The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant (8 page)

A Weresteed at the Slots
1.

My girlfriend’s truck had balls. Not literal ones, of course. These were chrome facsimiles that attached to the hitch. They looked strangely in place on her vehicle, which looked strangely in place enclosed around her as she drove me and my assistant down the sun-parched highway. It was a black pickup, enormous in size and decorated with polished chrome on the grill and interspersed periodically across the frame. She, on the other hand, was a medium-height blonde woman with muddy brown eyes, a low cut spaghetti-strap top, and faded blue jeans. If not for the gun strapped to her hip, she would have looked like the average southern belle. On second thought, I suppose the gun didn’t disqualify her from fitting that stereotype.

“I’m still amazed by this glass,” I said as I stared at the noonday sun from my seat on the passenger’s side. A lesser man might have objected to the woman taking the wheel on such a long journey. A lesser man would also have been a stupider man, and one with a severe crotch injury to boot.

“Yeah, our R&D guys are something else,” Krystal said, as she passed a motorist moving too slowly for her tastes, and by “too slowly,” I mean “under ninety miles an hour.”

“Assuredly.
When did you get the glass put in anyway?”

“Oh, I’ve always had it. I’m something of a fang junkie so it only makes sense to keep it in my car
.
”

“Ah . . . oh,” I said. It was hardly surprising. Krystal worked for an agency of the government that dealt with supernatural beings on a daily basis. It wasn’t farfetched that she would be seduced by the confidence and power of a vampire. Not one like me—a more classic, suave vampire.

“It’s a joke, Freddy. You’re my first light-allergic boyfriend. I promise,” Krystal said with a wide, cheerful grin.

We both had good reason to be happy. Krystal and I had reconnected at our high school reunion a few weeks back, amidst a pack of murderous werewolves, and had begun dating. It had taken some time, but a few days ago we had formalized our relationship as being committed. I suppose that doesn’t sound like much, but when the majority of your mortal life was spent cuddling up to a tub of ice cream and a classic film, getting a girlfriend still held something of a primordial thrill.

“I’m just glad we get to come,” chimed in Albert from the back.

“Of course, I wanted you guys to come,” Krystal said. “This is Thanksgiving, after all. It’ll be a nice change to eat with friends, instead of camped out in some motel room on a stakeout to figure out if the local murders are the work of a serial killer or a ghoul.”

“We’re glad to spend it with you,” I said truthfully. This was my first Thanksgiving in years with other people, and I was all but brimming with joy in anticipation and appreciation. “Though I’m still not sure why we’ll be spending it in Vegas.”

“There aren’t many of us Agents to go around, and when you take out the few who have managed to wrangle families along with their careers, it’s even less of us. So while we get the holidays themselves off, we pretty much have to work right up until them. Besides, they have great restaurants, and I can’t cook for shit
.
”

“Right, but why Vegas?” I asked again.

“I used to do life counseling for parahumans who were having trouble,” Krystal said. “One of my old clients called and asked me to come out and advocate for him. Apparently he got into trouble with the local dracolings.”

“What’s a dracoling?” Albert asked from the back. I was thankful he didn’t know because the truth was I certainly didn’t either.

“Dracolings are basically humans with dragon blood. They aren’t much physically stronger than mortals, but those bastards have a touch of magic and are sly as foxes when it comes to money. Not to mention they own all of the casinos in Las Vegas,” Krystal said, swerving past another motorist while throwing up the finger.

“That’s impossible,” I said. “Vegas is a town owned by many different corporations and investors. One group of people couldn’t possess all of it.”

“And no human would burn to a crisp just from a little sunlight. You want to crack open the door and see how things go?” Krystal asked.

“
Touché
,” I sighed as I admitted defeat. Living as a vampire and dealing with Krystal had forced me to re-evaluate my definitions of what was and wasn’t possible. It was rarely an enjoyable process to indulge in. “How exactly does this glass let in the light without reducing me to cinders?”

“Magic,” Krystal said simply. “I’d go more in depth, but I’m not an arcane specialist. All I know is that they enchant the glass, and my boyfriend can come along for the ride.”

“And his assistant,” Albert said, poking his face through ever-so-slightly from the backseat.

“And who could forget his charming assistant?” Krystal reassured him. Perhaps it was because of how he died or who he was, but Albert could be a bit insecure at times. Then again, I was the last person to be throwing stones in that regard.

“So these dracolings, they own all of Vegas somehow. What does that have to do with your client?” I asked.

“Bubba has a bit of a gambling problem.”

“Bubba?” I asked.

“Bubba?” Albert echoed.

“Bubba,” Krystal affirmed. “And I’ll thank you to be nice to him when you boys meet. He’s a good guy and a sweetheart. Aside from the gambling problem, he’s hardworking and responsible.”

“Sounds as though the gambling might have gotten ahead of the other stuff,” I said.

“It’s the damn holidays,” Krystal said. “If all you have is an addiction, then seeing everyone connecting with friends and family leaves you feeling lonely. So they run off to the only thing that seems to give them joy and validation. It’s a sad scenario, and I wish my agency was doing more to help it.”

“Why aren’t they?” I asked.

“Budget and manpower limitations. If we have to choose between putting down a revolution of mages or offering counseling to depressed pixies, guess where the funds end up?” Krystal said.

“I see,” I said. “So your friend Bubba was caught up in gambling, and these dracolings own Vegas, so I assume they acquired his debt?”

“More or less. Dracolings love gambling because they’re good at it. They have sharp minds and sharper senses, so it’s hard to get one past them,” Krystal said.

“If they’re so good, then why does anyone ever gamble with them?” I asked.

“Because they share their ancestor’s weakness as well as their strength.”

“They eat virgins?” Albert asked uncertainly.

“What? No. They can’t resist a bet. If you play for high enough stakes and can trick them into betting on something you know you will win, then you can make a fortune.”

“So, it’s like playing the lottery, except instead of risking a dollar, you basically risk everything you own,” I said.

“That’s not the worst analogy I’ve ever heard. Anyway, they have a lot of treaties with my agency, and there’s respect for us, so if I go in and advocate for Bubba, I should be able to at least get him on some sort of payment plan.”

“I’m guessing I don’t want to know what the other option for him is,” I said.

“Smart man. The other option is he works for them at minimum wage until he pays off his debt,” Krystal said.

“He could always declare bankruptcy.” Albert’s voice was raised slightly, and there was a touch of pride in his tone. I had been teaching him some basic financial terms, and it seemed he was anxious to show he had listened.

“That works with human debt, but dracolings have special provisions that allow them to enslave people who are indebted to them,” Krystal said. “It’s actually not so far off from what happened with the Native American treaties as far as cultural preservation, though dracolings had much better leverage and representation.”

“What was there leverage?” I asked.

“Same as their representation. They called in a great grandparent to negotiate for them. Those negotiators agreed to help in the country’s war efforts in exchange for certain privileges. The result was that the dracolings got special areas with limited government interference and the right to keep their customs and traditions alive without sanction,” Krystal said.

“Help with the war? This must have been a long time ago, was it World War One?”

“Las Vegas existed way before that, dear,” Krystal said. “It’s actually been around for centuries, though it didn’t go the way of glitz and glamour until the last fifty years or so when that became the best money-making campaign.”

“For centuries . . . was it the civil war?” I tried again.

“Still too late. Parahumans were actually forced to align with the North during the Civil War, since their treaties and contracts were with the United States of America, and that’s the title that the North retained. It’s one of the reasons Lincoln knew he could win if the South seceded.”

“Huh . . . ” I sighed. “The things they leave out of the history books.”

“In defense of ‘them,’ we’re the ones who ordered those things to stay out of books,” Krystal said.

“‘We’ being your employer,” I said.

“Bingo,” Krystal affirmed.

“How long has your non-existent little agency non-existed?” I asked.

“Since the beginning,” she said. “We were formed at the same time the treaties and agreements with the various supernatural groups were so that we could police and enforce those contracts.”

“Wait a minute,” Albert said, leaning up from the backseat. “When you say ‘since the beginning,’ do you mean . . . ?”

“It was a good deal all around. The supernatural creatures wanted a country where they had rights as citizens, and the founders of the country needed some way to drive back the superior numbers and might of the English.”

“Are you telling me that vampires and werewolves are the reason America won the Revolutionary War?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“No, I’m saying America somehow managed to pull it out thanks to the French,” Krystal scoffed.

There was a beat of silence, then Albert said: “You know, when you think about it, her version makes a lot more sense.”

I shook my head. “The things you think you know.”

“Be proud, Freddy, there were powerful vampires in that war,” Krystal said. “They eliminated entire British platoons in a single night, saving the lives of American soldiers and civilians in the process.”

“Yeah . . . but still,” I said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I tell you what—once we get done with the business with Bubba and our Thanksgiving, I’ll request clearance to show you a few files. I think getting in touch with your vampire heritage will do a lot for your pride as an Undead American,” Krystal said with a gentle tone I had forgotten she could use.

“That sounds surprisingly nice,” I said. “You think things with Bubba and the dracolings will be that easy to deal with?”

“I’m sure of it,” Krystal said.

One day, one beautiful and glorious day, I will stop listening when she says things like that. One day, but that night was not the day.

2.

“Okay, boys, the name of today’s game is called keep your mouth shut,” Krystal said as we took a seat at a long conference table. We had checked into our hotel, Excalibur, upon arriving and were told to come straight to the meeting room. Our bags were swept away, and we were hustled down the hall into a pleasant looking room that seemed suspiciously absent of cameras or windows. Krystal had attempted to protest that neither Albert nor I were a part of the meeting; however, the security said everyone who arrived with her had to show up, and do so immediately. She hadn’t even been allowed to change into her business-appropriate attire; instead, she was stuck to attending her meeting in dusty jeans and a red tank top. Thus she was giving us a quick rundown in what we were to do during her meeting, which essentially consisted of not speaking a damn word.

“I’ll talk to Morgan as soon as he comes in, but there is a chance you two will have to sit through the whole meeting. Dracolings can be odd about some things, and he might see you two as necessary additions just because you’re with me. If that’s the case, then stay quiet no matter what,” she said.

“I don’t think either of us would have anything to add anyway,” I said.

“You think that now but . . . look, dracolings don’t like when things change. They’ve been holding on to the same traditions for millenniums. They might say something or do something that seems offensive to you modern guys. Deal with it. You have to stay quiet. Working with dracolings requires a two year long certification process that has to be renewed annually. That’s how complicated interacting with them is.”

“That seems a bit excessive,” I said.

“These are a people who have government protected rights to do things as their traditions dictate regardless of certain laws. Additionally, they are shrewd gamblers and place a tremendous amount of emphasis on a person’s honor. Anything that is said to them is taken as a legally binding commitment. A poorly-timed joke could cost you your entire life savings. Still seem excessive?”

“Can I go to the room?” Albert asked. He was fidgeting and biting gently on his lower lip. I didn’t blame him, Krystal had put a generous amount of fear into me too with her explanation.

“Hopefully, yes,” Krystal said. “But if not, just remember to stay quiet. You can’t make any mistakes if you don’t say anything.”

She likely had more to tell us, but at that moment it became too late. The doors opened, and four men walked into the room. Three of them wore suits that were clearly custom tailored by master craftsmen. Jewelry adorned them in ways that seemed just a touch elaborate on men, and each moved with an oddly fluid grace and supreme confidence. In one glance, I knew they owned this room, this building, and everything their eyes surveyed. These were leaders, men who would have been kings in another time and place. As they sat down across from us, folding themselves into the high-backed leather chairs, I finally tore my gaze from them and looked at the other man who had entered the room.

He looked . . . different. This man stood at least a foot taller than the dracolings, and likely a hundred or so pounds heavier. His broad frame was clothed by a short-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. A baseball cap hid his hair, but a pair of surprisingly kind eyes peered out from its brim. His bulk was primarily muscle, though a gut did betray that at least some of his lifestyle was unhealthy. He gave a big grin and a small wave to Krystal, then took a seat a few spaces apart from the dracolings.

“Pleasant evening, Enforcer Jenkins,” said the middle dracoling, an older man with jet black hair.

“Pleasant evening, Lord Ackers,” Krystal said. She seemed composed, but colder than normal. Krystal always seemed to have a devil-may-care attitude about her, trusting her skill and smarts to see her through any trouble that life could dish out. That was absent now; in its place were careful eyes and conservative body language. It was a very peculiar shift, and one that made me realize how much I preferred the everyday version of her.

“Before we begin our discussion on Mr. Emerson’s debt to you, I would like to request permission to speak with you on a matter pertaining to the meeting itself,” Krystal said.

The black-haired dracoling, Lord Ackers I suppose, leaned back in his chair a moment and appeared to genuinely consider it. It seemed like a simple request to me, but I noticed the other dracolings looking at him anxiously. It was beginning to dawn on me that Krystal hadn’t elaborated when she talked about how serious tradition and honor was when talking to these people.

“I will permit your request, on the condition that we may address each other informally,” Lord Ackers said. “We have met together many times, and I see no reason why we should not be able to be familiar with one another.”

Krystal hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I agree, Morgan. You and I have had dealings before.”

“Excellent, Krystal. I prefer engendering comfort with those I work with regularly,” Morgan said. Funny thing though, Krystal didn’t seem more comfortable now that they were using first names. If anything, I was picking up more signs of stress from her body. I hoped that dracolings sight, hearing, and smell weren’t on par with my own.

“Now, what would you like to speak of?” Morgan asked her.

“I would like to formally request that my two attendants be sent back to the hotel room,” Krystal said. “They are not affiliated with the Agency, and as such do not have clearance to be present at this meeting.”

“Why not? The one wearing false glasses is a vampire, and the one wearing a T-shirt is a zombie. Both of them are parahumans and therefore are allowed to know of others of their kind,” Morgan said. It was a bit creepy that he knew what Albert and I both were, and even that my glasses were fake. I didn’t need to still wear them after I was turned, but I had been donning a pair of frames since my childhood. My face didn’t feel right without them.

“What you speak is true. However, this meeting involves the financial status of another person and his arrangement with you. Those are things that are considered private and those not involved would not be privy to such information,” Krystal countered.

“Yes, but the privacy control is all on our end,” Morgan said with a small grin. “If I have no objection to their presence, then there is no legal need for them to vacate the room.”

I braced for Krystal to tell him to shut up and just let us out of the damn meeting already. She wasn’t known for her patience and an argument about keeping non-essential people here had to be taxing her limits. I was sure at any moment she would be lighting into this smug, suit-wearing jerk.

“You are correct, Morgan. I thank you for hearing my humble request. The matter has been satisfactorily concluded,” she said. I don’t think I kept much of the shock off my face. Krystal being subservient at all, let alone to this degree, was mind blowing.

“Good,” Morgan said. “Now we move onto the matter of Mr. Emerson’s debt. As of today he owes us four hundred ninety-two thousand, eight hundred and sixty-two dollars. We have stopped counting the cents and begun rounding to the nearest dollar for convenience’s sake.”

“Four . . . hundred . . .
thousand
?” Krystal asked. Though her words were direct to Morgan, her eyes were digging straight into Bubba. I had seen those eyes before, and clearly Bubba had as well since he was avoiding her gaze and looking very thoroughly ashamed. The man had every physical advantage over her, but it was evident he had a healthy amount of fear from this thin blonde woman, which only showed that he was much smarter than his name would indicate.

“Four hundred ninety-two thousand, eight hundred and sixty-two dollars, actually,” Morgan corrected her. “As you know this is well above the level where we are allowed to place him into our custody until he has worked off the debt. Additionally, he has passed the point where there is any legal recourse to adjust his debt or payment.”

“I am aware of this now,” Krystal said slowly. “Though, when Mr. Emerson requested my presence, it was with the indication that I would be acting as advocate. In matters of over two hundred thousand, it is well known that no outside entity holds any authority to alter the decisions of the dracoling who holds that debt. I am a touch confused as to why, then, Mr. Emerson asked me to come all the way out here.”

“I cannot speak to that,” Morgan said. “I do not claim to understand what goes on in Mr. Emerson’s mind. However, I took your meeting because we strive to be in compliance with all clauses of our treaty with your government, and to try and foster good relations between we two.”

“I thank you for accepting my meeting, and your good will is noted and will be reported. In the spirit of such good will, I have another boon to ask of you, Morgan, since it seems our meeting will be coming to a swift end. I would like to request that Mr. Emerson be permitted to tell both you and I why he felt it necessary to draw us both into a meeting with no possibility of resolution,” Krystal said in a strained voice. Her eyes were dead set on Bubba, who for his part seemed more resigned than nervous about his problematic situation.

“I daresay that would play directly into what he was hoping for,” Morgan said. “I am not in the habit of aiding those who seek to waste my valuable time and resources.”

“I would consider it a high token of friendship between your people and the Agency,” Krystal said slowly, pronouncing every syllable with care and consideration. Given what she had told us, speaking on behalf of her office must have been something exceedingly dangerous.

“Well, then, I would be a fool not to offer such a token,” Morgan said, his grin deepening noticeably. “Mr. Emerson, you may speak with Krystal on the topic of why you called in an advocate on this case.”

“I didn’t call in an advocate,” Bubba said, a snarky tone and southern twang reverberating in the strong bass of his voice. “I called in my friend.”

Bubba turned his body and met Krystal’s gaze. “I knew as soon as I lost my last bet that it was over. I just wanted to tell you goodbye in person. You were a lot of help to me after I lost Mom and Dad, and you helped keep me on the right track for a long time. You’re the only person left in this world to miss me, and I just wanted to thank you for what you did. You’re one of the few that cares, and I didn’t want you to think you had failed me somehow when you heard about this. I wanted you to know that if you hadn’t been there, I would have wound up in a much worse place much sooner. So, Krystal, for everything you did and for all the people I know you’re going to go on to help, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Bubba stood from his chair and looked back at the dracolings. “Okay, shitheads, we can go now.”

“That concludes our meeting,” Morgan said to Krystal as he rose. “I hope you enjoy your stay at the hotel, and please feel free to call on me if you have any other issues that need discussion.” The other dracolings echoed his movements, and all four men began heading for the door.

“Wait!” Krystal yelped. She stood up from her chair and knocked it back. Her eyes were sparking and her jaw was set. This was a Krystal I was more familiar with. This was the Krystal who was about to whip some ass.

“I invoke the right to challenge for the debt of Bubba Emerson,” she declared.

That’s pretty much when all hell broke loose.