Undeath and Taxes (20 page)

2.

It had taken me by surprise to learn that, despite the kidnapping attempt some months prior, negotiations between the two tribes of therians had continued. When I voiced this sentiment, Bubba kindly reminded me that, just because their leader was a dick, it didn’t remove the displaced tribe’s need for shelter and homes. A new leader had been chosen, this one with a very firm stance against stealing little girls, and the negotiations had resumed.

Part of me still wanted to know what could drive an entire tribe of therians from their home, but every time I came near the subject, Krystal’s face took on the serious demeanor I’d begun to recognize as a sign that I was about to hear something disturbing. Never let it be said that I was beyond learning, as I halted those conversations as soon as I caught sight of that look. I had quite enough to worry about and be afraid of, thank you; there was no need to pile a few more nightmares onto my plate.

We arrived at the party in Krystal’s pickup truck, as she steadfastly refused to be seen getting out of my hybrid, and I was struck by the change in Richard’s building. It was a tall one, in the heart of downtown—not quite a skyscraper, though definitely a skyneighbor—but only the top few floors were used by him. The rest were rented out to various corporations, with the bottom being owned by a club that played music I would generously refer to as the dying screeches of a speaker that was dumped in the ocean. Tonight, however, there was no sign of the usual customers hosting multi-colored hair and abundant piercings. Instead, tuxedoed staff waited at the entrance, politely greeting each guest as they made their way up the concrete walkway to the steel-and-glass doors. From the size of the men, I had no doubt they were therians, though they barely stood out amidst the crowd of lumbering guests filing through the entrance. Somewhere in the nation, a tuxedo rental chain must have been completely out of all sizes over extra-large.

The small line of vehicles in front of us quickly dissipated as a series of swift, efficient valets delicately removed guests from their automobiles. From arrival to the moment a sizable hand pulled open the door next to me, it couldn’t have been longer than two minutes—no mean feat given the number of cars they were working through.

“Impressive,” I told Krystal, as she slid her arm through mine and I watched her truck being swiftly driven away. “This is more coordination than I usually see from Richard’s people.”

“They’re trying to make a good impression,” Krystal told me. “Both on their new tribe members and on the bigwigs in attendance. It’s a subtle thing, but showing strong teamwork in mundane activities will make people more hesitant to take you on in battle. After all, if that’s how good they are at parking cars, you can only imagine what they’d be like at spilling blood.”

We continued forward in silence as we drew near the entrance. There was a small line as the security team confirmed each person was indeed a guest—though what madman would try to break into
this
party, I couldn’t imagine. As we waited, I caught sight of a few symbols drawn above the doorways. My eyes followed them, noting the way they wove down the sides and even across the ground in small sections. I’d only been to Richard’s building a few times in our association, but I felt reasonably certain I’d have noticed those if they were present before.

“Are those supposed to be decoration?” I asked, nodding slightly at the symbols over the door.

Krystal looked at me with a fleeting touch of surprise and shook her head. “I didn’t expect you to see those, but it makes sense, given whose blood you drank. They’re draconic runes, part of a spell that Gideon set up over the building.”

“Dare I ask what it will do?”

“It’s a suppression charm, meant to bring the guests a little closer to human than para. You’ll find them at lots of gatherings like this, though most places have to use mages instead of a dragon. They’re handy for keeping the peace and making sure that, if any scuffles do break out, they don’t take down an entire building.”

“Should I be concerned? After all, a vampire without magic is, well . . . just a corpse.”

“Give me a little credit; I wouldn’t have brought you along if the things were that powerful. There’s no magic that can just turn off what a parahuman is. This is nothing more than a dampener. You’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m not even sure they’ll affect you.” Krystal patted my arm with her free hand, letting it linger there as she spoke. I wanted to hear why she had such a theory, but at that moment the guests in front of us were cleared to enter, and it was our turn to talk with security.

The exchange was brief and polite. Krystal gave them both our names, and after one checked a list while another talked on the radio to an unseen guard, we were permitted entrance. Had I still breathed out of anything but habit, I likely would have held my breath as we stepped through the threshold. Krystal’s firm grip permitted no such theatricality though, as she pulled me through the door and into the lobby. I thought I felt a slight tingle run across my skin, but it easily could have been my imagination. Either way, I neither dropped dead nor suddenly turned human, so it seemed Krystal was right about the undead not being at risk.

With my fear assuaged, I allowed myself to take in the scene before me. A long, deep maroon carpet ran from the building’s entrance to a set of large white stairs. White balloons adorned the railing, along with swaths of matching fabric hung with such delicacy that I immediately knew Richard had outsourced the decorating. I could already hear the soft strands of string music—too lively and imperfect to be recorded—floating down from several floors up. Much as I respected Krystal’s opinions, at that moment, I had to disagree with her: therians most certainly could throw a gala.

We ascended the stairs slowly, savoring the peaceful journey together. I’d expected her to be off-balance in heels, but Krystal moved as easily as she did in a pair of sneakers. I wondered if that was part of her agent training, the devil-magic inside her, or simply a practiced skill acquired during the decade when we hadn’t spoken to one another. Ultimately, it was irrelevant; she was simply graceful as we walked up the stairs, and I was enraptured with her, the moment, and the entire experience.

Sadly, that peaceful bliss was broken as soon as we stepped off the final stair, putting us in view of the party. The open doors before us showed a vast ballroom, already filled with dancing guests, a small orchestra, and a sizable buffet station loaded with food. The last part was easily the most crowded, as therians tended to have large appetites, gala or no. None of that was disturbing, however. In fact, it added to the moment—seeing a gorgeous destination at the end of our happy journey. No, what took us out of the fantasy was a voice that I’d hoped not to hear again for some time.

“Evening, Agent Jenkins, Fredrick Fletcher.” Arch was standing nearby, arms perched on a railing that looked down over the lobby, where new guests were still coming in. He looked exactly as he had at Albert’s trial, save only for the fact that he’d traded his utilitarian clothing for an old-fashioned tuxedo and wasn’t surrounded by the usual cloud of cigarette smoke. (Richard’s building had very firm no smoking policies.)

“I’m off duty, Arch. It’s just Krystal tonight.” She left my arm and walked over to her fellow agent, giving him a light hug that lasted for less than a second.

“We’re never really off duty,” Arch replied. If he was bothered by the slightness of her embrace, it didn’t show.

“Tonight, I am. You do what you want.”

I made my way over as she spoke, trading a polite handshake with Arch. “So, how do you know Richard?”

“Never met the man,” Arch replied. “I was in town apartment hunting, somehow he caught wind of it, and I wound up with an invite.”

“Apartment hunting?” I worked as hard as I could to keep my tone placid, but from the look on Arch’s face, it seemed I was unsuccessful.

“Looking for a place to live,” he clarified. “Since your assistant handed me that ultimatum about not leaving, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

I bit back the retort on my tongue that wanted to point out he’d had the option of not coming at all. It was in poor taste to be so impolite, especially at a function as elegant as this one. Besides, Arch as not my priority. I needed to warn Albert, lest he be taken by surprise.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck at that,” I told him. “If you’ll excuse us, we have to meet our friends inside.”

“I’ll come with. Might as well let Albert know he got his wish, after all.”

I looked at Krystal, who gave her head the slightest shake. The message was clear: now was not the time to fight this battle. We linked arms once more and headed into the proper area of the party.

Once inside, I was able to take in details I’d missed before: the small tables set up at irregular intervals where people could rest their food, the bar in the back corner that I suspected stocked a quality of beer not normally found at tuxedo functions, and a small podium at the far end of the room. On that podium was Richard, another man I didn’t recognize, and Gideon, each dressed in a fine tuxedo. It was strange to see the King of the West without Sally present, but Krystal had told me that Richard’s daughter had taken ill in the last week.

As my gaze went over them, I caught Richard’s eye for a moment, and he gave a slight smile in my direction. It was nice to be recognized, even in such a small manner, by a being of such prestige. Perhaps that was why I chanced a direct glance at Gideon; maybe I was curious to see if what we’d been through had sown any familiarity for me in the dragon’s heart. It took a few moments, but eventually, we locked eyes. It was only for a second, yet it changed the outcome of the entire night.

I could feel the pressure as soon as he looked at me; that terrifying aura that I’d always felt around him came surging back. It thundered through my veins, freezing my muscles and tripping every panic impulse hard-wired into my vampire brain. It sliced through me, tearing apart all manner of reason. I thought for certain that I’d end up a catatonic, drooling mess, but this time, it didn’t happen.

This time, the aura hit something within me, some small piece of power that I hadn’t been conscious of, and that piece fought the panic back. It screamed against the foreign presence, driving it out with a sentiment  that I could only describe as fury. Slowly, ever so slowly, my brain began to function again and my body returned to my control. As soon I regained some semblance of reason, I understood what had saved me: Gideon’s blood. The power of a dragon still lived inside me, and it was the only thing that had brought me salvation. Unfortunately, I also knew—in a way that I would never be able to articulate—that the power inside me and the one that had been fought off belonged to two entirely different beings.

“Fred, you okay?” Krystal snapped a finger in front of my eyes, and I realized I must have frozen up for a bit after all. “You’ve been staring at Gideon for like a solid minute.”

With great effort, I moved my tongue, forming what might have been the most terrifying words I’d ever spoken, in life or after.

“That isn’t Gideon.”

3.

The words had scarcely left my mouth before I felt the hard prick of metal pressed against my ribs. Though he’d managed to conceal it from onlookers, Arch had a small blade wedged against my jacket. Strange as it was given the circumstances, my first concern was that he might have put a hole in the shirt and jacket, both of which were rentals. Only after I’d had a second to process did I realize all the terrible implications his action might carry.

“Not a word more,” Arch whispered. Despite the harshness in his voice, he was still looking as placid as he had moments prior. Krystal, on the other hand, seemed as though she were rounding the bend of confused and was now on a direct track toward pissed off.

“Arch, get your fucking hands off my boyfriend.”

“Apologies.” Just like that, the blade was gone, stashed somewhere in the old-fashioned coat he wore. I hadn’t even thought about it at the time, but no one had bothered frisking us for weapons when we came in. It made a certain amount of sense, though. Bullets and knives were less effective than most parahumans’ natural abilities—unless they were made of silver, of course. The flaw in that strategy was that it was akin to having a deadly shellfish allergy and carrying around a shrimp bomb: it invited unnecessary danger upon one’s self.

“We need to speak somewhere with more privacy.” Arch was still calm and detached; honestly, he struck me as closer to bored than anything else. I didn’t know what sort of parahuman he was, but I’d begun to suspect it wasn’t something I was familiar with. Not when even a situation like this didn’t make him panic.

“Let’s go back out to the stairway. Meet on the left,” Krystal suggested. She still didn’t seem happy, but it was evident that she was going along with whatever Arch wanted for the moment.

Arch nodded, pulling out a cell phone and pressing it to his ear. He jammed a finger in the other, muttered some words as he scowled at the band, and then hurried out of the room. It happened so quickly, I barely had time to register that he’d faked getting a call and needing to find a place with silence. Arch definitely thought on his feet, I had to give him that.

“We’ll have to wait a few moments.” Krystal whispered this directly in my ear, a feat she accomplished by unabashedly pressing herself against me in a way that almost certainly would have made most onlookers uncomfortable. Given the very public place we were in, it would have made me uncomfortable too, if not for the still fading sense of terror that was soaked into my system.

I nodded, my eyes sweeping the room as I killed time. I caught sight of Albert and Neil, both loading plates high with items from the buffet. Neil was cutting a swath through the shrimp skewers and crab quiches, while Albert had helped himself to more cake than any reasonable person would be able to put down. Moments later, I saw Amy and Bubba, both walking away from the bar. Bubba was holding three beers—two unopened in his left hand, the one he was already drinking in his right—while Amy had a tall glass filled with ice and purple liquid. There was perhaps a fifty percent chance that hers was a regular cocktail, and not something she’d added her own ingredients too. As I watched them, Bubba noticed me, giving a nod and rerouting Amy in our direction.

“Oh dear. Amy and Bubba are coming this way,” I told Krystal.

“Guess it’s time to move then.” She leaned away from my ear and moved to my face, pulling me in for a kiss far more gratuitous than the situation called for. After a few moments, she pulled away, taking my hand with her and leading me back out toward the stairway entrance. To any observers, we no doubt appeared as if we were heading off to find a private spot and finish our moment. It was mortifying, but the situation was so dire, I only managed to be slightly embarrassed by the whole thing.

We emerged into the darker area of the landing at the top of the stairs. Krystal kept up the act as she pulled me around the side and toward an undecorated hallway to the left. Only when we were out of sight did the dramatic sex-kitten act fall away, revealing the serious face of an agent in an unexpected situation.

Arch was already there, leaning against a wall with his phone still at his ear. He was impossible to see from the stairwell, but if someone walked over and caught a glance of him, it would seem as if he were doing nothing more than trying to take a call. As soon as we arrived, he lowered the phone and turned to face me.

“How did you know?”

“It’s hard to say.” I didn’t need to ask Arch for clarification—there was only one bit of information I had that he could possibly be interested in. “Something about his aura of fear. It felt different than the other times. And when he gave me his blood, it faded completely. Tonight, it was—”

“Hold. Gideon, the King of the West, allowed you to drink from him?” His eyebrows were slightly raised, and there was the barest of wrinkles in his forehead. It was the closest thing to shock I’d yet seen on Arch’s face.

“Months ago, when Sally Alderson was kidnapped. He needed me to get her to safety, and I was catatonic from being near him, so he gave me a drop of his blood. When that happened, the fear stopped affecting me. Tonight, I felt the aura as strong as ever, only this time, it felt like something . . . I don’t know . . . stopped it.”

“Lovely.” Arch leaned back against the wall and reached into his coat. He pulled out a cigarette and twirled it through his fingers. Given how many he’d gone through the last time I saw him, I could only imagine how badly he wished he could light the thing up.

“All right, Arch, what the fuck is going on?” Krystal asked. “News like this would get a reaction, even from you, if it were really news. Obviously, you knew something, so how about you spill?”

“There were concerns that, over the last few days, Gideon’s behavior had become slightly different,” Arch said. “Nothing erratic, or dangerous, just variant. Given his status, however, any potential issue must be considered, so I was sent in to see what I could find out. Thanks to Mr. Fletcher, I now know that he was captured, and another dragon has taken his place.”

“Wait,
another
dragon?” My voice came out in a choked whisper as I tried to reconcile my need for secrecy with my desire to yelp.

“Gideon is old, and very powerful,” Krystal said. “We know he wasn’t killed, because slaying a parahuman as strong as he is would have sent out the sort of magical resonance that every mage in the state would pick up on. Plus, I seriously doubt he’d have gone down quietly. The only creature that could have contained him, set up the runes outside the building, and still projected a draconic aura is another dragon.”

“Which leaves us dealing with a rogue dragon, and no idea where the King of the West is,” Arch surmised.

“That’s not entirely true,” Amy said. I nearly leapt up to the ceiling in surprise, but Arch and Krystal seemed unfazed. Unlike me, it seemed, they’d been paying enough attention to our surroundings to notice her and Bubba approaching us.

Amy continued, politely ignoring my impromptu leap. “To seal a dragon like Gideon, this other fellow would have to stay close to the cage. Unless he’s as powerful as another king, there’s just no way he could maintain the spell over a distance.”

“Highly unlikely,” Arch replied. “If one of the major players suddenly vanished, we’d have noticed. How close would you say the faux-Gideon needs to be in order to keep the real one contained?”

“Ordinarily, I don’t think he’d be able to get more than half a mile away from the cage.” Amy pulled an eye-dropper from somewhere in her dress and added a few splashes of yellow liquid to her cocktail, which shimmered with a metallic sheen as she took a sip. “But with the whole building sealed off like this, they’ve basically created a distinct environment, separate from the outside world. Which means, as long as our dragon is in here, he or she is close enough to keep the mojo flowing. So the bad news is that Gideon could be anywhere in this building, but the good news is that he
has
to be somewhere in this building.”

“All we need to do is track him down,” Bubba said. “If we find something of his with scent, it should be no trouble at all.”

“First off, this is a building full of therians, so if the dragon went to the trouble of caging Gideon, they almost certainly warded off his smell. Secondly, even if that weren’t the case, I doubt you could do more than pick up a few fragrant notes here and there, seeing as the runes out front will have suppressed everyone’s parahuman abilities.” Arch twirled the cigarette faster through his fingers, it’s dancing movement the only sign of the frustration he had to have been feeling.

“Not everyone’s,” Krystal said. “You and I should be fine, and Fred has Gideon’s blood inside him. I thought it might keep him functioning when it was just Gideon’s wards we were dealing with; against some imitator’s attempt, I’m sure he’s still at full vampire power.”

“Is that true, Fred? How do you feel?” Arch asked, finally looking away from the spot on the wall he’d been staring at.

“Same as ever.” I really didn’t feel any different; my senses were still keen, my muscles strong, and obviously my undead body was still animated. “Well, same as since I died, I mean.”

“Given how high he jumped when we came up, I’m guessing he’s still pretty strong,” Bubba noted, blatantly ignoring the unspoken agreement to let my brief moment of shameful shock pass unmentioned.

“Congratulations, Fred,” Arch said. “As the only non-agent here who still possesses all of his abilities—and the only one with a blood connection to our missing parahuman—you have just been selected to lead the search for him. Agent Jenkins and I need to get back inside the party.”

“The hell I do,” Krystal snapped. “I’m with Fred.”

“No, you’re not.” Arch didn’t raise his voice or puff out his body. He did nothing more than put the cigarette back in his pocket, yet, as he spoke, it was with such authority that I couldn’t even imagine saying no to him. “You and I are agents, which means any identity-stealing dragons will keep an eye on us. Fred is a relative nobody; his presence won’t be missed, which will ideally stop our hand from being tipped. The longer we can keep our opponent in the dark, the better.”

I might have been ready to go along with anything Arch said, but Krystal was made of more stubborn stuff. She thrust a finger down into Arch’s chest, the height difference between them making the exchange almost comical.

“You might have come here on a case, but I’m here as a guest, with my date, who I am damned sure not going to send skittering off into a therian’s building on a wild dragon hunt. I am not your subordinate, and I won’t take orders from you just because you’ve got more experience. Clear?”

“Like most of our younger personnel, Agent Jenkins, your emotions are getting the better of you.” Arch pointed down the hall, toward the party. “Those people are the ones in danger. They are the ones in a room, their own abilities suppressed, within striking distance of a dragon we know nothing about, save for the fact that it’s strong enough to capture the King of the West. I am sending your boyfriend away from the threat, but you and I have to stay put for the sake of the others. Should this facade turn bloody, we’re likely to be the only defense they have.”

“Krystal, it’ll be fine.” I gently put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from Arch. “It’s just searching an empty building for Gideon. Even I won’t mess it up.”

“Fred, you don’t get it. If someone went to all the trouble of capturing Gideon, they won’t have left him undefended,” Krystal said, turning around to face me. “I don’t know if its guards, or magic, or what, but there will be something, probably something deadly, designed to keep you from reaching him.”

“Which is why Fred isn’t going alone,” Bubba piped up from behind us. “Amy and I aren’t big deals either. We can go with him and help.”

“You two are closer to human than para at the moment,” Arch pointed out. “It’s more likely you’ll get in the way.”

“First off, fuck you,” Amy said. “Secondly, we can still use our eyes and look for things. Thirdly, Bubba knows this building better than any of us, so he’s the one who can point us toward the most likely spots to hold a dragon. Fourthly, all the runes in the world won’t change the effects of the potions I brought along. And fifthly, fuck you again, just for good measure.” She took a long swig of her metallic purple drink to punctuate the sentence.

“I still don’t like this,” Krystal said. Her hand was gripping mine tightly, so strongly in fact, that, for a moment, I wondered if her power were somehow leaking through.

“It’s not how I wanted to spend the night either, but Arch is right. You two have to keep the others safe. I’ve got Bubba and Amy with me, and we’re going away from the dragon. We’ll be fine.”

Krystal leaned forward and kissed me. This was nothing like the theatrical lip-smacking she’d laid on me when there was a room full of people to sell the act to. This was short, and tender, and fierce. Neither of us was good at talking about our feelings, but she managed to pack all the fear she had for my safety and the loneliness she’d experience without me into that single kiss. When we parted, she immediately looked away from me, turning to Arch.

“Let’s get this fucking thing done.”