The Vampire's Tax Accountant
A Supernatural Bureaucracy Novel

About this book:

Arthur Pendelton doesn't carry a stake or a cross. He carries a red pen, a mastery of the Internal Revenue Code, and the quiet, terrifying authority of the United States Treasury. As the sole auditor in the IRS's Special Assets and Entities Division—Sub-Level 4, accessible only by cold-iron keycard—Arthur spends his days explaining to six-hundred-year-old vampires why "ancestral dirt" isn't a deductible medical expense, why a coven's goat offerings don't count as fair-market rent, and why the Tax Court takes a dim view of deducting capes as business attire. In a world of fangs, claws, and ancient curses, the most powerful weapon isn't silver; it's Section 666, the obscure statute that lets the government compound interest over five centuries.

When Lord Cassian Drake—Aristocrat, predator, and chronic tax evader—threatens to drain Arthur's blood, Arthur counters with a jeopardy assessment, a UV-light containment system built into the drywall, and a notarized lien on the Count's coffin. But the audit of the Drake Dynastic Trust is just the season opener. From werewolf packs claiming "hunting grounds" as timber depletion allowances to necromancers hiding assets in phantom LLCs, the supernatural underground is about to learn that while you can outrun a hunter and outlive an empire, you cannot outmaneuver a statutory lien. The tax code is nine thousand pages long, and it applies to everyone—living, dead, or otherwise.

Sharp, wickedly funny, and built on a foundation of genuine bureaucratic arcana, *The Vampire's Tax Accountant* is *The Office* meets *Dracula* by way of a CPA exam. If you've ever wanted to see an ancient lord of the night reduced to tears by a Form 433-A, or a shapeshifter caught in a payroll tax trap, Arthur Pendelton has a schedule for you. Grab your calculator; the filing deadline is eternal.