Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3)

by Drew Hayes

  It wasn’t a great long-term solution—I’d have to come down when Amy emerged so I could do distraction duty again—but for the moment, it meant I was safe from Bubba’s assault. He trotted about beneath me, staring up at me with those relentless eyes.

  “Sorry, buddy, I just needed time—” It was my turn to be interrupted, as Bubba leapt up from the ground, far higher than a normal horse could, on a direct track for me. There was no chance of dodging; I was far too taken by surprise.

  All I could do was gasp in shock as Bubba’s hooves smashed into me, knocking me from the ceiling to the floor, where it would only be seconds until he started trampling me.

  6.

  Of all the things I was expecting to come next—stampeding hooves, lots of pain, perhaps even the smell of burning vampire flesh—what I did not count on was a blur in a pantsuit whipping through the doorway and slamming Bubba in the side. It wasn’t enough force to knock him over—he was too strong for that—but it did push him off course, allowing me the precious necessary seconds to get back on my feet. Once I did, I was overwhelmed with equal parts gratitude and distress.

  Lillian was backing slowly away from Bubba, never taking her eyes off the mighty steed as he gathered his bearings for another charge. “Sorry, boss, I got tired of waiting in the car.”

  “I’m not usually one for insubordination, but I suppose I’ll have to look past it this time.” While I’d have far rather recounted this tale to Lillian, which would have allowed me to glaze over the more dangerous parts and omit certain details entirely, her intervention had kept me from being trampled on the floor. Out of the two options, perhaps having to put a little more effort into my lies wasn’t such a bad result.

  “What’s the plan? One of us distracts this thing while the other drains it dry?” Lillian asked.

  “No!” I spat the word without thinking, my mind flashing back to that night with Colin. Lillian wasn’t the type to hesitate, and if I didn’t stop her right away, then Bubba might be in danger. “This is a client; he’s just had a bad reaction to a potion. Right now, the alchemist is fetching an antidote, so all we need to do is keep him distracted until she arrives.”

  It didn’t take any manner of expert to see the doubt and, worse, curiosity in Lillian’s eyes. She voiced none of it, though, merely nodding her head stiffly and replying, “You’re the boss.”

  After that, there was little time for talk, as Bubba tore after us once again. It was still hellish to try and dodge his assaults, but having Lillian in the room helped a great deal. We spread out instinctively, and even in the limited confines of the lab, he could only go after one of us at a time. That allowed the other to regroup and prepare for when his attention invariably waned—sometimes helped along by yelling when one of us was getting backed into a corner. Together, we managed to keep him smashing about without being trampled until the wooden door opened a small sliver and Amy’s voice slunk out from behind it.

  “How are we looking?”

  “We’re going to have to write off everything in here as collateral damage from a testing procedure, but otherwise, not bad,” I replied. “My new employee stepped in to lend a hand, making the task far more manageable.” While it sounded like (and technically was) praise, my real goal was to make sure Amy knew that we weren’t alone before she let anything too important slip. Granted, there was little chance of that with Bubba as a far more eminent threat; however, I’d found it never hurt to be overly cautious. Especially not with my group of friends.

  “Well, I brought the calm-down juice. Loaded it up and got it ready for injection, too.”

  “Do I want to know why you have that sort of equipment on hand?” I asked, keeping a careful eye on Lillian as she gracefully darted out of Bubba’s path.

  “Not every parahuman has a mouth, Fred. I have to cater to all sorts of clients,” Amy replied, a bit more sharply than usual. Evidently, the experience of accidentally morphing her friend and seeing her lab torn to shambles had left her in a less-than-stellar mood, which I could scarcely fault her for.

  “I didn’t consider that,” I admitted. “To the matter at hand, though . . . how do we administer the cure? Bubba doesn’t seem too keen on letting anyone get close to him at the moment. At least, not unless he’s trying to mow them down.”

  “Seeing as I’m just an alchemist and you’re two strapping vampires, I’d say one of you is going to have to get the drop on him and jam it in. Catch.” With no more warning than that, Amy flung open the door and tossed a metal syringe at me. My hand moved on its own, which was a great mercy, because if I’d had time to think, I surely would have let it clatter to the ground, rather snatching the cure out of mid-air. The moment my hand closed around it, the sharp scent hit my nose and caused it to wrinkle.

  Silver. Not the whole device, but at least the needle. It made sense; therians were just as weak to the stuff as vampires—well, most vampires, anyway—and without knowing how tough his skin currently was, this was the only method to ensure the syringe broke through. All the same, I tried to look ill-at-ease holding such a thing, in case Lillian had picked up on the scent, as well. Since I wasn’t technically touching it, I shouldn’t be weakened; yet, all the same, it seemed prudent to show some discomfort. The absolute last thing I needed was for her to realize I’d found a way to shake off one our kind’s biggest vulnerabilities.

  “Lillian! Can you manage to make him hold still for a second or so? Without hurting him.”

  “Is this thing a therian?” Lillian yelled at me, bolting out of the way and whirling around so that Bubba would be charging past her into a corner.

  “In normal form, yes,” I replied.

  “Stopping it without hurting it is probably impossible, but I can at least limit the damage to what their kind can heal. Will that work?” She couldn’t turn toward me to ask; her eyes were unwaveringly on Bubba as he lined up his next attack. While I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea, it seemed we were going to have to make the best of a bad situation. Better Bubba recover from a few bruises than any of us get serious injuries.

  “Keep it as limited as you can,” I instructed.

  That was all the permission she needed. Bubba charged at her again, but rather than jump to the side, Lillian ran forward, meeting the challenge head on. Her posture dropped as she went into a slide, purposely putting herself down between those trampling legs. With movements so fast and precise I could barely follow them, Lillian threw a kick directly into one of Bubba’s legs, just as his weight settled on top of it. I heard the snap and pop before I saw the knee bend, collapsing and bringing several hundred pounds of horse down with it.

  Bubba’s screech was awful, and I did my best to ignore it as I raced forward. He could heal fast—I’d seen that firsthand many a time—and if this version of my friend managed to get back on his feet, it would have a vendetta to settle. Wasting no time, I drove the syringe deep into his flank, the silver easily piercing his usually durable skin. Jamming the plunger down with my thumb, I didn’t so much as wiggle the device until I was sure every drop of antidote had made it into Bubba’s system.

  The effects were visible almost instantly; a wave of brown washed out from the spot where I’d stuck him, overtaking the ashy black color of his altered form. As it spread, I noticed that Bubba was getting smaller, the terrifying horse turning back to my friend’s true, diminutive form. His breathing was labored, however, and I could still see the broken angle of his leg even as his body morphed. Carefully, being sure not to antagonize him, I laid my hand on Bubba’s neck.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. Amy’s here, and you’re going to be fine.” The sound of plodding footsteps on shattered debris drew my attention, and I saw Amy walking over.

  “Sorry about that, Bubba. Next time, I promise to filter out the aggressive tendencies inherent in their magic.”

  “How about we just not have a next time?” I proposed.

  “Fred, do you know where the world would be if people gave up every time
they had one little failure?” Amy countered.

  “I’m okay with a lack of progress if the failures involve my friends being in danger.” I could feel Bubba’s racing pulse through his neck, but thankfully, it was beginning to calm down as his returned to his usual pony form.

  “He would have been fine, eventually,” Amy said. “It was a test potion, so none of the ingredients could have lasted longer than a day. I just didn’t want him to get himself into trouble before it wore off.”

  “Excuse me . . . are you Amy Wells? Student to Gideon, King of the West?” Lillian had circled around behind us, and was standing by Amy with her hands clasped together in what was either real or very well-done mock excitement.

  “‘Student’ might be a bit of a strong term. He just showed me a few things, mostly so I could make better products for him,” Amy replied. After a second, her brow furrowed. “Wait, how do you know about that?”

  “Oh, the House of Turva makes a point of researching everyone of significant status and power when we move to a new area, and as an associate of the King of the West, you, of course, caught their attention.” I didn’t know much about vampire culture, but this seemed like the sort of thing someone should probably be embarrassed to admit, and yet, it didn’t leave even so much as a dent in Lillian’s excitement. “I have to say, it’s a real honor to meet you. People talk about how powerful your potions are for states around.”

  They did? I knew Amy was talented—the mere fact that Gideon was a client spoke to that fact—but I had never realized she was quite that well-regarded. It didn’t seem to shock Amy much, though, as she shrugged off the praise in her usual blasé manner.

  “Thanks, I guess. Sorry our friend almost smashed you.”

  “It was well worth it to meet such an icon,” Lillian replied. If she took note of the fact that Amy referred to us all as friends, rather than business acquaintances, she didn’t show it. Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d simply chalk it up to Amy being lazy with titles, or overly friendly.

  Bubba, in the meantime, had fully transformed back to his usual weresteed shape and size, not so much as a speck of black or fire left on him. The glassy black eyes stared up at us, saying the apology that his mouth wasn’t currently able to convey. For a moment, he began to warp, heading back to his human form, but before he could do more than start the shift, Amy whacked him hard on the nose.

  “None of that, now. You know you heal faster when transformed, and that leg needs to patch itself up,” Amy chided. She took a good look at the wound, which was already better than it had been moments prior. “Damn, your new assistant really got a piece of him.”

  “I’m actually a trainee, not an assistant,” Lillian corrected. “But I do believe in fulfilling orders to the best of my ability.”

  Before I could tell her that some orders could be handled a little more gently, the sound of Albert’s ringtone began blaring from my phone. Slipping the sleek device out of my pocket, I accepted the call and pulled the phone to my ear.

  “What’s going on, Albert?”

  “Um . . . hey, Fred. I know this—” Albert was cut off by the sound of screaming in the background, at least one of the voices belonging to Neil. “Sorry, I know this isn’t the best night for it, but I think I need your help on something. I was dropping off the packets, just like you ordered; only, when I got to the fifth one, instead of signing the receipt, the couple just started yelling at each other. Things . . . sort of got worse from there.” Another bout of screaming, followed by what sounded like the thud of something dense hitting a wall.

  “Neil and I are kind of stuck here,” Albert continued. “And I could call the authorities, but I thought, since the papers got them fighting, maybe there was a non-agent way to fix this. ‘Cause . . . well . . . you know.”

  I did know, all too well. He was smart enough not to say Krystal’s name, but she was the authority he would turn to. And if Albert called in an agent, the situation was getting resolved. It just might not be in the most peaceful of methods. Aside from concern for my clients, I also had to worry about the reputation of my company. Being too closely linked with agents could be bad for business—a lot of parahumans tried to keep themselves as far away from the treaty-enforcers as possible.

  Of course, even on the best of nights, I’d be hesitant to head into such a situation. With Lillian in tow, it was all the more problematic. Still, Albert was right. If I could figure out what in the documents had caused the issue and find a resolution, then it would be the best ending for everyone involved.

  Except, possibly, me.

  “Give me the address, Albert,” I said, noting the interest in Lillian’s expression. “We’ll head there right away.”

  7.

  It took us nearly twenty minutes to arrive at the destination, even with me breaking my usual fastidious adherence to the speed limits (I went up to ten miles over in some spots). I’d recognized the address as soon as Albert gave it to me; even in my line of work, the number of ranches I called on was minimal. The Capra Ranch was to the north of Winslow, in one of the most rustic sections. Unlike where Charlotte Manor had been located, this piece of land was never attempted to be industrialized, and in fact hosted a lovely farmer’s market on weekends that I would have happily attended, if it weren’t held during the day.

  Gerda and Oskar were the kindly couple who ran and owned the Capra Ranch—a satyress and satyr, respectively. I remembered driving out to meet them a few months back, their goat legs carefully hidden under thick overalls and custom boots. They had served me delicious cheese and asked me to carefully go through their costs and incomes to see why business was up, but profits were down. It had been a relatively simple job. All I had uncovered was that they were overpaying a few suppliers, hardly the sort of thing I expected to cause a ruckus. Yet, as I pulled my car around to the rear, I could clearly hear heated voices yelling at each other from inside the farmhouse.

  “Please don’t tell me to stay put again.” Lillian’s request came before I’d even gotten my seat belt off. It was prescient as well, because the next words out of my mouth were indeed going to be orders to sit tight while I handled this. “I’m here to learn about customer service, remember?”

  “What’s happening in there is hardly a standard part of the job,” I told her.

  “You do remember that we just came from subduing a rampaging therian, right? Seems to me it comes up often enough to be worth learning.” Lillian took off her own seat belt and slung her bag over her arm. “Besides, you might need backup. Once satyrs get going on a tear, it’s hard to calm them down.”

  “Lillian, I know the last stop set something of a bad precedent, but at Fletcher Accounting Services, we do not go into meetings planning on physically engaging our clients.”

  “No, but there’s something to be said for self-defense,” Lillian replied. “I promise not to lay a hand on anyone unless you tell me to, though. And don’t act like you don’t need the help. I know your assistant is stuck in there.”

  This, at least, didn’t come as a surprise. I knew my own hearing well enough to expect that she’d been able to hear Albert’s side of the call. I still scowled at her nonetheless. “Privacy and confidentiality are important aspects of the work I do. From now on, I expect you to tune out my business calls.”

  “Will do.” Lillian looked as if she meant to say more, but a loud thud from inside the farmhouse made us both jump. “Sounds like we should really get in there.”

  Much as I tried to think of one, I didn’t have a good reason to offer up for why she should stay in the car. I could hardly pretend to be worried for her safety—the way she’d brought down an augmented Bubba made it clear that, of the two of us, she would be more capable in dangerous situations. Not to mention the fact that, with no idea what I was walking into, having the help might actually make a difference again. Most compelling of all, though, was the fact that Albert and Neil were stuck in the middle of whatever was happening, and that meant getting them e
xtricated came before anything else.

  With a begrudging sigh, I nodded, and the two of us stepped out of my eco-consciously sized car. Moving quickly, I knocked once on the front door, which caused it to drift open, as it had evidently not been closed in the first place. This gave us an excellent view into the living room, and a sight so strange we were both struck by a momentary pause.

  Gerda and Oskar, the two lovely people I remembered from our original meeting, were literally locking horns (which I was certain they didn’t have when last I saw them) in the middle of the room. The furniture had been thrown about, and the dents on the wooden walls answered the question of what had been making the loud thuds. Backed in a corner, tucked behind what looked like the remains of a coffee table, were Albert and Neil. Albert had planted his sword, still sheathed, between the battling couple and them, while Neil was scratching some sort of rune into the coffee table and muttering under his breath. All of this came with the soundtrack of Gerda and Oskar both trying to yell over the other, so deep in anger and insults that I could barely piece together more than a few words of their dialogue, none of which I’d feel comfortable repeating in my retelling of the incident. I mean, there’s swearing, and then there’s two satyrs cursing at one another.

  “Fred!” Albert popped his head up as he caught sight of me and Lillian in the doorway. Somehow, his one innocent exclamation got the attention of the battling couple, who yanked their horns apart and turned to face me.

  “There he is!” Gerda yelled, voice nothing like the one she’d had when offering me glass after glass of sweet tea. “Tell this lying old bastard that the jig is up!”

  “Fred, it’s about damn time,” Oskar hollered. “I’ve been trying to make your assistant explain to her that the truth is right there on the page.”

  “They’ve been screaming a lot, don’t want us to leave, and I can’t figure out what any of it is about!” Albert yelped.