Undeath and Taxes (4 page)

6.

Richard ran his hands over his daughter’s head for the umpteenth time. She was still passed out, though whether it was from fatigue or Gideon’s spell, I had no idea. Getting her back had been easy; I could have smelled my way across town, even if I hadn’t been familiar with Winslow’s layout. Richard had met me at the entrance to the building, probably saving my life, since a vampire showing up with a kidnapped therian is not exactly a trust-inducing scenario. If I’d been thinking, I would have realized that before the cacophony of growls began, but that damned dragon blood still had me somewhat loopy. I was finally calming down a bit when Richard at last satisfied himself that she was really back safe and stepped into his living room to talk with me.

“Wine?” He asked, his voice a deep rumble that spoke to how draining his own evening must have been.

“Please,” I responded.

Richard stepped into his kitchen and returned with a bottle of pinot noir. He pulled out the cork with practiced ease, then poured us each a large glass. Motioning to one of the unoccupied chairs, he indicated for me to sit. I complied, accepting the wineglass as I did, and soon, he took his own perch in a larger piece of furniture. We sat in silence for several moments, both delicately sipping on the wine. It was an exceptional vintage, and I made a mental note to get the year and label from him later.

“You must have questions,” Richard said at last. I’d seen Richard partially dissolved by magical-monster acid before, but I couldn’t ever recall seeing him appear so weary.

“I do have some things I’m curious about,” I admitted. “However, I know privacy and secrecy is a large part of your job. After tonight, I understand why a little better. I’d be content if you could just tell me what happened, keeping the strokes as broad as you need to.”

“I owe you far more than that; however, it is a fine place to start,” Richard agreed. “My security was compromised by a bloodline I wasn’t aware of. The therians from a neighboring community were driven out by forces it is best you remain ignorant of. I was prepared to take them in, as I told you, but it seemed they weren’t content with merely joining my town’s citizens. Their former leader wanted to take my job. One of his cousins works for me. Not high up enough to officially know about things like Gideon or the secret entrance, but connected enough that he was able to piece some bits of it together.”

“He turned on you?” Perhaps it was naive; however I’d always seen therians as intensely loyal. It had seemed to be a staple of their culture.

“I’m a figurehead,” Richard explained. “Orson is blood. Blood means a lot to my kind. Family, the pack, those we share blood with, these things are so sacred that many of us consider them holy. He owed loyalty in two directions, and he chose to honor the one that he saw as his true pack. I don’t begrudge him that.”

“So, what happened to him; the guard who leaked your secrets?”

“I didn’t begrudge his choice, but he still betrayed a loyalty. Do you really want to know more than that?”

“Point taken,” I said quickly.

“Anyway, Orson decided to use Sally against me. He knew about the entrance, and he knew she was guarded, so he sent up thugs with silver to snatch her while keeping me busy with diplomatic bullshit. Once he had her, Orson planned to ransom her back to me at the cost of my position.”

“You know as much as I do, and I was there to hear them talk about it,” I commented.

“The traitor was . . . interviewed before judgment was passed.” Richard took a longer sip of his wine. I wondered if Sally had been right, if Richard truly did hate his job. He certainly didn’t appear to be taking any enjoyment in the more savage aspects of the position.

“I see. I suppose we were lucky they didn’t know enough to be aware that the King of the West was your daughter’s bodyguard.” I kept my tone neutral. This was a subject I dearly wanted to broach, but had well-founded suspicions would be taboo in Richard’s book.

“He is not her bodyguard,” Richard corrected me. “It’s well known that I play host to the King of the West; however, Gideon rarely leaves this room. If he does, he appears as you know him, as Sally’s friend and playmate. Who would imagine that a dragon of such tremendous power would take the form of a mere child?”

“Who indeed,” I concurred. “One thing does strike me, though. Earlier this evening, you told me Gideon couldn’t meddle in your affairs and that he was out of town. Him crossing untold distances to save Sally . . . that seems well within his scope of power; however, it also seems as though retrieving your kidnapped daughter would fall well within the realm of meddling.”

Richard turned his glass carefully in his hand, examining the last bits of wine clinging to its surface. “I don’t know much about taxes, but there are loopholes, right?”

“I prefer to refer to them as alternate means of revenue classification. That said, yes, there are definitely loopholes in the tax code.”

“This is a loophole in the parahuman code,” Richard replied. “Or maybe I should say just the therian code. We have a stricter one than any other type of creature, probably because we’re all so stubborn and willful that we need to be. I told you the truth when I said that Gideon can’t get involved with my affairs, not unless I want to truly be a powerless figurehead. A leader who can’t handle his own problems is not respected or obeyed by the pack. However, what Gideon did tonight wasn’t technically involving himself in my affairs. Kidnapping Sally was a personal insult to him, and as her father, I allowed him first right of retribution. It was a move that earns my pack favor from a powerful ally, so no one can say my actions weren’t for the good of my people.”

“Seems tenuous,” I pointed out.

“No question about it. But I stuck to the letter of the code, and that’s what matters,” Richard said, allowing himself a slight, relieved smile.

“I suppose it’s a good thing she and Gideon are such good friends,” I commented.

Richard’s smile slid away, replaced by a heavy look in his eyes. After the night he’d already endured, it struck me that perhaps I should let the conversation die out. In fact, I was about to tell him that I was going to head back to my paperwork when he spoke once more.

“They’re betrothed, actually.”

“Beg pardon?” My mouth might have been hanging a touch bit open in shock.

“In a roundabout sort of way, they’re betrothed,” Richard sighed. Now that the dam holding back his secret had burst, the truth came pouring easily out of him. “There are conditions that must be met, the most important of which is that Sally must agree to wed him of her own free will when she comes of age, but should all things be satisfied, then Gideon has my blessing to wed my daughter. In our world, that makes them betrothed.”

“I . . . um . . . wow . . . .” (Forgive the lack of eloquence, I was still half-muddled on dragon blood and had just been hit with a doozy of culture shock.)

“It was the only way I could keep her safe,” Richard continued. “An alpha of my size is either a leader or a target. Any community I tried to settle down in had a leader that saw me as a potential threat, even though I had no aspiration to take over. It didn’t matter. They’d come after me through my family. For a while, I kept moving around, trying to find somewhere safe. That strategy ultimately cost me Sally’s mother. After I buried my wife, I decided to take on different tactics. I came to Gideon for help, and he made me the proposal that he would take the form of a child Sally’s age. He would grow up with her, be her best friend, her ever-present protector. And if he could win her heart, he would wed her.”

“I’m going to ask something, and no matter how I turn it about in my head, it seems terribly untactful,” I told him.

“You want to know why Sally, right?”

“I do. She’s an adorable girl with a shockingly big heart, but it seems like a lot of trouble for a wife. I’d imagine there are all sorts of parahumans who would be eager to be with someone of Gideon’s power.”

“You’re not wrong,” Richard said. “The reason why Gideon asked to marry her is something we both keep secret. I’ve already told you more than some of my top people know, because I felt you deserved some answers after what happened tonight. And because I like you, Fred. I’ve met many vampires in my time, but you’re the first one I think I’ve ever enjoyed being around.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. I raised my glass and gulped down the last bits of wine. From the way Richard kept glancing down the hall to where Sally slumbered, it was clear where he wanted to be. And I did still have a job waiting for me. “I enjoy your company as well. Unfortunately, I must forgo indulging in much more of it, as I have work to do.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose inches in surprise. “Fred, after everything you’ve been through, I think you’re entitled to take the rest of the night off.”

“Are you joking?” I asked. “I’m still running strong on the power of Gideon’s blood. With this much energy, I feel like I can work for days. Now is the time to tackle that massive mound of monetary evaluation. Unless you think my work will keep you both up?”

“No, we’ll be fine,” Richard replied, letting out a soft chuckle—the first laugh I’d heard from him since my return.

I stepped back into the office, shut the doors to keep my noise from permeating through the rest of the home, and took my seat at the desk. Glancing at my watch, I quickly jotted down the time under my first note, left all those hours ago. I was officially back on the clock.

7.

With several keystrokes, I saved my final version of the documents, closed the program, and powered down my computer. That accomplished, I allowed myself to indulge in a long, uncoordinated stretch. Vampires don’t actually get stiff or sore—at least, not doing the sort of activities I’d undertaken since my change—but stretching still generated a positive feeling. I didn’t particularly know why, I was just thankful it did. After three solid days sitting in Richard’s office, it would have felt vastly unsettling not to top things with off with the gentle tingle of a good limb extension.

“I got the last load of boxes done,” Albert informed me, stepping into the office. He’d been brought over on day two, once I’d gotten things sorted enough to begin the digitization of the massive pile of documents. Albert wasn’t always the swiftest study; however, once he learned a task, he could be trusted implicitly to carry it out. In our time together, I’d grown to rely on my assistant more and more. If he ever got a better job offer, I might have to talk with Neil about whipping up another zombie or two.

“Good work,” I said, slipping my laptop into my computer bag. My eyes slid around the room once, double-checking to be certain every receipt, document, and piece of uncategorized clutter had been dealt with. Once I was satisfied we’d gotten all of it, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the office to join Albert.

My zombie assistant was hefting a large machine—our portable scanner, which he’d brought from the my office. I’d decided it was better to handle all the documents on site, especially in light of the recent events. Watching Albert heft the machine was somewhat entertaining, given that it weighed far too much for someone of his size to comfortably carry and the feat was only possible due to his undead strength. The sight of such a slender fellow holding such a cumbersome object still tickled the part of me that appreciated simple, vaudevillian comedy.

“Go ahead and take the scanner down,” I instructed him. “I’ll see if Richard needs anything else, and then meet you at the car.”

“Can do,” Albert replied.

He began tottering forward, and I quickly realized that he’d need help getting through the massive stone door. I pushed it open with one arm, surprised at how light it momentarily seemed. While the initial rush from Gideon’s blood had faded after a day, some of the effects were longer lasting. Once Albert was safely through, I allowed the giant marble barrier to slide back into place with a hefty thud. It was so loud, in fact, that it drew the attention of the man I’d intended to go seek out.

“Fred,” Richard called, greeting me from down the hall. He was in Sally’s room, where he’d been almost exclusively since the kidnapping. The giant of a man was squatting down beside a plastic table, fake teacup clutched daintily in his hand and a gleaming plastic tiara perched atop his golden mane of hair. “Are you finished already?”

“That I am,” I told him, patting my bag for emphasis.

“Hold on a minute,” he instructed, beginning to rise to his feet.

“Daddy, that’s bad manners,” Sally chastised. She took a sip from her own teacup, which appeared far more appropriately sized grasped in her small hand.

“Oh, sorry,” Richard replied. “May I please be momentarily excused from the tea party?”

“Of course,” Sally said.

Even if I’d been dumb enough to laugh at someone like Richard, I’d still have kept my mouth shut out of respect for the situation. Despite seeming unaffected by her ordeal, Richard was clearly concerned about any emotional scars his daughter might have gained. While I’d been working on his taxes, Richard had scarcely left the apartment. Business was done by headset, and with great rarity. Only once had one of his aides convinced him to attend a meeting in person. I didn’t know what had transpired there; all I knew was that after he returned, no one even hinted at the idea of his leaving Sally again.

Gideon had also shown up to check in on her, never bothering to even so much as greet me, which I was perfectly fine with. I’d done all I could to shove his strange engagement out of my mind. Pulling at that thread seemed as though it would unwind nothing but trouble, and I’d already had more than my fill for the quarter.

Richard walked over, teacup set down but still wearing the tiara. “So it’s all done, right? I just have to cut a check?”

“At this point, I’ll put together a report breaking down your fiscal obligations and how much  each deduction will allow you to retain—”

“Yeah, um, if you were going to just ballpark it, how much would you say I owe? Not that I won’t read your report, of course . . .” Richard glanced awkwardly away, certain I would see the truth in his eyes if he met my own. Even with the avoidance, I knew he would likely give my comprehensive report a brief skimming at best. Oh well, I would still make it. What the client did with the information wasn’t my concern; I merely took satisfaction in knowing that I had done the job to the best of my abilities.

“If I were going to do a ballpark estimate, I’d say you’ll be looking at about half of what you paid last year,” I said.

“Really? Half?” Richard’s face lit up in surprise.

“Roughly speaking, yes. As head therian, you are actually able to write off a tremendous amount of your expenses as business-related, since so many facets of your business interact with your daily life. Add in a few other deductions for all the parahuman staff you employ, not the mention the break for Gideon—”

“Break for Gideon?”

“Dragon’s don’t actually pay taxes,” I informed him. “When the country was founded and the treaties were signed, they were incredibly adamant on that point. Which, given their penchant for gold, is hardly surprising. Anyway, Gideon pays nothing, but since you’re lodging and feeding the King of the West, who is the equivalent of a high-ranking diplomat, you are entitled to an enormous break on your own financial duties to the government.”

“Damn,” Richard said, shaking his head and sending his golden locks tumbling about. “I guess I’ve been overpaying all this time. Even with your fees, paying only half of what I did last year will be a big windfall.”

“It would be,” I agreed. “If that’s what you were going to pay. I think, however, that you misunderstood what I meant. You aren’t going to pay half of what you did last year.”

“Then what do I owe?” Richard asked, worry seeping into his large eyes.

“Nothing. When I said you were looking at roughly half of what you paid last year, I meant that’s what the government would be sending you. Your deductions were so enormous that you were actually entitled to a refund.”

Richard made a noise in his throat that was somewhere between a choke and a snort.

“That is . . . a
lot
of money.”

“I’m aware,” I said, doing my best to repress the prideful glow I felt burning in my chest. There is no feeling in the world quite like seeing the beaming face of a satisfied client. This was the part of being a CPPA I’d looked forward to most. So few parahumans took good care of their finances that I was confident I’d be able to improve the fiscal situation of anyone who hired me. Starting off with a well-known client would certainly help that process along.

“FYI, if you have one of your people get a reasonably priced scanner and make your document-keeping digital, I can probably manage to do this in the same amount of time next year, even without a boost from Gideon. Cost of equipment and labor should run less than what you’ll save on my fees.”

Richard stared at me for another few moments, then let out a sonorous laugh that nearly shook the paintings from the walls. Before I could react, he scooped me up in a two-armed hug and gave a mighty squeeze. If not for the residual dragon-blood in my system, I might have been concerned for the state of my spine, but my already impressive tolerance to damage was still heightened so much that the pressure barely registered.

“You are a very strange vampire,” Richard said, setting me down at last. “But a good man. And clearly an excellent accountant. If you ever need anything, please feel free to call on me.”

“Actually, there is something you could do for me,” I replied, reaching into the pocket on my bag and pulling out a small stack of business cards. “If you know anyone else looking for a good CPPA, send them my way. Advertising in the parahuman community is largely word of mouth, so recommendations are key to my business.”

“Have no worry, I will absolutely be sending anyone in need of accounting to you,” Richard assured me. “I’d have done that anyway. There aren’t many parahumans who do what you do.”

“You know what they say, find a niche and fill it,” I replied.

“That, you have certainly done,” Richard said. “I wish you good luck in all your upcoming ventures. And remember what I said, you can call me freely if needed.”

“I appreciate it,” I told him. “But Albert is really all the help I need. Feel free to give me a ring though, if you have any questions about the report, or just need to chat. It seems like this place can get a little lonely sometimes.”

“Your offer is heard and remembered,” Richard said, a strangely serious expression suddenly cresting his face.

“Daddy, the tea is getting cold!” Sally yelled from her room.

“You must excuse me,” Richard said, reaching up carefully and making sure his tiara was still attached. “If the tea gets cold, I have to wait while she brews a whole other imaginary pot.” He headed back toward his daughter, an earnest smile apparent beneath his beleaguered facade.

For my part, I merely headed down through the building, out the front door, and into the night. Even a block away, I could see Albert waiting in my car, cheerfully entertained by the passing motorists. I felt great at that moment, suffused with the sort of contentment only attainable after a job well done.

After a few moments of basking in the sensation, I let it slip away, relegating it to nothing more than a memory as I resumed my journey toward the car, eager to get back home and check my messages. Who knew, maybe I’d already gotten a bite on another job. There were a lot of parahumans in Winslow, Colorado, and I was now officially the man they could turn to with their accounting needs. It had the promise of being a very interesting new page in my career, and I was genuinely excited to start.

I just hoped the next few jobs would be at least somewhat more tame than this one turned out to be.