by Tom Holt
He pushed the papers across the table. Mr Eddison picked them up as though he’d just been handed a magic sword he didn’t particularly want. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he said. ‘Only—’
‘Quite sure,’ the other man said. ‘Take a look at the documents if you don’t believe me.’
Mr Eddison winced. ‘Oh, I believe you,’ he said. ‘Only . . . Are you quite sure? It seems so—’
‘You’ve got everything you need to get the court order,’ the nice-looking woman said briskly. ‘I wouldn’t hang about if I were you. The sooner you make a start, the better. After all, there’s a great deal of money at stake here.’
‘Of course, yes,’ Mr Eddison said. ‘Um - could you possibly give me a very general—?’
The less hairy man said a number.
Mr Eddison opened and closed his mouth four times. Then he said, ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah.’
‘Quite a feather in your cap, I expect,’ the hairier man said. ‘A bit of a coup for your department, and I don’t suppose it’ll do you any harm, either. Pity you’re not on a percentage.’
The same thought had slipped quietly into Mr Eddison’s mind, where for about five seconds it had much the same effect as a lighted match in a firework depot, before Security turned up and threw it out. ‘The sums involved are immaterial,’ Mr Eddison heard himself say. ‘We just do our job, that’s all.’
‘Of course.’ But the very hairy man was grinning. ‘I can see you aren’t in it for the thrill of the chase. Still, it’ll be a bit of fun, won’t it? I mean, one of the biggest corporations in the UK—’
‘Yes,’ Mr Eddison said faintly. And because he was neither a werewolf nor a vampire, because he wasn’t (he knew perfectly well, deep in his heart where he kept the poor, wilted thing that comprised his self-esteem) really a proper lawyer at all, he wasn’t thinking about the money, or the conflict, or the intellectual challenge, or the irresistible scent of the prey. He was thinking, wretchedly, about all the extra work. ‘Yes, well. Leave it with me, and I’ll—’ He’d what? He had no idea. It was all too—
But there was one thing he had to ask. It was none of his business, he didn’t need to know it, and quite probably it was something he ought not to know, in case it made things even more tiresome than they were inevitably going to become over the next year or so. But he was still at least nominally human, and so he asked, ‘Why are you doing this?’
The three of them pursed their lips almost simultaneously. Thinking about it later, Mr Eddison came to the conclusion that they were trying not to laugh.
‘It’s our duty,’ said the less hairy man, and the nice-looking woman made a soft noise that could well have been a suppressed giggle. ‘As citizens.’
‘And officers of the court,’ the other man put in. ‘Duty of utmost good faith, and all that.’
‘Snrg,’ said the woman, and she made a fuss of blowing her nose on a bit of tissue.
‘Yes,’ Mr Eddison said firmly; because when someone looks you straight in the eye and lies to you, there’s not a lot you can do about it if you’re a civilised person. ‘Well then. Jolly good. Thank you,’ he added. ‘Um, have a nice day.’
When they’d gone, Mr Eddison sat alone in the interview room for a good ten minutes, staring at the papers on the table in front of him. Not reading them; on the contrary, he was doing his best not to look at them, as though they were people he knew and didn’t want to talk to. Most of his mind was simply numb with shock, but a small part of it was trying to remember: is a billion a million million or just a thousand million, or is that only in America?
She came in like any other client and sat, peaceful and well-behaved, in the waiting room until Veronica came down to fetch her.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ Veronica said. ‘Would you like to come on through?’
Bowden Allshapes smiled. ‘Is that necessary?’ she said. ‘You can just send him out. Unless you’d like a receipt or something.’
‘Oh, there’s just a few things. Nothing important.’
Bowden Allshapes shrugged. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you looking so well, by the way,’ she added. ‘Last time we met you were—’
‘At death’s door, yes.’ Veronica held the fire door open for her. ‘And I never had a chance to thank you properly.’
‘It was nothing,’ Bowden Allshapes replied. ‘I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Aren’t we going to the interview room? It’s down this way, isn’t it?’
‘I thought we’d have our little chat in my office,’ Veronica replied. ‘Less formal. Cosier. We can have a nice cup of tea.’
‘Please don’t go to any trouble,’ said Bowden Allshapes. ‘I’m sure you’re very busy.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Veronica said.
Duncan was there, looking subdued but calm, leaning against the coffin. Behind him, rather unexpectedly - ‘Mr Ferris,’ Bowden Allshapes said. ‘This is a pleasant surprise. I suppose you’ve come to say goodbye to your friend.’
Luke Ferris shrugged. ‘Let’s say I always like to be in at the kill,’ he said, as he flipped open a big brass Zippo lighter and lit a stub of candlewick in the middle of a little dish floating in a bowl of water. ‘Essential oils,’ he explained. ‘It’s meant to be feng shui or something, but I don’t understand that stuff. I like it because it’s smelly.’
Bowden Allshapes smiled politely. ‘I don’t blame you for taking precautions,’ she said. ‘But I do hope that, after today, we can all be friends.’
‘Absolutely,’ Ferris said. ‘Here’s to no more running about.’
Bowden Allshapes nodded, making a mental vow as she did so that Luke Ferris would die gasping on some moonlit patch of urban waste somewhere. As for the girl - well, why single out individuals? They’d all have to go sooner or later, the bloodsuckers and the ambulance chasers. Duncan Hughes would give her control over the werewolves, thanks to his ability to defy the pack leaders; he’d also be a paw in the door of the vampire community, and that was all it’d take . . . Three birds with one stone. Hurrah for efficiency. It was simply a matter of time, a commodity of which she’d very soon have a more than adequate supply. ‘Well now, Duncan, ready when you are. Bags all packed?’
Duncan Hughes looked at her. ‘No,’ he said.
‘Not to worry,’ she replied. ‘Everything you need will, of course, be provided. I’m pleased to say that you can have your old room. We’ve made a few changes, upgraded the security just in case you should ever get itchy feet again. Oh, and George is waiting for us in the car. I expect he’s looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘I bet he is.’
She nodded pleasantly. ‘His kind don’t bear grudges,’ she said. ‘Nothing to bear them with, you see. A zombie, I’m so sorry, a revenant needs a grudge like a fish needs - well, anyway. I’m so pleased, by the way, that you decided to - well, to come quietly, if that’s not too melodramatic. So sensible of you; and of course, absolute peace of mind for your friends here. It’s a far, far better thing, and all that. After all, I can’t always be there to snatch them from the jaws of death. And your nearest and dearest do seem to have a knack of needing to be snatched. But that’ll all change now, of course.’
The three of them exchanged glances, which was odd. Exchanged glances weren’t on the agenda.
‘Before you go,’ Veronica said, ‘perhaps you’d care to have a look at this.’
She was holding out a piece of paper, bless her, as though she was doing something clever. Bowden Allshapes smiled nicely at her, and took it—
‘That’s right,’ Duncan said. ‘It’s a court order. Well, a copy of one. You’re not actually entitled to see it, strictly speaking, because it’s addressed to the board of your company, not you personally. But you’d know that,’ he added sweetly, ‘being a lawyer yourself.’
Bowden Allshapes was reading. Duncan was astonished to see that her lips were moving slightly. ‘This is sill
y,’ she said at last. ‘It says I’m dead.’
‘Well, you are, you know,’ the woman said cheerfully. ‘We got a copy of your death certificate. At least, we got a copy of Bowden Allshapes’s death certificate. Are you really sixty-seven? You don’t look it.’
‘Thank you,’ Bowden Allshapes said gravely. ‘Actually, I’m not. I’m well over seven hundred. And, of course, I’ve never died.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Between you, me and Man’s Best Friends over there, the certificate wasn’t come by honestly. When I told them I was dead, I was fibbing.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Veronica said. ‘It’s what’s on the register that counts. Besides, if you aren’t dead, how can Duncan have been winding up your estate all this time?’
‘But that’s not the clever bit,’ Luke said, and Duncan was - well, touched to notice that he was using his best leader-of-the-pack voice. ‘You’re a lawyer. Tell us what happens when somebody dies without leaving a will.’
‘Mr Ferris—’
‘Oh, go on. It’ll be more fun if you tell us.’
She scowled at him, but said, ‘His property—’
‘Or her property,’ Luke put in. ‘If it’s a woman, I mean.’
‘Indeed. His or her property goes to the next of kin, according to the intestacy rules. I’d have thought you’d have known that, Mr Ferris. After all, you’re a lawyer too.’
‘Oh, I am. All lawyers together. And what happens if all the dear departed’s relatives died before she did?’
Just the faintest flicker in Bowden Allshapes’s bright, clear eyes. They were brown, Duncan realised. Never noticed that before. Or maybe, before, they hadn’t been any colour.
‘Maybe you don’t know, so I’ll tell you,’ Luke went on. ‘If there’s no will and no next of kin, everything goes to the government. The whole lot, right down to the shoes you’re standing up in. Though, of course,’ he added with a nice smile, ‘you can’t be standing up, because you’re dead.’
‘That would be the position,’ Bowden Allshapes said, her voice as brittle as glass, ‘if I hadn’t left a will. But I did, and a very good will it is, too. I drafted it myself.’
‘Quite right,’ Duncan said, pulling a thick document out of the desk drawer. ‘Beautiful piece of work. Interest in possession trusts, protective trusts, nil-rate-band discretionary trusts: you’re clearly a very trusting person—’
‘Well, of course,’ Luke muttered. ‘She’s a lawyer. And if you can’t—’
‘And plenty of named beneficiaries,’ Duncan went on. ‘I can remember their names quite well without even having to look. God knows I should do, after the hours I spent doing all those sums. But the thing is,’ he continued, ‘they’re all dead. Every single one of them. And their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, everybody who’d be entitled to inherit in their place. All gone to their everlasting reward, and quite some time ago, too. Centuries. Oh, I expect you could make a few phone calls and in they’d all come, happy, smiling, healthy people. I mean, you can’t get healthier than a walking corpse, can you? They never get ill, not even colds. But not alive,’ he added with obvious pleasure, ‘in the eyes of the law. Not when we’ve got office copies of their death certificates. More to the point, not when the public trustee’s got office copies of their death certificates. You know who the public trustee is, don’t you? Nice man, with an office in Kingsway. It’s his job to wind up estates that pass to the government for want of an heir.’
‘Heir today, gone—’
‘Quiet, Luke.’ Duncan realised some time later that he’d said it in a Luke Ferris voice. ‘We took the whole lot round to him a few days ago. He didn’t really know what to make of it all, but the court order seems to imply he got the hang of it after we’d left. Of course, I feel bad about giving him so much work to do. I expect he’s understaffed and underpaid, like all these government lawyers. But he’ll get there in the end, I’m sure of it. And when he does—’ Duncan paused, allowing himself to savour the moment: the unicorn, finally brought to bay. ‘He may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he can add up. In Base Ten. And when he does, what do you think’ll happen?’
Bowden Allshapes was staring at him. Duncan was rather ashamed to say he knew that look. He’d seen it in the eyes of a few small, insignificant animals - squirrels, rats, urban foxes - when the pack had run them to a standstill. If he’d been quite human, maybe it would have bothered him rather more than it did; because humans can’t help feeling sorry for the hunted animal, the small and furry, the sleek, slender and beautiful, the underdog. But he wasn’t human, not any more. And besides, he was an underdog, too: leader of the underpack, maybe, but that didn’t really change anything. Besides, every dog must have its day.
‘I’ll die,’ Bowden Allshapes said. ‘Is that what you want? To kill me?’
Duncan looked at the other two, who nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Oh. That seems so—’
‘Quite.’ ‘Pretty bloody brutal, is the way I see it. Of course,’ he went on, ‘it had to be a lawyer’s way of doing it. Stakes through the heart and silver bullets and garlic poisoning and even being hunted down and torn limb from limb by savage wild animals are all very well, but they’re so - what’s the word I’m looking for? Unofficial, I suppose you could call it. Taking the law into your own hands. Not on the register - and in the end, that’s what really counts. Just killing the body’s no good at all, when there’s someone like you out there who really can deliver on a fate worse than death. But you can’t argue with a court order, can you? I mean, it’s got its little printed crown on it and everything.’
‘Red in tooth and law,’ Luke said, and this time Duncan didn’t shush him. He had the feeling Luke had been saving it for a special occasion, and the moment certainly qualified as one.
There was a brief, icy silence, and then Bowden Allshapes seemed to pull herself together. ‘How very naive you are, Mr Hughes,’ she said. ‘For a lawyer, I mean. You know perfectly well that I can fight this. We’ll appeal, naturally. We’ll take it to the House of Lords, Strasbourg, the whole tedious, interminable grand tour. It’ll take years.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Duncan said. ‘I’d hate to think I hadn’t given you time to set your affairs in order. It’ll be a good, long hunt, I’m sure of it, before they finally run you down. But that’s the joy of getting the government involved. I mean, they aren’t like people. They’ve got infinite time and infinite money; sooner or later they’ll have you, and until then it’s the thrill of the chase, isn’t it? I have it on good authority that that’s what a real lawyer lives for. Of course, I’m not a real lawyer, not inside where it matters, I just got bitten by one at an early age. I think you’re going to have the time of your life over the next few years, now that there’s actually something at stake at last. Nothing like putting your life on the line for helping you get into the spirit of the thing. And when it’s all over and you’ve lost - well, you know what they say. Death and taxes.’ He grinned, showing all his teeth. ‘An extra big helping of both, in your case. And you’ll have the added satisfaction of knowing that everything you’ve worked so hard for, all your very long life, will eventually go to build a bypass somewhere, or finance a war for a whole week. You won’t be around to see it, of course, but I expect you’ll feel so much better knowing it’ll be there when you’ve gone.’
Bowden Allshapes looked Duncan in the eye for a very long time. Then she smiled. It hit him like a slap across the face, but he knew there wasn’t really anything behind it, not any more.
‘See you in court,’ she said, and left the room.
‘I’d better go after her,’ Veronica said quickly. ‘Just to make sure she doesn’t set fire to the building or anything.’
Duncan nodded. ‘I have an idea she may be a bit of a sore loser,’ he said. ‘Just a feeling, you know. If she offers you something to eat, don’t forget your rubber gloves.’
She went away, leaving Duncan and Luke together.
No
reason why there should be any awkwardness. Not between such old friends.
‘Well,’ Luke said. ‘I suppose this is it, then.’
‘Yes.’
‘Final parting of the ways.’
‘I suppose so.’
Luke jumped up - always so full of energy - then sat down again. ‘This is a bit bloody silly, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I mean, after all these years. The big goodbye scene. Melodrama. I thought you didn’t like melodrama.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Well, then.’
‘As a rule.’
They looked at each other: eye to eye, man to man, werewolf to werewolf. Then Duncan said, ‘You take care, all right? Look both ways before crossing the road. Don’t go chasing horses with pointy bits sticking out of their faces. That sort of thing.’
Luke frowned. ‘The others—’
‘Give them my . . . Say hello to them from me,’ Duncan said. ‘Especially Pete.’ He paused, then added, ‘I always liked Pete.’
It took a moment for that to sink in. ‘Ah,’ Luke said. ‘And the rest of us—’
‘Bit like family, really. Whether you like them or not doesn’t enter into it. They’re always there, like the sun or the sky, so when they aren’t around any more the world changes. It’s like a whole slice of your past life has suddenly vanished into thin air. Liking them’s a bonus, if it happens. But I always liked Pete. Couldn’t tell you why.’
‘We’ll miss you.’
Duncan nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I expect you will.’
‘And her?’ Luke’s eyebrows suggested where a scowl might be. ‘You think it’ll all be different and right this time. With her. Because of her. I mean, you hardly know the woman.’