by R. J. Blain
Ben snorted from somewhere down the hall.
“Ben is incapable of admitting fear of anything, especially a woman who is a lawyer and a vampire capable of ripping his head off and drinking him dry.”
“Has Ben done something to justify that?”
“Not yet.”
“Then Ben is safe.” I shook my head and turned my attention to the box filled with new laws dealing with vampires. “Would you please bring me a cup of coffee while I get to work on this?”
“You do realize I’m the master of this brood, right?”
“Yes, that’s why I asked you to bring the coffee. Why settle for anything other than the best?”
Insults and compliments worked best together, and I enjoyed when Emerick fumed at my jabs. He huffed his displeasure and left the office. I assumed he’d fetch me coffee, and I’d even thank him when he did so.
I grabbed the topmost file. There was nothing like thousands of pages of legalese to dump me back into the life I thought I’d left behind forever.
I couldn’t tell if the lawmakers had it out for the preternatural or liked them, but I got so many mixed signals from the new laws it would take weeks to make sense of them all. As requested, Emerick brought me coffee and porcelain containers of non-dairy creamer and sugar for my enjoyment. Unlike in my father’s company, no one bothered me while I worked, which helped make the tedious reading startlingly pleasurable.
Using the provided tablet and stylus, I took notes on the new laws. Most boiled down to controlling the dangerous species of preternatural so they wouldn’t be a risk to mundane humans. The terms varied, which annoyed me. Not even the law could decide if we were preternatural or supernatural entities. According to the newer bylaws, Emerick’s tactic of feeding everyone with livestock protected the brood and benefited his estate. While there were methods of obtaining blood from humans, it required a lot of legal documentation and waivers, something I doubted many wanted to put up with. Vampires could purchase blood donations, which were heavily taxed before the donors were paid.
At minimum, a vampire would have to pay the government a thousand dollars per pint of blood and two thousand dollars per pint to the donor. Either vampires had a great deal more money than I’d thought, or the government intended on ridding the Earth of them through starvation methods.
The law I found most intriguing barred the taxation of livestock intended for vampire broods, which would save Emerick a great deal of money down the road. I suspected he’d found some way to con or bribe a politician into proposing the law, as I couldn’t imagine mundane humans granting vampires such a boon without a great deal of effort.
Three cups of coffee into my binge, I tapped my feet and fought the urge to pace. I tore through the paperwork, tossing the uninteresting legislation to the side to review again later and hunting for the interesting tidbits my father would use to create loopholes for himself.
Halfway into the box, I struck gold.
Emerick hadn’t been the only one playing the politicians, and if my father wasn’t behind the gem of a law meant to offer landlords substantial subsidies to provide housing for vampires, I’d eat my mug. As banging my mug in demand had summoned Emerick before, I gulped my coffee and thumped it against the desk.
It worked like a charm, and the brood’s master glared at me. “Another one?”
“Landlords who provide housing for vampires will receive a significant subsidy beginning in January,” I announced, waving my findings. “While I expect you’ll benefit as part of housing the brood, he who owns Harlem will funnel a substantial amount of taxpayer money into his coffers, money he’s not required to do jack shit with. It’s all profit. There’s also a clause stating that mundane human leasing laws don’t apply to vampires and other supernatural or preternatural entities. It seems they have no idea how to classify people who are not properly human. The leasing agreements must provide all documentation. Whatever they sign is binding and those documents will be what courts use in all housing cases involving non-human tenants. If your brood has signed a lease with you, you’ll need to rewrite them by January to make certain you and your brood are properly protected. The leases will also be able to override eviction rulings. I don’t think that was intended, but the way this is currently written? As long as you write in a line stating that your tenants can’t be evicted for any reason, they’ll be covered.”
Emerick grabbed the sheets, his eyes narrowing while he read the documentation. “That seems like a stretch to me.”
I loved when I found a needle in a haystack, and the loophole counted. “My father’s lawyers would latch onto those loopholes and likely win. It would take months to work through the courts and law system to be changed, and while it’s trapped in the system, he could get away with whatever he wanted. And that loophole means any type of non-human will be caught into it. I suspect that’s the purpose of the uncertainty in language: by using supernatural and preternatural, they catch all non-human species. So far, it looks like as little as an accusation can get someone labeled as a supernatural, something that is likely difficult to overturn. Someone will fight that in court and eventually win, but as it stands, it’s a dangerous loophole.”
“Mug,” he ordered.
I handed over my mug, smirking as I got the brood’s master dancing to my tune again. Unfortunately, he took the papers with him, leaving me with the stack of less-interesting documents to sift through until he returned my treasure and my next cup of coffee.
I rubbed my hands together and wondered what I’d do with the information I’d found—and how I could take the wind out of my father’s sails, as I had no doubt he’d do his best to screw me over the instant he realized I’d been made into what he hated most.
As writing up legal documentation fell under the umbrella of a good lawyer, I began laying out the foundation for a good lease that would protect Emerick and his vampires. Every loophole I found, each more insidious than the last, led me to believe my father had taken leave of his senses or wanted to build more than an empire of wealth and fame. If left unchecked, he could create an indentured population. The residents of the new Harlem my father hoped to build would fall into a living hell of a prison. If he wrote the documents right, he could force the vampires living in his buildings to pay more than rent.
Nothing prevented him from requiring tenants to work as part of their rent, and one of the bylaws established a ruling allowing landlords to, at their discretion unless countered within the lease, demand up to ten hours a month of labor in exchange for a ten percent reduction in rent.
My draft of the Lowrance brood’s lease agreement barred such practices and required separate documentation for all labor related to the brood. If Emerick didn’t have paperwork, he would soon enough. Protecting his brood on the legal front would buy me time to figure out how I’d fit in with so many vampires.
The gender divide worried me, too.
The files indicated the brood had four vampiric women, all of whom were older and married to equally old men. The rest of the brood either lived as eternal bachelors or were married to human women. I wondered what it would mean for me. With seventy-six single men to one single woman, I’d need a lot of stakes to keep any unwanted attention away. Had the women in the brides brood seen the odds and opted to join to have company?
I could understand that.
Halfway to the moon on coffee, I paced the office while I digested everything I read, determined what I needed to accomplish in the lease arrangement and how to best cripple my father’s plans. With the laws targeting the preternatural, I wouldn’t be able to build a case until someone ran afoul of the law. The easiest way would be to lure a pure human into signing a preternatural lease agreement and trapping them in the unfair terms; that might give me everything required to overturn the law and build a case.
It might also lead to registration of the preternatural, something that would hurt far more than help.
I suspected my father’s goals involved such a
registry, which would make it easier for him to find victims for his housing schemes. Ten hours a month of free labor at the price of reduced rent would give him an edge in all of his businesses. He’d never have to hire temporary employees, he wouldn’t have to pay out benefits or wages, and he could give them jobs no one else wanted to do.
The bastard would enjoy every penny saved, and once I factored in the subsidies, my father would have an unfair advantage over regular employers. He could transform his profitable business into a true empire. The motivation fit him well; greed would lead him into trying to conquer the world if he thought he could get away with it.
Emerick’s thoughts on why my father wanted me made more and more sense. Everything I’d done for my father gave me the insight needed to recognize how he might manipulate the system for his benefit. If he learned I meant to help vampires escape his plans, I’d become a target.
No matter what I did, I lost. I’d choose how I lost, the sole consolation that would make my efforts worthwhile.
I eyed my empty mug and reached for it.
“I have it timed. You need a new coffee every thirty-three minutes,” Emerick announced, swooping into the room and snatching the mug so I couldn’t bang it to summon him. “I’m going to have to hire someone in the brood to take care of your coffee needs or put a maker in here to spare us all your fussing. Last time, they heard your banging all the way in the reception.”
“I had a thought,” I announced.
“Is there anything more dangerous than a woman with a thought she is determined to share with me?”
“A woman bereft of coffee,” I countered.
“Indeed. Is your thought important enough to delay your coffee, or should I go fetch and prepare for a long discourse?”
“Fetch, Lowrance. Bring yourself something to drink, too. You might be here for a few minutes.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
I smiled my best smile, the same one I whipped out when dealing with over-confident men about to learn a valuable lesson about why it wasn’t wise to irritate a woman smarter and better educated than them. “It seems old age has granted you some wisdom. I’m impressed.”
“You’re going to turn my brood upside down, aren’t you?”
“I’d call it less upside down and more closing as many unpleasant loopholes for you as possible until I’m better established and can fully provide for myself.”
“You’re going to be stubborn about this, I see. As your master, it’s my privilege to provide.”
“Yes, I am. No free handouts. I’ll work to earn my keep, thank you.”
Emerick chuckled, shook his head, and left with my mug, returning several minutes later. He’d brought a cup of coffee for himself and handed over mine before perching on the edge of my desk. A soft clearing of a throat drew my attention to the door.
Ben poked his head into the office. “Mistress Avalon is here, and she wants to see you about Pepper.”
“Already?” Emerick sighed and sipped his coffee. “We may as well get this over with. Bring her here alone. Her entourage can wait in reception and make it clear that if they even attempt to step foot into my sanctum, I will have them all staked.”
“She brought only women, sir.”
“Be very clear. Pepper is part of our brood and we won’t tolerate anyone attempting to take her. No implications of hostages, either. Any who bring harm or threat to our brood will be staked to final rest. Bring the black oak stakes with you when you come, and give one to Pepper.”
Ben bowed and left.
“That sounds rather hostile.” I sipped my coffee before setting the mug aside and packing away my work so Mistress Avalon couldn’t poke her nose into our business. “What’s special about these black oak stakes?”
“They’re very old and came from a special tree. You may find holding it disconcerting, but it’s the best weapon I can offer you on short notice.”
“It’s a weapon I know how to use.” I shrugged. “You could give me a gun, but I know nothing about firearms beyond pointing it at someone I want to die and keeping my finger away from the trigger unless I mean to fire.”
“We’ll be changing that. For some reason, even if I assigned someone to protect you, you wouldn’t handle such observations well. When Mistress Avalon arrives, I’ll trust you to deal with her however you see fit, but I’d recommend against offering her any openings unless you want to join her brood. We haven’t had a chance to finalize your terms in legal paperwork.”
“Got it.” I already disliked the woman and hadn’t even met her yet. Then again, I disliked anyone who tried to shunt me in the same roles my father had, especially the one of future baby maker and lure for a proper male heir.
It didn’t take long for Ben to bring a woman in a Victorian-era ball gown into my office, and I looked her over with a brow raising at her excessive collection of baubles decorating her throat, wrists, and hair. In a power play, the woman wouldn’t have dared to wear anything other than genuine gemstones. I’d seen the appeal for wealth and power so many times I wanted to roll my eyes at the absurdity of her prancing out in front of me, trying to impress me with her fame and fortune.
Color me unsurprised with a splash of disgusted.
“Mistress Avalon,” Emerick greeted. His tone implied he was less than thrilled to see her.
“Emerick. I see you thought you could acquire yourself a bride without going through me.”
I hated egotistical assholes who pretended like they had my interests at heart when they wanted to control me for their purposes. Taking a sip of my coffee, I did another look over the vampire, my initial dislike strengthening with every moment. “He hasn’t acquired himself jack shit, lady. Because he’s too clever for his own good, he has temporarily earned my company, which he’ll continue to have to earn to my satisfaction. I take it you’re an older vampire, so I’ll give you a heads up on why you’re having trouble raising modern women. We don’t like cages, Mistress Avalon, and I’ve heard the full disclosure about your brood of brides. Let me phrase this in a way that will leave absolutely no misunderstandings: I’d rather be staked than have anyone, especially another woman, dictate who I choose to bed or wed. Furthermore, you can take your dated idea of making a man pay for me and shove it right up your ass.”
Ben choked as he stepped into the room and offered me a white, satin-wrapped bundle. I accepted it, my eyes narrowing at the weight of the stake within. Once it was secure in my hand, he returned to the door. “For your holding as promised, Miss Lowrance.”
“Lowrance?” Mistress Avalon demanded.
“My youngest was given the option to choose her name, and she selected Pepper Lowrance. She did so to protect herself. I have accepted her, and she has requested haven in my brood. She’s very opinionated and sensitive over anyone attempting to control her. She’s a poor fit for your brood and an excellent one for mine.”
The two glared at each other, and I spun in my chair so I could set the stake on my desk and unwrap it. Age rendered the pale wood dull, and when I traced my fingers over its length, it warmed my skin as though the sun still touched it. Some things never changed.
Humans craved what they couldn’t have and so did vampires.
“And you believe yourself the judge of that, Lowrance?”
As the so-called Mistress Avalon couldn’t be bothered to treat Emerick with any respect as a master of his brood, I’d follow her lead and wield her rudeness as my weapon; I’d swallow my disgust over using what I suspected was Emerick’s proper form of address. “It seems Avalon is either hard of hearing or can’t comprehend modern times, Master Lowrance.” To make it clear I didn’t trust her an inch, I spun in my chair, snatching the stake in one hand and tapping my finger against its lethal tip. I raised a brow, repeating my visual examination of Mistress Avalon’s gown. “It takes respect to earn respect, and you haven’t earned mine. In his way, Master Lowrance has. You do not barge into someone else’s home and treat them with di
srespect. If you were expecting me to be impressed by your flaunting of polite society, you’ve misjudged me, Avalon.”
The woman gaped at me as though I’d stabbed her in the chest with my stake.
“Please forgive Pepper, Mistress Avalon. She’s less than a year old, and she’s still learning her way. As I prefer to allow those of my brood to be individuals with their own personalities, I’m undecided on how to temper her modern flair with the rules and etiquette of our society. I value her perspectives and honesty, and I’m concerned you would chisel that out of her in order to transform her into your ideal woman. Here’s what you need to know. She was attacked and forced into becoming a vampire. I refuse to allow you or anyone else to add to her trauma. She is here of her own volition, and should anyone attempt to coerce her into doing something she doesn’t wish to, I will take severe offense to that. I recommend you get together with Mistress Pettigrew and make it clear Pepper is one woman who will not be joining either of your broods. She finds the concept of being sold to a man offensive at best. She also presents an interesting point you may wish to consider. Modern women are not the same breed as women of your era. Perhaps you’ve lost so many of your children because you’re trying to mold them into your image. Pepper has made it clear to me she’d rather be staked than a slave to your system. And make no mistake, Mistress Avalon. A woman who must be paid for, even at top dollar, is nothing more than an expensive slave. Like me, you disclose the realities of your brood to candidates. Perhaps your candidates are choosing death over the loss of their freedom. Your cages are of gold and platinum, and they’re beautiful things, but they’re still cages. Pepper would live only to break free of your influences.”
“And how is your brood better?” the woman demanded, baring her fangs and hissing.