Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) by Drew Hayes

Author:Drew Hayes [Hayes, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: undeath and taxes, fred the vampire, Vampires, paranormal, the utterly uninteresting and unadventurous tales of fred the vampire accountant, vampire humor, paranormal satire, vampire satire
Publisher: REUTS Publications, LLC.
Published: 2016-07-25T14:00:00+00:00

A Lawyer in the Manor

1.

“They want a meeting.”

Those words had hung heavy in my mind since Richard uttered them, not three seconds into a phone call with me. While details had followed, I’d barely listened, as such words weren’t truly necessary. There was only one “they” who would seek a meeting with me through Richard, only one group that would put such gravity in his voice. The House of Turva, Winslow’s newest vampire clan, was finally beginning to move. What that meant for me was anyone’s guess, as they’d done little interacting beyond the basics of making peace. My only way to find out if they were friend, foe, or apathetic neighbor was to take the meeting.

Of course, that didn’t mean I had to be stupid about how I did it. My car eased into the parking lot in front of Charlotte Manor, a new night’s stars twinkling overhead. A massive Jeep that looked like it had been driven over straight from war was already parked nearby, and was obviously Richard’s ride. I couldn’t begrudge him the extra room; there was no sedan on the market that had the space to comfortably contain a man of his size. Pausing to lock my doors and double check that I had, in fact, remembered my briefcase, I headed up the front steps, where Charlotte was already waiting for me.

I realize that this can be a bit confusing, so allow me a moment to clarify the difference between Charlotte and Charlotte Manor. Charlotte Manor is the proper, given name of the structure that served as half B&B, half rented-out home to a pair of agents. Charlotte, on the other hand, was the house’s personality, its physical representation that usually took the form of a young woman who favored dresses so large and complex it was rare to see them outside of a period play. Neil had once said it best: Charlotte was the house’s avatar, the way it interacted with us.

That was who was waiting for me as I stepped onto the porch. She offered me a glass of wine—materializing food and drink was one of her less spectacular but more useful abilities—which I had to refuse.

“Working tonight,” I informed her. “Wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Really? Because the big guy inside has already downed five glasses of ale. And my mugs are well above normal pint size.” There was a touch of pride in Charlotte’s voice; she took great satisfaction in her hospitality skills.

“Richard isn’t the one who needs to worry.”

“You wouldn’t know that from the way he’s pacing about,” Charlotte replied. “When are the other guests arriving?”

I headed for the door, and she followed along beside me, matching my steps perfectly. “Soon. We set it for two hours after sunset, but there’s no guarantee they won’t be early. Richard briefed you on what to do?”

“He’s been here for hours; he won’t shut up about it.” Charlotte made a small gesture with her hand and the front door opened to reveal another, identical Charlotte waiting patiently.

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