The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant (10 page)

6.

“You really screwed the pooch on this one,” Bubba said once we were comfortably far from the conference room and heading toward the stables. Though it would be foolish to assume the dracolings wouldn’t have eyes and ears on every inch of their property, there was no sense in making our conversations easier for them to overhear.

“Maybe it will be okay,” I said, more out of desperate hope than actual optimism
.
“I mean a joust is sort of a physical event, and I am a lot stronger than humans.”

“A joust is closer to a shooting match than a fight,” Bubba corrected. “You have to aim your lance at a precise spot to try and topple your opponent, while steering your horse at just the right pace and keeping your balance, all while dodging the lance heading straight for you. The only place strength really comes in is in lifting the damn lance, which I’m sure you’ll do great at.”

We reached the gaming floor then, and after some quick directions from an attendant, headed to the arena. Evidently, Morgan had already called down and alerted everyone to our new level of clearance because as we left the casino area and stepped into Excalibur’s arena, not one worker stopped or bothered us. In fact, a pair of well-muscled men wearing suits specifically let us into the arena, then locked the doors after we stepped through
.
We kept silent as we moved during this time, even Albert, because the last thing we wanted was for everyone to see that we knew how good and screwed we were.

“It still doesn’t seem hopeless,” Albert said once the doors had been secured behind us. “Vampires are more than strong; they also have enhanced coordination, reflexes, and speed.”

“The key word there is ‘enhanced,’” Bubba said as we walked through the spacious tournament floor. There were stadium seats that stretched far above us, and the ground beneath us was covered in dirt and straw. In the center of one side of the seating was a boxed off area adorned with curtains and jewels, with a pair of thrones resting inside of it.

“If Fred had been some sort of fighter, or athlete, or anything like that before he got turned, then we might be a little better off,” Bubba continued. “But given that he’s wearing glasses and a sweater vest AFTER becoming a vamp, I’m guessing he wasn’t much of a tough guy when he had a heartbeat.”

They both paused and looked at me, at which point I did my best to look inconspicuous. It wasn’t as though I could really debate Bubba on that point.

“He still got enhanced, though,” Albert said.

“And if I multiply ten by two, I get twenty. Much higher than two, but not as good as if I’d multiplied ten by ten and gotten a hundred,” Bubba said. “Anyway, this is all pointless. Did you really think Morgan and his boys didn’t know vampires were stronger than dracolings? Dracolings always take bets they know they can win, so you can be damned sure there’s an ace in the hole.”

“What do you think it will be?” I asked
.

“Oh, I don’t wonder. I already know what it is,” Bubba said. “Follow me.”

With that he began walking off across the arena, toward a set of large wooden doors near the rear. Albert and I kept pace, unsure of what to expect. Bubba reached the doors and threw them open with ease. He strode into a room that would have been dark to human eyes, though Albert and I could easily make out the horses resting comfortably in their stables. We ventured after him, and that’s when the world came tumbling down.

The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the dark room,
a cacophony of screaming noise pierced my ears. Let me tell you something—having senses beyond the human threshold isn’t always a blessing. As the horses began to buck, and kick, and whinny in their stables, my ears overloaded, and I stumbled backward . . . backward into peaceful silence. Just as fast as the horses’ tirade had begun, it ended.

“Whoa,” Albert said.

“Vampires spook horses. Bad,” Bubba said as he emerged from the stables. “You blood suckers are some of the ultimate predators, and a horse’s senses are finely tuned to that sorta thing. Hell, even I get goose bumps when I stand too close to you.”

“So, I can’t ride one?” I asked, still trying to get my mental feet back under me.

“You won’t even be able to stay in the same room as one. The minute you’re there, every nerve and sense that poor horse has will go haywire. Since you’re strong, you’ll probably be able to subdue one and climb on top of it, but riding it with any real control? You can forget that shit right here, right now
.”

“Bastards.” Albert said.

“Maybe, but this might work to my advantage,” I said. “I mean, their guy will be riding a horse, too. Won’t me being there spook his horse as well? At least I can put us on an even playing field.”

“Yeah! Good thinking.” Albert was clearly on board, but Bubba was already shaking his head no.

“Dragon magic,” he said simply. “They have control over their possessions, including their horses. You being there will surely spook their guy’s horse, but it won’t matter. He’ll just override its fear. I told you already; the damn dracolings think of everything. You have to come out of left field.”

“Well . . . what about you?” Albert said. “Can you turn at will, or are you only a full-moon shifter?”

I briefly wondered why I hadn’t hit on that idea, but seconds later I became quite glad that Albert had beaten me to it. In motion that was shockingly fast given his height and bulk, Bubba had snapped Albert off the ground by the neck and held him several feet in the air.

“Now, I know,” Bubba growled, “that you
are not
suggesting Fred ride me. I am positive you would not insult me and my kind so blatantly as to suggest I submit myself to bearin’ a rider to control me. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Albert nodded as vigorously as he could with his neck being held in a hand the size of a ham, and Bubba dropped him to the ground. In truth, there was little Bubba could have done to hurt or injure Albert. Raised zombies are a ridiculously hardy lot, but Albert hadn’t been dead all that long, and he still hadn’t gotten used to things like not fearing death. He and I were similar in that regard. The difference was that I was ever so slowly learning to pick my battles.

“He’s right, you know,” I said. “If you can turn at will, then you’re probably the only chance we really have.”

Bubba turned on me, and for a second I thought he was going to throttle me by the neck, too. His eyes were big, and there was a vein bulging in his neck. Knowing I was stronger than him didn’t do much to cut the fear of having a giant man stare at me that way, so I finished my proposal with extra haste.

“It’s the only chance Krystal has, too.”

It was like I’d stuck a pin in a balloon. Bubba’s sudden ferocity slipped away like mercury running off a table, leaving me looking at a large, proud, powerful man who suddenly seemed very tired and unsure.

“I can turn at will, but it’s one of the highest dishonors for a weresteed to be ridden like a common horse,” Bubba protested weakly.

“Don’t think of me as a rider,” I said. “Think of me as a partner. Or think of me as a friend you’re doing a favor for. I don’t really care what titles we put on it, as long as it gives us a fighting chance of winning our freedom back.”

“You know, pride aside, it seems like the dracolings would have remembered that Bubba was a weresteed,” Albert said. “That makes the whole horse thing just a small pain in the ass instead of a deal breaker. I mean, they even gave him his freedom on casino grounds so he could work with us. Weird.”

I blinked in surprise. He was right. They had to know that Bubba would consent to being ridden if it meant saving Krystal and himself. Which meant there was something we were still missing.

“Actually, I think I can guess why they didn’t count me as an option,” Bubba said with a sigh. “I told you I was in a different situation than most weresteeds. Well . . . you know what?
Just watch.”

As I kept my eyes trained on him, Bubba seemed to ripple, like a pond that a stone had just been chunked into. His skin became darker, and his hands grew hard as his fingers merged together. His eyes became huge as his face elongated. His body began to shift, and a small popping sound registered to my ears as his clothes unsnapped. It seemed everything he wore was designed to snap off without tearing when he turned. I suppose that would be something of a must for a shape shifter on a budget.

It sounds as though it took some time, but that is only through my own amped up perception. In truth, only seconds passed between Bubba telling us to watch and Albert and I gazing upon a beautiful black-haired steed. It seemed strong and powerful, the kind of horse that made other horses slink back to their stables and munch on an oat bag rather than occupy the same track as such a beast. There was really only one problem.

“You’re a pony!” Albert shrieked in odd delight. He was right through. Massive as Bubba was in human form, he was somewhat less imposing while hooved. He came up to maybe my waist, and my figure was not one of height and intimidation. Albert raced over and began stroking Bubba the horse’s head. There was a sound like a rubber band snapping, and Bubba was back in his normal form, immediately gathering up his clothes.

“So,” I said to gently broach the subject once Bubba’s pants were back on.

“He’s right,” Bubba said curtly. “I’m a pony. I’m thirteen hands high, which makes me a big damn pony, but still a hand short of being a horse. Joust horses are supposed to be the biggest of the breed, so they can bring more power and height for their rider. If we use me, then we’ve as good as lost.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But then again, I’m not anyone’s ideal jouster. I took this bet because I’m really good at chess, which is ultimately the same thing as saying I’m bad at everything physical.”

“So, we’re double fucked?” Bubba asked.

“Probably,” I admitted. “We have to try, though. I mean, I hate sports, and competition makes me a little nauseous, and the idea of physically engaging with someone turns my legs to jelly. But what other choice do we have?”

“We’ll get our asses kicked,” Bubba said.

“I’ve gotten my ass kicked a whole lot of times.
One more probably won’t kill me. Besides, at least with a steed who won’t buck me, we have a shot at getting lucky.”

Bubba chuckled. “A vampire riding a pony. It certainly does come out of left field.”

“So what now?”

“Now, we practice. We’ve only got a few hours before we’re all slaves for life.”

7.

“How’s it looking out there?” I asked as Albert came scurrying back into our stable. We’d discovered that the stables on the opposite of the arena were empty of horses and used for equipment, so we’d set up shop there to get gear for the match. We’d spent several hours riding and getting comfortable with the lance and made some key discoveries. Bubba’s height really was a detriment, my aim was one as well, and it was damn hard to find a saddle that would fit a pony in a stable stocked for jousting horses.

“Pretty full,” Albert said. People had been filtering in for nearly an hour, and sooner or later, we’d be called out into the arena. Some casino workers had given us the rundown a few hours previously. Apparently, we would be called onto the floor and make introductions. Then Morgan would explain the rules, and we would bow to one another, and the fight would start. I guess I wasn’t surprised a shrewd businessman like Morgan was filling the seats for this show; I just hoped that didn’t mean I was in deep shit if I did something supernatural. If only Krystal were here, I could have asked her who was responsible for secrecy in this situation.

I felt a pang in my stomach when I thought about Krystal. It seemed like every time I’d wound up in this scenario before, she’d rushed in and saved me somehow. A part of me had kept expecting her to come into the arena last night and explain how she’d worked everything out, and we could go home. Sitting there, wearing rusty armor and holding a large wooden lance, it finally sank in all the way. Krystal wasn’t coming to our rescue this time. Today, the only cavalry we had was a werepony, a bumbling zombie, and a chickenshit vampire. I wondered if it was too late to place a bet on the other guy to win.

“You got a good grip on your lance?” Albert asked.

“Huh?” I said, yanking myself out of my reverie. “Oh, yeah, it feels just like holding a baseball bat.”

“When did you ever play baseball?
”

“I tried for the team in high school. Didn’t do so well,” I said, purposely keeping my answer brief
.
No need to go into details about accidently whacking the coach in the balls when the bat slipped out of my hands.

“Fred,” Albert said. “Do your best.”

“I’ll give it my all, however much that’s worth.”

“Contestants, please report to the arena!” A loud voice thundered through our stable, indicating it was time for the match to begin. Albert hustled over to the doors and worked them open. They were a touch rusty, so it took a few moments
before they were wide enough for Bubba and I to exit through. As a result, the dracoling champion was already out in the arena, garnering cheers and roses from the fans. He was a strapping young man, long blond hair and large physique under his glistening armor. There was no way he was stronger than me, but from the way he moved across the arena on his horse, it was clear I could have ridden for ten years and not had the same equestrian ability he possessed. My only hope was that he was worse with a lance than he was on horseback, and that was admittedly a very dim hope.

Bubba whinnied, and began moving forward, pulling us out into the sight of the crowd. I’d expected the noise to suddenly stop, like a needle on a record, but instead it grew larger. With laughter. I’ll admit we did look fairly humorous, but as I felt Bubba tense up beneath me, I put my hand on his head to steady him. I turned it delicately to where the throne box was. Sitting in one was Morgan, wearing a lavish tunic and drinking from a jeweled goblet. In the other, wearing a scoop neck dress and an angry scowl, was Krystal. He’d dressed her up like a medieval Barbie just to prove that he could. Bubba stamped the ground once and loosened his muscles, telling me he understood. These people didn’t matter, their laughter wasn’t important, and the only thing we needed to focus on was saving our friend.

“Good morn, my loyal subjects,” Morgan bellowed out to the crowd. “Today we hold a joust, for the hand of my own beautiful Lady Jenkins. Standing to the east, representing your king, please greet Sir Galvin!” The laughter decreased as the cheering was turned up a few notches.

“And to the east, representing himself, I present to you: Fred!”

“I think I got shafted on that introduction,” I muttered to Bubba as the waves of laughter and pointing increased. I almost wished I had worn a helmet to cover my face and hide my shame, but Bubba had pointed out that it could obscure my vision. Besides, it’s not like a lance to face was going to do any damage to my head anyway.

“Now, my dear subjects, this match shall be the first to three points. A broken lance anywhere on the body will count as a single point, and as always, should a rider be knocked to the ground in any way, he has lost the match,” Morgan said. “If our jousters will bow to one another.” I inclined my body as best I could in armor, and Galvin across the arena did the same. “Excellent, now take your positions.”

Bubba trudged over to the railing that ran through the center of the arena. We took our place on the right side and waited as Galvin did the same. It took him longer despite his superior skill, since he insisted on walking sideways and blowing kisses to the ladies in the audience. I noticed he threw several extra air smooches at Krystal and tightened my grip.

A small man dressed in period clothes came to the center of the railing and checked to see that we were both in position. He took a few steps back, and then with a jerking motion waved his flag telling us to charge.

I wish I could tell you it was over in a flash and I don’t remember what happened, but thanks to the damn vampire sense, I saw the whole thing clearly. Bubba was off like a shot, his size not diminishing the considerable power that being a werecreature afforded him. Galvin was moving quickly too, though, his horse’s size and power nearly broaching the speed gap. As we approached each other, I focused on his chest, visualizing it as one of the rings I had practiced with all night. I steadied my lance and drove it right for his sternum.

In a motion as fluid as running water, Galvin rolled his own lance in a circle, knocking against mine to deflect it and arriving back at the perfect position to skewer me dead center, smashing his lance and nearly driving me off Bubba. The only thing that kept me seated was the ludicrous amount of strength in my legs, strength that had been of no help when he’d used simple physics to remove my leverage and redirect my thrust.

As Bubba slowed down to a trot, I became vaguely aware of the loud cheers coming from the crowd. I righted myself and adjusted my seat as an attendant rushed forward with another lance.

That had been unreal; I’d never even had a chance at striking Galvin. He’d read my movements like a book and reacted to them perfectly, all of which was only made easier by the difference of several feet in height between us. I looked across the arena to see him being handed another lance, smiling freely. For a moment I wondered why he hadn’t bothered to put a helmet on, either. Then it hit me, he knew he didn’t need one. If I’d had any sense of pride at that moment, it might have been crushed.

Bubba and I pulled into position at the railing, and I took a deep breath to try and steady my nerves. I knew I didn’t actually need to breathe, of course, but stimulus response is ingrained deeply in the human mind, even after death. It worked too, and I felt myself become more in control. I knew if I used the few advantages I did have, I’d be able to strike Galvin dead center. The attendant came to the center and waved the flag, and Bubba and I surged forward, bent on destroying our opponent.

A few seconds later, we were trotting up to the other side with a new dent in my armor and another unbroken lance lying on my side of the arena. It was no good. He was just too well trained at this for me to overcome him with a few physical advantages and a night of practice.

Albert rushed to my side. “Fred! Fred, are you okay?”

“Well, I’m trying to get used to the idea of living and working in Vegas for the rest of my life, but other than that, I’m peachy,” I said as I pulled myself up.

“Yeah, you’re not doing too good,” Albert agreed.

“No, I am not.” I looked up into the throne box. Krystal was staring down at me, looking . . . I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I had ever seen such a look on her face. It was desperation, sadness, and helplessness all rolled into one and smothered with guilt. She knew we were going to lose. So did Morgan and the audience. Hell, for that matter, even we knew we were going to lose.

“Guess we didn’t come far enough out of left field.” Albert sighed resolutely.

I paused for a moment, looking up at Krystal, then at Albert, then Bubba, then working very hard to remember something Morgan had said earlier, word for word. A light clicked on in my head, and I had a plan. Go figure; I was tweaked out and amped up physically thanks to my vampire status, but the thing that might actually save us was my good old steel trap of a memory.

“Get me a lance,” I told Albert. As he hustled off to take the lance from an approaching attendant, I began working on my armor. After messing with the buckles for a few frustrating seconds, I gave up and just tore the armor off. I stretched my limbs, then leaned into Bubba.

“Can you run faster than you have been?” Bubba stamped once, indicating “yes” in the code we’d worked out during our training. “Good,” I told him. “Do that. Run as fast and as hard as you can. Stay straight along the rail no matter what. And try to trust me because I think we’re about to go for broke.”

Bubba stamped his hoof three times which meant, if I was remembering correctly, “Let’s go beat these bitches.” It had been a long night, and we’d had a bit of fun with the code.

Albert came scampering back and handed me my lance. “Where’s your armor?”

“I don’t need it for this one,” I said.

“Okay . . . why not?”

“Because if we keep trying the same thing, we’ll definitely lose, so at least this way we have a one-percent chance of winning
.”

“I kind of figured that,” Albert said. “I meant why don’t you need armor for whatever you’re trying?”

“Just watch,” I said with a sigh. Bubba moved slowly into our starting position, and I checked my legs in the saddle to make sure they were just where I wanted them. Galvin hesitated to take his spot though, staring across at me as I sat sans armor on the back of my pony. He reached up to the tip of his lance and broke off a chunk of the wooden tip. Then he smiled at me and began riding to his starting position. The meaning wasn’t lost on me. Right now he was essentially holding a giant wooden stake, and if he hit me this time, I’d be nothing but a pile of dust on the floor.

I tried very, very, very hard to keep the sudden rush of fear that hit me from showing on my face. I hadn’t expected him to raise the stakes (no pun intended), and in truth, if I’d known Galvin would do that, I likely would have just taken the final blow and lost the match. That option wasn’t on the table though, so all I could do was take another stabilizing breath and pray.

The starter attendant jerked his flag, and we were off.

My first thought was that Bubba really hadn’t lied about holding back. That black, little pony was thundering down the track like it was a mini-horse of the apocalypse. I was ninety-percent certain that if I’d been able to turn back and look, I would have seen hoof prints in the ground from how hard he was striking it.

Galvin noticed the difference, too, and began spurring his own steed vigorously to match pace. It was all for naught, though. His horse might have had more size, but Bubba was a pissed off weresteed running all out. That meant the only advantages Galvin still had were the height of his horse and his skill with a lance.

As I pulled up my legs and secured my balance, I took away his height advantage the only way I could think of. I stood up on Bubba’s back, riding him like several hundred pounds of angry, charging surfboard. It was a precarious position, and if I’d been human, there was no chance I could have pulled it off. But being a vampire isn’t all sun allergies and blood dependency. Even with my balance it was a challenge, but it was one I could handle for a short while. With the way Bubba was closing the gap between Galvin and me, I wouldn’t need to keep it up for long.

My antics had taken the crowd, and, more importantly, Galvin by surprise. Unfortunately, as we drew nearer, any uncertainty slid off of his face, leaving only focused determination in its place. This man was truly a warrior, and even with the advantage of speed and the leveling of our heights, there was no chance I’d be able to best him in a joust.

Luckily, he didn’t know that I was no longer competing in the joust. I’d moved on to a more modern game.

The two of us drew within lance range, and Galvin waited the split second to deflect my thrust. The thrust never came, though. I kept both hands locked on the lance raised on my right side, but made no movements to aim it at Galvin’s body. In a fraction of a second, Galvin read the course of my lance and knew I wasn’t aiming for him. I’m not sure if he paused to wonder why, or simply didn’t care, but he aimed that giant stake at my heart without hesitation and went for the kill.

My left hand smashed against his lance, leaving my own weapon and protecting my heart by pushing his blow over my shoulder. Disappointment smeared across his handsome face as he realized it would take another run to bring me down, but there was no fear or wonderment. We were too close for me to hit his heart with my lance. As our eyes met in the moments before we were even with one another, he saw the arch my arm was moving in, and comprehension dawned across his face. I was impressed he’d figured it out.