The Vampire and the IRS

BY: Tammy

Disclaimer: Jean-Claude, Anita, Richard, and Willie belong to Laurell K. Hamilton and her publishers. This was written for pure amusement and to help pass the time until April. No profit was made. Hillary and Evan belong to me.

Author’s Note: I work for a tax company and I was inspired to write this little fic, just in time for April 15th.
Rating: PG

"Here's your mail, boss," Willie McCoy said. "Thank you," Jean-Claude murmured as he took the envelopes from Willie's hand. Jean-Claude tried hard not to look at Willie's virulently green suit and clashing checkered tie, but it was hard to ignore. He made a mental note to have a chat with his dresser about Willie's wardrobe. Willie did, after all, represent him and he had a certain reputation to uphold.

Jean-Claude put Willie out of his mind and gracefully reached for his engraved letter opener. He worked his way through the correspondence, putting the junk mail in the trash and reviewing the bills before setting them aside for his accountant. The last envelope was unassuming and rather unusual in its origin. It was from the I.R.S.

The I.R.S.? What would the Internal Revenue Service want with him? Curiosity getting the better of him, he slit the envelope and removed a single folded sheet. As he read the letter his eyebrows shot up and his temper began to simmer.

He was expected to file an individual tax return by April 15th, per the Revised U.S. Tax Code. Effective immediately, the law had been amended to require all resident vampires to file, claim all personal income, and pay all applicable federal, state, and city taxes.

Income taxes? Him! In all his four hundred years of life and death he'd never heard of such a thing. You'd think a little thing like being dead would exempt you from such indignities. Trust the U.S. government to find a way to tax you beyond the grave.

The door opened without warning and in strode his love. Anita was short, fiery, and all too likely to be dragged into trouble by her conscious. She'd never admit to such a thing though. Jean-Claude found her stubbornness one of her most endearing traits. That and that she'd never sit around waiting for him to rescue her.

He dragged his attention away from the bloody letter to study her for a moment. As usual, she wore jeans and a polo shirt. Her dark hair was gathered in a scrunchy to keep it off her face and she wore no make up, making her look young and fresh. Jean-Claude wondered why she was here. Anita was not prone to just stopping by. She didn't seem upset or agitated so he decided to bite the bullet, so to speak.

"Ma petite, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this lovely evening?" he asked as he stood and glided around his desk to her side. He took her in his arms and gave her a gentle kiss, trying to feel out her mood. Unfortunately, the marks were closed tight against him.

She grimaced at him before she replied, "I'm hiding from my step-mother."

"Hiding? You, ma petite? You who faced down Nikolaos, the Earthmover, and the Vampire Council," Jean-Claude said with poorly hidden humor.

"Laugh all you want. She drives me nuts. She'll look at me sadly and wonder where she and Dad went wrong to raise a daughter who'd date a vampire. She'll pester me to find a nice, normal boy to settle down with and raise a family like a normal girl. I don't need her crap right now. I had the pard clear out and I'm going to hang out here until she goes home the day after tomorrow."

"Ah, I see. Well since you'll be here for a while, perhaps you can help me with a small matter," Jean-Claude said. He reached back across his desk, flexing his oh, so perfect backside at Anita, and grabbed up the offensive letter from the blotter. He handed it to her and watched while she scanned it.

A small smile stole across her face as she read. "They've finally caught up with you, haven't they?" Anita handed the letter back with a full-fledged grin. "You can't expect all the perks of being a citizen without some of the pains too, Jean-Claude. I'd say you need to find a tax preparer."

*********************************************************************

Anita pulled up before of a store front and put her Jeep in park. Jean-Claude stared out the windshield at the office facing them. It was situated in a small strip of businesses between a cellular phone store and a check cashing establishment. The sign above the door read "Jackson Hewitt Tax Service" in red block letters. For some reason Jean-Claude couldn't quite put his finger on, he really didn't want to go in there.

"Come on, Jean-Claude," Anita said when he didn't move to exit the vehicle. "Evan will walk you through filing your very first tax return. It'll only hurt if you owe." He could still hear the humor in her voice even though she never cracked a smile.

He took a deep breath, not that he needed it, to fortify himself and climbed out the Jeep with the brief case holding the pertinent information his accountant had suggested he bring. Together they walked up to the glass door and Anita pulled it open and preceded him inside. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the narrow interior. Pale cream walls and muted gray carpet didn't make the place any more welcoming than a vacant apartment. A half-dozen desks were situated along both walls, each with a computer. It needs…personality he thought to himself.

Before they'd gone more than a few steps, they were greeted by a middle-aged man with a receding hair line and a paunch hanging over his belt. "Ms. Blake, how good to see you. What can I do for you? I know you've already filed and gotten your refund I imagine."

"Evan, this is Jean-Claude. I'm afraid he needs to get his taxes filed for the first time. He's a little apprehensive," Anita said with a grin. She thought the entire situation was hysterical. Jean-Claude did not share her amusement.

"His first return?" Evan asked in surprise. He took a good look at Jean-Claude's pale face and then nodded. "Ah, one of the vampires nailed by the newly revised tax code. Well, follow me."

Evan led them to a desk near the back of the office. Jean- Claude settled into the plain client chair with Anita next to him. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but he was trying to appear the cool and confident Master of the City.

"Let's get started," Evan said. "Do you have a driver's license, social security card, W2s?"

"Um, I don't drive," Jean-Claude said carefully after the tax preparer finished his rapid fire list. "I'm a vampire, a social security card would be rather redundant don't you think? I own my businesses, therefore no W2s."

"Well, that's going to be a problem. You can't file with the I.R.S. without a social and we can't complete your return without an ID," Evan said with smug authority.

At that moment, a tall, willowy African American walked up to the desk. "Actually, we can, Evan," she said. "We just got the update with the data to be able to complete a return for a vampire. Don't worry about the ID, he'll have to file a paper return anyway, so it's not an issue right now. As for the Social Security number, the letter you got from I.R.S. notifying you that you were required to file should have included a tax-payer ID number as a substitute for the social."

Jean-Claude set the brief case on the edge of the desk in front of him and removed several manila files organized by his accountant, one for each of his businesses. He opened Guilty Pleasure's and removed the damned letter from the I.R.S. that had led him to this moment. He handed the letter to Hillary, who hadn't taken her eyes off of Jean-Claude since she had approached the desk. She finally tore her eyes from the handsome vampire long enough to scan the letter. She reached across the desk, bringing her neck tantalizingly close to Jean-Claude, for a highlighter. She highlighted a series of numbers near the bottom of the page that Jean-Claude had disregarded as unimportant.

"Here it is, right here," Hillary said, leaning in close to Jean-Claude again. Evan pointedly cleared his throat and held out his had for the letter. Anita began to scowl at Hillary's behavior, but for probably one of the few times in his existence, Jean-Claude was oblivious to the effect he was having on a woman.

Hillary handed the letter to Evan, who began to ask questions and pointedly ignore the woman all but drooling over the Master of St. Louis. "Your full name?"

"Jean-Claude Baptiste," Jean-Claude answered. "My first name is hyphenated."

"You have a last name," Anita said in amazement. "I thought you didn't have one, like some superstar. Oh, I knew this would be educational." Anita's tone and _expression indicated she was having a great deal of fun despite Hillary panting after her boyfriend.

"Date of birth and date of death?" Evan cut in.

"I was born in early April, 1596. I'm sorry I don't know the exact date. I'm afraid peasants didn't keep track of that kind of thing then. I died on Nov. 17, 1627."

Anita gave a little snicker as she thought about his age. "Sure you're not feeling a little arthritic these days?" She just couldn't resist the dig.

Jean-Claude shot her a dirty look. "Ma petite, please. This is difficult enough."

"Okay, I'll be quiet," Anita said. But she intended to save up lots of ammunition for later.

During their exchange, Evan had been busy entering data into the computer from the paperwork Jean-Claude had given him. The telephone rang and Hillary was forced to leave the desk to answer it. Evan turned the monitor so Jean-Claude could see it and said, "Am I correct when I assume you have no dependents to claim?" At Jean-Claude's nod, he continued, "Please double check that the information I've entered is accurate."

"Come on, Jean-Claude, you're not going to try and claim at least Jason?" Anita giggled. "There's got to be a law that'll let you claim your pomme de sang."

Jean-Claude just ignored her as he studied the computer's screen intently, double checking his name, address, birth and death dates, the names of his businesses and their addresses. Evan had entered a great deal of information in a very short amount of time. A frown crossed his brow as he thought of the federal government having all this information about him, but he saw few other choices. It was either comply or be in violation of the law. And vampires in violation of the law had very little recourse these days.

"Okay, Jean-Claude, because you own so many businesses, your return is going to be fairly complicated. Let's start with the Schedule B for interest and dividends. Then we'll complete a Schedule C for each business and a Schedule SE for self-employment. Finally the Schedule A for itemized deductions should finish it up. Once those are complete Profiler will have enough information to generate your 1040," Evan said matter-of-factly. "This is going to take a while."

Jean-Claude felt like he'd been hit right between the eyes with a baseball bat. All that? How could anyone sort all this out? Why on earth did the government make this so complicated? Negotiations with the Vampire Council would be easier than completing this damned tax return.

Several hours later, Evan finally stopped asking questions about inventory, maintenance, advertising, licenses, and office supplies. It turns out he could deduct surplus inventory from his income along with advertising and licensing costs and office supplies. He'd had to have each establishment's manager gather that information for him. He made a mental note to double check Willie's figures from the Laughing Corpse.

He provided Evan with his profit and loss figures from each of his businesses along with personal income figures for the previous tax year. He also shared his stocks, dividends, and interest bearing accounts. His portfolio was quite diversified. Anita's eyebrow shot up a little higher at each figure she heard. She'd known Jean-Claude was wealthy, but the actual numbers still surprised her. At the rate he was going, he'd give Harold Gaynor a run for his money in a few years. That was if good ol' Harold had still been alive.

The itemized deductions also took quite some time. While he didn't have any medical expenses, he was able to deduct a small fortune just in mortgage interest and property taxes. He again surprised Anita with his charitable contributions. It seemed Jean- Claude donated money to the local boy's club and clothing to the Salvation Army. If Anita ever saw a vagrant in a lace shirt, she'd know where it came from. He was even able to claim a casualty of the bed Richard had destroyed. Evan pointed out that Jean-Claude's itemized deductions were quite a bit higher that the standard deduction for someone with a single filing status.

Finally Evan said, "Well, that's all folks. Are you ready for the good news?"

Jean-Claude nodded apprehensively. All he wanted was for this ordeal to be over and forgotten. Anita sat up and listened intently.

"Looks like you're getting $422 dollars back from the Federal and $39 from the State," Evan said with a grin.

All of this hassle for a measly $461 dollars back! Hours had gone into gathering the information and that wasn't counting the time he'd spent in this hellish office tonight. Jean-Claude was flabbergasted. He spent more than that on a pair of pants.

Anita grinned at him. "It could be worse."

"How?" the vampire asked.

"You could have owed."

He could only shake his head as Evan got up and headed for the printer on the other side of the room that was spitting out sheets of paper by the dozen. Evan returned to the desk with what seemed like a ream of the white sheets and began sorting them into piles. Without a word, he began signing this and that. When he finished, he placed a neat stack in front of Jean-Claude and handed him a pen.

"Sign here and here," Evan said, pointing to specific lines on the paperwork.

Jean-Claude obliged him without a word. The Master Vampire of St. Louis was in something of a fog.

"Now you mail these off to this address and you'll be all set. You can expect your return in six to eight weeks," Evan said as he stood up and offered Jean-Claude his hand which Jean-Claude took out of pure reflex.

Jean-Claude found his voice and said, "Thank you, monsieur."

"You're welcome. We'll see you next year," Evan said with a grin. Hillary waved from a desk across the room.

Next year? Mon dieu, Jean-Claude thought to himself as Anita pulled him toward the front door.

ENTRANCEor Coffee