Death and Taxes: An Urban Fantasy Mystery by Pike J. Zachary

Author:Pike, J. Zachary [Pike, J. Zachary]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gnomish Press LLC
Published: 2015-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

“What the hell?” gasped Arthur. “What the hell?”

“How long has he been like this?” asked Vivianne.

“We came straight here after the attack,” said Lafont.

“What the hell?” said Arthur.

“He’s saying that a lot,” said Vivianne, with more academic interest than concern.

“He hasn’t said anything else since we left.”

“Do you think he hears us?”

Arthur heard them. He just couldn’t focus on the conversation, at first because the memory of the leering accountant haunted him, and now because he had seen his reflection in several of the old mirrors that hung throughout The Cat’s Curios. He looked to be in his midseventies, with bedraggled white hair down to his waist and a curly, silver beard that hung almost as low. He reached up and touched his wrinkled cheek with a bony hand.

“What the hell?”

“So what is this guy, Viv?” Lafont asked. “There was bad trigonometry all over his office.”

“The forbidden geometry, you mean.”

“Whatever. Just tell me what we’re dealing with. Some sort of cult leader? A sorcerer?”

“I think you’re dealing with something far more…special,” said the shopkeep. “Let me find that book.”

“Must be my lucky day,” grumbled Lafont, watching Vivianne scuttle away.

“What the hell?” said Arthur.

“Sorry, kid,” said Lafont. After a moment of awkward consideration, he added, “Er, sir.”

“Shut up!” snarled Arthur.

“Oh, you’re back with us now,” said Lafont.

“I…how…what the hell happened to me?” Arthur sputtered.

“You let your guard down, that’s what happened,” said Lafont. “You should have followed my lead and gotten the hell out of there.”

“But…but what—”

“I don’t know. We ran into some sort of necromancer or something.”

“Not a necromancer. A baleful accountant,” said Vivianne, placing a thick, leather-bound book on the front counter. The old tome was opened to a page with a woodcut of a man in dark robes writing in a ledger with a quill. He would have looked unremarkable, save for the forked tongue down to his chin and the rows of skulls behind him.

“This was more than just an accountant,” said Lafont.

“Right. It was a baleful accountant,” said Vivianne. “An accountant will tell you that the only two certainties in life are death and taxes. A baleful accountant can help you cheat both of them. They use the forbidden maths to extend the life span and wealth of their clients, but then they take a cut for themselves. And of course, if they choose, they can swindle you out of the time you have left.”

“Like what he did to me,” said Arthur, looking at his wizened face in the mirror.

“They can live forever stealing other people’s time. Wounds that would kill a man will take a hundred years from a baleful accountant, but what is that when you’ve stored away thousands of years stolen from your clients?”

“So Nick Morgan gets on his accountant’s bad side, and Dullahan takes the rest of his life away,” said Lafont.

“It is a bit unorthodox,” conceded Vivianne. “Baleful accounting isn’t really a flashy form of evil. Those that practice it prefer to pose as normal accountants, quietly cheating death. Many of their clients might not even know that it’s happening.

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