Fred (Book 6): Undeading Bells

by Hayes, Drew

  At least it wasn’t a long wait to find out; after one glance through the peephole, Krystal threw open the door, allowing Lillian and Asha inside.

  “Hey, you two, what’s shaking?” Though her tone was flippant, Krystal pulled them both in quickly, then checked the halls before shutting the door.

  “I thought you weren’t worried while we were here?” I asked.

  “That was before I found out the director was coming. Plus, someone from the Blood Council won’t be far behind.” Krystal motioned for Lillian and Asha to sit, which they did.

  In our time apart, Asha had changed into a different set of clothes—simple slacks and a blouse that was much too dressy for lounging around in; I imagined she’d just grabbed whatever was on top of her luggage. Her face didn’t betray much crying, but then, vampires weren’t known for getting red faces or puffy eyes. There was worry in her expression, though, a fear that hadn’t been there before.

  I leaned closer to both of them while Krystal was getting settled. “What happened?”

  Lillian didn’t respond initially. Instead, she rolled up one of the dark sleeves of her black sweater, showing a small series of wounds in her forearm. That was curious, indeed. Wounds to a vampire healed fast; shallow ones like that, almost instantly. The obvious exception being injuries made with silver, of course. Which was exactly what these punctures looked like, except I wasn’t sure why someone would wield a silver weapon that small.

  “We were going through the basics. Past how sleep works, drinking blood, all of that, getting to some of our offensive capabilities. I explained how our teeth and nails are unnaturally sharp and was working on teaching Asha how to angle your fingers to use them as claws. She got a little too close on accident, which is no sweat off my steer, happens all the time. Except it hurt , Fredrick. It hurt like silver.”

  The room fell silent. I understood what Lillian was telling me, as did Krystal, but the idea of it was too much to digest in one go. I had to break it down into pieces, grappling with not only the possibility of what this could mean, but also the implications if it were true.

  I decided to start with the obvious beginning. “Let’s get the most essential test out of the way. Asha, would you raise three fingers, please, nails as extended as you can manage.”

  “Really hoping this gives us some answers; it’s already been a pretty stressful evening.” Asha had her game face on, somehow fighting through what already had to among the worst nights of her life.

  Krystal didn’t need me to tell her what we were doing. No sooner was Asha’s hand up than ours were both moving forward. My index finger pressed against the nail of Asha’s middle finger, whereas Krystal took the ring finger. Catching the implication, Lillian moved to tap the last unclaimed digit.

  As we all pressed down, Lillian jerked her hand away. Krystal was unbothered, moving her hand a few seconds later. For me, there was no noticeable pain. However, I did feel something: the familiar tingle along my skin that silver had produced ever since my experience with Gideon. No doubt about it: Asha’s nails were acting as though they were made of silver. My mind darted back to the parking lot and all those rivers of metal flowing out from the shrapnel.

  “One last check. Asha, with sincerest apologies for the insanity of this, would you please put your teeth against my arm? Or I can poke them, if you prefer.”

  “Nope, for some reason, that sounds even weirder,” Asha replied. She leaned in, delicately biting the side of the hand that I’d pressed into her nail. Not strong enough to break the skin, yet with adequate proximity for me to feel the telltale tickle of silver once more.

  After nodding that she could let go, I composed my thoughts as best I could. “The conclusion seems obvious, right? Sheriff Thorgood’s blood didn’t get rid of the silver, it integrated the foreign material into Asha’s body. Her teeth and nails—and perhaps even bones, since Lillian wasn’t hurt by when they touched skin to skin.”

  Krystal rose from her seat and walked over to a black bag in the corner. I knew that bag well; it was one I took care never to touch without good reason. From inside, Krystal produced a blade she quickly unsheathed. Unlike normal silver, the blades agents used were treated to hide their scent; though, this close, it was hard not to catch at least a small whiff or two.

  “Sorry, but we have to check this. From here on, the fewer surprises, the better.” With great care, Krystal sat down next to Asha and pressed the blade to her left forearm. It eventually cut in, drawing a thin ooze of dark blood, only to heal up seconds later. “Guess that makes sense. If you were still weakened by silver, you’d be showing non-stop symptoms.”

  From her chair, Lillian rose, walking to my side. “I already put word out to the Blood Council, letting them know we had a new clan member. Figured with so many witnesses around, it made the most sense to do this one purely by the book.”

  “It was the right call. I was worried about whether Asha would actually be automatically in my clan or not.”

  “The ones you sire are automatically added unless there are preexisting arrangements in place. It’s part of how vampires are kept accountable. They have the right to leave later, technically, though most clans work hard to eliminate those options. None of which was my point,” Lillian added, her voice getting more forceful. “Fredrick, given what you told me about the last person you changed, it seems likely the Blood Council will want to check over Asha, as well.”

  “And when they do, they’ll discover that there are now exactly two silver-immune vampires in the known world, both of whom are part of the House of Fred,” Krystal finished, not bothering to look away from Asha.

  As the meaning sank in, I fell heavily back onto my bed, dumbfounded. While I didn’t know exactly what the ramifications of this would be, one thing was certain. The Blood Council was absolutely going to be interested, and the attention of the Blood Council was a very dangerous thing to have. I had to get Asha protected first: properly logged into the clan, added to alliances, everything.

  “Everyone, grab a computer and a piece of paper. We have to dot every ‘I’ and cross every ‘T’ before anyone else knows about Asha. They can’t change a matter that’s already been settled, so let’s make sure there isn’t so much as a single loophole or technicality they could use to challenge Asha’s status in this clan.”

  For the first time since the explosion, something like her old self settled on Asha’s face, an expression of excited determination as she pulled a phone from her pocket. “I might not know much about drinking blood or stalking the night, but if it’s a paperwork battle we’re in for, then we’re going to kick the technical shit out of them.”

  5.

  Walking into the luxury guest house, where, to our utter lack of surprise, this hastily called meeting was being held, felt somewhat akin to how I imagined striding into battle would be. There was probably a fight ahead, one I’d geared and armored myself for as best I could. At my side were Krystal, Asha, and Gregor, whom I’d expected to be held at the door, but apparently, bodyguards were allowed in for this kind of thing. I must not be the only one who was employing one, because there was certainly no chance they’d made such an accommodation solely for me.

  Upon arriving in the main foyer, an agent I didn’t recognize, but who greeted Krystal by name, was waiting for us. He was squat, with mottled skin and a laughing grin, the sort one might see in a thousand nameless bars while holding a captivated audience. Some agents stood out; others specialized in blending in. Whatever this one’s standard task, on this particular evening, he served as our guide. While we’d seen much of the building during my previous testing, that didn’t mean we knew where everyone had elected to set up shop.

  Once we arrived, I realized I could have guessed. They were using the vast ballroom where Claudius had housed his equipment the last time, only it had been cleared out and restocked with several tables and chairs. The largest, a massive conference table that appeared to have once been a solid piece of tree, already had a
few people seated around it.

  I recognized them immediately. Not their names, for we were as much strangers as the man who’d pointed our way; no, what I knew at once were their roles. They were the support staff, the ones handling details and paperwork, people digging into the nitty-gritty while their leaders made grand, sweeping decisions. Multibillion-dollar corporation, secret government supernatural agency, or ten-person office run by a single boss, the job was the same all over: head down, always offer solutions, never get too in-depth on problems leadership doesn’t have the expertise to understand.

  Despite the kinship, it wasn’t seeing fellow drones that lightened my heart. They gave me hope, because if they were here, then however good this director was, she didn’t do the detail work herself. Any information she needed, any clarification required, it would require her to stop and ask her people. There was a limit to how often most leaders would go to that well in public. It wasn’t much, especially considering all the barrels I was over, but any tool that gave us a bit more leverage might make a difference. We had a newly made vampire to protect.

  Footsteps from behind us came only an instant before I noticed a new presence standing beside me. I turned to find Deborah waiting, Claudius trailing several feet behind. Evidently, he didn’t care enough to bother with the fast-moving surprises. Or maybe he couldn’t, now that I thought about it. Deborah’s blood diet, while potent, might not be what was most useful for Claudius. The versatility of vampires was part of what made us so dangerous; I could never forget that if I didn’t want to be taken off guard. Not that I was expecting a fight—at least, not until further into the meeting.

  “I must say, I was surprised to hear you reached out and invited us,” Deborah greeted. “Almost as surprised as I was to hear you’d already done another turn. Although, seeing who it was, the situation makes a lot more sense.” To my surprise, Deborah slipped over to Asha’s side, taking her hand gently. For a moment, I almost tensed, afraid she’d brush those dangerous nails, but instead, Deborah leaned forward, kissing Asha once on each cheek.

  “For your loss, I offer my condolences. For your gain, I offer my congratulations. While we may not be clan, we are kin, and I pray that you one day find more joys in the night than the sun could ever offer.”

  Asha held it together well, managing a small “Thank you” before carefully taking her hands back. There was no reaction from Deborah; then again, I imagined most newly turned vampires probably needed time to adjust.

  While we’d been talking, Claudius went on and took a seat, not bothering with so much as a single greeting. Deborah, on the other hand, hung around as we made our way into the ballroom proper. “So, back to the main subject: why did you invite us personally down?”

  “You were going to come to examine Asha, anyway, and given the circumstances of her turning, we felt it best to have the Blood Council represented in the initial discussion, alongside the Agency. Minimizes the chance for misunderstandings down the line.” My words were honest, though they pointed to something Deborah didn’t yet know about, which led her to make the assumption I was hoping for.

  “Ah. You know our feelings toward Quinn, and this is a vampire crime, so by having us here from the start, we cannot say we were denied our proper chance at retribution. You’re doling out all the information to both organizations at once, rather than risk being caught between them.”

  “You have correctly devised my tactic,” I confirmed, because she had. She just didn’t yet know what piece of information I was dumping in both their laps at once.

  Before we could get any deeper into our discussion, a door on the other side of the room burst open and the director walked in. I wasn’t sure I’d have known who she was on the street; I might have assumed CEO or high-profile attorney. She walked with the purpose of one in charge, a powerful stride aided by her exceptionally long legs, her height approaching nearly that of Richard. Unlike Sheriff Thorgood, nothing about her appeared gone to seed; she was lean, focused, and dressed impeccably in a white suit the likes of which I couldn’t even begin to venture the cost of. The moment she appeared, every eye turned to her, unable to look away as she walked right up to the table.

  Only when she stopped did I notice the helpers tagging along after her: two men with phones and tablets, both working frantically despite not a single order having passed through her lips upon entering. They either knew their roles well, or had standing orders; whatever the case, they hung back as she laid her hands upon the back of her chair and formally addressed the room.

  “For those of you who do not know me, my title is Director of the Agency. You can call me Director Waxwood, if the lack of a surname is bothersome, but as I am the only director at the Agency, clarification is superfluous. Now then, my understanding is that we have a new development in the case of Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, the vampire-variant caused by the King of the West.”

  Crisp, concise, no-nonsense; if I didn’t know how different those from the same family could be, I’d have never believed she and Sheriff Thorgood were of the same ilk. Part of me appreciated the willingness to get down to business, however. The sooner we got into this, the faster Asha’s future could be properly protected.

  “That’s correct. If everyone would like to sit, I’ll run us through a debrief of the situation as it unfolded.” Krystal took the lead, stepping in at the agreed upon moment. As an agent, she had the best understanding of what information should be conveyed to these people, and how to do it efficiently. The plan centered on playing everything as by-the-book and upfront as possible, so it was vital that no detail got skipped over, regardless of how hard they might be to say aloud.

  “—and after Asha gave her permission, Mr. Fletcher repeated the turning process as he’d been taught.” Krystal stopped, looking around the room with more apparent nerves than I knew she really felt. “Director, with apologies to our guests, I’m afraid I have to ask for a momentary pause. While you know what comes next, I wanted to be sure that information wasn’t classified in any capacity. Forgive the blunt setting, but there was no chance to ask beforehand, and I presume you would prefer this to me speaking plainly without checking first.”

  “You’re right,” Director Waxwood agreed. “That does present complications.”

  That got Deborah’s attention instantly, and even Claudius appeared to momentarily check in when she sprang to her feet. “Beg your pardon? I thought we were brought in specifically so there wouldn’t be any secrets kept?” Her eyes went to me, my hands already up in the air.

  “We’re doing our best, but obviously, we have to comply within the limits of the laws set by the Agency. So long as the director says proceed, Krystal will happily continue.” We had to set this up right, remind them that they weren’t necessarily on the same side.

  “Might I make a suggestion?” Asha piped up from the table, much to the surprise of most of the guests. They were anticipating a more quiet, shaken Asha, the one they’d seen since arriving. But she didn’t need vampire powers to be dangerous in this setting: Asha was already one of the sharper minds I’d ever encountered. Motivated to protect her own life, not even an explosion hours prior was enough to put her off her game.

  When no one objected, Asha rose to her feet, slow yet steady, the eyes of everyone upon her. “As one of the few people here with full knowledge of what occurred and an outsider’s perspective, I think I can see the issue. Director Waxwood is afraid the Blood Council will try to assert some claim over me, challenging my place in the House of Fred, stealing me into your service. If you recognize my status, officially acknowledge that I am part of Fred’s clan without challenge, it would remove any such risk. I’ve certainly read enough to know you can’t go poaching clan members without good reason and due process.”

  Deborah’s inscrutable expression softened instantly. “My new child, those are plainly your fears, not ours, though I don’t fault you for them. But rest assured. We have a positive relationship with the House of Fred that benefits
all parties involved. We have no plans to challenge your placement.”

  “That’s not quite the same as recognizing it here and now,” Director Waxwood said. “In truth, I hadn’t really given the possibility much thought; however, I can’t just leave it on the table now that she’s spelled it out. Give the woman to the clan she wants, and you can listen to what comes next. You’ll hear about it eventually, anyway.” That last line lost some of the authoritative power; for a moment, I could see the exasperated sister cleaning up what seemed like yet another of her brother’s messes.

  Deborah drummed her fingers along the polished wood of the table for a few seconds. “I don’t like that you’re trying to shove me into something, but I’m willing to meet in the middle as a show of good faith. I will recognize Asha’s placement in Fred’s clan, on the condition that should good cause for removal be found, the Blood Council reserves the right to formally raise the issue with the Agency. Highest levels, no red-tape.”

  “Agreed,” Director Waxwood said. “Agent Jenkins, you may continue.”

  I watched Deborah as Krystal detailed Sheriff Thorgood’s arrival. For the most part, her expression remained neutral. Only when we got to the part with the vial of blood did she suddenly come alive, flickers of emotions coming too fast for me to catalog. It had definitely gotten her interest up, a feature that grew exponentially as we reached the end of the scene, when Asha successfully regenerated despite a body riddled with silver.

  “I see.” Director Waxwood was silent at the end, a powerful kind of quiet that radiated off her, infecting the rest of the room. No one spoke, shuffled, so much as adjusted their hands in that long stretch where she sat unmoving, taking in the entirety of the tale. “And, to your knowledge, have any other symptoms manifested from exposure to Sheriff Thorgood’s blood?”