by Hayes, Drew
“But everything else I told you is true.” Finally given a chance to speak honestly, Al was bursting, all of it pouring out. “I want to work, I want to learn to run a business, and I want… I want to learn to be serious. Boring. Normal. I have ambitions, ideas for pixie-industries that could offer whole new paths for my people. But everyone just sees bluebirds and rainbows when they look at us. Heck, even the name of my species is a derogatory term for women who show a little too much joy.”
In a funny way, Al’s revelation put me truly at ease. I’d spent a night worried about the crowd, a potential assassin, and the effects of unknown Amy-drugs, all on top of the fear that I might fail to find a single viable new hire. Hearing her situation, one thing became abundantly clear: Al was an outlier. Too serious for her own people; too pixie for the rest of the world. That was a mighty relief, because if there was one thing I could say for the House of Fred, it was that we had a knack for attracting oddballs.
“I can’t promise to teach you all of that,” I cautioned. “All I know is how to run an accounting business. If that’s not enough, I fully understand, but if it is, then I will promise to show you all that I know. Over time, of course; there’s a lot of groundwork and basics to knock out first, to say nothing of eventual certifications—”
“Does that mean I got the job?” Interrupting wasn’t really good interview form, but then again, this had long ago ceased to be a normal interview.
I nodded, adding in what I hoped to be a reassuring smile. “Seeing as you’re quite literally the only candidate still standing, it’s a fairly easy call. Besides, after tonight, you’ve proven you can hang on when things go crazy. That is, sadly, also a part of working for me. If you’re not put off by the possibility, then yes, the job is yours.”
“Welcome to the team,” Lillian added.
Al let out a squeal of joy. At the same time, three songbirds flew out from literally nowhere, and the entire hallway’s lighting shifted to alternating pink and green. The birds let out several joyous notes before disappearing as suddenly as they’d arrived. Had they been illusions? Summoned animals? Fey magic was its own creature; one I’d had very limited experience with.
“Thank you so much! I promise you won’t regret it. Just don’t wear anything around me that you don’t want turned sparkly.”
“She’s going to wreck my whole closet, isn’t she?” Lillian looked wryly at her own outfit, a formerly dark, practical ensemble that now sparkled freely. As much as she’d left behind elements of herself when changing clans, Lillian’s fashion sense still went solidly along the expected vampire color-scheme, if maybe a bit more stylish than some bothered with.
“Enhance,” Al corrected. “I call it wardrobe enhancing .”
As the two new coworkers got acquainted, I turned my attention back to Gregor, who was attempting to fashion his remaining clothes into something cohesively covering. I noticed through a slice in the back of his shirt that there was a pair of large bumps on Gregor’s back, irregular, yet somehow not unnatural. They were part of him, but what part, I could only conjecture, even if there were serious context clues to work with.
“I can’t remember if I actually said this in the fray or not, but thank you for saving me.”
A neutral gaze greeted my appreciation. “It is only natural. My life exists to guard yours.”
Not quite as emotionally overflowing as Al, that was something I’d probably need to get accustomed to. Still, I did want to say thanks in a way that would register. The man had protected me from a mauling at the minimum, and that couldn’t be something we treated as irrelevant. Thinking back on what little I knew about Gregor, there was one spot where I could see potential.
“Be that as it may, good work deserves recognition. I’ll send a message to Gideon this evening, letting him know how well his selection has performed.”
Now that got a reaction. Gregor’s whole body went taut, like he was bracing for an unseen attack, before relaxing once more. I watched as his eyes bulged, silently scrambling for words, until he finally managed to produce a weak shrug. “His Majesty no doubt already knows his own wisdom in all decisions. But I am sure there is no harm in knowing others have recognized it, as well.”
By the standards Gregor had set thus far, that was basically gushing. At least now I had some idea of how to show gratitude, though the trick might wear thin after a few uses. Something to contemplate for a later day.
Watching Gregor fasten his clothes together, a blink of light caught my eye. For a moment, I thought Al had shrunk down again, but when I glanced back, she was still standing near Lillian. Only, she wasn’t alone any longer. Surrounding Al was a cluster of familiar zipping lights, lights she was whispering to in a language I couldn’t understand. Not that I didn’t grasp the meaning of the words, mind you—the words themselves were sounds that felt wrong to the ear, like my brain couldn’t properly even fathom them.
“One thing I should warn you about, given how tonight played out: pixies don’t do violence. Goes against our joyful natures. What you saw is basically my maximum in terms of conflict resolution.” Al’s outfit was changing as she spoke, reshaping itself to the suit she’d originally walked in wearing. “However, we do have a lot of other talents. Since I don’t want my new boss on the hook for all these damages, I asked some friends to do a demonstration.”
With a wave of her hand, the floating lights shot off into the building. A few stayed nearby, running along the wall and ceiling. Before our eyes, the dents popped out, and the scratches vanished as a new coat of tangerine-colored paint replaced the previously utilized dull gray. The door Lillian had shattered began to reform, pieced back together and solidified in under a minute. The pixies were working up a storm, mending the destruction like… well, forgive the phrase, but it is truly the most appropriate one to use… like magic.
“Uh oh. Charlotte’s got competition in the convenience department,” Lillian whispered.
I was more amazed by the overall display, as well as noting the visible style differences. Although the building would apparently be whole by sunrise, it would also have some very different aesthetics: much brighter, more energetic, and, unless my eyes deceived me, with a bit of glitter woven in at irregular intervals. There would still be some serious explaining to do, just not the kind that opened police files or lawsuits.
“What do you think?” I asked Lillian. “One accounting employee, one bodyguard, no deaths, and it looks like we might not even wreck the place. Best we could have hoped for?”
In the corner, Gregor had fastened his scraps of clothes into a pseudo-loincloth. Meanwhile, Al was commanding the pixies, as well as checking to make sure the other parahumans were still blissed out in their flower chains. Bubba and Amy were leaning against a wall, deep in discussion about the merits of cider versus beer. That was encouraging; they had the debate frequently, so hopefully that meant they were edging closer to sobriety.
“Shit, if you’d told me this was how it would end, I’d have called you optimistic,” Lillian shot back. “Our little enterprise is growing. But you do realize that adding a gargoyle and a fey to your entourage isn’t going to quell the rumors that keep popping up.”
Despite the fact that my clan wanted nothing more than to live in peace, our exploits had the unfortunate outcome of attracting attention. Without proper context, some of the things we did could seem more grand or ambitious than they’d really been: saving Gideon, outfoxing the Turva clan, surviving the Court of Frost—and that was to say nothing of what people thought of my wide circle of friends. To others, it appeared I was gathering various parahuman forces, trying to amass power while bucking the system. The sorts of people who did that didn’t tend to have positive outcomes in mind.
“At this point, I have resigned myself to the fact that no matter what we say or do, the whispers will continue. Our best move is to keep living openly, showing that there’s nothing to fear, and hope nobody decides to test the rumors for themselves.”
Slowly, I gave Lillian a slight nod. “I know. But for as long as it holds, I want to use the diplomatic option. I much prefer these sorts of resolutions.” Looking down the hall, I again took stock of the many parahumans drugged out of their skulls and the array of pixies feverishly mending the damage that had been caused. “Okay, maybe not these exact sorts, but you get what I mean.”
That earned me a short laugh from Lillian, whose expression was unexpectedly gentle as she too stared at the scene. “Having spent a long time with the other kind of problem-solving, yes, Fredrick, I understand completely. And I agree: this is nice, for however long we can hang on to it.”
We stood in silence, until a rogue thought struck me as I stared at the blissed-out horde. “Oh, crap. What are we going to do if they aren’t sober by the time this place opens?”
A gentle clap on my back was Lillian’s initial response as she turned to walk away. “Dunno. Sounds like a boss problem to me.”
A Partner Borrowed
1.
As much as I depended on my friends, their support of me was by no means a one-way street. Being part of the same clan, to say nothing of our social relationships, meant that I was frequently tapped for fiscal consulting, or to pitch in with general work where vampire strength was applicable. Some of the obligations went deeper, though, past the sorts of things that could be easily knocked out in a few hours.
When I’d helped Amy Wells renegotiate her debt to the mages that had initially funded her, part of that excess income was set aside to help other mages avoid her problem. She wanted to offer a better alternative than getting in bed with the existing power structure, a chance to give others a true starting point, rather than trapping them with debt. For a time after our renegotiation, little moved on that front, as Amy allowed the income to pile up and looked for potential new projects to fund. However, despite the initial hesitation to undertake such a role, she had been working hard behind the scenes.
With two weeks left before my wedding, it was time for my final work trip before I left for the honeymoon: a mage-scouting expedition with Amy. In truth, it was my last major task at all; the remainder of my energy would be spent supervising Al’s training to make sure she could be minimally supervised in my absence, as well as giving Lillian any support needed to prepare her for being in charge. They had to be ready for my time off, and mercifully, their capability was one area where I wasn’t feeling abundantly concerned.
Al was getting along well with the others, except, oddly, for Charlotte; those two treated each other with a curious coldness. Outside of that blip, Al had been pleasant and hard-working. Not everything about the job came naturally, and we discovered early on that Al learned a lot more efficiently with regular breaks woven into her schedule, but she was steadily picking up the trade.
Gregor, on the other hand, made no socialization efforts beyond the polite essential of learning everyone’s names. He was constantly around, yet still had an unexpected talent for slipping into the background. There were times I genuinely forgot he was in the room until a rogue glance reminded me of his presence. So far, the person he seemed to get along best with was Arch, in that they would sometimes sit in the same room, saying nothing, for long stretches of time. The rest of us realized that he liked his personal space and gave it, as needed.
Much as I would have preferred to stay around the office and focus on training my new staff, my commitment to helping Amy came first. Even if I hadn’t agreed to help her, she was a friend, part of my clan, and had come to our aid countless times through the years. I owed her more than a helping hand; she was entitled to the very best of my efforts in whatever the task demanded. On the upside, we’d decided to use the brief trip as something of a test case.
“Sure you don’t want to look the schedule over one more time?” Lillian tapped the monitor, where her itinerary for the next two days was displayed.
“I think we’ve gotten it as smoothed out as we can. At this point, it’s all about the execution, at which I have no doubt you’ll be amazing.” That wasn’t mere bluster to reassure a worried friend, either. Lillian was an outstanding employee, dedicated and focused in ways I’d never dared hope when she first joined me. The speed at which she was learning my profession attested to how capable she really was when self-motivated. It was a wonder to me, even years later, that the Turva clan had failed to recognize Lillian’s true potential.
Pity she didn’t share my certainty. Her pale teeth rested against her lips as she studied the screen. “You know, I used to go on covert operations for my old house, and I never felt this nervous. Not even when I was loaded down with artillery.”
“Perhaps it’s because this time, you actually care about doing well?” It hadn’t taken knowing Lillian for long to realize that her heart had never been in the old role she’d been forced to fulfill.
“Or I just haven’t had to do anything truly new in, like, a few decades,” Lillian countered. She looked at the schedule once more, then clicked the tab away. “We’ll hold the place together. Or I’ll ask Al’s friends to come patch Charlotte up before you get home.”
A loud creak echoed through our office, the sort of noise one never heard from a magically animated house, unless it was intentional. My best guess took it to be something of a groan, although that was speculation in its truest form.
Lillian continued, ignoring the brief interruption. “How ’bout you? Got everything sorted?”
“Heading up to see Amy’s potential investment today. Transportation is already arranged, and I’ve been assured it shouldn’t take more than a day to look over the specifics. Took some doing to get a big enough vehicle with enchanted glass, but I don’t have to worry about being defenseless.”
Since this was Amy’s money and project, she would of course be along for the assessment. Wanting a second pair of mage eyes, she elected to bring Neil along, too, which meant that Albert would also be attending. Adding in me and Gregor tipped the scale to five, except it counted more as six when adjusted for Gregor’s bulk. For a seven-hour drive, that promised tight quarters in a normal vehicle. Thankfully, Amy assured us that she could get a hold of something with adequate room.
“I’m surprised Arch didn’t tag in; he keeps a close eye on his pupils,” Lillian said.
“Except when he wants them to get experience on their own. This is apparently one of those situations.”
A slight cough announced Charlotte’s presence, and she soon manifested in the form of a young woman wearing a gown from centuries past. This tended to be her default form when dealing with long-term guests, such as ourselves.
“Fred, I wanted to inform you that a new vehicle just pulled into my parking lot. Also, Krystal has begun to threaten violence if you take much longer.”
I was tempted to peek out the window and see what Amy had procured; luckily, my relationship wasn’t so young that I failed to recognize which piece of information was more important. Lillian waved me off, pausing just long enough for a quick hug. “Take care of yourself. I don’t want to do this for more than two days, you know.”
While I said nothing, I wasn’t so sure I believed Lillian about that. As her competence in the subject matter had grown, so too had her interest. She was a far cry from the person who’d yawned her way through every scrap of paperwork when first starting out. It had occurred to me more than once that I might very well be training my eventual competition. In truth, that was a rivalry I would welcome. The parahuman world needed more people willing to do this work; we’d both drown in business, and more people would get help.
She wasn’t there yet, however, and this would be her first time running things solo. Hopefully, it would go well, but much like my own task, only time would tell. Working in the parahuman wor
ld came with heaping helpings of uncertainty at every turn, even for those of us just doing the paperwork.
Making my way down the stairs, I arrived to find a grumpy Krystal waiting, tapping impatiently on her watch. “Bad enough you’re skipping town right before the wedding, now you’re not even giving me time for a proper goodbye where I threaten to beat up your ghost if you get yourself killed.”
There was a time in my life—my actual, heart-pumping life—where I would have assumed that statement to be comical hyperbole. The thing about being a corpse animated by magic was that it didn’t offer much refuge in the idea of the impossible. I’d met a residual spirit, so I knew firsthand they existed. I pushed these things out of my head as I walked down the stairs, into her arms. Such concerns might very well be relevant at some point, but not tonight.
“Given a Weapon of Destiny, two people trained by Arch, one of the smartest mages of her generation, and a bodyguard appointed by a dragon, I feel relatively confident we can handle anything this new mage requesting funding might be able to conjure.” Saying it out loud, part of me wondered if we were showing up a little too strong. Granted, I understood everyone’s purpose was either defensive or supportive, but from the outside, it could easily look like a gang of parahumans coming to cause trouble—especially with a vampire in the mix. Our ability to drink from other parahumans created a harsh, and historically deserved, reputation.
“I’d like an agent in there, as well, but Gregor does seem competent,” Krystal admitted. “The Agency has only ever had a few gargoyles join through its history, so I’ve never gotten to see one in action. Based on the stories, they’re some tough bastards.”
“Let’s hope I’ve seen as much of a display as I’ll need to for a while.”
Words fell away as we moved on to kissing goodbye, a shorter affair than either of us might have preferred, thanks in no small part to the humorous car horn melody that soon rose from the parking lot. It sounded like the first ten bars of some old song from the seventies, so faded and out of tune that the actual melody could no longer be discerned.