About
Undeath & Taxes:
After discovering just how filled
with magic, intrigue, and adventure the parahuman world of being an Undead
American can be, Fredrick Frankford Fletcher did exactly what was expected--he
became a certified parahuman accountant. Myths and legends, as it turns out,
are not so great at taking appropriate deductions and keeping their receipts,
and Fred is more than happy to return to a life others view as woefully dull,
expanding his accounting business to cater to various monsters and their
respective financial needs.
Said monsters are, unfortunately, still spectacular at pulling Fred into
trouble, though. And despite merely wanting to stick with simple paperwork,
Fred once again finds he is going to have to deal with enchanted weaponry,
government agents, possessed houses, and one enigmatic dragon’s interest. In
the parahuman world, any business can turn deadly, even one as mundane as
accounting.
Undeath & Taxes:
Excerpt
As I stepped through the door, a small bell tinkled overhead. The
sound echoed off the wooden walls, stopping only when it hit one of the many
plush carpets running the length of the halls. To my right was a welcome desk
with cubby holes set behind it, a cash register that easily dated back to the
turn of the century, and an old woman with a warm smile. I’d scarcely made it
two steps in when she greeted me.
“Good evening, young man. Are you here to take a room or
for the dinner party?” Once upon a time, I might have described her voice as
ancient; however, meeting beings who counted their lifespans in centuries had
removed such wanton hyperbole from my thinking. Her voice was merely
appropriately old for the number of years she’d evidently been alive, yet it
was still friendly and welcoming. This place wasn’t all superficial charm, it
seemed.
“The dinner party, I believe. I assume that’s the one
being held by Mr. Price?”
She nodded, an action far more time consuming than it might
have been for a younger person. “You’ll be eating in our dining room. We don’t
usually rent that out in respect to the other guests, but you managed to get
lucky and catch us when we were empty.”
Though the words were delivered in the same cheery manner
as earlier, I found myself questioning their truthfulness. Somehow, I highly
doubted that it was very hard to find this place without many guests. Of
course, having been raised with half a modicum of decency, I kept such notions
to myself.
“I can’t imagine why, your home is perfectly lovely.”
That part was certainly true; everything from the molding to the paintings on
the walls looked vintage and hand-crafted. “Would you be so kind as to point me
to the dining room?”
“Well, aren’t you a polite one.” The old woman gave me a
larger smile, this one appearing more genuine than what she kept on for guests.
“Just go down the hall. The doors should be open and on your left. You can’t
miss it.”
“Thank you very much.” I began my trek down the lengthy
hallway and within ten steps, I knew exactly where I was heading. Despite
usually keeping my vampiric hearing under control, it still tuned to
ear-catchingly loud noises on its own. Mr. Price’s robust voice certainly
qualified as such a sound, his booming tones racing through the air to all who
might be within reasonable vicinity.
“Now, none of that,” I heard him say. “We’ll talk shop
when everyone gets here, and not a moment before. Get yourself a drink and
relax. This is the social part of the evening.”
Then, having tuned into the conversation, I overheard a
new voice. This one was softer and more controlled than Mr. Price’s, though
achieving either of those things was hardly a mean feat. Despite its delicate
nature, the sound of that voice froze me in my place. I stood, halfway between
steps, as it spoke.
“We certainly understand, Mr. Price, I just wanted to
answer any lingering questions you might have while we’ve got this
opportunity.”
I knew that voice. It belonged to a woman who’d led
several meetings a month during my tenure at Torvald & Torvald, one of the
top minds in the legal department. She was one half of the best closing team
the company had to offer, paired with an accountant who was all wavy hair and
white teeth instead of actual numbers knowledge. Almost on cue, I heard his
voice.
“Besides, we can save you the trouble of spending dinner
with the second-stringers. At Torvald & Torvald, we’re dedicated to being
the best. Our reputation speaks for itself.”
And there it was, the old dynamic duo still in action:
Asha Patel and Troy Warner. This made matters far more complicated. Not only
did they represent some incredibly stiff competition, but they represented an
issue I hadn’t really dealt with since reconnecting with Krystal: talking to
someone who’d known me when I was alive.
I’ll admit it: I briefly considered turning tail and
racing out of there. By this point in my memoirs, I can’t imagine that bit of
information will shock or amaze you. However, I am proud to say that I fought
that urge down and instead, continued my trek forward. I’d known going in that
this wouldn’t be an easy client to win, and I refused to give up before even
trying. I might have been a useless coward in most matters of life (as well as
the supernatural), but by God, I was a good accountant, and on that single
battleground, I refused to concede.
With
a quick adjustment of the tie I’d worn over my pressed button-down shirt, I
finished walking down the hallway and stepped into the dining room. As far as
heroic charges went, I doubt it would make anyone’s top ten, but for me, it was
enough.
Author Bio:
Drew Hayes is an aspiring author from Texas who has
written several books and found the gumption to publish a few (so far). He
graduated from Texas Tech with a B.A. in English, because evidently he’s not
familiar with what the term “employable” means. Drew has been called one of the
most profound, prolific, and talented authors of his generation, but a table
full of drunks will say almost anything when offered a round of free shots.
Drew feels kind of like a D-bag writing about himself in the third person like
this. He does appreciate that you’re still reading, though.
Drew would like to sit down and have a beer with
you. Or a cocktail. He’s not here to judge your preferences. Drew is terrible
at being serious, and has no real idea what a snippet biography is meant to
convey anyway. Drew thinks you are awesome just the way you are. That part, he
meant. Drew is off to go high-five random people, because who doesn’t love a
good high-five? No one, that’s who.
See Drew talk about himself in first person on his website and twitter.
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