest, least socially skilled person in a room full of people who preferred numbers over people. The only reason I knew who you were is because you had a reputation for being super accurate and speedy. Now, you’re rolling with being stuck in a possessed house like it’s a rough day at the office and planning a way to fight back all the while. Not to mention you’ve managed to hold a conversation with me, a woman who has no issue saying she knows she’s good-looking, without getting flustered even once. Being a vampire sure changed you.”
“No, it really didn’t,” I said. “Most of that, especially the last part, has all come from the people I’ve met after becoming a vampire. My girlfriend has a . . . unique . . . job; one that constantly puts me in situations outside my comfort zone. I suppose, after all that I’ve been through, and the friends I’ve made, a little basic socializing just doesn’t rate the terror it once did.”
“Girlfriend, huh? Is she . . . like you?”
I allowed myself to laugh at that insinuation, light chuckles rolling forth as Asha looked at me with increasing curiosity. “Not in the slightest,” I said at last. “Neither in terms of vampirism, nor personality, nor really anything. Krystal is Krystal. She’s one of a kind.”
“Sounds like an interesting lady.” Asha halted as we arrived at the closed dining room doors. We exchanged a short glance, and I tightened my grip on the briefcase with my laptop (and quite possibly our salvation), inside. “You ready?”
“Heavens no, but that’s never going to happen, so we might as well press on.” I raised my voice slightly and called into the empty hallway. “Charlotte, we’re going to enter now. If you’d be so kind as to make sure the doors are unlocked, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Asha grabbed the handle and pulled, easily sliding the door aside and revealing a dining room and the rest of our companions. Troy and Cliff were over in a corner, while Mr. Price had retaken his seat at the head of the table. They all looked at us as we stepped through, minds reeling at what had to be yet another surprise. Sadly, they were in for a few more of those before the night was through.
“Asha!” Troy yelped, rushing over to her. He made it three steps before a small hole opened in the floor, causing his foot to go through and sending him sprawling on the ground.
“Tut tut, no running toward open doors. Your friend went through a lot of pleading to convince me to hold this meeting. Don’t waste his effort.” Charlotte had appeared in the seat across from Mr. Price, the one that had sat empty during our dinner. She was once again wearing the illusion of the waiter, though now I noticed some of the female features from her dress-wearing form in his face. “Hurry in, you two.”
Asha and I finished our entrance, the door forcefully sliding closed as soon as we were through. She went over to check on Troy, while I made a beeline for the table and set my briefcase down.
“Glad to see you’re all right,” Mr. Price said. “We were exploring the upstairs when the floor opened up under us and sent us all the way down here. Damn near a miracle we didn’t break anything.”
“Yes, that was my fault,” I told him. I didn’t bother to look at the confused face he was no doubt showing me. Instead, I focused on getting my laptop pulled up. “A meeting was in order, and Charlotte was kind enough to accommodate my request of gathering everyone together.”
It had actually taken quite a bit of convincing to get her to send everyone to the dining room, especially since it went past the hour deadline, but I’d been adamant that it would be worthwhile. The upside was that it meant she’d kept Mr. Price alive that much longer; unfortunately, the downside was that, if she didn’t go for my proposal, she was likely to be fed up and would kill him on the spot.
“Charlotte?” Mr. Price asked.
“We’ll get to that in a few moments.” I finished setting up the laptop and looked over at Asha, who had pulled Troy back to his feet. From the way he favored one of his legs, it seemed he had twisted something on the way down. Even though I disliked Troy, I felt for him. The poor man was not having the best of nights, getting abused both mentally and physically. “If everyone could take a seat, we can get started.”
The others made their way to the table and retook their same chairs, with one exception. Asha plopped down next to me before Cliff could, leaving the rumpled man to take the vacant spot by Troy. As everyone stared at me, I pulled a bundle of papers from my briefcase, generous amounts of script adorning each one.
“Today, you are all gathered here to serve as witnesses to Charlotte Manor’s acquisition of its own deed and ownership.” I handed the documents to Asha, who began passing them out to their recipients. “This being done under subsection four-c-eleven of the Disembodied Spirit Property Repossession Act, which states that any dwelling can be seized by its inhabitant if it is the original owner and the papers are filed within two months of passing, or if the dwelling has remained unoccupied for two consecutive years, save for the spirit in forced residence.”
“I’m not a ghost. We already went over this.” Charlotte’s fingers drummed on the table, making a muted knocking sound despite the fact that they were only illusionary.
“We’re getting to that,” I said, keeping my voice as calm and patient as possible. I’d once read that showing certain emotions will make others inclined to replicate them. For all our sakes—and especially Mr. Price’s—I hoped that worked. “Asha, if you would.”
“Based on the precedents set by
Cherie vs. Derkin’s Impound Lot
, animated objects with sentience are considered disembodied spirits for purposes of the rights and treaties they are obliged to,” Asha said. If she felt at all silly about citing a case where an animated car sued for parts of its engine back, she didn’t show it. The woman was a professional, regardless of the circumstances. “This means that Charlotte Manor, who is referred to in the contracts I wrote up as Party A, is entitled to exercise the Disembodied Spirit Repossession Act just as any formerly human entity would be.”
I handed Charlotte her copy of the contract, which she immediately began reading. I chose to take that as a good sign, since she wouldn’t have bothered if she thought I was completely full of it. It was going about as well as I could have hoped, which was, of course, the thought in my mind right as Troy piped up.
“What the hell are you two talking about? Disembodied spirit acts? Are you trying to make a joke out of all this?”
“I must admit, I’m confused as well,” Mr. Price said. “These are very exhaustive and creative fake contracts, but I fail to see what you two are trying to accomplish with this pretense.”
Charlotte sat up like a bolt and locked eyes with me. “
Fake
contracts?”
I confess, in the sudden, unexpected turn of the situation’s momentum, my mind froze and speech failed me. Luckily, Asha was more experienced at high-stakes negotiation, and she was hardly the type to choke when it counted.
“The contracts are very real, I wrote them up myself.” She flexed her hand, which was no doubt cramping after all the writing she’d had to do in only an hour. “Mr. Price just doesn’t understand the laws we’re referencing, because he’s . . . do you all have a word for someone who doesn’t know about all of this?”
“Human,” Charlotte replied. Her tone was frosty, but her eyes went back to the page as she continued reading.
“Asha is quite correct,” I said, my tongue finally obeying signals to move once more. “Everything here is thorough and genuine. Once the papers are filed, you will take possession of this home in a legal and binding manner. The man who currently holds it will receive a reasonable percentage of income generated through its use for the next twenty years as compensation, but will otherwise have no claim on the property or rights to sell it.”
“You’re saying that I would be the one who owned me.” Charlotte glanced up from the contract, eyes still narrowed, but with a slight twinkle of hope behind them. “That’s not something you should promise if you can’t deliver. I won’t take it lightly.”
“By every statute and law we could find, it holds up,” I told her. “Additionally, everyone here will be signing documents that serve to show us as witnesses to the transaction, and gag orders about what happened here.”
“You want to me sign what?” Troy said, half-rising out of his chair. It scooted forward, catching him behind the knees and sending him right back down. From the way he winced on landing, I suspected he might now have added a bruised tailbone to his list of injuries.
“A non-disclosure,” Asha snapped at him. “Tonight’s deal is being done in confidence, which means unless you’re being called on in your capacity as a witness, no one is allowed to talk about the things we’ve seen or experienced since setting foot in this mansion.”
“And honestly, would you really want to?” I added. “Think about how absurd this series of events will seem to someone who wasn’t here to experience it firsthand. It sounds like a lie in the best case, deranged ravings in the worst.”
Mr. Price had been about to speak, but my words sealed his mouth and turned his attention back to the contract. He might not know what to believe about the things happenings to him; however, he did understand that he was in danger and this might get him out of it.
“This all sounds too good to be true,” Charlotte interrupted. “What’s the catch, Fred?”
“The catch is that these people,
all
of them, are the witnesses to your ownership,” I told her. “It’s written in your contract, and neither Asha nor I will change it. If you want us to file the papers—if you really want to be in control of your own body—then you have to let everyone leave here alive.”
“How do I know you won’t tear up the contracts as soon as you leave my walls?” Charlotte asked.
“Because in your stack of papers is one hiring Fletcher Accounting Services as your de facto representative for various accounting and filing matters, since you obviously aren’t able to leave the premises. If you sign, you become one of my clients, and I have not built my business on the back of broken deals.”
“Is it me, or does he seem way too comfortable with how impossible all of this is?” Cliff whispered to Troy. I ignored the question, largely because I didn’t want to consider the implications. I was somewhat exposing my secret to them by doing this—there was no way to seal the deal without that risk—but hopefully I could think of a viable lie once we were all safely outside.
“You’re asking me for a lot of trust, Fred. I like you, and you talked a good game, but once you’re out the door, I’ve got no guarantees.”
“Can I say something?” Mr. Price asked, looking up from the papers he’d been combing through. When no one objected, he took that as permission and continued. “I’ll confess that I don’t entirely understand what’s going on here. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if I got food poisoning from the first course and this whole thing is just a bad dream, but I do know something about Fletcher Accounting Services. I researched this man’s company thoroughly before I even considered working with him, and I couldn’t find a single spot on his record. Far as I was able to tell, he’s prompt, accurate, and has zero instances of broken contracts. If you’re going to trust someone here, you could do worse than Fredrick Fletcher.”
“The endorsement is a little hard to take as earnest when he’s advocating for your life,” Charlotte replied.
“Maybe so, but before all this started, I was seriously considering doing business with the man; that’s why he was here in the first place. I’ve been coming here for years, and you said earlier that you knew me well. So, think about this, would I really have invited someone who didn’t run a clean, tight ship to a final interview?”
Charlotte stared at the large, bearded man for several seconds before her gaze turned to me. She was almost there, so close I could practically see her reaching for a pen. All she needed was one more small push.
“Charlotte, I promise, I’m going to take care of you. After all, we’re of a kind, and we have to look out for each other.”