by Drew Hayes
“Oh, I read up on you, Fred. Or more accurately, I read up on your cover. I’d say you went over-the-top with it, but I’ve committed pretty hard to mine, so that might be overstepping. Seriously though, the accounting firm wasn’t enough for you? Sweater vests, slacks, and glasses, too? You don’t think you’re playing this role a bit too hard?” There was no uncertainty around Cyndi now. She was sure of her words, which only made them all the more confusing to me.
“You expected me to be less competent because of my fashion sense?”
“Come on, Fred, we’re playing the same game.” Cyndi lifted her arms and twirled, sending out a shower of glowing lights that illuminated her dated outfit. “Nobody knows this act better than me. I bet it’s just as easy to underestimate a vampire in a sweater vest as it is a mage in leg warmers. But I’m not falling for my own scam. You’re playing a part, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and now is the time to let the facade drop so we can get down to business.”
And with that, it all fell into place. She thought all of it—my firm, my job, my reputation, each piece was part of a con to make people think I was a harmless, numbers-loving vampire. “Cyndi, you just said it was impossible to get away with lying here, right? Please look at me very carefully.”
She halted her spin, training her eyes on me.
“None of this is an act. I wear these clothes because I like them and they feel right on me. I do my job because I love it, and I believe I’m making the parahuman world a slightly better place. I came to represent Amy because she is my friend, one who has saved my life before. You keep waiting for me to surprise you and drop the mask, but there is no mask to drop. This is me, plain and simple.”
Her eyes went wide, and a whole new wave of uncertainty rolled off of her. I could see it all, the surprise, the doubt, and then the realization that here there could be no falsehoods. Finally, I saw a glow of acceptance surround her, and it was unexpectedly beautiful.
“My apologies, Fred. It seems I misjudged you. For all the times I’ve railed against other parahumans thinking little of mages, I was quick to lump you in with all the other vampires. I am sincerely sorry.”
“Quite all right. It happens more than you might think,” I said. “All that matters is that we put it behind us and get down to determining how to proceed with Amy’s contracts.”
Cyndi raised her hands, and a page appeared in front of me. “Since I still feel guilty about the error, I’m make this simple and clean. The elders authorized me to give you up to fifty percent of her income each month in exchange for not overturning the contracts. If you want more than that, you’ll have to walk away and wait for them to reach out, but they’ll be petty about it.”
Carefully, I checked over the page she had presented. Unlike Amy’s contract, this was quite simple. Nothing would change, except that half of the fund Amy paid toward her “debt” would go to me. While that would make things easy—all I’d need to do was hand Amy her cash right back—it still didn’t address the long-term fiscal robbery she’d be enduring by allowing things to stand as they were. It was an appeasement, not a negotiation, and for the first time since arriving, I had a doubt about Cyndi.
“Forgive me if this is insulting, I don’t mean it to be, but are you actually trained in parahuman accounting regulations and law?”
“You think I have time to learn all that and get this good at magic?” Cyndi asked. “Nah, like most grand mages, I’m just here to keep the newer casters in line and deal with any issues that pop up. We tend to self-regulate more than other parahuman groups, for obvious reasons. I can contact someone with that knowledge, if needed though.”
“Then you should do that.” Tempting as it was to crumple the page, we were just getting onto good terms, and I saw no need to undo that progress. Instead, I folded her offer gently in half and set it aside. “Because I didn’t come here to take a cut of Amy’s money. I came to create a stable, fair plan to pay off the remainder of her debt at reasonable interest rates and to move her entirely out of the pseudo-debt you’ve caged her in. And I came prepared.”
More pages showed up around me, documents detailing my rights as the head of her clan as well as the basic principles of financing. Books appeared as well, though I’ll admit that, at that point, I may have been showing off a little. Within seconds, I was surrounded by stacks of pages and a library’s worth of law and finance books. There may have even been a few rogue numbers just floating about, added more for effect than function. That said, they seemed to be working.
“Well, shit,” Cyndi said as the last of my tools was gathered around me. “In retrospect, maybe I should have left us in the beach house. But don’t count me out just yet, Fred. I may not know the details, but I know what my people are entitled to.”
It was my turn to grin as I sent over a new contract—one of the more aggressive versions. “Then, by all means, let’s get down to it.”
7.
Have faith, dear readers, for I am not so ignorant of my profession’s reputation that I would bore you with the details of our negotiation. While I would certainly enjoy rehashing each aspect of the exchange, and I’m sure those of you in the accounting field would relish reading such a play-by-play, I understand that to the vast majority of people reading this, it would be incomprehensible. Thus, I shall spare you the tedious details and simply skip to the end result.
Cyndi, in spite of her initial reticence, managed to regain her footing and put on quite an impressive display of contract-negotiating skill. It clearly wasn’t her field of specialty, yet she held her own regardless. Still, this very much was a field in which I was competent, and by the time we’d reached an agreement, Amy’s finances were in far better shape. As things stood, she’d be free from any debt within three years, assuming her business stayed level, and the release would be even sooner than that if her income grew, which, based on history, it probably would.
By the time Amy snapped out of frozen time, I’d finished printing off pages, and Cyndi and I had signed nearly every necessary line to make it all official, since oaths sworn in the dream realm didn’t translate neatly to paper without someone typing them out.
“How did it go?” Amy stretched her jaw like it was sore, which made sense since it had been hanging open since time froze, but very much didn’t make sense because time had frozen. Or had it? I realized that the only proof of that I had was silence and Amy growing still. It was probably a lot easier to kill an air conditioner and bind another mage than it was to entirely halt the flow of time. My eyes darted over to Cyndi as she responded. I’d gotten the better of her on this exchange only because she’d underestimated me. Something told me that if we ever met again, I wasn’t going to have that advantage, and she was far wilier than the outfit implied.
“You’ve made a competent friend,” Cyndi said, making a grand swoop of a signature on the final line. “And I’ve met worse leaders in my time. Fred will walk you through the specifics, and I’m sure you’ll be quite happy with what you see. Congratulations, Amy. To be frank, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“The ability to ask my clan’s leader to get me a better deal? It wasn’t really that hard.” Amy was eyeing Cyndi as well; she didn’t trust something about that last statement. As it turned out, she was right to be suspicious.
Pushing the documents together, Cyndi clapped them against the table so they made a neat, orderly lined-up stack. “No, the willpower to push back against the system. Few mages ever do, you know. They’re too preoccupied with their own studies and work. So long as they have enough to live on, which we always make sure they do, that’s enough to keep them content. The rare ones who try to fight off the yolk we’ve shackled them with, and the even more precious few who succeed, are the mages we know to keep an eye on. They’ve got the makings of what it takes to help run things one day.”
Amy darted back so quickly that, for a moment, I thought Cyndi had struck her with some manner of invisible attack. She put her
arms up and waved them furiously. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not me, not happening. All I wanted was a fair amount of the money I was making so I could do a little good with it. Maybe give rookie casters a better option than I had. That’s it. You all can keep your politics and your bullshit. I want none of it.”
“Of course. The sort of woman who would fight for a larger percentage of her income and funnel it into less binding financial opportunities for new mages would never have any desire to get involved in the greater mage community. Come on, Amy. Your very explanation proves that sooner or later, you’ll start playing the game. If you want to make changes, it’s inevitable.” Cyndi handed me part of her document stack, and I handed her part of mine.
Now, we all had copies of everything, and Amy’s release was nice and official. Although, the more they talked, the more I started wondering if I’d accidentally walked her into a different, more complex cage—and if I’d really come out as far ahead in my battle with Cyndi as I thought. She sure didn’t look like someone who’d gotten the short end of the stick; her grin was back, and wider than ever. What I didn’t fully understand back then was that it’s not the magic that makes mages dangerous. Well, okay, I mean yes, the magic absolutely makes mages dangerous, to say otherwise would be silly. But it’s not the biggest threat when working with them. No, the most dangerous aspect of dealing with mages was that they all had minds sharp and smart enough to handle the working of magic, and it takes quite a brain to manage that.
“I still say it’s not happening,” Amy protested. “And if you two trading pages means this is over, can Fred and I go home now? I’m ready to be done with this place.”
Cyndi checked a large golden watch on her wrist, then nodded. “It’s well into nighttime back home for both of you, and the limo is still waiting, so I think you’ll be fine to return now. You’re both welcome to stay for a few more days, though. I’d be happy to walk you through what it takes to start climbing the political ladder, Amy.”
“Raincheck.” Amy paused, reconsidering her words. “On second thought, what’s the right term for a ‘never-check’? That, whatever that is, pretend I said it. Fred, grab your bag and let’s go.”
While I didn’t want to be discourteous to our host, it was plain that Amy was leaving soon, with or without me. Taking her cue, I went to the office to grab my laptop and travel bag, which was barely even opened. It was a shame, in a way. Some part of me had hoped for a little downtime, a bit of vacation amidst the work. Then again, if I was going to take a vacation, which I was overdue for, perhaps it would be better to do it officially. That way I could spend the time with Krystal. Maybe we’d head down for that weekend in Boarback, or go check out Alaska during the time with no sun. It was something to consider, at least, as I hauled my stuff back to the living room and down the entrance hall, where the golden door we’d come through had reappeared.
Amy and Cyndi were both there, waiting for me; although, just as I appeared, Cyndi gave Amy a large hug, pulling her in tight. “Don’t be such a stranger. Come visit next time and hang out for a little while. I’ll even hook a door to some dank lab where you can work when we’re not out in the sun.”
“If you promise not to talk politics, I’ll promise to think about it,” Amy replied, hugging her back. “And thanks for worrying, even if you didn’t need to.”
“You are on a strange journey, I won’t deny that, but I think I’ve known that would be the case since the first lesson I gave you.” Cyndi release Amy, turning to me. “As for you, Fred, it was a pleasure to meet you, and to negotiate with you. Next time the elders need some heavy lifting of our books, I know who I’ll call.”
“I’d welcome the opportunity.” We forwent a hug in favor of a handshake, though Cyndi did pull me close just as we were about to part.
“Make sure you take good care of my student, Fred. I’m not so set in my ways that I can’t make a quick trip to Colorado if I think it’s warranted.”
I glanced between the two women, momentarily confused. “Wait, I thought Gideon taught Amy?”
“He’s given me lessons, sure, but do you really think he has the time or temperament to train a mage all the way up from scratch?” Amy asked. “Cyndi was my mentor. She watched over my education like I’m doing for Neil. Although, she was a lot more pushy about what I should do with my talents.”
“I saw potential, and I tried to nurture it. I’m not apologizing for that.” Cyndi released her grip on my hand and motioned to the door. “Now out, the both of you. I’ve got some jams to put on, and you’re cramping my style.”
Amy didn’t need to hear any more than that; she grabbed the knob and yanked it open, revealing the dark interior of an old barn. We stepped through, the door slamming shut behind us, and just like that, the white walls covered in imported sunshine were gone. I let out a small sigh of relief. Enchanted glass or not, I hadn’t felt entirely comfortable in a place with that much light. It felt good to be back home, or at least back in the proper time zone. As soon as we walked out of the barn, the golden limo flashed its lights at us. I really didn’t know if it had been waiting the whole time, or if Cyndi had somehow summoned it, and I didn’t particularly care. It was there, that was the only thing that mattered, and once we were in it, it began driving us back to Charlotte Manor.
We didn’t say much. Amy drank a few vials from her bag and downed a bottle of champagne on the ride, so that, by the time we made it to Charlotte Manor, her eyes were glowing yellow and sections of her hair were fighting with other strands. It was only when I reached for the door to let us out that Amy spoke.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve been doing a good job. With heading the House of Fred, I mean. I know you’ve been worrying about it a lot, but you don’t need to fret quite so much. Just keep making sure you’re looking after your people’s best interests, not what you might think they want, and you’ll be fine. Take it from someone who had to figure out being an authority figure on the fly.”
“Is Neil your first student?” I asked. Amy had always seemed so competent as a teacher, I’d just assumed she’d trained mages before.
“Yup. I might be respected, but that doesn’t mean the higher-ups think I’m responsible, so I never got any of the trainees with real talent. Neil was a necromancer, strike one, who’d already messed up and gotten busted, strike two, and was considered to have a ‘bad attitude,’ which made strike three. Nobody wanted him, which was why I was able to swing in and scoop him up. In a few decades, when he’s got his shit sorted out and his powers under control, there are going to be a lot of mages pissed they didn’t take the chance to train him when they had it. That kid is going places.”
“In a few decades, you might be, too.” I slipped from the limo and extended my hand, helping Amy down from the high perch. “Cyndi’s right, you do tend to jump in and help when the need arises. Maybe you are suited for mage politics.”
Amy’s face scrunched in disgust and her hair . . . hissed at me. She shut the door, grabbing her bag and handing me my suitcase before she did. “Mages live a long time, and a lot changes during our lives, but I don’t see me going down the same path as Cyndi no matter how old I get. Time will tell, I guess.”
We crunched along through the parking lot, toward the warm glow of Charlotte Manor’s porch lights. “Just because you pick the same job as her doesn’t mean you have to do it the same way. I’m sure there are lots of ways to be a grand mage. Maybe you could be obsessed with seventies music and wear lots of tie-dye.”
“With how many drugs I do? Way too on the nose.” Amy laughed, and her hair waved in what—and bear in mind, I am purely guessing—seemed like a cheerful manner. “But thanks, I’ll think on that idea. Tomorrow, though. Right now, I am ready to rest and relax.”
“You and me both.” I pulled the front door open to find not only Charlotte waiting there, which she usually was, but also Krystal and Arch in the middle of what looked like a heated discussion. The moment we entered,
all eyes turned in our direction and Arch stepped toward me.
“Good, you’re already packed. We’re running behind and need to head out now.”
“Like hell he does,” Krystal snapped. “He’s an accountant; he’s not going to an active field site.”
“It’s never non-active and you know it, but that doesn’t change the fact that inventory and cost assessments are part of the bargain,” Arch replied. “Fred, if you need to refill your blood flask or get anything from your room, you have five minutes to do so. After that, we’re heading out. The Agency sent down orders this morning, you’re going to do a full work-up of one of our more . . . bustling field locations.” He patted me on the shoulder lightly, in what I think was a gesture of reassurance.
“And if you have any body armor, you might want to pack that as well.”
An Inventory in the Base
1.
There was no limo or teleportation door this time, just a black SUV that I suspected was armored, an unnamed driver with a stoic expression, and a trek to the same airport we’d visited when I was going for my Agency interview. Despite the fact that I was worn out, curious, and more than a little anxious about where we were heading, it was hard not to wonder about these drivers everyone kept using. Were they a service parahumans could call on, like a secure ride-share, or did everyone employ their own drivers to haul people around in various fleets? Maybe they were like interns, working their way up each organization’s respective ladder, although I’d never seen anyone with such deadpan expressions in the higher roles of any parahuman outfit. It was a question I meant to ask Arch about once we were safely on the plane and out of earshot, but no sooner had we gotten aboard and begun to taxi down the runway than Arch started to speak, and given the subject matter, there was no way I was going to cut him off.