Horbon, Nevada was a town roughly an hour’s drive north of Las Vegas. Its claim to fame was not any particular aspect the town itself possessed, but rather its quasi-adjacent location to other, more tourist-friendly towns. Horbon capitalized on that convenience in a rather ingenious method—they billed themselves as an economic way-station between popular locales. With an airport that hosted cheaper flights than either LA or Vegas, along with budget-friendly hotels and accommodations, Horbon was the place people went if they wanted to pop by one of the well-known cities, but didn’t feel like spending enough money to stay there. This, quite understandably, made Horbon a favorite of many companies looking to do off-site meetings and conventions without having to reallocate budgets.
It was this desirability as a host city that had led Horbon to build the massive convention center that Bubba, Krystal, and I were hauling a small cart through. Piled atop the cart, secured by a few thin strands of rope (and a whole lot of hope) were the boxes we’d hauled over from Winslow. The drive had been largely uneventful, save for Krystal’s always adrenaline-inducing driving. Her handling of an automobile was beyond exceptional; however, her aggressive personality often led to tight turns and accelerations that left me wondering how my undead body would fair in a head-on collision. Thankfully, we’d arrived in one piece, and, after Krystal grabbed us badges and a cart, we began the process of locating her booth.
I was struck with surprise at how busy the floor seemed, given the late hour. We’d gotten an early start, so our arrival put us in at roughly three in the morning, and the area was positively bustling with people. Most were setting up their own booths and displays, but there were plenty who were merely standing by, watching the process of creation unfold around them. Given that the convention officially opened at ten—still seven hours away—I’d expected more attendees to do their work in the morning. This was my error in thinking, as I’d forgotten that parahumans tend to prefer the night whenever given a choice. For me, that choice was mandatory, thanks in no small part to my severe sunlight allergy. For others, it was simply a matter of tradition or preference. This observation resulted in my being struck by a thought, which I then realized I should have had before ever leaving my apartment. My vampire survival instincts were usually exemplary; however, I did have a tendency to get caught up in things when my girlfriend began leading us off on unexpected errands.
“Krystal,” I said, pushing the cart along carefully while she and Bubba manned the sides, watching for any falling boxes. “Do we have safe accommodations? I know sunrise is still some hours away, but I just realized that I don’t know where I’ll hole up. I suppose I can sleep in the truck, since the windows are enchanted to keep out sunlight.”
“Really? Freddy, you iron your socks. I don’t see you being comfortable passing out in the back seat and getting your khakis all wrinkled,” Krystal teased. “We get rooms as part of the deal. Not that you have to leave the floor, if you don’t want to. The Agency helped build this whole place with a shell company, so it’s about as parahuman friendly as you can get. The windows protect vampires from sunlight, several breaker systems help minimize the electrical short-outs one sees with mages, hell, we’ve even got a special warding system to keep the worst effects of a full moon at bay.”
“What happens during a full moon?”
“Lots of stuff,” Bubba informed me. “Full moons are powerful things; even humans can sense it. It puts therians on a transformation hair-trigger. The younger among us can’t retain human form at all. Then you’ve got how it impacts mages and their spells, pretty much any kind of water creature, and don’t even get me started on the fey.”
“Couldn’t have said it better,” Krystal surmised. She turned away from the boxes to pull out a large piece of folded paper, which she then unfurled and studied. “Okay, according to this, we’re in section C, row one-thirty-two. Where the hell is that?”
“Over there,” I replied, pointing to an area some distance away.
“How do you know?”
“The section lettering is in place,” I replied, motioning to the colored boxes with letters painted on them that were hung from the ceiling. They dangled down from a massive metal catwalk that criss-crossed over the entire ceiling. “Also, some of the booths have their numbers displayed. Not a lot, but it only takes a few to figure out the basic set-up. Assuming no deviation, C-132 should be in the area I pointed at.”
“Last time I worked one of these, it took me over half an hour to find my spot,” Krystal mumbled, putting the paper away. “Plenty of slacking off time. But noooo, I had to bring my boyfriend: the numbers expert.”
“I would say it’s less numbers expertise than basic pattern recognition,” I corrected.
We hauled the boxes over to the area I’d indicated, and sure enough, there was a booth waiting for us. My first thought upon seeing it, however, was that I must have been mistaken, because this booth was already manned. Or, wo-manned is perhaps a better phrasing. The person in question was currently setting up lights that would presumably illuminate a name or logo when the booth was complete. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t register our arrival until Krystal spoke.
“June?” There was something about her voice when she said June’s name, some indefinable quality not normally present, that was my first clue that this might not be the happiest of surprises. Krystal didn’t sound mad, or annoyed—tones I well accustomed to dealing with—no, she sounded . . . perhaps uncertain is the closest description, and that was not a sentiment I was accustomed to seeing from my girlfriend.
The woman, June presumably, turned away from her project to look at us. She was strikingly beautiful, but in a way I found somewhat off-putting. Her high cheekbones, blue-white hair, and gleaming eyes presented a sort of otherworldly aesthetic. June was beautiful in the way of a painting, or a sculpture, something that was pleasant to admire, yet brought forth no desire to touch. Of course, had she been an actual painting, I feel relatively certain the artist would have dressed her in fine silken dresses, rather than the paint-stained overalls and gray T-shirt that currently adorned her lithe form.
“Krys!” June yelped, nearly dropping a light bulb in the mad dash to run over and embrace Krystal. She hugged the blonde agent with gusto, dispelling much of the inhuman aura I’d associated with her. “Oh my goodness, I haven’t seen you in over a year! No one told me you’d be working the booth with me.”
June released her hold and flashed all three of us a dazzling smile. It created a curious sense of disharmony in me, as the logical, human part of my brain was warmed by the genuine outpouring of emotion. In contrast, the vampire part of my brain, hardwired like the predator it was, flashed a warning of danger. I’d been trying to ignore that part as often as possible recently, this being no exception. If she was a friend of Krystal’s, then I didn’t need to fear her, regardless of whether or not her kind was dangerous to mine.
“This is a hell of a surprise,” Krystal said at last. “I thought you were doing long-term work in New Mexico.”
“I was, but the situation took care of itself,” June replied. “Gremlin infestation was so deeply rooted that I spent months trying to find their queen, and then guess what she went and did.”
“What?”
“Tinkered with a damn meth lab and got herself blown to kingdom come,” June replied, letting out a laugh that reminded me of sleigh bells during Christmas.
“Gremlins like to mess with technology,” Bubba whispered to me, correctly assuming my ignorance. “Make it go haywire, glitch out, that sort of thing.”
I nodded, easily able to imagine how that tendency around a methamphetamine laboratory could lead to disastrous results.
“Anyway,” June continued, “how have you been? I want to hear all about your life. After the engagement fell through, I feel like we lost touch, which is a damn shame.”
“Engagement?” I really didn’t mean to interrupt; the word slipped out of my mouth completely unbidden. Given the chance, I’d have stuffed it back under my tongue without hesitation. Unfortunately, one of my vampire abilities is not the reversal of time, so the exclamation remained and the consequences of it began.
“I’m sorry,” June said, giving Bubba and I her full attention. “I was so caught up in seeing Krystal that I let my manners slip. My name is June Windbrook, and, like Krystal, I’m an agent. We’ve known each other since her recruitment.”
“Bubba Emerson,” Bubba said, sticking out his impressively sized hand. June accepted it, the handshake almost completely obscuring her own dainty digits from view. “Old friend of Krystal’s.”
“Fredrick Frankford Fletcher,” I said, mimicking Bubba’s offer to shake as I felt a familiar sense of social awkwardness wash over me. Should I introduce myself as her boyfriend? We were in a committed relationship, after all. But I didn’t know the rules surrounding agents and dating. Perhaps playing it aloof was a better strategy. Besides, June’s mention of an engagement still had me curious as to the full expanse of her connection to Krystal. “Krystal and I went to high school together, and we’re currently . . . um . . . well—”
“Freddy is my boyfriend,” Krystal said, ending my suffering with a mercifully swift assertion. Relief washed over me, but as the hand I was shaking grew cold and stiff, I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d had a reaction to her words.
“Boyfriend?” June asked. Her eyes looked me up and down once more, this time with an appraising gleam. I couldn’t fault her for her skepticism. With my khakis, glasses, clean button-down, and fresh sweater vest, I hardly looked the type to be romancing a beautiful woman like Krystal, let alone an agent.
“Yup, boyfriend,” Krystal confirmed.
“How lovely,” June said, finishing our shake and giving me a polite smile. There was no warmth in this expression; it was done clearly for the sake of formality. “Listen, Krys, I still want to catch up, but I could really use a break. Do you mind taking over the booth while I run and get a coffee?”
“Not at all,” Krystal replied. “We brought the rest of the stuff, so we’ll keep the set-up moving along.”
“Thank you.” June grabbed a small handbag from behind the booth and walked away at such high-speeds that it seemed like she was sprinting. Within moments, she was out of sight, and I began unfastening the ropes that had done a surprisingly good job of holding the boxes in place.
“Hey, Bubba, why don’t you go get us checked into our rooms. I’ll want a shower when this is done, and waiting though the line at reception won’t be fun,” Krystal said.
Bubba said nothing, merely took the hint and headed down the convention’s long hallway. Once he was gone, Krystal turned her attention on me.
“Freddy, you never need to do that.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Be afraid that I’m ashamed of you, of what we are.” Krystal took my hand away from the rope I was having an unexpectedly hard time unknotting and held it in her own. “I know how you are, and I know you get worried and all, but I’m proud to be with such a sweet, caring man. Introduce yourself as my boyfriend, because I’m sure as hell going to introduce myself as your girlfriend when the tables are turned. Okay?”
“I . . . okay,” I said, abandoning all hope of pretending that wasn’t exactly what had just happened. “Sorry, it’s just intimidating meeting another agent. I felt she would expect you to be with someone more like you, a tough, powerful parahuman.”
“June’s expectations have no impact on my dating life. Trust me on that one.”
“Good thing, because she seemed pretty disappointed in your selection of men,” I pointed out.
“Don’t take that personally. June was just a little upset seeing me in a relationship at all. She had to know it was coming eventually, but I think she’s been pretending otherwise.”
“Why would it bother her for you to have a boyfriend?”
“Because,” Krystal said, her voice growing several degrees more timid. “That engagement she mentioned? It was mine. I was supposed to marry her brother.”