The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant (Fred, the Vampire Accountant, #1)

by Drew Hayes

I almost certainly do not know you; however, I shall assume you are a lovely person, and it is my loss for not having the opportunity to meet you. Still, I must assume you and I are connected in some way, for the works you are about to read are selections from a journal of my memoirs. I compiled these not in the belief that the stories within are so compelling they must be told, but rather because I found my unexpected life transition to be so shockingly uneventful—at least initially. I place the blame for my aggrandized expectations squarely on contemporary media, filling my head with the belief that a ticket to the supernatural also put one on an express train toward coolness and suave charm. This is simply not the case. Or, at least, it was not my case.

My life was just as gray and dull as it had been before. In a way, that was the most difficult part—going from the thrill of something new to the dreariness of the old. I suppose a part of me had believed the Hollywood hype about vampires living (in a non-literal sense, of course) adventurous lives filled with sex, danger, and riches. My own undead experience had been . . . somewhat less thrilling. I’ve spent ample time raiding the video stores in my town, and I must say I have yet to uncover any tales of vampires whose unlives continue so perfectly parallel to their days of breathing and sunshine as mine has. I would have taken great comfort in such a film. It was that nagging sense of disappointment that toiled away in my subconscious and it was the need for something—anything really—to be different that prompted me to make such a dangerous decision. I was going to my ten-year high school reunion.

“I came here on assignment for work.” “Will you elaborate this time?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Dammit, Freddy, this is the kinda shit I was specifically trying to avoid. Look, I’ll tell you what I do, but you won’t believe me.” She had finished the obvious places and began checking behind speakers and electronic equipment. “Given that I just found you bound and gagged, my mind is somewhat more receptive than it might normally be.” “Well, then, here’s the deal,” Krystal said as she sat down next to me. “Everything you think you know about monsters is a lie. Ghouls, ghosts, werewolves, all of them and more are real and hiding out behind the scenes in our world. Officially, they are known as ‘parahumans,’ and part of my job is to hunt down the ones that get out of hand. I work for an agency without an official name or address. And I’m here because we learned that some local werewolves planned on using tonight as an all-you-can-eat buffet. You know, you can call me crazy at any point here and I’ll shut up.” “What about vampires?” I asked. From the look on her face, that was hardly the response she was expecting. “Um, yeah. Vampires are real too. They’re hard as shit to root out, though, and major league badasses to boot.

“Good. One last thing” —she pushed a stiff, smooth rectangle into my hand— “that’s my card with my cell number. Give me a call when you’re safe, and let me know you lived through this. Okay?” “I certainly will,” I lied. She got up and headed back to the door. Gun in front, she exited, pausing only to look at me once more. I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be able to see those looks, which then made them all the more curious. At any rate, I was ready to get out of there. Krystal had handed me an exit, and I had no inclination to let that information go to waste. I’m sure a Hollywood vampire would have run after her, swept her into his arms, and handled all the villains himself. That, however, was not me. All I wanted to do was get back to my hotel room safely and relax.

My therapist says I have confrontation issues. He’s not wrong. At least, he better not be at his prices. As I lay there, being dragged toward who knew what, my thoughts were not on fighting my way free or saving the rest of the class. No, my mind was in my apartment in Winslow, Colorado—all those miles away—fervently trying to think of a way to get back there.

A loud, booming voice interrupted my attempts to track the approaching figure. “Ten years!” It echoed. “Ten years since our pack was formed. Ten years in secret. Ten years in silence. Ten years in darkness!” It sounded familiar. Guttural and with a canine undertone, but familiar nonetheless. It continued, “You have all come here to reunite over what you once were, while we have come to see the last you will ever be. Tonight, we no longer hunt in secret! Tonight, we force the world to see and accept us for the superior species we are!” The voice I might never have placed; however, the ego shone through crystal clear. Brent Colter. Looks like my old bully had traded up in the world. No wonder he was still so muscular and strong. Doesn’t it figure? I become an undead creature of the night, and I can’t even get a date. He becomes a glorified mutt, and he manages to pull off a grand murder plot. Jerk.

“So, when did you die anyway?” she asked. I started to choke on my omelet, then remembered I didn’t need to breathe. I swallowed the lump down slowly. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Sure you do. You’re a vampire.” She neither looked at me nor slowed her intake while making her accusations. Impressive. “I’m an accountant, Krystal, though tonight I was costumed as a doctor. I live alone in my two-bedroom apartment and watch a lot of movies in my free time. Nothing about me really screams vampire.”

“It’s nothing too exciting. I got grabbed off the street about a year ago and fainted from the shock. When I woke up, I was like this.” “Kept the same job, huh?” “Yes. I like what I do, and I didn’t see any reason to give it up.” “Makes sense. Want to go out tomorrow night?” “What?” In my defense, I didn’t have a lot of experience with beautiful women asking me out. She took it in stride. “You’re a nice guy. We’ve got a good history. Plus, you aren’t that hard on the eyes. And you actually know what I do for a living. Do you know how nice it will be to go out with a guy I don’t have to keep lying to?” I mulled it over. “How do you know I’m not a bad vampire? What if I’m the kind you have to hunt down?” “You aren’t. I called in your plates while I drove over here. You’ve got a spotless reputation. A pretty boring one, actually.” She gave me a wink, a grin tugging at her mouth. And there it was. My unlife was so boring that even the woman who hunted monsters saw me as harmless.

“As all of you should know, my name is Neil, and I will be your Game Master this evening. Now, since all of you registered your characters beforehand, my assistant—Albert, over there— will be working the table near the front. We do ask that you check in, take your badge, and keep it somewhere visible all night long. Your badge identifies your character name, race, and what faction, if any, you belong to. I’ll remind those of you who are new to our LARP that any information in black is considered general knowledge, and information in red is known only to those of you in the same race. Gaining the red information will have to happen through interaction, so please, no metagaming. Albert will also hand you our general rules sheet, so check in as soon as possible. Once everyone is accounted for, we can get this game started!” He threw his fist in the air at that last line, and then took a deep bow. He left his soapbox of a stage (yes, it was actually a soapbox; no, I have no idea where he found such a thing) to the sound of scattered clapping. (If you’re wondering, I was most certainly not one of those clapping.) “Please explain to me how this is an errand,” I asked Krystal, with as much unfriendliness as I was able to conjure. Which is to say, not much.

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’re not much stronger physically 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.”

“It’s actually not that far off from what happened with the Native American treaties, as far as cultural preservation goes, though dracolings had much better leverage and representation.” “What was their leverage?” I asked. “Same as their representation. They called in a great grandparent to negotiate for them. Those negotiators agreed to help 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 glamor until the last fifty years or so, when that became the best money-making campaign.” “For centuries . . . was it the civil war, then?” 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.”

there is a chance you two will have to sit through the whole thing. Dracolings can be odd about stuff, 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 millennia. 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 people who have government protected rights to do things the way 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?”

Yes, gaining two undead servants would have some use to us, but nowhere near as great as ownership of an agent. The potential gain is simply not great enough to justify the potential loss.” “Well, if it sweetens the pot any, I do own my own accounting agency. Maybe I could be used to help with the books,” I said in desperation. It was a stupid long shot. I was under no illusions that the dracolings would actually find a vampire a more desirable bet because he was an accountant. As it turned out, I was dead wrong in that assumption. It was like I’d jolted each of the dracolings with electricity, the way they reacted when I mentioned the word “accounting.” “You are . . . an accountant?” Morgan asked. “Um, yes. I run my own business out of my apartment, and I do pretty good work,” I said. “Do you know how difficult it is to find a parahuman that is both capable and willing to balance books?” Morgan asked me again. “I’m sure there are plenty of humans who are glad for the work,” I said. “Humans, bah!” Morgan said. “Due to secrecy agreements in our treaties, we can never reveal to them what we are, so any expenses incurred that relate to our nature must be hidden from them, forcing us to do the work ourselves.”

“You will do battle with our champion in the manner our dragon ancestors faced. Of all the menaces in the land, only knights conducted themselves with the honor, strength, and determination to allow our ancestors to acknowledge them as worthy warrior combatants. As such, our trial is the one that the knights themselves used,” Morgan said. “Okay, so just so we’re all on the same page here, what did I just sign up for?” I asked. “Tomorrow morning, you will be battling our champion in a joust,”

“It still doesn’t seem hopeless,” Albert said, once the doors had been secured behind us. “Vampires are more than strong; they also have enhanced coordination, reflexes, and speed.” “The key word there is ‘enhanced,’” Bubba said, as we walked through the spacious tournament floor. Stadium seats stretched far above us, and the ground beneath us was covered in dirt and straw. On one side of the seating, in the center, there was a boxed off area adorned with curtains and jewels, a pair of thrones resting inside it. “If Fred had been some sort of fighter, or athlete, or anything like that before he got turned, we might be a little better off,” Bubba continued. “But given that he’s wearing glasses and a sweater vest after becoming a vamp, I’m guessing he wasn’t much of a tough guy when he had a heartbeat.”

If only Krystal were here, I could have asked her who was responsible for secrecy in this situation. I felt a pang in my stomach when I thought about Krystal. It seemed like every time I’d wound up in this scenario before, she’d rushed in and saved me somehow. A part of me had expected her to come into the arena last night and explain how she’d worked everything out, how we could go home. Sitting there, wearing rusty armor and holding a large wooden lance, it finally sank in all the way. Krystal wasn’t coming to our rescue this time. Today, the only cavalry we had was a werepony, a bumbling zombie, and a chickenshit vampire.

why are we here?” Neil said. “You said you knew someone who would help.” “I said I knew someone who could help. Big difference there. And we’re here because this is where he lives. The club is only the first floor of the building. Higher-up ones are offices for certain persons engaged in often less than legal activities.” “And we’re going to the top,” I said. “Yup, because this guy is the worst kind of criminal,” Bubba said. “Smuggler?” Albert asked. “Gun-runner?” Neil ventured. “Assassin?” I guessed. Bubba shook his head. “Politician.” We “oooohed” collectively as a group as understanding set in.

I’m sure that whatever is waiting for you at that church is designed to turn you into a monster.” “I think Quinn already accomplished that a year and a half ago,” I said. “No, he didn’t.” This came from Albert, who managed to uncurl himself and put a reassuring hand on my foot. “Don’t say that kind of thing. You gave me a home and a job when I would have been put back to death without them. You risked your freedom to save Bubba and Krystal in Las Vegas. You even helped us find Neil’s mentor after he once tried to kill you. You’re a good man who happens to be a vampire. We aren’t human, but that doesn’t make us monsters.”

“There’s no need for such demonstrations of bravery. It will not change your fate.” “Uh huh. That’s great and all, but I was serious. You guys have obviously been holed up here a while. You’ve got to have a television or something. I’ll take a boom box. The clacking is starting to give me a headache.” Quinn threw back his head and laughed, a rich and elegant tone that had clearly been worked on until it was perfect. Yeah, this was a motherfucker who’d actually practiced his evil laugh. “I do love the bravado you agents show in the face of certain death,” he said, intending it as a compliment, I think. “Sadly, we have no such entertainment devices. Our kind is beyond the need for such petty distractions.” “Buddy, there’s an all-vampire group in my department that goes and sings karaoke every Wednesday night. They also took three days off when the last Call of Duty game came out. I happen to know for a fact that Freddy still has an active World of Warcraft account and a giant movie collection. Save the Anne Rice shtick for someone who doesn’t work with, and freaking date, your kind.”