Брайан Макклеллан - Blood Tally

“My mom had one of those,” Olivia said, not breaking my gaze.

That took the wind out of my sails. I couldn’t have hidden my surprise if I wanted to. “She did?”

“She was a rumpelstiltskin,” Olivia continued. “A slave bought from her dad for a carton of cigarettes back in the sixties. She got set free when OtherOps shut down Paronskaft. Met my dad a few years later, then I was born. They’re both dead now – car accident – but yeah. I know what that barcode means.”

A swirl of emotions went through me. Not many people knew, especially people my age. Paronskaft isn’t even talked about among the younger Other. The fact that Olivia had seen my barcode and knew what it meant was a gut punch of irritation, vulnerability, and shame. “Good for you,” I said petulantly.

“How old are you?” Olivia asked.

“Twenty-eight,” I answered automatically, without thinking why she might want to know.

To my surprise, Olivia reached out and took my hand. I recoiled. That didn’t seem to bother her, and she took it again. “You’re still a slave, aren’t you?”

I told you she was really clever, Maggie muttered in my ear.

Olivia continued, “I’ve heard of people like you. Just rumors, of course. But my mom used to claim there were still thousands of slaves, even after the OtherOps operation. She was a bit of an activist about the whole thing before the accident.” When I didn’t respond, Olivia took her hand away from mine. “Look, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I can’t imagine it’s something a lot of people know about.”

“Nobody knows.” My voice came out as a harsh whisper. I cleared my throat. “My boss, my secretary. And you, I guess.”

There was an elephant in the room, and Olivia must have sensed it. “I’m not that kind of witch. I’m not a gossip. I’m not in a coven. I’m not beholden to some demon or ancient god. No one is going to find out.”

She’s telling the truth, Maggie said quietly.

I looked up at Olivia, searching her face, and decided I agreed. “Thanks,” I told her.

“You’ve tried to get free, right?”

“What do you think?” That came out a little more sarcastically than I’d intended.

Olivia snorted. “I’m guessing it’s not easy.”

“I need the original contract,” I said. “I can’t get it from my … boss. Which means that I need to find my parents.”

Olivia spread her hands. “I’d offer a scrying, but unless you have a lock of hair or something, I won’t be able to actually find them.”

I didn’t. And despite her assurances, I still wasn’t at all happy about someone knowing about my situation. At least she’d stopped asking about how I’d avoided her scrying in the first place. Maggie was a secret I would keep. “I appreciate the sentiment.” I sat back, feeling raw, like I’d been filleted in a few short seconds. It was bad enough knowing I’d made enemies out of a Vampire Lord and might just have less than a week to weasel my way out of his wrath. But that felt like en earthly concern. This was deeper, and it hurt.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” Olivia guessed.

“Probably.”

She pulled a comically pained expression. “Dad used to say that I didn’t know when to stop asking questions.”

I lifted an eyebrow, then pretended to check a watch I wasn’t wearing. “So, uh, three more days stuck together, eh?”

“Is there any way I can keep those from being three days of super awkwardness?” she asked.

I thought about that for a minute. “Just … don’t think of me like a slave. I get through each day because only one person in the world actually treats me like that. I don’t need pity, or to be the project of some activist’s kid. I’m just a normal guy with a normal job. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” She bit her lip. “Mario Kart?”

“Maybe in a bit.” I stared down at my phone, wishing I’d get a call to interrupt this whole thing.

“Want to make out?”

“Seriously?” I scoffed. Maggie did a spit take from the back of my head.

Olivia threw her hands up. “Well, you said not to treat you differently, and I figured we were headed that way at some point, so …”

I lifted both eyebrows. To my delight, Olivia turned bright red. A few seconds past, and the snort of a laugh pushed itself out of me. Olivia turned redder, then cracked a smile. I chuckled. She began to giggle. In a few moments we were both lying on the floor, laughing like a pair of hyenas. It felt good – a release valve that I didn’t know I needed. I laughed until tears were streaming down cheeks, and I got up to wipe my face and get us each a beer. I opened both bottles, handed her one, and sat back down on the floor.

She chugged hers like a frat boy, wiped her face, and laid her head on my knee. She looked up at me, biting her lip. “Well?” she asked. “Wanna?” Before I could answer, she suddenly threw up a hand. “Shit.” She leapt to her feet, rushing across the room to her bag. She pulled something out – a bit of sand, maybe – and passed it from one hand to the other, muttering. Finally, she turned to me. “I found Michael,” she said. “He’s camped under a bridge on Clifton Boulevard on the west side.”

Distantly, I heard Maggie laugh. God, she muttered, I have never seen a cockblock like that outside a TV show.

I took a deep breath, smoothed the front of my jeans self-consciously, and nodded. “We have three days until OtherOps can help us. We can wait … but if Jacques or Boris manages to find Michael first, this whole thing wasn’t worth shit.”

“Let’s go get him,” Olivia agreed.

I called Justin from the kitchen table of our AirBnB, explaining the situation to him. He was not on board with me leaving hiding to try and grab Michael, but I didn’t really leave it up to debate. Assuring him I’d nab Michael and the blood tally and go right back into hiding so he could finish getting his taskforce together, I hung up and dialed Jacques Williams.

“Have you changed your mind?” he answered.

I looked across the table at Olivia. “What assurances can you give me that you’re not going to kill either me or Olivia once you have the books?”

Jacques scoffed. “Assurances? I already told you that you had to die.”

“Yeah, I remember.” I kept my lid on my irritation. I needed to act the part of someone coming apart at the seams – not someone preparing a trap. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme? I’m a professional who keeps secrets for dozens of clients. I have Death in my Rolodex. I can keep your goddamned secret too.”

Jacques seemed to chew on this. “And the witch?”

I met Olivia’s eyes. “She’s agreed to whatever sort of magical compulsion against speaking up you’d like her to undertake. This isn’t the Dark Ages. We can fix this whole thing pretty easily.”

“We can only fix it if you bring me that blood tally,” Jacques pointed out. “And even then … you killed three of my underlings, betrayed our cause, and snooped where you weren’t welcome.”

“ You hired me for a job and then expected me to do another,” I responded quickly. “Don’t try to pretend that I’m some kind of rogue lunatic. I never agreed to get that blood tally for you in the first place, and I’m still going to have to deal with a very unhappy client even if I can repair this little schism we have between us.”

“You mean Boris? As I told you before, once I have his blood tally, Boris will not be a problem.”

“Forgive me if I’m not knee-deep in trust after you had me followed and threatened to kill me.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “Look, I’ve been hiding in a shitty motel for three nights. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this, and I think Olivia is ready to kill me. If I can get you the blood tally, can we pretend none of this ever happened?”