Undeath and Taxes

by Drew Hayes

  “You seem to be coping well these days.” Charlotte sat down next to me and extended her hand. “Though, I bet a drink would help. You said merlot, right?”

  “Yes, I—” A quick glance showed me that there was now a wine glass filled with red liquid on the table next to me, where previously there had been only empty space. “How do you do that?”

  “Built-in magic, remember? After all, I was meant to be a fortress, and running out of supplies is a big concern during a siege. One of my more useful tricks, too. It’s not like I can set up contracts with vendors for outside food or anything.”

  “Actually, you can.” I took a deep breath of the wine and found it enticingly complex. The first sip hit my tongue and left me appreciative of Charlotte’s tastes in vintages. “Or, rather, I can on your behalf. I can also arrange upgrades for you as well, if you’d like. Internet, new fixtures, whatever you’d like; assuming you can finance it.”

  “Money isn’t an issue. Those mages left a couple tons of gold squirreled away in one of the hidden rooms in my basement.”

  I snorted very unbecomingly into my wine glass. “Did you say tons of gold?”

  “They weren’t building a sanctuary and hiding from the law without good reason,” Charlotte replied.

  “If you have all that money, and the ability to keep yourself repaired, then why open a bed and breakfast in the first place?”

  “Same reason everyone reaches out, I guess. I was lonely.” Charlotte ran a hand along the armrest of her hand-carved chair. “When the mages were gone, I was all by myself. That’s no way to live, not even for something like me. I could have been a haunted house that scared people away, but I wanted company. So I became a place where people would enjoy themselves, make fond memories, and come back to visit. I know, kind of crazy given how big of a secret I was keeping.”

  “No, Charlotte. I don’t think that’s crazy at all. I’ll do my best to keep you running and get people to visit. I know how it feels to be lonely, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a new friend.”

  Charlotte smiled, and a glass of wine appeared in her hand as well. She raised it up and tilted it slightly toward me. “I’ll cheers to that.”

  We clinked glasses, despite one of them being illusionary, and took our drinks. It didn’t matter that hers was fake, or that the image she was putting in front of my eyes was equally illusory. The sentiment was real, and that was far more important than a silly thing like corporeality.

  A Dragon in the Office

  1.

  Despite my admittedly formal manner of dress, I was not practiced in the art of the bow tie. It had never been a skill that required cultivation, as I’d always gone with a classic tie knotted in a full Windsor for work and formal occasions in my youth. (It certainly didn’t help that the few occasions which might have necessitated such a fashion accessory were ones that required a passable level of social ability to attend—such as prom, or a friend’s wedding.) Therefore, I found myself faced with the increasingly frustrating task of trying to weave a proper bow tie from the single piece of fabric wound around my neck and failing spectacularly at it.

  There was a knock on my bedroom door, followed immediately by the sound of it opening. It invalidated the entire point of the knock, but I was thankful for the gesture. Krystal could be indelicate at times; that was her way of at least giving me some warning.

  She was a vision of loveliness, to the point where I found my old shyness creeping back the longer I looked at her. Krystal, the girl perpetually in jeans, had donned a form-fitting red dress that crossed in the back, leaving much of her skin exposed. Her hair had been curled ever so slightly, and then piled atop her head in a way that somehow managed to be messy, yet simultaneously elegant. She’d even put on a little extra makeup, accentuating her already striking features. Those same features twisted into a spontaneous bout of laughter as she took in my situation and the frustration evident on my face.

  “No luck so far?” She was keeping her giggles down, but it took obvious effort.

  “That infernal internet video made it look so simple. But every time I try, it comes out lopsided. At best.” Despite the growing desire to stamp my foot like a petulant child, I held my calm. I’d been out of place or felt silly before; another night of it wouldn’t kill me.

  “Does this mean the proud, mighty vampire is finally willing to accept the help of my dainty woman hands?” Krystal asked, moving a few steps closer to me.

  “I never said anything like that. I just said the others would likely need more help than I would.”

  “You weren’t wrong there; Albert had his cummerbund on backwards, Neil tried to show up in formal necromancer robes, and Amy spilled a potion that made her dress keep shifting colors. It finally settled on periwinkle, which doesn’t match her shoes, but at this point, I’m taking what I can get.”

  “At least it sounds like Bubba didn’t give you any trouble,” I pointed out.

  Krystal shook her head, using such force that I was momentarily concerned her hair would come out of its carefully constructed shape. “Bubba was the worst of the lot. Yes, he knows how to put on a tuxedo, but he wouldn’t stop bitching about it the entire time. I had to bribe him with a case of beer just to get him down to grumbling. If this were an event by anyone but Richard, I think he’d have bailed.”

  Thinking about it, if any of us were less inclined toward formal wear than Krystal, it was Bubba. I scarcely ever saw him outside of his worn clothes and beaten baseball caps. It would have been strange to see him in something as formal as a sport coat; a tuxedo might just blow people’s minds.

  “Since you have managed to wrangle the rest of our friends into presentable shape, I humbly request your expert intervention.” I pulled on both ends of what was supposed to be a bow tie, bringing the fabric taught. “Please tie this damned thing for me. I’m quickly running out of patience, and I’m afraid I might accidentally rip it soon.”

  “We can’t have that. These things are rentals, after all.” Krystal turned me toward the mirror as she stood behind me. She pressed herself against my back—certainly closer than was necessary—but I didn’t object. Much as I could be reticent about affection, her playful enthusiasm and penchant for embarrassing me had grown to be a counterbalance. It was one of the many things I adored about her, and from the nimble way her hands worked, it seemed I would have to be adding competency with bow ties to the list.

  “Are you nervous?” Her mouth was so close that I could feel her breath run across the back of my ear.

  “Certainly not, we’re just walking into a room full of parahumans who are all of such power and importance that Richard invited them into his home for a formal occasion. What possible thing could I have to fear in a situation like that?”

  “You’ll be fine; there are rules to these things. Besides, it’s not like everyone is a heavy-hitter. Some of the guests are just like you and Amy, people he has business relationships with. And there are some that are attending out of form, like inviting me because I’m an agent or Albert and Neil because they’re tied to a weapon of destiny.”

  “Those latter examples are a zombie wielding a weapon of tremendous power, the necromancer who multiplies his strength, and an agent, one of the most feared beings in the parahuman world,” I pointed out. “Not exactly a strong case for most of the guests being ‘not heavy-hitters,’ as you said.”

  “You think most people in my league have time to go to a party celebrating two therian packs finally finishing a peaceful merger? My point is that Albert, Neil, and I are going for the same reason as you and Amy: because we like Richard as a person. The vast majority of the guests will be therians, and while they aren’t super keen on vampires, no one would try to hurt one of the other guests. It would be an insult to Richard as a host.” Krystal finished weaving the formerly shapeless fabric into an exquisite bow tie, symmetrical and crisp in every measurable capacity. “Besides, if worse ever came to worse, Gideon is there, and I think he
sees you as more useful alive than permanently dead.”

  “I fear you may overestimate his affection for me,” I said. With my bow tie on, I reached over to a nearby hanger and slid my jacket, the final piece of my ensemble, across my narrow shoulders.

  “You saved Richard a lot of money. Dragons love gold, that isn’t just myth, and anyone who brings more of it into their proximity can’t be all bad. Hell, that might be as close as they get to having friends.” Krystal stepped back, admiring me now that I was fully adorned in the required wear of the evening. “You know, you clean up pretty nice.”

  “I would take more comfort in that notion if I weren’t so keenly aware of the fact that I’m going to be walking in with the absolute definition of beauty. How well I clean up is unimportant; no one will even realize I’m there once they see you.”

  Krystal stared at me for a moment, then did something I was completely unprepared for. She blushed. Only a touch in the cheeks and for no more than a few seconds, but it was unmistakable. The rising of blood is not the sort of thing my vampire senses were likely to overlook. Then, as quickly as it was there, it was gone, hidden in a flurry of movement as she stepped closer and kissed me firmly on the lips. By the time I pulled free, there was no trace of those red cheeks. Instead, she wore her usual half-wild grin.

  “Keep up the sweet talk, and I’ll end up making us late for this thing.”

  “Wonderful as that sounds, I would be too embarrassed to leave this room if the others heard us . . . being affectionate. Which would be unavoidable, since at least two of them have enhanced hearing, possibly three depending on which potions Amy has taken so far today.”

  “Actually, I sent the kids off to school,” Krystal replied, gently teasing one of the buttons on my pressed, white tuxedo shirt. “I thought it might be nice if we went over together, just the two of us. It’s been awhile since we managed a real date, and since I’ve got an out-of-town gig coming up, we probably won’t pull one off for another week or so.”

  “I’ll have to plan something special for your return, then.” I gently ran my hand across Krystal’s cheek, perhaps unconsciously trying to sense the heat that had been there only minutes before.

  “Please do. I like hanging out with the gang as much as anyone else, but even I like some romance from time to time. Just . . . you know the deal.”

  “No reservations that can’t be canceled,” I said.

  She nodded and took a step back, finally breaking the half-embrace we’d locked ourselves in since she fixed my bow tie. “Yeah. I hate that we have to make that a rule, but I never know when a call is going to come.”

  “You don’t ever need to feel bad for doing your job. We came into this with open eyes. I knew who I was committing to. Sometimes, I have to let plans fall away due to your more pressing matters; sometimes, you have to watch movies that don’t have slapstick or explosions with me. We’ve all got our burdens to bear.”

  “It could be worse,” Krystal conceded. “At least you clean up nice. Just don’t get too comfy in that tux.”

  “I daresay it would take a mage of legendary caliber to make such a thing viable, so I doubt it will be an issue.”

  “Good, because Albert is staying with Neil tonight, which means we’ve got the apartment all to ourselves.” She threw me a glance that, even on my least socially adept day, I could have correctly interpreted. After having been with her for so many months, I knew its meaning in an instant.

  “Ah, um, right. Yes.” I would love to report that I’d reached a point where I was finally less bumbling when it came to discussing intimate matters; however, such was simply not the case, as my swarthy dialogue proves.

  “Whoa there. Put a leash on it, you wild animal. We’ve got to get through a party first.” Krystal shifted gears from sultry to playful, trading her telling leer for a flirty wink before I’d even finished recovering.

  “I believe, when tuxedos are involved, it’s called a gala,” I said.

  “Fred, I’ve been to a few ‘galas,’ and trust me on this: no one will ever call a therian party a gala, no matter how fancy they make the guests dress. Now, shake that cute ass. If you’re late to these things, all the good food is gone.”

  Krystal slipped her arm through mine, pulled open the bedroom door, and the two of us headed out, en route to what was supposed to be a lovely party surrounded by a few friends and a myriad of potentially deadly strangers.

  I only found it mildly disconcerting how normal that situation seemed at the time.

  2.

  It had taken me by surprise to learn that, despite the kidnapping attempt some months prior, negotiations between the two tribes of therians had continued. When I voiced this sentiment, Bubba kindly reminded me that, just because their leader was a dick, it didn’t remove the displaced tribe’s need for shelter and homes. A new leader had been chosen, this one with a very firm stance against stealing little girls, and the negotiations had resumed.

  Part of me still wanted to know what could drive an entire tribe of therians from their home, but every time I came near the subject, Krystal’s face took on the serious demeanor I’d begun to recognize as a sign that I was about to hear something disturbing. Never let it be said that I was beyond learning, as I halted those conversations as soon as I caught sight of that look. I had quite enough to worry about and be afraid of, thank you; there was no need to pile a few more nightmares onto my plate.

  We arrived at the party in Krystal’s pickup truck, as she steadfastly refused to be seen getting out of my hybrid, and I was struck by the change in Richard’s building. It was a tall one, in the heart of downtown—not quite a skyscraper, though definitely a skyneighbor—but only the top few floors were used by him. The rest were rented out to various corporations, with the bottom being owned by a club that played music I would generously refer to as the dying screeches of a speaker that was dumped in the ocean. Tonight, however, there was no sign of the usual customers hosting multi-colored hair and abundant piercings. Instead, tuxedoed staff waited at the entrance, politely greeting each guest as they made their way up the concrete walkway to the steel-and-glass doors. From the size of the men, I had no doubt they were therians, though they barely stood out amidst the crowd of lumbering guests filing through the entrance. Somewhere in the nation, a tuxedo rental chain must have been completely out of all sizes over extra-large.

  The small line of vehicles in front of us quickly dissipated as a series of swift, efficient valets delicately removed guests from their automobiles. From arrival to the moment a sizable hand pulled open the door next to me, it couldn’t have been longer than two minutes—no mean feat given the number of cars they were working through.

  “Impressive,” I told Krystal, as she slid her arm through mine and I watched her truck being swiftly driven away. “This is more coordination than I usually see from Richard’s people.”

  “They’re trying to make a good impression,” Krystal told me. “Both on their new tribe members and on the bigwigs in attendance. It’s a subtle thing, but showing strong teamwork in mundane activities will make people more hesitant to take you on in battle. After all, if that’s how good they are at parking cars, you can only imagine what they’d be like at spilling blood.”

  We continued forward in silence as we drew near the entrance. There was a small line as the security team confirmed each person was indeed a guest—though what madman would try to break into this party, I couldn’t imagine. As we waited, I caught sight of a few symbols drawn above the doorways. My eyes followed them, noting the way they wove down the sides and even across the ground in small sections. I’d only been to Richard’s building a few times in our association, but I felt reasonably certain I’d have noticed those if they were present before.

  “Are those supposed to be decoration?” I asked, nodding slightly at the symbols over the door.

  Krystal looked at me with a fleeting touch of surprise and shook her head. “I didn’t expect you to see those, but it makes se
nse, given whose blood you drank. They’re draconic runes, part of a spell that Gideon set up over the building.”

  “Dare I ask what it will do?”

  “It’s a suppression charm, meant to bring the guests a little closer to human than para. You’ll find them at lots of gatherings like this, though most places have to use mages instead of a dragon. They’re handy for keeping the peace and making sure that, if any scuffles do break out, they don’t take down an entire building.”

  “Should I be concerned? After all, a vampire without magic is, well . . . just a corpse.”

  “Give me a little credit; I wouldn’t have brought you along if the things were that powerful. There’s no magic that can just turn off what a parahuman is. This is nothing more than a dampener. You’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m not even sure they’ll affect you.” Krystal patted my arm with her free hand, letting it linger there as she spoke. I wanted to hear why she had such a theory, but at that moment the guests in front of us were cleared to enter, and it was our turn to talk with security.

  The exchange was brief and polite. Krystal gave them both our names, and after one checked a list while another talked on the radio to an unseen guard, we were permitted entrance. Had I still breathed out of anything but habit, I likely would have held my breath as we stepped through the threshold. Krystal’s firm grip permitted no such theatricality though, as she pulled me through the door and into the lobby. I thought I felt a slight tingle run across my skin, but it easily could have been my imagination. Either way, I neither dropped dead nor suddenly turned human, so it seemed Krystal was right about the undead not being at risk.

  With my fear assuaged, I allowed myself to take in the scene before me. A long, deep maroon carpet ran from the building’s entrance to a set of large white stairs. White balloons adorned the railing, along with swaths of matching fabric hung with such delicacy that I immediately knew Richard had outsourced the decorating. I could already hear the soft strands of string music—too lively and imperfect to be recorded—floating down from several floors up. Much as I respected Krystal’s opinions, at that moment, I had to disagree with her: therians most certainly could throw a gala.