Page 117 of My Vampire Plus-One

As I spoke, Richardson simply stood there, processing everything. “How much trouble are we in with the IRS, exactly?”

“A lot,” I said. “Though it’s hard to say exactly how much. Best-case scenario, they’ll dissolve your nonprofit.” I shrugged. “When that happens, you’ll be getting a bill for back taxes you won’t be able to pay, given your nonprofit’s annual budget. And the worst-case scenario…”

John Richardson leaned forward, hanging on my every word.Excellent.“What is the worst-case scenario?”

I waited a beat before answering so my next words would have maximum impact. “Worst-case scenario is the IRS finds that you intentionally withheld taxes you owed. You could face time in jail.” There. The closest thing to a mic drop any accountant evergot.I leaned in closer, readying myself for the kill. “Unless, of course, you do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Richardson narrowed his eyes at me. “And what might that be?”

Bingo. This was the part I’d been looking forward to the most. The part I’d practiced in a mirror the night before until I’d gotten the ferocity of my expression just right.

“What happens next is you are going to leave Reginald Cleaves alone, forever. If you do that, we will pretend we’ve never heard of you if the IRS ever comes knocking.” I trailed off, letting my words hang in the air for dramatic effect. In the entirety of my time as an accountant, I had never once had the opportunity to doanythingfor dramatic effect. I could all but feel Reggie looking on, beaming with pride. “If you continue to harass Reggie, however, I tell the IRS everything I know.”

At my threat, John Richardson’s polite demeanor melted away again. “Ah. I see what you’re doing.” He skewered me with his glare. “This is a conspiracy. You’ve concocted this…this…thisblackmail schemeto save Reginald fucking Cleaves.”

“It’s not a conspiracy,” I said. “I’ll send you the relevant code provisions that clearly demonstrate your organization sucks as soon as we’re done here. If you still don’t believe me after you’ve read them, ask Evelyn Anderson.” I grinned at him. “She has no idea who you really are and would happily confirm that the IRS is going to hate you once it finds out about you.”

By this point, the break room partygoers had begun drifting back to their workstations. Among them was Janice, the woman who delivered mail to the thirty-second floor. She peered at us curiously as she made her way to her cubicle, a party hat that saidForty Is the New Thirty!on her head.

“Should we continue this discussion somewhere more private?”Frederick suggested, echoing my own thoughts. “I don’t think we want these people to overhear us.”

“We’re nearly done here,” John Richardson snapped. But he leaned in closer to me before speaking again, apparently thinking better of continuing this conversation at full volume. “You can’t report us to the IRS if I kill you first,” he threatened.

Reggie scoffed. “You’re going to attack a human in front of dozens of other people?” He shook his head.“You’re letting your feelings get in the way of making good decisions, Johnny boy. Besides, if you kill her, you’ll be dead before you draw your next breath.”

Reggie said this all so cheerfully it sent chills down my spine. For the first time, I saw a hint of darkness in his expression that made me wonder just what sort of man he’d been before I met him.

“Evelyn Anderson will just report you if I’m too dead to do it,” I said, trying my best to stay calm. “Also, Reggie’s right. If you kill me here, people will see. If you don’t go to jail for tax evasion, you’ll go to jail for murder.”

“While I’d personally find you lot dying painfully of starvation in a human prison hilarious,” Reggie added, “I suspect you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“I’ve heard they even require daily direct exposure to sunlight in prisons,” Frederick added, shuddering. “Painful.”

John Richardson said nothing for a long moment as he processed our offer. After what felt like an hour, he cleared his throat. “And if we agree to leave Reginald Cleaves alone, you won’t talk to the IRS if they come calling?”

I let out a huge internal sigh of relief. “If you back off, yes.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear it on the vows I took when I became a CPA.” Therewere, of course, no vows you had to take when you became a CPA. But he didn’t need to know that. And either way, I was telling the truth.

As I spoke, John Richardson shrank further and further into himself. “What are we going to do?” he asked, so quietly it was clear he was asking himself this question, not us. “We have devoted ourselves to revenge for so long.”

“You could always move on from something that happened over a hundred years ago and find a different obsession to occupy the rest of your immortal lives,” Frederick suggested. “Your sires wouldn’t want you to spend forever bent on revenge.”

“How dare you presume to know what they would want?” John Richardson snarled.

“How dareyoupresume to know?” Frederick countered.

“Or,” Reggie offered, “if you don’t want to diversify your interests like normal people, you could always branch out into conducting a real investigation and finding the person whoactuallyset that castle ablaze. In fact—” Reggie snapped his fingers. “I could help you.”

John Richardson stared at him. “You would do that?”

“Why not?” Reggie shrugged. “Sounds fun.”

“If youaren’tthe person responsible, why didn’t you offer to help us before?”

Reggie snorted. “It wasn’t until you started sending me death threats that I realized anyone still connected me with The Incident. You’ll have to excuse me for not being eager to reach out to you once I realized you wanted me dead.” He shook his head. “My instinct, whenever someone wants me dead, is to hide.”

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