Getting in to meet with Richard proved harder than I expected, but the majority of that fault fell on me. I’d forgotten that, while he is a perfectly affable and understanding man behind closed doors, he is also the head of all therian society in our city, and that meant there were certain procedures of respect I had to follow. Therians (short for therianthropes, a term that applies to all werewolf–like creatures regardless of which animal form they actually take), are sticklers for ceremony and etiquette. Yes, I’d been surprised too, but Bubba explained to me once that it was the best way to keep their animal instincts in line, making the human side of themselves constantly aware of their actions and the significance they held.
What this meant for my meeting with Richard was that I had to go to his place of residence—at an appointed visiting hour—and do a bit of bowing and thanking for the privilege of serving under him. This was done in his extravagant hallway at the top of the office building he called home, a myriad of other therians surrounding his marble throne and enjoying the show. It was a touch more extreme than therian supplicants had to go through, but that was mostly because vampires had never really gotten along with the were-community. If I were a particularly prideful person, I might have had an objection to going through it all just for a job. As it was, I treated it like I was in a tea ceremony. I might not understand the reasons for the actions required of me, but that didn’t give me an excuse to ignore them.
Once an appropriate amount of groveling had been achieved, Richard (standing at least seven feet tall, his golden hair hanging shaggily down to his shoulders) rose from the cold marble seat he’d been resting on and gestured for me to accompany him to his private chambers. These were tucked away behind a thick wall that was only moveable by one with strength beyond a human’s capacity. Only after that door had once again been sealed did he turn to me and allow his serious face to split into a wide grin.
“Thank you for coming, Fred,” he said, his voice only a few octaves above a growl. I’d never seen Richard look totally human; it was possible he wasn’t even able to. Richard was an alpha, a rare therian of such strength and power that he was considered unbeatable by anything short of another alpha. That status gave him his size, position of authority, and enormous strength, but I often wondered about the price that came with such blessings. In magic, I was slowly learning, there was almost always a price.
“Sorry about all the formality at the door,” Richard continued, running a hand through his golden hair.
“Quite all right. I know your people have never seen eye to eye with mine. If it makes things easier, then I’m more than happy to accommodate.”
“Any other week, I probably could have growled at my people and told them to piss off, but I need everything smooth right now,” Richard explained. “I’ve got a lot of meetings this week with therians who were driven out of a nearby community. Supposedly, they’re seeking sanctuary, though I’ll be shocked if none of them tries to make a play for the throne.”
“They’d have to be utterly suicidal,” I commented, setting down my briefcase and surveying the room. It looked largely the same as the last time I’d been there—a generous space filled with cushy, reinforced furniture and a large television. I knew the door nearest to me led to a kitchen, next to that was Richard’s room, and through the one after that would be the room belonging to his daughter, Sally. The other doors led to places I didn’t know, but presumably one of them housed Richard’s permanent guest: Gideon. “I mean, even aside from you and your gang of friends, who would attack the King of the West?”
Richard let out a low chuckle, the sort that would set your nerves on high alert if you heard it come from the dark shade of nearby woods. “Gideon does not intervene in my affairs. That too is part of therian society: if I cannot hold a position by my own strength, then I am not entitled to it. But no, I do not anticipate too much trouble with any who might think to become upstarts. They can challenge at the appropriate time and place, or I can put them down immediately if they think themselves above our laws.”
“Right. As certain as I am that you can handle that, I’m here about your taxes,” I reminded him. Talk of impending violence, even contained violence, always made me a little antsy.
“Of course, follow me.” Richard strode forward with his sizable gait, easily crossing the room and flinging open one of the doors I hadn’t yet been through to reveal a large office. Well, I say “large,” but I suspect Richard would have been quite cramped moving about in it. There were boxes of paper all over the floor, three sets of filing cabinets, and a desk nearly overflowing with unsorted documents.
“Here it is,” he announced proudly.
“What, exactly, am I looking at?”
“Forms, receipts, accounting ledgers, and other such paperwork I’ve accumulated in my time as this area’s therian overseer,” he explained. “I had it brought up from storage, assuming you’d need such things.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” I agreed. “But I only need stuff from the last year.”
“This is from the last year.”
Being a vampire means never having to cough in shock; our impulses related to involuntary expulsion are wiped out in the conversion process. Habit, on the other hand, is making the noise anyway, because sometimes words fall short of your power to convey thoughts. Which is why I coughed loudly in unabashed shock.
“My territory is a large one, with many therians,” Richard said. “And I am obligated to oversee this procedure for Gideon, as well. As you can see, the paperwork accumulates.”
I took a deep breath (another habit I’d never seen a need to break) and steadied my nerves. “Richard, I have a point I want to raise with you before I try and tackle this mound of insanity. If I didn’t, I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
“Do tell,” he encouraged.
“You know I bill by the hour, right? And this is not going to be a quick job. I can do it, let’s be clear, but if you have someone who is better acquainted with this material and charges less, then maybe you should go with them. I mean, who did your taxes last year?”
“No one,” Richard admitted. “I just paid the bill the government sent me.”
I nodded. In my training, I’d learned that, since parahumans often led somewhat more chaotic and nomadic lifestyles, they had the option to not submit taxes and just pay whatever the government told them they owed. Many parahumans exercised this option, which was a crying shame, in my humble opinion.
“If it’s not prying, how much did they charge?”
Richard told me the number, and I made another chortled choking sound in the back of my throat.
“I can do it for cheaper than that,” I assured him. “Definitely, far cheaper than that.”
“Thank goodness,” Richard said. “And thank you, Fred, for your concern over treating me fairly. I deal so much with politicians and backstabbers that it is a pleasant change to see someone show genuine kindness.”
“Not a big deal. I just believe that good work and good service are the cornerstones to customer loyalty.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to head down for another meeting. You’re free to start whenever you like. I’ll also have one of my people wait in attendance and take you through a secret entrance when you want to exit or re-enter the building. No need to make you parade about every time.”
“Wait, I’m supposed to work here?” I asked, though the answer was already quite obvious.
“Unless you’d like to haul all of this downstairs and across town,” Richard said.
He had a very good point. I’d gotten so used to the digital age that the idea of trucking paper around hadn’t even occurred to me. This was a useful lesson, though. Parahumans probably did most of their record keeping in the same manner as Richard. If I wanted to break into this segment of the market, I needed to adjust. And the sooner, the better.
“No, you’re right; it’s easier to do it here.” I pulled my slim laptop from my briefcase and set it on the desk. “Fair warning, though, I do keep late hours.”
“You are free to come and work anytime you like,” Richard said. “I really only use this room for playing computer games and hiding from my assistants. Yell if you need anything.”
With that, he was out the door, and I was left to start the nigh-impossible task of sorting through Mount Papermanjaro.