by Drew Hayes
“Are the documents not ready?” Albert asked, clearly confused by the empty surface of my desk.
“There are no documents for delivery tonight, Albert. I called you here because I wanted to have a talk with you, friend to friend, and employer to employee.” Gently, I motioned to the empty chair in front of my desk.
Albert eyed it suspiciously, but took the seat nonetheless, setting his bag down on the floor. “I . . . did I do something wrong, Fred?”
“Not at all. You have been a model employee from the first day you came here, Albert. True, mistakes occurred, but you’ve always tried your best and made sure to learn from them. You are pleasant, and dedicated, and a fine young man. I would be proud and happy to keep you in my employ forever.” My words halted, unintentionally. Right now, I could still call this off. Pretend it was a performance review, and that I was giving him a raise. But it wouldn’t be right. Sure, it would make Albert happy for the evening, maybe for a whole week. Eventually though, the issue would rise again. It was time to start looking at the long-term.
“Yet I have to ask myself, is that what would make you happy, Albert? I saw the look in your eyes at Neil’s party. Neil’s birthday party. The one marking his age increasing, him physically growing older. You and I are rising in years; however, we aren’t really aging, not anymore. That bothers you, doesn’t it?”
For a long moment, the room was silent, and I thought Albert would clam up rather than address the issue. Finally, he tilted his head forward in a slight nod. “This one wasn’t so bad. It just got me thinking. Ten years from now, twenty, fifty. Neil’s going to keep getting older. He’s going to turn into a man. And I’ll always be stuck as a sixteen-year-old kid. I guess . . . part of me started feeling scared that I was going to get left behind.”
“I understand. It’s something I’ve grappled with myself. I imagine all undead have to find a way to make peace with the dilemma,” I told him. “But before we go any further, allow me to say one thing: of all the fears and concerns we might have in our lives, Neil leaving you behind shouldn’t be one of them. The friendship you two share is remarkable, and I’d say he’s at least as joined to you as that sword, if not more so.”
The distinct sound of metal rattling echoed from within his duffel bag, and we both pointedly ignored it. “However,” I continued, “as far as the fear about having stopped growing, you’re right to be worried. We don’t age anymore, so I think it’s easy for our kind to become stagnant. Perhaps that’s what happens to people like Petre and Quinn. They reach a certain point and then simply halt, ignoring the changing world around them, or willfully shutting it out to maintain their status quo. People like you and I will not change naturally, Albert. Which means it’s all the more important that we take it upon ourselves to keep growing in the non-physical ways.”
“I kind of get your meaning, but I don’t totally understand what you’re saying.” There wasn’t an iota of shame in Albert’s voice. Of all the great and important beings I’d met, Albert was the humblest of the lot, never hesitant to admit to his failings or need to improve. In many ways, I respected that far more than Richard’s strength, or Gideon’s raw power.
“What I’m getting at is that perhaps it’s time to move on from this job.” It pained me to say those words, just as I could see it hurt Albert to hear them. But pain was an aspect of growing; it came part and parcel with the process. “When I took you in, you lacked any other options. That’s no longer the case. With that blade and Neil’s elevated station, there are several new possibilities in front of you. Maybe you don’t want any of them, and are holding out for something that suits you better. If that’s the case, then I’ll let the issue drop here and now. However, it struck me that you might be staying on as my assistant because it’s comfortable, and those new options are as scary as they are intriguing. Should that be the case, then I’d be doing you a disservice by not urging you to consider moving on. It would be a failure as your boss, and your friend.”
Another rattle rose from the duffel bag, this one more subdued. I had no idea what to make of that, but seeing as I wasn’t the one bonded to the blade, that was okay. All that mattered was that it meant something to Albert, and as an expression of uncertainty danced across his face, I had a feeling that it did.
“Do you need an answer right now? I’d like to think about this for a while, if that’s okay,” Albert replied.
“Take all the time you want, Albert. This isn’t a firing. This is just me making sure you’re on the path you want to be on. If the answer is yes, then so be it. If the answer is no, then know that you will be missed, but I would much rather see you growing in a direction that makes you happy. However, if you decide to stay on for now, you will need to continue in your position for at least a week.”
“Why a week?” Albert looked up at me, his inner turmoil momentarily displaced by the bright flash of curiosity that only he could wear so nakedly.
“The Agency has requested that Fletcher Accounting Services conduct a cataloging and value assessment for the contents of a recently cleared out property,” I explained. “It was apparently home to a nest of . . . something. They’re sparse on the details in that regard. Anyway, I’ll need to bring both you and Lillian along, given the scope of the job. Neil as well, if he’s willing, since the report indicates there might be magical items to sort through. We leave in two days, so once we’re at the location, you won’t be able to come back until the work is done. Thus, you’d have to stay on for roughly a week, based on how long I expect the job to take.”
“I can do that. I think a week is good. It gives me time to think things over, anyway.” Standing up, Albert reached down and scooped up his duffel bag, effortlessly tossing it over one shoulder. “Do you need me to do anything else tonight, Fred?”
“No, you’re free to spend the evening as you wish. Just have a bag packed before it’s time to depart. I’ll meet you both at Charlotte Manor, and we’ll go from there.”
“Can do.” Albert walked back over to the front door and put his hand on the knob. “Fred . . . thanks. I get that it probably wasn’t easy to tell me all that, and hearing it sort of hurt to, but I think I needed it. Thank you for caring enough to say it. No matter what I choose, you should know that you’ve been the best boss anyone could ask for, zombie or human.”
He bolted through the door before I could respond, not even bothering to lock it behind him. Rising from my desk, I made my way over and turned the deadbolts back into place, then walked to the wine rack and pulled off a Pinot Noir I’d purchased for a special occasion or an especially rough day.
Pouring a tall glass, I sniffed it briefly before taking a long drink. Albert hadn’t been wrong about the difficulty of the discussion, and even now that it was done, my head was filled with worrying voices, all whispering to me about whether or not I’d actually done the right thing. I took another long gulp, trying to quiet them down. There wouldn’t be a way to know if I’d made the right call, not until Albert and I were much further down the line. All I could do was trust that my intentions and concern had come through well, and try very hard not to dwell on all the ways this could go wrong.
Leadership was proving to be even harder than I expected.
An Assessment at the Castle
1.
A realtor, motivated as much by thoughts of commission as the desire to never visit such a place again, would have called the property rustic. Spacious and rustic, with good bones, that was just aching for someone with a can-do spirit to give it the spit and polish needed to restore its former glory. All of which would have been a very cordial method of saying this place was a hellhole that served as a living testament to how lax the community’s building codes were.
But, all of that said, it was still a castle, and as a man who’d grown up in a small town, only to move to an urban environment, there was something fundamentally awe-inspiring about looking up at a real life castle. Behind me, Albert and Neil stepped out
of the van, both reeling back in wonder at the massive stone estate sitting—crumbling, really—before us. Only Lillian seemed unaffected by the sight, slipping out of her seat and strolling over with a briefcase in one hand, a duffel bag full of equipment in the other.
“Guys, come on. You look like this is your first castle.”
“It is,” Albert told her.
“Oh. Well, it’s kind of a shitty one, heads up. Dial back the stares, act like you’ve been there.” She strolled past us, not bothering to wait as we finally stopped gaping and got ourselves into gear.
Fenmoore Estates, the proper name for the castle and grounds we were visiting, was the site of what my documentation had referred to as an “attempted planar breaching” that had been quelled by the Agency. Neither Krystal nor Arch had been particularly forthcoming with what exactly that meant, only that it had probably been a pain to deal with and required quite a bit of cleanup. Since it seemed all those with claim to the estate were either deceased or under arrest for, and again I’ll quote the document, “crimes against the commonly agreed upon reality,” the estate and everything within had become government property. Obviously, this would have been a more cumbersome process under normal law; however, parahumans had many aspects streamlined in their treaties, and not all were crafted to their benefit.
As a freelance accountant, it was my job to inventory the assets, look through any financial information I could find, and present it all to the Agency with a nice little bow. They’d have their own specialists determine the value of antiques and artifacts; all we had to deal with was sorting and combing through fiscal records, if any existed. Truth be told, that last part seemed like a hell of a longshot. Parahumans in general avoided keeping fastidious records, if they kept any at all, and this certainly didn’t seem like the home of someone who was adapting with the times. Still, it was an assignment, and my first one for the Agency, so I was set on ensuring we did a good job.
We made our way across the drawbridge, which would have been more intimidating if it had been over an actual moat instead of a muddy ditch with a trickle of water running through it, and Lillian easily yanked open one of the heavy wooden doors despite the burden in her hands. As a more . . . classically trained vampire, Lillian had actually needed the brute strength that came with being a blood-enthusiast, and she wasn’t shy about using it. I’d never inquired as to what sort of blood she’d been drinking when we met, as it seemed like too personal a question to broach, but so far as I was aware, she’d been buying her nourishment through the same Agency-approved source I did since joining the House of Fred, so at least I knew she wasn’t breaking any laws.
As we followed her in, I took note of the doors, thick wooden slabs that they were. On the outside were an array of etched symbols, sprawling lines that actually made a rather becoming pattern. The inside, however, was a different story. I couldn’t tell if similar symbols had been scrawled in because the door was almost completely covered in scratch marks—no . . . claw marks. Whatever had been in here had wanted out, bad. Scary as the Agency could be to most parahumans, I nearly shuddered at the idea of what might have gotten loose had they not been around to deal with this issue.
Once past the doors, our eyes were drawn to the wreckage of the entranceway. It might have been beautiful before, but all we could see now were gunshot holes, broken marble floors, and entire sections of wall that had been knocked in. Evidently, this fight hadn’t been an easy one, or the owner had really let the place go to hell before the incident occurred. Either way, all that remained was but a ghost of the grandeur this place had once possessed.
Movement came from further down the entrance hall, and all of us froze. Well, all of us save for Albert, who was still staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open. Thankfully, it didn’t turn out to be an issue, as I quickly recognized the inhuman beauty and grace of the person stepping into view.
“June? Is that you?”
She glanced up from the papers in her hand, easily sidestepping a pile of debris despite the fact that she should have had no way of noticing it, and grinned at us. “Hey, Fred. Didn’t realize you were the one taking custody of this place. Short time, no see.”
I started over toward her, only to quickly realize that no one else was following. One look over my shoulder showed that Albert and Neil were both staring with far more reverence than they’d shown for the castle, and Lillian, much to my surprise, harbored an expression that was nearly as awestruck. I’ve mentioned before how lovely June and September—and presumably all those with fey-blood—are, but I thought my fellow vampire would have been a little more composed than the two teens.
“Fredrick,” Lillian whispered through clenched teeth. “Is that a . . . fey?”
“Half-fey, actually.” June pulled up her hair to reveal ears that ended in a very visible point. “And these puppies aren’t just for show. Don’t worry, though; the stories about us are worse than the reality. Usually, anyway. Plus, you’re here as friends, so it’s all good.”
“Is there something I’m missing?” I asked, giving up on the rest of the group and walking over to June.
“I’d guess it’s half wonder and half terror,” June replied, apparently unbothered by the staring. “There aren’t a whole lot of people with significant fey blood, so seeing us is something of a rarity, and then there’s the fact that fey-blooded Agents are often used to handle troublesome vampires. We’re on par with most of you physically, and you all can’t just drink our blood from the tap. Fey blood has to be specially treated by a skilled alchemist before vampires can ingest it; otherwise, there are some . . . adverse reactions.”
“You’re . . . lovely.” It was the first thing Albert had said since we got out of the van, and while he wasn’t wrong, it was also hardly an appropriate thing to say in the midst of a job. June, thankfully, merely responded with a quick smile and a wave.
“Thanks so much. It’s just good skincare and healthy eating.” She chuckled to herself, and then turned back to me, business-face back in the position. “Don’t worry about them; they’ll be fine after I leave. We tend to cast a bit of an aura of wonderment by nature, and it gets stronger in places where we’ve thrown around a lot of juice. Which I definitely did in here. This was a tough fight. September and I were against the wall a few times, but we came out okay in the end. I just finished the last sweep, and while there is a ton of lingering magic in the air, I can officially say there are no more . . . the nest is gone and the infestation is wiped out.”
Her eyes had darted over to the others at the last second, clearly remembering that she was talking to freelancing civilians rather than fellow agents. She thrust the stack of pages over to me, a pen resting on top. “Anyway, here’s the turnover forms. Give me a few signatures saying I waited and did the hand-off properly so I can get out of here. There’s a library down the left hall that’s more or less still in one piece. I’d recommend using that as a base of operations. A lot of the rooms are less stable, and as a bonus, the library doesn’t have any windows. No pesky sunlight to worry about.”
“I appreciate the suggestion. Lillian, Albert, Neil, would you all mind taking the equipment to the library while I finish up with Agent Windbrook?”
None of them moved with much enthusiasm, and I noticed that Lillian gave June a wide berth, but slowly they left the entrance area as I worked my way through the paperwork. Bothersome as I’m sure some found the pages, it was actually a rather reassuring process for me. Paperwork felt familiar, like the situation was well under control and everything was neatly handled. That feeling alone probably should have tipped me off that there would be trouble, but I am nothing if not a dedicated optimist, so I put the final signature onto the documents without so much as a twinge of dread and handed them back to June.
“The handover is done, and you are free to go, Agent Windbrook.”
“Glad as I am to hear that, let’s stick with June, at least when the lackeys aren’t around,” s
he said, flipping through the pages to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be professional while on the clock, but you’re my best friend’s beau, and neither Krys nor I are big on formality. May as well keep things friendly.”
“You raise a good point,” I agreed.
“And on the note of friendship, make sure you and your people don’t poke around here too much,” June added. “September and I handled the main threat, but like I said before, there is a lot of lingering magic. It’s been deemed clear for Agency workers, not the general public. Do your work and all, but if you walk into a room and every instinct you have screams that you should run, then run. In my experience, vampires usually have pretty solid survival instincts.”
It was sound advice, although perhaps giving it to me while I stood in the rubble of the entrance hall wasn’t the most useful of locations to support it, but I still nodded my head. “We’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”
“No problem.” She folded the papers up, made a flourish with her hand, and suddenly, they were gone. “One last thing. The sword strapped to that zombie’s back—am I losing my mind, or was that The Blade of the Unlikely Champion?” I’d nearly forgotten that June had grabbed onto the same sword, still in the sheath, when she almost fell from the catwalk at CalcuCon.
“It is indeed. Turns out my assistant was the new wielder it wanted.”
“Small, strange world.” June chuckled again, a sound like bells being rung atop summer hilltops. “You all be careful. Oh, and tell Krys I’ve got some vacation saved up and I’ll be visiting soon. Still hammering out details, but I’ll let her know when I’ve got the dates set.”
“I know she’ll look forward to it,” I replied.