Undeath and Taxes

by Drew Hayes

  “I still don’t like this,” Krystal said. Her hand was gripping mine tightly, so strongly in fact, that, for a moment, I wondered if her power were somehow leaking through.

  “It’s not how I wanted to spend the night either, but Arch is right. You two have to keep the others safe. I’ve got Bubba and Amy with me, and we’re going away from the dragon. We’ll be fine.”

  Krystal leaned forward and kissed me. This was nothing like the theatrical lip-smacking she’d laid on me when there was a room full of people to sell the act to. This was short, and tender, and fierce. Neither of us was good at talking about our feelings, but she managed to pack all the fear she had for my safety and the loneliness she’d experience without me into that single kiss. When we parted, she immediately looked away from me, turning to Arch.

  “Let’s get this fucking thing done.”

  4.

  “This cage that could hold Gideon, ‘bout how big would it have to be?” Bubba had taken the napkin from Amy’s cocktail and a pen from his pocket, and was proceeding to scribble down something I couldn’t yet make out.

  “For a dragon like Gideon, we’d be talking pretty damn huge,” Amy replied. “Even in his current form, the amount of magic he has would take wards upon wards to hold back. We’d be looking at binding circles that would take up half of one of these floors, minimum.”

  “Do they have to be undisturbed?” I asked. “If so, then that should narrow it down. Most of the floors will have walls and furniture breaking up the space.”

  “That would be the case for most binding circles, but dragon magic can work a little . . . differently, depending on the caster.” Amy shook her head. “We’re better off not making any assumptions we don’t have to.”

  “That still gives us something to go on,” Bubba said. He held up the napkin, which had a numbered list of various locations. “There can’t be that many floors in here where an entire half could just go unused and not draw attention.”

  “Not with real estate costs what they are and a location this prime,” I agreed.

  “Out of the floors Richard controls directly, there’s the top three where he lives and does business, and then the basement. I seriously doubt Gideon is stashed on any of the top floors, since those have been full of therians dealing with the negotiations for the past few weeks. Richard mostly uses the basement for storage, which would make it the ideal spot to stash a bound dragon, except that it also doubles as an entryway for his private guests and the nocturnal visitors, meaning he has sweeps of it done regularly.”

  “Which all leads to the conclusion that our dragon thief wouldn’t have put Gideon on any of the floors Richard controls directly,” Amy said.

  “He’s most likely on one of the others. Maybe the dragon even rented a name under a fake business just to have a place to stash Gideon,” I suggested.

  “That seems a little involved.” Bubba’s skepticism was polite, but still present.

  “Fred’s on the right train of thinking,” Amy said. “Binding Gideon would have taken months, maybe years, of magical preparation. Renting a floor would have been a minor task to undertake, relatively speaking.”

  “There’s a security directory at every guard station in the building,” Bubba told us. He folded his napkin and tucked it into the jacket pocket of his tuxedo, where I greatly hoped he would not forget to remove it before the return came due. “We can take a look at all the floors and their owners, see if anything jumps out at us.”

  “It’s as good a plan as we’re likely to come up with, under the circumstances,” I said. Amy nodded her agreement, and the three of us were off.

  Bubba’s knowledge of the building might not have presented overt usefulness in helping us locate Gideon initially, but it immediately became indispensable as we made our way from the party and into the momentarily deserted depths of the structure. He took us through various hallways and concrete staircases, careful to keep us away from areas where we risked being noticed. While we may not have been missed from the party itself, there was a very good chance that being discovered prowling through Richard’s domain would put us in a very uncomfortable position.

  As we made our way through yet another identical hallway, I noticed a change in Bubba. Despite his sizable frame, the big man had always moved with a surprising amount of grace and energy. In all our time knowing one another, I could scarcely recall ever seeing him worn out, or even short of breath. This was, of course, due to the inherent physical gifts of being a therian. But as we walked briskly down the hall, I realized that I could hear Bubba breathing heavily. It was a small thing, completely unimportant in other circumstances, yet it stood out to me like a drop of blood on a white carpet. It was easy to forget that my friends, usually far more powerful than me, were weakened while in this building, which meant I’d have to do all I could to keep them safe.

  We finally made it to one of the small, kiosk-like stations near an entrance, where, normally, security guards sat to scrutinize and direct each guest. It was immaculately clean, with no sign of any books, directory or otherwise, present on the desk. Amy and I looked at Bubba, who waved off our concern.

  “They keep that stuff locked up, obviously. It’s in the bottom drawer on the left.” He leaned over, grasped the metal handle, and pulled. Moments later, when it failed to come free, Bubba stepped forward, braced his feet, and gave a much hardier tug. The metal drawer groaned and began to bulge, but otherwise held in place.

  “Maybe we should let Fred try,” Amy suggested softly.

  Bubba looked like he wanted to fight the idea, but whatever discontent he had was swallowed as he released the handle and stepped away. He turned around, though not before we could see the sheen of sweat across his forehead. Bubba quickly wiped it off with the arm of his tuxedo jacket.

  “We all know it’s the dragon runes,” I said, hoping to placate what I assumed was his wounded ego.

  “Knowin’ why doesn’t change the fact that I’m weak, and I hate being weak.” Bubba didn’t turn around to talk with us; instead, he kept his eyes trained out the nearest doorway, looking into the night air. Less than thirty feet of distance, but once he crossed that threshold, Bubba would be whole again.

  It had never occurred to me that the other parahumans I knew might be terrified at the idea of being weakened. I had always been weak—it was my default setting—so the idea of losing some of my power didn’t rankle me in the slightest. But it was clear I was the oddity here, not them.

  “I’d hardly call what you did to this drawer weak,” I said, leaning over and grasping the handle. (It is worth noting that said handle had been slightly warped into the shape of Bubba’s hand.) “It just needs one more solid tug to get it loose.” I yanked, and the drawer gave way, flying open so quickly I nearly pulled it all the way out.

  Bubba had been right; there was a security directory right there in the top of the drawer. Amy snatched it up and opened it on the desk, which finally drew Bubba’s attention back to the task at hand. The three of us began reading the pages, trying to spot something, anything, that was out of place.

  “I suppose it was too much to hope they’d use some sort of dragon pun in the company’s name.” I sighed as I skimmed through the list of various business names. From the look of the directory, there wasn’t a single unrented floor in the building, which spoke wonders about the Winslow economy, but also made our job all the more difficult.

  “We’re not dealing with a Bond villain,” Bubba said. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to take Gideon’s place; they’re not going to make finding him that easy.”

  “If it’s even on one of these floors,” Amy reminded us. “Right now, we don’t know anything for sure.”

  As my eyes ran through the list of names for what had to be the fifth time, I lingered on the moniker of a company on the eighth floor: Alcron Technical Industries. There was something off, something that didn’t feel quite right. I read through the small entry written below its name, no doubt t
here to help the guards direct people who knew the purpose of the business, but had forgotten the name. By the time I’d finished, I knew what was wrong, and I had a good idea of where Gideon was.

  “I think it’s this one, on floor eight.” I pointed to the Alcron entry and tapped it with my index finger. “The note says it’s a startup business in communication technology.”

  “So?” Bubba asked.

  “So, I make it a point to keep abreast of new, important companies in our area. It’s sort of my business to get in early and offer services, after all. For a startup to need this much office space, they’d have to have accrued substantial staff and revenue, which means I should have at least heard of them. Granted, it’s possible they’re such a niche company that they slipped my notice, but it’s the only one that seems off to me.”

  “At this point, a hunch is better than nothing,” Amy said. “We can bring the directory with us, so we’re better off moving, anyway.”

  “I trust Fred’s judgment. If he thinks something is off, that’s good enough for me.” Bubba checked the floor number, then looked around the area. “As soon as I remember where the elevator is, we’re going up to the eighth floor and hopefully busting out one pissed off dragon.”

  “I find it hard to picture circumstances where I would ever want to see Gideon truly enraged,” I said.

  Bubba paused, then gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Well then, you might want to close your eyes, because I don’t see any other way of him taking this.”

  5.

  The front door of Alcron Technical Industries seemed almost excessively mundane. Usually, corporate offices tried to appear at least somewhat aesthetically pleasing on the outside, even if they were in a place that didn’t attract visitors; it helped set the right tone for guests, clients, and investors. But Alcron had clearly gone with a different stylistic choice. No tastefully-stained glass or well-crafted logo adorned their exterior; instead, it was a large gray door with the name of the company in small print.

  “Looks normal to me,” Amy said. I often forgot that, as much as she knew about magic, Amy was woefully under-equipped with knowledge on the way things worked in a corporate office environment.

  “Trust me, it isn’t.” I reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped when a large hand wrapped firmly around my wrist.

  “If this is the place, they might have trapped the door,” Bubba said. He released his grip on me slowly, as if afraid I might dart forward and try to grab the knob anyway, just for the heck of it.

  “Which is precisely where I come in.” Amy rummaged around in her purse, filling the nearby air with the sound of tinkling glass as bottles (far more than should have been able to fit in such as a small purse) bounced off one another. At last, she produced a small vial filled with an emerald-colored liquid. With a quick twist of the cap, Amy pulled off the top and downed its entire contents.

  “Just out of curiosity, why did you bring so many potions to a simple dinner gala?” I asked.

  Amy closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously from side to side. When she stopped and reopened her eyes, they glowed with the same color as the liquid that had been in the vial. “Because it’s a party, which means it’s a great chance for me to move some product. That’s the key to successful business, Fred. Always be looking for opportunity.”

  “Ah, right.” I often let it slip my mind that Amy’s income as a mage came from her exceptional capability in designing potions strong enough to create reality-altering states for even the most powerful of parahumans. While, in my human days, I might have expected these to be used as a weapon or poison, I had since learned that the vast majority of her clients bought them for recreational use.

  Amy moved between Bubba and me, shifting us slightly to the side as she examined the door. I had no idea what she was looking at, but it was certainly keeping her attention rapt. After several silent moments, she turned back to us.

  “We’re definitely at the right place.” Amy jerked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the door. “This thing is warded up and down. Luckily, the vast majority of the stuff is built around keeping things in—sound, magic, all the shit that might tip someone off to Gideon’s existence. Focusing all that magic inwardly made it more or less impossible to ward against things getting in, similar to the way any good door with a lock only swings one way. Too bad for us, though, they did add a few spells to send out an alarm if the door gets opened.”

  “Meaning if we go in, we tip off the other dragon, whose only obstacle is a room full of weakened parahumans,” I said.

  “No, they’re in a room full of weakened parahumans and two agents,” Bubba corrected me. “I’d say we press on, even if it was just Krystal in there. With Arch around too . . . we don’t need to worry about the other guests. We need to worry about Gideon.”

  “Is Arch really that powerful? Every sense I have keeps telling me he’s human.”

  “Yeah, but I bet Krystal reads the same way.” Bubba reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “Agents are their own kind of breed. Don’t try to understand them, just trust that they can do their job. Because, since I’m powered down and Amy doesn’t need to waste a strength potion on this, it’s on you to bust down the door.”

  “I don’t have any idea how to do that.” I’d seen lots of movies where people ran through doors, but I had assumed that to be mere Hollywood license. Sure as Bubba seemed about the agents dealing with our rogue dragon, I didn’t really want to dilly-dally about on the door once the alarm was tripped.

  “With your strength, a single kick near the knob should do it,” Amy said. “Enough force will either break the lock out of the wall or the door off the lock, and either one suits our purposes.”

  I walked up to the door and raised a single leg, focusing on staying balanced while also doing my best to aim; the last thing I needed was to ram my foot through the door and get stuck. Leaning back just a touch, I thrust my foot forward, landing the sole of my well-shined shoe a few inches above the knob. The door buckled, but remained in one piece—though it now possessed a large, shoe-shaped dent in it.

  “Looks like they didn’t skimp on materials,” Bubba noted. “You’re gonna have to get a real piece of that thing.”

  Rearing back again, I took aim and struck, targeting the same spot. Unlike before, I blocked out any fears of falling through, focusing instead on putting as much power as I could muster into the kick. Moments later, a loud cracking sound filled the air and the door swung open, tattered remnants of a deadbolt still wedged into the wall as the door moved freely.

  “If I’m being perfectly honest, I think a part of me has always wanted to do that.” I lowered my foot to the floor carefully, as though it might wildly lash out and destroy another piece of the building if not handled delicately.

  “The first one is always the best,” Bubba agreed. I was tempted to ask him exactly what he meant by that, but then we were through the door and into the proper offices of Alcron Technical Industries. Or, rather, what should have been offices.

  There were no uncomfortable rolling chairs present—the hallmark of any good office environment—nor were there desks to sit at, computers to work on, or chest-high walls to divide the peons and curb unproductive chatter. In fact, there was nothing remotely office-like at all. The whole area was completely bare, save for a single object.

  A massive metal cube took up the vast majority of the floor, with perhaps five feet of space on any given side, save for the front. There were dozens of runes on it, similar to the ones I’d seen outside the building, only far more complex. I’d never really tried to imagine what sort of cage it would take to hold a dragon, but this seemed about right.

  Amy let out a soft, low whistle as she stared at the gleaming monstrosity. “This is incredible. I mean, just glancing over the spellcraft on this thing, I can already get a sense of the depth someone put in. Whoever made this must have put in years on it.”

  “Got it, damn thing is a piece of art.
Now, how do we bust it the hell up?” Bubba asked.

  “I’m going to need a few minutes to figure that out.” Amy walked slowly through the room, analyzing each rune carefully, and then following it to the next. As she moved, her hands dug in her purse, rooting aimlessly for a concoction I could only imagine the effects of.

  “I hate to be the one to bring this up, but are you sure we’ll be able to smash it?” I asked. “If this was made by a dragon, isn’t there a chance that we aren’t strong enough to break Gideon’s cage?”

  “Fred, with enough time and knowledge, a human could tear apart a prison built by a god,” Amy said. “There is always a way, if you’re willing to pay the price for it.” Two potions came out of the purse and into Amy’s hand. She opened them both and downed them simultaneously. It was a trick I’d only ever seen Bubba do with two beers, yet she pulled it off without spilling a drop.

  “In about five minutes, I’m going to be comatose.” Amy glanced over at us, clearly noting the obvious alarm in both of our faces. “I’ll be fine after a day or so, but it means this is the last I’m going to be able to contribute tonight.”

  “Why would you drink something that does that?” (I will admit that I may have sounded a bit more frantic than the situation called for, but it was the surge of emotion I felt at the time.)

  “Because during these next five minutes, I’m going to be the smartest mage in this and every other plane in existence.” Amy looked back at the cube and took a long breath. “If there’s a way to crack this bastard, I’ll find it. You two just make sure nothing distracts me.”

  I was about to assure her that we would keep ourselves quiet, when I noticed the sound of heavy breathing and hurried steps coming from a few floors down. I looked at Bubba, who showed no signs of awareness, since his hearing was lessened along with the rest of him.