Deadly Assessments Read online

  “Think nothing of it. I saw you coming with those and still tried to test my luck. Tell me, are you these wonderful people’s assistant? I’ve seen you running about, keeping things neat and orderly, and I wanted to tell you you’re doing a fantastic job.”

  This was more positivity than I was generally used to encountering, especially from a new parahuman. As kindly intended as the words were, I still had to dissuade her of her notion. “In all honesty, I’m the owner of Fletcher Account Services, Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, though most everyone calls me Fred. My companions are more socially gifted than I, so I asked them to take the lead on the talking part. I excel at the actual accounting, which is what I hope people will hire us for.” I offered my hand as I spoke.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Fred. Please, call me Deborah.” She took my hand, a cool grip that betrayed she was either undead, or someone with terrible circulation. “I must say, it’s interesting that you’ve chosen to let the others represent your company. Most demand to be front and center, regardless of how well-suited they are to the roll. Ego and pride, I imagine.”

  “Well, at my company, we put the best workers on the job, whether they’re the boss or not,” I explained. “Better for people to have a good impression of the business as a whole than me personally.”

  Deborah released my hand, glancing over the pamphlet she’d snared. “It seems you do offer quite a bit. Can I ask more about the ‘specialized services’ listed here at the bottom? The rest makes sense, but that’s a bit vague for an advertisement. What specialty services do you have beyond the standard ones on offer?”

  Carefully checking to make sure no one—or at least no one human—was paying us any attention, I shifted farther from the crowd. Thankfully, Deborah took my hint and followed. Only once we were clear did I begin to speak in hushed tones. To human ears, it would be virtually inaudible. If Deborah was what I suspected, however, she would have no issue.

  “I offer whatever is needed for those with special cases. There are extenuating laws and codes for certain groups or individuals with extraordinary circumstances. I am trained and certified to assist in such cases. I suspect you understand what I’m talking about, but I’m afraid I can’t say much more on the subject without confirmation.”

  To my surprise, Deborah brought her hands together in a swift clap. “Oh, good job! Here I was thinking you’d spill the beans with only a few suggestive words and a little hinting, but you kept things vague until proof was delivered. Well done, Fred. You’ve already proven more competent than your enemies described you. Then again, if I believed the picture as the Turvas painted it, then I’d think you nothing more than a mewling idiot protected like a pet by the powerful friends you’ve gained.”

  She said the word “Turva” louder than the rest of our conversation, causing both Lillian and Richard to turn their eyes in our direction. I gave a discreet wave to indicate that things were fine, though I wasn’t actually sure they were. If nothing else, there was no reason to start a brawl, especially with so many humans around.

  “Keeping them from intervening, now that was the right call,” Deborah complimented. “Relax, I’m not here to kill you. Not outright, anyway. You see, Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, the Turvas have filed a grievance against your clan. They claim you are unfit as a vampire, and as a leader. I’ve been sent by the Blood Council to determine whether they are correct.”

  “Let me guess, if I’m not, you kill me?” I asked.

  “Sort of.” For the first time, Deborah’s good cheer faded. “I’m not a fan of it, but our law is our law, and you are a founder. For an unfit vampire to form a clan is a high crime, and I’m afraid the punishment is not just the eradication of the leader. The entire clan would have to be wiped out.”

  3.

  Shockingly, I felt calm. Perhaps it was the fact we were surrounded by humans, in a building caged by sunlight, and I didn’t believe any vampire with sound judgment would try to start a brawl here. Maybe there was something relaxing about the gentle way Deborah had issued her threat. Most likely, it was the fact that Lillian and Richard were both mere steps away, and I knew that both of them were the kind who would absolutely jump into a fray. Whatever the cause, I took my time, finished with the pamphlets, and gave a calm, measured response.

  “I’m afraid you’ll find that task harder than it sounds. My clan has alliances with the local therians, the Clover mage family, and the Agency itself. You might very well be able to take out everyone in my clan, but would the consequences really be worth it?”

  Deborah watched me, still no hint of threat in her eyes, and then replied. “Logic is an interesting move. Most your age would go with pride and aggression, try to win my respect by threatening me back and showing they weren’t afraid. Which would, of course, lead to me showing them why they should be afraid, and that can get messy. There is one fault in your argument, however. Alliances are meant to punish those who make deadly choices on their own. The Blood Council is a recognized entity under our treaties, and when official cases like this are opened, we have full authority to purge clans that are deemed unfit. To put it simply, this would be a sanctioned execution like what occurs in prisons all over your country. No alliance would save you from it, any more than they would protect you from going to jail for murder.”

  My experience with vampires at this point was, admittedly, limited. So far, I had met Petre (a vampire who would have lived up to the pride and aggression Deborah expected), Lillian, and Quinn (who was both my sire and a genuine evil madman) along with his various flunkies named Beauregard. While I liked only one of them, none were exactly the type to think things through or debate issues on technical grounds. Deborah was the first vampire I’d encountered who met my calm logic with her own similar strategy. In that moment, despite Richard and Lillian being so close, and a room full of humans preventing us from going wild, I felt a core of fear stab my gut. She was kind, she was gentle, and she was patient, but something in my predator mind told me that Deborah was also dangerous in ways the others wouldn’t understand.

  “Anyway, that’s all theoretical,” Deborah continued, pushing past the unpleasantness we’d waded into. “It assumes you fail my assessment, and one should never go into things assuming failure. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. That’s my motto. The assessment process is not a quick one; you needn’t worry yourself about me too much today. We’ll talk later, when you’ve had time to confirm my claims and understand the severity of them. A word to the wise: don’t mention my organization in front of those two until this show is done. Their reactions might not be suitable for mundane company. For now, I’ll let you get back to manning your booth; we’ll talk later, somewhere a little less public. I just didn’t want you to wonder when you saw me keeping watch on you from afar. Being upfront makes things easier on everyone.”

  Before I could protest, Deborah walked away, perfectly timed to coincide with a group of businessmen that meandered between us. Not a magical, speedy exit where she vanished, and not a slow creep to the shadows. Just a regular walk, brisk enough that if I went after her, I would look like a pushy salesman who refused to take a hint. Honestly, her exit was probably for the best. I needed to verify the claims she was making, and consider my options if she was telling the truth.

  Luckily, some of my best resources for such an issue were directly on hand. The trouble was that they were also swamped with interested parties, although that was hard to be annoyed about since it was the very reason we’d come out today. Still, this didn’t feel like the kind of thing I should sit on, so I made sure there were no pressing questions or immediate needs for my help, and then excused myself to take a quick break.

  Finding a private spot wasn’t easy, but eventually, I located a closed-off stairwell with a lock that snapped off in my hand almost before I’d even tried to break it. Ducking inside, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed. Deciding who to call had been a game of elimination. Krystal was my first choice, but I was unsurprised
to find she didn’t have service. Probably for the best: she needed her focus on accomplishing the task at hand, not worrying about some hypothetical threat to me. While Asha and her general knowledge of parahuman law was tempting, I needed someone with information specifically about this vampire organization. With Richard and Lillian on the floor, that left one person I trusted to know everything about vampires, treaties, and how they pertained to clans: Arch. Old as he was, Arch always appeared to know a little about every topic, and I was hoping this would be no exception. I got his voicemail, so I left a vague but fervent message with some light details and hoped he would call me back in time.

  With the phone closed and no crowds around, I was alone for the first time that day. These moments didn’t come along as often as they once had, when I was on my own watching movies and drinking wine. Meeting Krystal had changed my life, filled it with odd, chaotic characters who often seemed to exist solely to keep me from finding a moment’s peace. Much as I loved them all, occasional solitude was a welcome respite, especially in this moment, with a new threat suddenly looming overhead. Well, not new, exactly. I had always known the Turva clan would retaliate in some way for my having sidestepped their attempt to annex me into their ranks; Petre wasn’t the type to take a loss lying down. True, I hadn’t expected them to go through proper channels, but maybe that was to my advantage. Fighting and murder might be the Turva clan’s specialty, but no one (with the possible exception of Asha Patel, our parahuman law expert) knew their way around minutia and rules better than I did.

  We could do this. Whoever Deborah was, whatever she was after, we would get through it together as a clan. I couldn’t keep being bowled over when these challenges arose. Everyone had warned me what it meant to form a clan, especially one with non-vampires as members. I was told that there would be danger, often in the form of other parahumans. This was just one more hurdle to clear in a long line of them, and we would do just that. I had faith in my friends. We would find a way.

  My nerves thoroughly steadied, I made my way out of the stairwell and back onto the trade show floor. The moment I did, I heard shouts coming from several rows over, concentrated within a crowd of people milling around a single booth. A booth that didn’t warrant so much attention. A booth that was supposed to be advertising a local accounting firm with trustworthy staff and fair rates.

  At this point, I wasn’t even surprised to see that things had somehow gone awry in my five minutes away. Steeling myself as best I could, I waded through the crowd, trying to find out what manner of chaos had descended upon my booth.

  4.

  By the standards of what I was used to dealing with, the situation I walked back to find was relatively tame. No blood, no bodies, and no one prominently displaying supernatural gifts. I say “prominently” because, while Richard’s muscles were unquestionably on display, they could at least pass for the sort achievable by humans, albeit only through a lifetime of work and dedication. With his sleeves rolled up, Richard’s biceps were in full view of the crowd, who were watching him and another thick-limbed man arm wrestle on top of my formerly organized pamphlet table.

  In truth, saying they were arm wrestling might give Richard’s opponent too much credit. The human was straining, red-faced and sweating, struggling in vain to move the mighty arm of Richard Alderson. Part of me almost felt bad for the gentleman—he had no idea what he was up against. Even if he’d been Richard’s size, which he very much was not, he didn’t have the therian blood in his veins that made Richard’s displayed muscles more powerful than they appeared to be.

  Slipping effortlessly through the crowd, Lillian appeared at my side, a stack of business cards still in her hands. “The guy insisted on speaking to the head of the company, acting like a real pompous dick. When Richard told him you’d momentarily stepped away, he started in on how irresponsible it was to leave idiot trade-grunts behind to man an accounting booth. We tried to shoo him away, but he only got more personal with it, saying that Richard’s physique was all show and that he didn’t have real, ‘working-man’ strength. If you haven’t noticed his breath yet, there’s a good bit of booze on it. My guess is that this gentleman didn’t want to come to the show and livened up breakfast to make it more fun.”

  “Yeah, he looks like he’s having a grand time.” The man was wearing himself out to the point of exhaustion, while Richard just stood there, no sign of strain or effort as he held his arm steady as a sculpture. This was worlds worse than merely beating the drunk jerk; that, at least, had an ending. Instead, he was letting the guy burn himself out while trying—and failing—to get so much as an inch of progress. I could hear the snickers coming from the crowd, the whispers of attendees mocking the man’s failure. This was bad. We were going to stand out in people’s memories for all the wrong reasons. A huge man humiliating someone wasn’t the image I wanted associated with Fletcher Accounting Services, regardless of whether the humiliation was deserved or not.

  Stepping forward, I moved in front of Richard and his prey, blocking the latter from the crowd’s view as best I could in the hopes that he’d compose himself. “Thank you both so much for this live demonstration of the audit protection offered by Fletcher Accounting Services. Yes, you have no need to fear when hiring us, because as much as the IRS might try to find flaws or inconsistencies in our work, they will ultimately struggle in vain. That is the level of security you have when you hire us to handle your fiscal needs.”

  Yes, it was dumb. Forgive me; I’m not the world’s most brilliant liar even in the best of situations, and I don’t suddenly improve when I’m forced to think on the fly. I did have one element in my favor, though: virtually every attempt to lure potential customers in at these shows was also dumb. This kind of pageantry is exactly what people expected when dealing with a floor of business owners desperate to catch anyone’s attention. I could see some people buying it, a few even cursing at themselves for being taken in. With luck, the whole incident would fade in people’s minds as a silly publicity stunt. It might not leave them with the best impression of my company, but it was a vast improvement over them thinking of us as the firm of giant muscular jerks.

  “That’s right. Thanks for watching the show, folks, and please line up if you have questions about our budget-balancing services.” It was one of the lines I’d given Richard to use, and bless him for choosing that moment to trot it out. With him playing along, we were virtually in the clear. The last person who had to jump in was the one with the most motivation to do just that: the businessman Richard had been effortlessly besting for the last several minutes.

  The drunk was looking around at the shift in the crowd, staring in confusion as Richard released his hand and backed away from the table. I almost stopped pretending to breathe as I waited for his reaction, hoping he could sell the ruse with some level of credibility.

  “Fuck that. Are you backing off from a challenge? You know I was about to slam your meat hand down so hard it would crack this table. What, is the guy in the sweater vest your boss or something? This two-bit dweeb? Man like you shouldn’t be taking orders from him, this pencil-necked piece of—”

  With one clean, mercifully controlled punch, Richard knocked the man clean out, sending him tumbling to the ground. “I take orders from no one. And I stand for none paying disrespect to my friends.”

  It was actually kind of a nice moment, and I appreciated the gesture. The trouble was that this was the real world, the human world, and those kinds of actions had consequences.

  In a matter of minutes, security had arrived. After some discussion, it was decided that, while it would be up to the drunk man whether he pressed charges or not, both he and Richard were being booted from the trade show. Assault wasn’t glossed over in this crowd the way it was among therians, and though I waved off Richard’s apologies as best I could, he still wore a shameful expression as they led him out the exit.

  With the fight over, the crowd cleared from my booth at a rapid clip; even the ones who�
��d been lured over with actual interest put a good bit of distance between themselves and our display. Lillian, no longer occupied with prospective clients, wandered around trying to grab people’s attention until she finally ended up by my side.

  “I guess the upside is that, since Richard scared everyone away, we aren’t feeling short-staffed by his absence.” Lillian looked to the stacks of cards and pamphlets I had reorganized on the table. “Although, that might not be as much of an upside as it seems. This was bad, wasn’t it?”

  “Having a fight at our booth isn’t great,” I agreed. “But the day is young, and as more people filter in, I’m hoping they’ll check us out. We should still have a third staff member on hand, maybe someone a little less threatening than the image Richard presented.”

  Lillian began counting off names as she listed through our options. “That leaves out Bubba, since he’s imposing too, and Charlotte, since she’s a literal homebody. Arch isn’t a people person, Asha is way too busy, Neil and Albert are probably training, and Krystal is out on a mystery mission. Process of elimination, you know who that leaves us with, right?”

  I did know, I knew exactly who she was talking about, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea. With all those people taken off the board, the only friend we could call for help was Amy. Brilliant as she was—Amy was not only widely regarded as a prodigy, but had even learned some of her magic from a dragon—dealing with humans wasn’t exactly her specialty. Amy was a fan of testing her potions and products on herself, often with visible side effects. She wasn’t threatening, though, and that would help. Besides, as Lillian had illustrated, our options were limited.