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Crap.
Crap.
We’d been so busy planning what we wouldsayto John Richardson that we’d never stopped to think about how we mightfighthim if it came to that.
“We didn’t think this through,” Frederick muttered under his breath, echoing my sentiments. “I brought no weapons.”
“I won’t stake you with my fingers,” Reggie said, his voice ice-cold and smooth as silk. “I’ll stake you with this.” To my astonishment, he withdrew a two-foot-long piece of wood that looked like it might have once been part of a broom handle from within the folds of his gingham skirt. Whatever it used to be, it had since been whittled at one end to a very sharp point. “Feeling lucky,friend?”
John Richardson’s eyes widened as he took a step away from us. A moment later, he withdrew a small stake of his own, glaring at Reggie and Frederick in turn. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Oh,no.
“Our other siblings will be disappointed to miss this,” John Richardson continued, oblivious to my growing horror. His eyes were sharp as steel and focused only on Reggie as he spun the stake in his hand like a miniature baton.
“Don’t call me your sibling,” Reggie growled.
“But it’s what you are.”
“Fuckthat.”
Richardson continued as if Reggie hadn’t spoken. “Our siblings and I have been waiting for this retribution for a very longtime, Reginald. Wehadhoped we’d all be together when it happened, but you know how it goes.” He sighed theatrically. “Beggars, choosers, et cetera. I messaged them before you caught up to me, but they won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes due to downtown traffic.” His eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall above my head as if to check the time. “Pity they’re going to miss this. But while they’ll be disappointed that I killed you when they’re not here to watch, they’d be downright furious with me if I lost this opportunity because I waited to do it until they found parking.”
Reggie threw up his hands. “Okay, seriously. Why thefuckdo you think I was the one who set that fire?” He sounded stretched completely beyond his limit. “Yes, I admit I left that stupid note all those years ago. But there wereso many peopleat that party who hated those assholes. Why aren’t you out there harassing them?”
“You know what you were like back then,” Richardson said, the only answer he seemed inclined to give. He moved closer to Reggie, his stake firmly in hand. He jerked his chin towards me and Frederick. “You can leave,” he said. “This doesn’t involve either of you.”
Frederick scoffed. “You’re mad if you think I’m leaving.”
I needed to implement the next phase of our plan, right now, before John Richardson and Reggie staked each other into piles of vampire dust.
“Mr. Richardson,” I began, far more loudly than was necessary. “You will leave Reginald Cleaves alone, effective immediately, or else face dire consequences with the IRS!” Even as the words left my mouth, I cringed. Suddenly this seemed like the stupidest plan in the history of the world. As threats went, it was at best about a two on thelikely to defuse an escalating vampirefightscale. But I didn’t have a wooden stake handy, and I had a very bitable neck. Tax threats were all I had.
To my shock and relief, it seemed to work. Or at least, it seemed to distract Richardson from his interest in killing Reggie. He blinked a few times, then took a step back as he turned to face me. The murderous look on his face from only moments ago was replaced with one of abject confusion.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“You heard her,” Reggie spat.
“I did,” he conceded. “I just don’t think I understood her. Dire consequences from the IRS?” He sounded genuinely confused.Good. Hopefully catching him off guard would increase the odds that our ridiculous plan would work. “You’re our accountant, are you not? We’re paying you to represent us and keep us out of trouble. Can’t you just fix whatever it is we’ve done wrong?”
Was he joking? “No,” I said, incredulous. “The firm is closing your file.”
Richardson had the audacity to look surprised. His eyes shot to Reggie, who still looked so menacing with that stake in his hand, I would have been terrified if I didn’t know him like I did.
“Does this decision have anything to do with my organization’s history vis-à-vis your paramour?” Richardson asked.
Unbelievable. “No,” I said, stumbling a little over his use of the termparamour.This guy was clearly older than dirt. “Even if threatening to bite your accountant’s neck the way you just did wasn’t sufficient grounds by itself for a firm to close a file—which it totally is, by the way—your organization is a mess. You’ve consistently refused to provide us with any of the information we need to do our jobs. We don’t have the capacity to work with organizations that waste our time.”
“But I sent you everything you asked for,” Richardson protested, sounding hurt.
“No, you didn’t,” I countered. “Everything you sent was so bizarre and sonotwhat I needed. I honestly judge myself for not realizing you weren’t human right off the bat.”
“Oh.” For someone who had flashed his fangs at me mere moments ago with what seemed like every intention of tearing out my throat, Richardson was being remarkably contrite. “I apologize. It was never my intention to waste your time.”
Reggie snorted. Apparently, he couldn’t believe what John Richardson was saying, either.
“But it’s not just that you wasted our time,” I continued. “Your group is decades out of compliance with IRS requirements for nonprofits. Everything I’ve seen from you suggests your nonprofit is a sham. And Butyl and Dowidge doesn’t represent sham organizations.” I paused, letting this sink in. “Even if you hadn’t been trying to kill Reggie from the moment you first contacted my firm, you’re still the worst client I’ve ever had.”
