Deadly Assessments Page 3

  I pulled out my phone and headed to the back of the booth. This wasn’t a call that demanded stairwell privacy, so I wasn’t going to waste the time to make that trek. As I was slipping around back, however, I did notice a familiar face watching our location. Deborah was still out there, keeping careful tabs on what we did. Much as I wanted to press Lillian for information about the Blood Council, that felt like a task better handled outside of vampire earshot. For now, my focus was on getting Amy to join us and making the best I could of my remaining trade show time. The rest, I would deal with as it came.

  Hopefully, Deborah would have the decency to wait until I had one disaster handled before she burdened me with another.

  5.

  Amy arrived less than an hour later, just as people were beginning to pay attention to our booth again. If I’d still needed breath, I would have been holding it as she arrived, unsure of what to expect from the gifted alchemist. To my relief and surprise, Amy appeared mundane, bordering on professional. No glowing eyes or hair, no excess limbs, no glittering aura clinging to her skin. Just a blouse, jeans, and relatively clean sneakers. Not exactly what I would suggest someone wear to attend a meeting, but for her, it was evidence of real effort. I wasn’t going to complain about a touch of casual dressing, especially when Amy was only here as a favor to me in the first place.

  While Lillian handled the crowd, I slipped Amy off to a break room for attendees to bring her up to speed. The education was brief, consisting largely of how to go over common questions and answers she could give, such as rates and hours. Anything more advanced and she’d need to send them my way, but this would at least give us an extra body on the floor. I hadn’t planned on it taking long, and I was far more right than expected. After a single review of the material, Amy had everything memorized perfectly. Sometimes, amidst all the potions and magic and general chaos that was Amy Wells, I managed to forget that my friend was also a full-caliber genius. She was just a genius who tended to apply herself to only the things that interested her, and those categories were somewhat limited to magical research and brewing alchemic drugs.

  “Richard got booted for fighting, huh?” She leaned back in her plastic chair, tempting fate as she danced with gravity’s pull on the seat. “Not exactly shocking given his nature, but I’m surprised he couldn’t control himself.”

  Since we were alone in the break room, I didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing Amy’s curious use of the word “nature,” which was good, because the last thing I needed was more attention on our group. “Someone provoked him.”

  “Someone provoked a man who’s used to dealing with therians, some of the most impulsive and fearsome parahumans out there, into sudden action? Strange, I’d have expected a man like Richard to have harder buttons to press.”

  That was . . . a good point, when I considered it. Easy as it sometimes was to lump Richard in as just another therian, he was more than that. He was a leader, a ruler, a man who showed keen judgment even in the heat of danger. The only reason he’d gotten violent was because the man insulted Lillian and me. Gentle a man as Richard could be, he allowed no disrespect to those he viewed as friends or family. Respect was a large part of therian culture, but there was no way some random drunk could have known that. It was a coincidence, right?

  Human Fred, even the Fred of a few years ago, would have been able to believe that. But too much had happened to me since then. I’d been through too many supposed coincidences that turned out to be far more, and I was slowly learning to expect such contingencies.

  “Do you think someone coached that man on how to get under Richard’s skin?”

  “Maybe. Or he was remotely controlled by magic, or possessed, or drank a cursed cocktail. That’s the trouble with the parahuman world: once you accept that all of it is real, the possibilities for any given situation grow exponentially. There are too many options; without evidence to narrow down the list, we could spend a week investigating dead ends. We do also have to allow for the possibility that it was just a stroke of bad luck . . . those happen to us as much as to regular humans. If you find anything else suspicious, however, that might help us narrow things down.”

  Deborah, of course, jumped to mind. I still didn’t know for sure what she was doing here—she’d only said that she’d be watching, not what she was watching for. Did her version of keeping tabs on me include seeing how I handled problems as they arose? It was certainly possible, but would be on the tame side compared to the antics I’d seen other vampires pull.

  Focusing my senses, I listened for the sound of heartbeats, footsteps, even the shifting of muscle fiber, anything coming from outside the break room that would indicate an eavesdropper. Amy and I seemed to be alone, but there was no such thing as too much care where parahumans were involved. When I was sure no one else was around, I spoke. “Are you familiar with an organization called the Blood Council?”

  “Not especially. I’ve heard the name whispered by the archmages a few times, but never cared enough to probe for more. From the name, I’m guessing it’s vampire-related?”

  “Given that a vampire named Deborah introduced herself to me earlier today as a representative of said organization, yes, vampire-related seems a certainty. She’s made no aggressive moves that I can tell; she’s just been watching us, which is exactly what she told me she planned to do. I have to say, as far as sudden threats go, I do appreciate her being so upfront.”

  “Have you asked Lillian?” From her expression, Amy already knew the answer. This question was more about giving me a chance to explain why.

  Looking away, I shook my head. “Deborah indicated that the impact of my words might be jarring for her, and things have been hectic, so I was putting it off until the trade show was finished.”

  “Really?” Amy swung her feet up from the chair and hopped into a standing position with unexpected grace. Perhaps she’d been sipping on some experiments, after all. “I get that this is a busy day, but trusting someone you just met over one of your friends doesn’t really seem like your style, Fred. Lillian has been around for a long time. I think she’d be able to keep herself composed in any situation. Your call, though. This is your business, and your clan.”

  It was strange. Up until that moment, my decision had made sense—to me, if no one else. Yet with those simple words, Amy had shifted my perspective, and suddenly, I realized just how right she was. Yes, Deborah had come up to me at the worst possible time to deal with a new parahuman threat, and yes, the day had been a mess, but none of that was any excuse. I’d formed my clan precisely because I didn’t want to be subjected to the whims of some ancient vampire with their own ideas of how to interact with the world at large. And yes, in the end, I was still the one who had to make the big, hard choices—a responsibility I was trying to be up to the task of handling—but in the time between those decisions, I owed it to the friends who’d put their trust in me to have faith in them right back.

  “Our clan,” I corrected. “Despite its name, the House of Fred belongs to all its members, Lillian very much included. If some new vampire organization has taken an interest in us, then she deserves to know. Everyone does. Though, in the case of the others, I’ll have to wait until the trade show is done. Lillian finds out next time we can manage to break off from the booth. I still want to avoid open discussion as much as possible.”

  Amy nodded, and for a moment, I thought I saw a sliver of purple light behind her ear as her hair moved, but if I did, it quickly vanished. “Prudent and understandable. On that note, we should get back out there. Sooner or later, I expect you’ll have a crowd to contend with again.”

  “What makes you say that?” My question, which was a perfectly reasonable one in my opinion, was brushed aside by a knowing smile from Amy as she headed out the break room door. “Um, Amy? Seriously, did you do something? Or make something? Or take something?”

  No response. She continued walking back to the trade show floor, so rather than calling after her
uselessly, I got into gear and pursued. Whatever was going to happen, I needed to be there to manage it. That was also part of what it meant to be a leader.

  6.

  As I am not a specialist in magic or alchemy—truth be told, I barely know the first thing about either topic—there is no way for me to explain whatever concoction Amy had taken. Even if she’d explained it to me, the details would never have made it to the page because I lack the understanding to properly convey them. Besides, Amy likes to keep her recipes to herself, as any sound business owner would.

  What I can tell you is that not long after we came back, the mood of the crowd began to change. Nary could a single body pass us without swiveling in Amy’s direction. Maybe it was pheromones, the sort that don’t impact undead bodies the same as living ones, or perhaps she’d simply bottled pure charisma and chugged it down. However she did it, Amy was bringing people to our booth by the droves. We were slammed again in no time, with both Lillian and me fielding questions from the small crowd that had packed themselves into our limited floor space.

  Despite my intent to talk to Lillian, there was no opportunity. Amy’s presence had turned the booth into a dam halting the flow of people along the trade show aisles. People were backed up, trying to get through, only to join the fray once they’d wandered too close. Whatever it was, Amy’s allure was potent; even those who spoke to Lillian and me kept their eyes trained in her direction, content merely to be near her. When we did finally finish up with prospective clients, getting them to leave became a chore. They lingered by the adjacent booths, not engaging with the owners, staring back toward us instead. Well, toward Amy.

  Nice as it was to have a crowd once more, things were rapidly spiraling out of control. Using as much politeness as I could, and perhaps a touch of enhanced vampire strength to get through some particularly tight spots, I made my way through the crowd of admirers that had flocked around Amy. The moment I drew near, her hands shot out and gripped my arm, pulling us close together. Her words came fast, a hot whisper in my ear.

  “Something’s wrong. My potion wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this potent. I must have made a miscalculation with one of the ingredients.”

  Brilliant as Amy was, she also liked to push the boundaries of possibility, and with that willingness to take risks came unforeseen side effects. I’d handled more than a few in our time together, from her accidental enchantment of a local park to turning Bubba into a fiery murderous stallion, so it was a gamble I’d known I was taking when I asked her to come out. At least the intent behind her experiment had been well-intentioned, albeit the consequences were threatening to create a riot in the Fletcher Accounting Services booth.

  “Did you bring an antidote?” I tried to whisper back, but given the unhappy roar of the crowd around us, mad at me for hogging Amy however momentarily, my voice was forced up a few decibels.

  “The antidote’s in development.” There was something of a sheepish look in Amy’s eye, the expression she always wore when these situations spun out of control. “I was trying to get the formula refined to perfection first. Besides, who needs an antidote to a potion that makes you interesting?”

  “You, right this very moment,” I countered.

  Amy gave me the kind of casual shrug that only she could get away with in situations like these. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Let’s focus on solutions instead of harping on what could have been done differently.”

  “Fine. Will distance help?” I glanced through the crowd, hunting for an option. We were surrounded on all sides, but if I forced it, I could easily shove through people. While it might not leave a great impression of me or my company, at the rate the fervor around us was growing, that seemed like a very reasonable trade-off. “I could smuggle you to a stairwell.”

  “We’d be right back here the second I stepped back on the floor.” Glancing to the crowd, Amy let out an annoyed sigh. “Sorry, Fred. I think I have to bail. Once I’m out of the building, the effects will fade. I can stay in my car until I get home, then lock myself away until the potion wears off or I find a cure in the lab. Either way, I’m not going to be able to help much more today.”

  I’d already put that much together. It was obvious from our predicament that Amy couldn’t stay in the booth. Not with things as they stood. “You’ve been of real aid, and I don’t just mean with the booth. That said, this doesn’t seem to be getting better, so perhaps we should leave sooner rather than later?”

  With a quick burst of movement, I forced the crowd back, shoving them as gently as I could. There was no time to make my way over to Lillian, so I turned my head and raised my voice to just below a shout. “Lillian, hold the fort as best you can. I’ll be back soon.”

  I didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if she’d heard me. Instead, I pulled Amy in close and forced my way through the narrow opening I’d created. Instantly, the crowd reacted. They were incensed at the idea of Amy being taken away from them. Hands clutched at us; a few even formed into fists meant to slow us down. So far as I could tell, the violence was only meant for me, but I was quick to shift in front of anything that looked like it might even slightly graze Amy. To a vampire, such blows were inconsequential, but an unwarded mage was essentially human, and therefore much more vulnerable.

  Unfortunately, with every step I moved Amy, the fury of those around us grew. People gripped my sweater vest and shirt, trying with all they had to slow us. Just when I feared I was about to have to chance injuring someone to make headway, the path began to part. Not on its own, mind you, but because Lillian was proceeding forward from the other side, moving people out of our way with more force and confidence than I would have dared. Whether she’d heard my warning or just seen the situation and acted on her own, I was grateful all the same. Leaping on the opportunity that had been presented to us, I bolted forward with Amy still firmly in my grip.

  Just like that, we were out of the crowd. Pity it was already turning toward us, ready to give chase as we made our escape. Determined as they might have been, people grew a little less certain when Lillian stepped between them and us, glancing quickly over her shoulder. “I’ll slow them down. You focus on getting her out of here.”

  Neither of us required more encouragement than that. Together, Amy and I bolted from the trade show floor, taking a slightly circuitous route that minimized our risk of further human interaction. The last thing we needed was a new crowd forming in the halls. It took some doing, but eventually, we made it to the covered loading exit that Lillian and I had used to move from our vehicle with enchanted windows to the building proper. It was true that sunlight complicated things, yet I’d found that, with a little planning and preparation, it was an obstacle that could often be overcome.

  “Thanks for busting me out,” Amy said as the exit finally came into view. “I’m parked close, so I can make it the rest of the way just fine. Sorry I caused such a commotion.”

  “You were trying to help, which is what I asked you here to do.” There was no more sense in getting mad at Amy for testing a new alchemic project than there would have been to hold a grudge about Richard knocking out an asshole. It was who they were, and as the man who’d called them looking for favors, I’d accepted those risks. The problem wasn’t with my friends; it was that I had tried to drag them into the normal human world.

  For some parahumans—such as Krystal and me—entry into the supernatural world came later in life. We had grown up normal, and were able to interact with and acclimate to mundane society with little effort or thought. Richard was born a therian, and while I didn’t know exactly how long Amy had been practicing magic, I did know it occupied a significant portion of her life. Besides, I wasn’t sure there was any version of Amy, mage-trained or otherwise, that was comfortable dealing with regular people.

  “Who’re you going to call in now?” Amy asked.

  “No one. Between Richard’s fight and our near-riot, I don’t expect the booth will get many more visitors. If it
does, Lillian and I will manage. There are only a few hours left, anyway. I’ll give you a call when we’re done to let you know how it went.”

  “Thanks.” Amy looked toward the door, but didn’t yet move. “Fred, you know me. I’m not someone prone to losing myself in ego. I wouldn’t come here with some half-cocked potion in play, not to a place like this. I’ve been working on this brew, honing it well, and I was damn near positive I got the mix right. I could be wrong. Mistakes happen, especially in my lab. But I still think you need to be aware of the possibility that I didn’t mess up, because that has very serious implications.”

  I swallowed hard, a habit from life that persisted long after it was needed. “What kind of implications?”

  “Two friends coming through in the same day, two surprise incidents that put your booth in the spotlight and forced you to deal with a tense situation. Maybe it just happened that way, but I don’t trust coincidences. If this was intentional, then it’s not a small matter. Manipulating a drunk human is one thing. For someone to have altered the intensity of my potion, that’s another matter entirely. The only way to do it would be to sneak into my lab and tinker with my ingredients, which is unlikely unless they’ve got skills on par with Gideon, or to spread some kind of amplifier to the humans encountering my spell, making them extra vulnerable to it.”

  The implications of either option were impossible to miss when she laid them out so plainly. “How would they even know to do something like that?”

  “Two ways that I can see, although there could be others: either they knew I was going to end up here, enchanted by this exact potion, and prepared in advance, or they assessed what I was on in the brief time before I hit the trade floor, whipped up the amplifier, and distributed it through the coffee or air or something, all while we were going over stuff in the break room. Either way, pulling off a feat like that would take incredible forethought and resources. Someone would have to know almost everything about me and how I work. If this isn’t all coincidence, then you’re dealing with someone truly dangerous.”