The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant (14 page)

6.

Fun physiology fact: the human body is wired to respond in a cacophony of terror when it hears certain sounds. This is a leftover of our hunter days, when the people who didn’t have such instincts wound up dead. It turns out that some of these responses are wired so deep that not even undeath can purge them. This is why, as scared as I was of the moss monster intent on turning me into an amuse bouche, the tremendous roar of an approaching lion cranked my fear levels up to where I was too frozen to even scream. I thought I was as terrified as I could possibly be . . . Then I saw the beast that had made the noise.

This king of the jungle was massive. It was easily bigger than a horse, and I’m not talking about one Bubba’s size. Its huge muscles propelled it forward with astonishing speed. The extra size did nothing to diminish its graceful movements as it leapt from the ground and sank tremendous fangs into the moss monster, or “mosster,” as I would later deem it. The creature let out a wheezing moan. Whatever force of the universe had created it evidently forgot to put in a tongue or vocal chords. The mosster turned its attention on the several-hundred pounds of slashing-and-biting lion that was screwing up its dinner plans.

Not one to waste an opportunity to run away, I swung myself upward and snatched at the vine holding me. It took a few tries before I finally got my hand around the leafy appendage. After that the rest was easy. Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long. My landing was far from graceful. Cats might always land on their feet. However, the same cannot be said for accountants. After a quick scramble up from the ground, I checked on the status of my savior.

The lion had carved away large swatches of the mosster’s outer layer, exposing a sort of tree-root skeleton beneath. Now, for a real lion, that would have been a challenge. People underestimate how dense a live branch can be. This particular over-sized feline was far from normal, its powerful jaws turning the skeleton into splinters as fast as it was revealed.

“Fred, you okay?” Bubba had jogged over while my attention was focused on the strange spectacle. Beneath the brim of his faded ballcap I could see a worried expression on his sizable face.“That thing didn’t get a piece of you, did it?”

“No, thankfully the giant lion managed to intervene before I found out if vampires can survive digestion.” We both turned to watch the battle. Even in the strange parahuman world that we occupied, it was still an odd and captivating show.

“Impressive, isn’t he?”

“That’s definitely a word. So, unless Neil or Albert learned some new tricks, I’m guessing that’s Richard?”

Bubba held up a shirt and a pair of pants that had previously been on the weremayor. “Yup.”

“Why is he so big? I know therians usually turn into larger forms of their animals, but . . . my goodness.”

“Like all animals, you get some that are runts and some that are alpha sized. Richard is one of the biggest around. It’s part of why he can stand over the therian community. We tend to respect people who can kick our ass.”

Richard was definitely demonstrating that talent on the mosster. It had been reduced to little more than a flapping mouth and mulch, even its vine tendrils unable to stop the lion’s relentless assault. As he snapped through one of what could probably be called its legs, I noticed the edges of it were melting away. They smeared along the ground in tiny, green rivers, vanishing after getting a few feet from the source.

Neil was the one who answered my evident look of curiosity, he and Albert finally catching up to the rest of us. Zombies can move quickly when they want to. Nerds who ran LARPs were generally less inclined toward cardiovascular exertion, though. Tugging at the collar around his neck and wiping sweat off his brow, Neil panted for a few moments before commenting on the dissolving mosster.

“Magic,” he said, as though that was all the clarification that was required.

“Augmented construct, actually,” Richard added. He’d shifted back to his human form so rapidly there hadn’t even been time to register it. Bubba coughed with a deep rumble, turned his eyes purposefully toward the ground, and thrust out his hands with Richard’s clothing. The rest of us followed suit, giving the man what privacy we could while he covered himself.

“Amy has taught Sally the basics of such magic. It revolved around creating a mindless servant from the materials at hand. Her lesson merely involved dancing paper figures, though.” It didn’t take long for him to slip back into his pants—it seemed like this was a situation he found himself in with some frequency. He didn’t even bother with the shirt, tucking it into his waistband and leaving his massive torso exposed to the chilly November air. To his credit, Bubba did an excellent job of not staring despite Richard’s objectively impressive physique. The man looked like a living statue from a civilization of oversized warriors. I didn’t play for the same team as Bubba, and I was struck with admiration.

“As much as I like knowing what that was, could someone tell me why it was here? Or better yet, why it decided to eat me?”

“Amy’s scent is strong here. I think we can surmise her abductor is another mage, one who thought to leave traps for anyone who might pursue them. As to its appetite, you were merely the first one to get close. It was fortunate you did. Now we know to be on the lookout.”

“Magical traps and monsters.” I sighed. Not for the first time that night, I wished Krystal was here. Despite being the only human, at least as far as I could tell, in our group, she was the best skilled for this sort of work. Wishing didn’t make things happen, at least not unless genies were real, which actually seemed like something I should check into. But, at any rate, she wasn’t with us, and we still had a kidnapped mentor to find.

“Oh, and thank you for saving me. Almost forgot my manners in the craziness,” I added after a moment.

Richard gave me a sideways glance that I was getting used to seeing from a lot of people. I got the feeling I didn’t mesh too well with other people’s expectations of vampires. That was fine. I didn’t match what I’d expected either. “You are welcome. Amy’s trail leads into the woods. Is everyone ready to pursue?”

“Hang on.” Bubba shrugged off his denim jacket, removed his faded baseball hat, kicked off his boots, and stuffed them all into a backpack he’d brought along from the truck. He kept his grey T-shirt and worn jeans on. However, it was clear he wanted to be able to shift rapidly if required. I bit my tongue at suggesting he might be more effective in his human form. As I’ve already said, Bubba could be a little sensitive about his size. Besides, even if he wasn’t as big as most weresteeds, he still packed a lot of kick into that little form.

Neil walked over while Bubba was stripping down and picked up a pair of sizable tree limbs that were left over from the mosster. Though most of the magical construct
had dissolved, and thankfully the mouth was part of that, there was still a pile of grass clippings and branches. Rejoining us, Neil handed one of the limbs to Albert and let the other rest against his shoulder. It seemed everyone was getting ready for a throw down.

We darted into the nearest cluster of trees, Bubba right on Richards (not literal) tail, Albert and I hanging back a bit with Neil. After a hundred yards, it became clear that the mage wouldn’t be able to keep up with us on foot, which was fair, given that two of us had supernatural endurance, and two of us didn’t have to breathe. So, we paused while Albert allowed his friend to climb into piggy-back position. Our pace increased after that, leaving the first cluster of trees and coming out near the gazebo I’d seen from the road.

Richard turned and began following one of the sidewalks, dashing past the small lake and ducking under a lamppost. I wondered what a human observer would take us for if they saw our strange parade. Drug addicts seemed like a solid bet, stoners chasing some invisible target or running from some imagined beast. I missed the days when I would silently judge seemingly crazy people in a park, instead of being one of them.

We ran up a small hill toward another cluster of trees, but as we crested the top, Richard stopped short. It only took a few steps and a slight shift in perspective to see what had brought him up short. Bustling about the border of the treeline were squat, semi-human-shaped creatures about three feet in height. Their color was somewhere between an eggshell and a pasty yellow. Squished faces with beady eyes sat atop their muscular bodies. The large caps on their heads made me think they seemed like pale midgets wearing sombreros.

“Heh, heh,” Albert giggled. “Does anyone else think those look like . . . never mind.”

“Dicks,” Bubba said. “Like walking dicks that have been juicing. I guess that means they started off as mushrooms.”

“Regardless of what they started as, I trust we all know where there are going.” Richard said, bringing us back to the task at hand. Bubba started to pull off his shirt, but the weremayor held up a hand and stopped him. “I don’t think there is any need for that. Half-form should be enough for these pests.”

I’d learned at a very troublesome high school reunion that therians could be full human or full animal, but they also had a step in between. It’s weaker than their full animal shape; however, it has the benefit of getting to hang onto things like opposable thumbs and the ability to speak.

Richard’s change was so rapid that even watching him closely, I barely caught all the details. Golden hair sprouted around his neck and across his entire body, which somehow managed to add several inches in height and tens of pounds of muscle. His face flattened into a cat-like nose set just above a large mouth filled with teeth clearly meant for evisceration. Each of his fingernails elongated sharply, tapering off to a point that I had no doubt was sharp enough to cut flesh. Possibly bone.

Bubba’s hybrid form was somewhat less impressive. Though he did grow wider and a touch thicker, he lost about a foot of height, putting him at eye level with the rest of us. His arms were longer than before, a thick, shiny black surface running across the back of his hands along the knuckles.  Dark brown fur about an inch long seemed to be growing out of every visible area except for his head, which had darkened to a near black. Facially, he looked like someone had run his face through a funhouse mirror, stretching it up and down like flesh taffy.

“You three, stay back,” Richard growled, making Neil and me both leap off the ground in terror. Remember what I said about sounds and genetic wiring? He had crossed the vocal threshold. “This will go faster if we don’t have to work around you.”

Bubba snorted, though whether it was in agreement or derision, I had no idea. Richard clearly did, as he bounded down the hill toward his unsuspecting prey, a significantly smaller, but equally hairy, form only a few steps behind him.

For my part, I crouched down into a squat and tried to get comfortable. It was going to be nice to finally see what winning an easy one looked like.

7.

“Faster. Faster. FASTER!!!!” Neil yelled, clutching Albert’s back in a death grip while swinging back on occasion to check the progress of our pursuers. I had no such need. My excellent hearing had become a curse, informing me of just how close the giant-mushroom men were. It helped that their enormous feet made a truckload of noise with each step.

It seemed that not all constructs are simply made and then bound to their form. I would later learn that a particularly skilled mage can impart special properties to their creations, properties such as, for example, the ability to grow nine-feet taller and proportionally larger when threatened. Of course, that alone would actually have not been an unassailable hurdle, not for Richard and Bubba anyway. No, what had taken them down was the other aspect these mushmen possessed. A sound like pudding being churned came from behind, and I dearly missed the time in my life several minutes ago when I didn’t know what that meant.

“Incoming!” I risked a glance back as I yelled, trying to calculate which one was firing and where to dodge. Two of them had swollen cheeks and closed mouths, as though they were holding their breath. If only that were the truth. I veered left and saw Albert go right, both of us dodging the thick wads of acid that landed where we had been only seconds before. The goo covered a wide patch of ground, hissing and bubbling as it destroyed all it touched. Even the seemingly invincible Richard had looked pretty horrific after getting doused in it, right before he screamed at us to hightail. From Bubba I knew that, short of silver and beheading, there wasn’t much a therian couldn’t regenerate from. I was far less certain about the effects of acid on undead flesh, and I knew for certain it would dissolve Neil down to bone, hence our escape. In sheer panic, we were run into the very trees that the mushmen had been guarding, since I thought their sudden growth spurt would hinder their pursuit. I’d been right, however not by nearly as much as I needed to be.

The dodge had kept us alive, well, in a manner of speaking. Yet I could hear more churning pudding from behind me, so we were far from in the clear. There was another issue, as well; the wide splash zone had separated Albert and Neil from me. We were now running at a right angle, growing steadily further apart. I tried to alter my course, but the next volley of acid wads forced me to scramble in a zigzag line to keep from becoming a vampire-accountant puddle. If you’re wondering how I was so adept at this, given my usual track record of efficiency, let me just say that while I am not skilled in many things, I am a twentieth-degree black belt in running away.

The mushmen had split up to follow both of us. I had two on my tail, which meant that wherever Albert was, he was running from three. I worked to push that thought out of my mind, not out of lack of concern, but rather because there was nothing I could do aside from trust him. Besides, I still had pressing matters of my own barreling down on me. Vampire speed mixed with an inability to feel fatigue meant that there were very few things I couldn’t outrun. However, their enormous size, stride, and similar endurance seemed to register these creatures in that category. The only blessing I had was that they took time between acid blasts, presumably meaning there was some sort of recharging process. I used the grace period to double down on my speed, pushing with all I had to place some distance between us.

The gap between the mushmen and me was widening slowly. I probably didn’t have much time left before they could fire again. I leapt over a particularly large fallen log, misjudging its height and barely clearing the top, and landed in a sprint. It was a few steps away when I heard something that was tremendously confusing. Silence. No great crashing feet wrecking their way in pursuit of me. I risked a glance over my shoulder to see something truly surprising, and by this point in the night, that was not an easy bar to reach.

Both mushmen had stopped at the log. They were milling about, looking at me with what I would guess was hate or frustration, though given the inhuman composition of their faces, that is obviously a guess. What was certain was that they’d hit some sort of barrier. Each was careful not to so much as brush against the log, keeping away from it with the same careful fear I’d shown in avoiding their acid. Eventually they turned back and lumbered slowly away, twisting their heads around occasionally to see if I would leave my area of protection. They were in for quite a disappointment.

Without the focus-narrowing stimulation of eminent destruction, I found my mind wandering about what my next move should be. Bubba and Richard should be safe. With us leading the mushmen away, they could have time to regenerate. Albert might still be getting chased. If the constructs had one area limit, it stood to reason they had more. Perhaps the enchantments that sustained them were bound to a particular region. I was seemingly safe; however, that was likely a temporary status. We still had a kidnapper loose, skilled with magic and fond of setting traps. I couldn’t very well go back. I knew the mushmen to be beyond my ability to deal with. At least the next challenge might be something more my speed. Like a turtle, or a three-legged frog.

Walking away from my savior log, I realized that though it had seemed silent with the sudden ceasing of the mushmen’s stomping, there was still a sound pricking at my ears. It was a strange combination of hoots, chirps, whistles, and brush rustling. And it was close.

Moving with as much care and silence as I could, I crept through the trees and over the shrubbery. The noise grew louder, and somehow stranger. These weren’t just random wilderness noises. There was a pattern to them, one that was somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once. About a quarter of a mile from the log, the ground sloped down, creating a divot in the forest, like a grassy bowl. Sitting in the center of it was a woman in her mid-thirties, brown hair tied in a series of complicated braids that had come out halfway, and clothed in a flowing dress that had been stained with grass and mud. She sat on a rock, swaying quietly as the various animals and plants around her continued their odd serenade. Her eyes were open, but I had no idea what their natural color was. That was because there was no visible iris or pupil. Instead, a rainbow of shifting colors moved along her eyeball, obscuring whatever lay beneath. It reminded me of looking at an oil sheen in sunlight. I might not know a lot about magic, but even I could deduce the woman to be under some sort of spell. Even alone that would have been enough, but my nose was giving me additional confirmation as to this woman’s identity.

I had found Amy Wells. Now I just had to get her out of here before her kidnapper came back. I leapt into the clearing, the noise growing disproportionately larger despite my small amount of movement. Amy didn’t react, so I touched her shoulder gently.

“Miss Wells, my name is Fred. I’m a friend of Neil’s, and I’m here to help you.”

“Neil . . . yeah.” Her voice was distant, ungrounded. No wonder she hadn’t had the sense to run away. This guy had cast a doozy of a spell on her.

“That’s right—Neil. He got us to come save you. We need to hurry, though. I don’t know when your abductor will be back.”

“Conductor? I’m the . . . conductor.” To illustrate, she raised her hands, and the forest exploded with noise. Only after she lowered them did it return to its strange series of sounds. Okay, that was weird. Weirder still was there was something about the noises that was nagging at me. It was as though I knew it somehow, like a song lyric you are certain you’ve heard but you still can’t recall.

“No, Miss Wells, your
abductor
. The person who took you from your lab. I need to get you out of here.” I reached to pick her up, and the small girl placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Buzz off, narc.” I can’t tell you the next word she said because it was gibberish to me. What I
can
tell you is that I found myself hurled by some unseen force through the air, my head smashing into a tree with enough force to kill me, had I been human. It still rung my bell quite nicely. I had to sit on the ground while my brain swam and tried to recover. In my addled state, the nature sounds somehow seemed to grow more cohesive, and suddenly I was struck by a memory from my college days.

I’d had a roommate in my freshman year at the dorms. Everyone did despite their not being adequate room for one person, let alone two. We hadn’t gotten along terribly well. I liked to study, and he would consistently blast music on his side of the room. I didn’t particularly enjoy it. Then again, I’ve always been a fan of classics and opera, and I didn’t understand what the appeal of it was. Until one day, when I’d come home from a particularly grueling exam to find he’d gone to the communal kitchen and whipped up brownies. As I’ve said before, I used to have a bit of a weight problem, so I accepted his offer without a second thought. That night, sitting in our dorm, I finally saw why he enjoyed this music so much. In fact, I couldn’t get enough of it. The memory was buried down under a combination of time and chemical influences, but now that it had surfaced, everything made a bizarre sort of sense.

“This is Pink Floyd,” I announced, more to myself than anyone else.

“Shhhhh,” Amy said. “We’re at the good part.”

My cellphone chirped loudly, earning me a dirty look from the girl with the rainbow eyes, and I flipped it open to an unfamiliar number.

“Fred,” Bubba’s voice came out low and rough. There was a tremor of relief too, as though he’d been fearful I’d be unable to pick up. Clearly, he was under a lot of stress. “Are you okay? Did you guys get away from those things?”

“I did, though I’m not certain about Albert,” I said. “Did you two recover?”

“Yeah, took a few minutes, but we’re more or less fine now. We found a payphone in the parking lot after our cellphones got melted. Have you run into anymore trouble?”

“Somewhat, though in this case, ‘trouble’ was our missing mage.”

“You found Amy? What about whoever took her?”

“No one took her.” I sighed. “We’ve been wrong the whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

“She isn’t kidnapped. She’s just really, really high.”