“So, what do you need?”
A sigh slipped from me as the weight of my problem settled back on my shoulders. Chang had provided a nice diversion but it was time to return to the real world. “I’ve got a problem. I’m trying to help a friend who’s in trouble.”
“Girlfriend?” Chang inquired with a sly smile.
“Girl, yes. But just a friend.”
“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”
“Chang.”
The old man waved his hands at me as he shuffled over to a large chair that looked like it belonged in an ancient throne room. “Okay. Okay. Just friend.” He settled his small frame into the enormous chair, slouching in relief. “What kind of trouble is your friend in?”
“Undead trouble.”
“Zombies?”
“Vampires,” I corrected.
Chang made a noise in the back of his throat, scoffing at me. “You don’t need me. Hardware store. Wooden stakes on sale five ninety-nine for a dozen.”
“The only way I can stake a vampire and live is to attack while he’s sleeping. Last I checked, the courts still ruled that as first-degree murder. Trying not to go to jail on this one.”
“Gasoline and match?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted my weight to my left foot. “Try for subtle, Chang.”
He scratched his chin as he sat thinking. “Guillotine? I have one made in Paris. Used only a few times.”
“How is that subtle?” I demanded, throwing my hands up.
“You say, Chang, I have vampire problem. To get rid of vampire problem, you stake heart and cut off head. That’s it. You want something else? Then you tell me what you want.”
I sighed. I hated to say it aloud. It was dirty and underhanded. Sadly, I felt more comfortable discussing Chang’s suggestions because at least they represented a forthright attack on Chester. This was sneaky and dangerous.
“I’m hoping to get this vampire arrested, which means I need him to attack me. But I want something I can use to protect myself.”
“Religious relics?” Chang asked, looking skeptical.
I shook my head, shoving my hands back into my pockets. Religious relics were always sketchy at best and I had heard of few that actually worked like they were supposed to, particularly on the undead. “I am pretty sure I can get him to attack me, but I’m afraid that I might not be able to stop him before he takes too much blood. I thought there might be something . . .”
I trailed off, but Chang was following my train of thought. He shot out of his chair, his eyes wide with excitement. “Poison? You want poison?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling like a real asshole.
Chang laughed, wagging one finger at me. “Oh, Gage, you’re a sneaky bastard! I always liked you.” He grabbed my arm just above my elbow with his bony fingers and led me deeper into his maze of shelves. The little old man was surprisingly strong and excitement seemed to make him forget that he needed his cane to help him walk, because he was now swinging it around as he giggled to himself.
“So you got something that might help?” I asked.
“I got something, but you must be careful. Only get one chance.”
Chang released my arm and started to use his cane again after we rounded a corner and came upon small area that looked like a kitchen. There was a sink and faucet against one wall. Along the opposite wall were a tiny stove and a rounded yellow refrigerator that looked like it had limped out of the 1950s and curled up here to die. I followed Chang to the refrigerator and gazed over his thin shoulder when he pulled open the door. It was a strange hodgepodge of items. Inside were containers of bologna, cans of foreign sodas, a plastic bowl filled with what looked to be raw meat soaking in its own blood. I was grateful that I didn’t find any body parts, but then I never saw what was in the freezer.
The old man stooped down and pulled open a drawer in the bottom of the fridge. Inside were several types of fruit, separated into clear plastic bags. On top was a large bag of big red apples.
I couldn’t stop the groan that rose from my chest as I walked away from the fridge. “Oh, come on, Chang! Please don’t tell me you’re going to hand me a poison apple and expect me to shove that down the vamp’s throat.”
Chang paused and glared at me over his shoulder. He turned back toward the open drawer and shook his head. I could hear him muttering something in another language. I didn’t understand it, but it certainly didn’t sound complimentary. He pulled something out of the bottom drawer, slammed it shut, and then closed the fridge before turning back to me.
“You read too many silly books,” he muttered as he approached me. “Hold out your hand.” I did as he asked and he slapped what looked to be a rose-tinted orange in my palm. As I lifted it to get a closer look, Chang hit me on the chest. “Don’t eat it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered, watching him shuffle to the other side of the kitchen area. He pulled open a small cabinet with a glass front. He was talking to himself again as he moved small bottles and boxes around, searching for something. When he came back to me, he was carrying a tiny brown bottle that reminded me of the vanilla extract my mother kept in the cupboard for sugar cookies.
Chang motioned for me to follow him out of the kitchen area and down another aisle. As we turned the corner, I came to a sharp halt as I saw the same folding chair and table he had been sitting at when I first met him. I looked around, verifying that I was indeed in the same spot, even though I could have sworn that I was on the other side of the enormous warehouse. I shrugged my shoulders and joined Chang at the table. I already knew that there was more to this place than met the eye. It was better if I didn’t ask any questions.
Setting his cane aside, Chang sighed as he sat down and moved his feet as if he was easing some pain in his ankles. He set down the bottle and motioned for me to give him the fruit.
“This is a sanguinello,” he said, holding up the fruit.
“I think I’ve heard of that,” I murmured, kneeling next to the table.
Chang nodded, lowering his voice closer to a whisper. “Common in Europe. Also called a blood orange, dark red inside. There are many kinds of blood orange, but only a sanguinello grown near special mountain can do what you want.”
“But it’s still just an orange, which means that that’s the poison,” I said, pointing to the little brown bottle.
Chang smiled at me. He put down the sanguinello and picked up the brown bottle. He carefully took off the cap and held it out to me. “Smell.”
I leaned in and caught a quick whiff. That was enough. I lurched away, crawling several feet from Chang, coughing and gagging. My stomach felt like it wanted to flip inside out before jumping up my throat. Behind me I could hear Chang cackling with amusement. The man was fucking insane.
“What the hell!” I wiped the tears from my eyes as I twisted around to look at him. Chang had recapped the bottle and set it on the table again.
“Extract from plant. Related to foxglove family, but not poison.”
“Like hell it’s not,” I snapped, returning to the table.
Chang smiled a sly grin that gave me chills as he once again waved for me to kneel beside him. “Not poisonous. You drink this and you get sick. Your stomach will empty, but it won’t kill you. Drink this and it do nothing to vampire that drink you.” Chang picked up the blood orange and held it in front of my face. “You eat this. It’s very good. You eat this and it do nothing to vampire that drink you. Now,” Chang paused, holding up one spindly finger. He put the orange on the table next to the bottle. “You cut sanguinello in half and pour extract on both halves. Let sit for . . . at least two hours. Eat all.”
“Rind, too?”
“Rind? No, not rind. Just fruit. Who eats the rind?” Chang gave me a little smack on the back of the head while giving me a look of disgust. I didn’t regret the question, stupid or not. You always asked questions with magic or you didn’t live to regret it later.
“Wi
ll it make me sick?”
“No, eat all. It’s very good. And for twenty-four hours after, vampire drink from you, he die of poison.”
“It makes my blood poisonous to vampires?” I stared at the blood orange and the brown vial. “Interesting.”
“Yes, but there’s a catch.” I jerked my attention back to Chang instantly. There was always a catch with something good, particularly with a good potion. “You can only do once in whole lifetime. Once you eat, it never fully leaves your systems. You eat this again, you die.”
“What if I eat the combo, and then a year later eat just the sanguinello?”
“Fine.”
“What if I eat the combo, and then a day later drink what’s in the bottle?”
“You sick but not poisoned.”
“What if—” I started but Chang cut me off with a smile and a wave of his hand.
“Eat combo once, that’s it. You can eat or drink separately after that every day for as long as you live. You may be sick, but not poisoned. Just can’t eat combo twice. Ever.”
“And it only last twenty-four hours?”
“Yes. Minute after that, your blood fine for vampires.”
“What if I only wanted to make the vampire very weak and sick, but not dead? Well, not permanently dead.”
Chang frowned for a moment, staring at the orange and the brown bottle. “It’s risky, but if you eat only half the sanguinello, it should work. But I don’t know how long it would last.” He shrugged, flashing me a concerned look. “Blood might be poisonous for only a few hours. Very dangerous. Better to just eat whole and kill vampire.”
“And how would I explain that to the cops?”
Chang gave a little giggle. “He ate something that didn’t agree with him.”
I nodded as I picked up the blood orange and looked at it. Other than the color being more pinkish than orange, it felt and smelt like a normal orange I might pick up at the local grocery. I looked down at the bottle, but didn’t pick it up. “So, what’s actually in the bottle?”
Chang shook his head. “That’s the price I ask for this trade. I won’t tell you what is in there.”
Frowning, I stared blindly at the table. I hadn’t thought about the price for this exchange until now. The truth was that I suspected I knew what was in the bottle because I had been forced by my warlock mentor to drink it when I was a child. It wasn’t from a plant related to the foxglove. It was from a plant similar to the foxglove family that was extinct in the wild, but there were a few greenhouses around the world that grew it. And those greenhouses all belonged to the witches and warlocks of the Ivory Towers. How Chang came to possess this I didn’t want to know.
I decided to drop the issue. If I revealed I knew what was in the bottle, then Chang would know without a doubt that I was involved with the Ivory Towers in some way. Not exactly the best way to endear myself to the old man. While I had little doubt that he suspected something of my magical past, neither of us had ever said the words. Maybe we were both pretending to be ignorant.
“Is that the only price you’re going to ask?”
Chang cocked his head to the side for a second, staring at me. “Five dollars for sanguinello.”
“Expensive damn orange.”
“Shipped fresh from Italy,” Chang said with a smile as I pulled out my wallet. I grabbed a five and handed it to him. “One more thing.”
“I thought so,” I muttered, keeping my wallet out.
“Tell no one.” My brow furrowed and Chang laid a thin hand over my wrist, gripping it lightly. “Tell no one what you do, ever. This is dangerous for everyone, human and vampire. Not good. Don’t tell.”
It was a dangerous weapon. While the vampires were frightening and dangerous in their own right, they were also extremely vulnerable during the daylight hours. People knew of enough ways to take them out without needing another weapon that was impossible to detect.
“You’re right. I swear, I won’t tell anyone about this.”
Chang smiled, patting my wrist a couple times before dropping his hand back into his lap. “You’re a good boy. Sneaky, but good.”
I shoved my wallet back into my pocket before putting the sanguinello and bottle in separate pockets of my jacket. I’d pack both items safely away in my shop before continuing on to my next destination. Not far away I heard a soft clicking on the concrete floor. When I looked up, I saw the two dogs approaching Chang. They always seemed to know exactly when a meeting was over and they appeared. Just chalk one more freaky thing up to Chang and his hoard of weird shit.
Patting Chang on the shoulder, I walked past him toward the dogs. “Take it easy, Chang. I’ll catch you later.”
“Have fun with your girlfriend,” Chang called, his amused laughter dancing down the aisle after me. I smiled and shook my head as I followed one dog back to the elevator while the second dog walked behind me.
My visits to Chang were generally few and far between. He was a nice old man, but you always knew better than to fuck with him. He knew shit he shouldn’t. He was older than shit. And you always suspected that he was a little bat-shit crazy. I always enjoyed my trips to see him regardless of the circumstances that drew me to his warehouse, but I was always more than a little relieved to leave. He had a lot of stuff people would kill helpless widows and orphans for and he had world-ending, apocalyptic, “kiss your ass good-bye” stuff. Walking through that place made me feel like I was peeking into a gunpowder barrel while holding a burning torch. I was honored he trusted me to see his collection, but I would rather I didn’t know it existed in the first place.
But if someone had to have it, I was glad it was Chang. He didn’t intend to use it. He just wanted to own it. That was fine with me. I had enough problems, and my next one was getting a meeting with a rooftop warrior.
CHAPTER FIVE
In this world, it’s usually pretty hard to get a strange look while in the grocery store, even if it is nearly midnight. You can walk in wearing footie pajamas covered in little yellow ducks and pick up a quart of blood, a container of ram hearts, and crackers, and no one will bat an eye at it. However, if you walk in and pick up more than a dozen boxes of cereal and nothing else, apparently the cashier is going to look at you like you’re the local pedophile throwing a slumber party. I just smiled at the nosy bitch as I paid. To hell with them. I wasn’t about to walk into my next meeting empty-handed.
I had my protection against a painful death from Chester. Now I needed to find where the nest was located. And to do that, I had to see someone who really knew this city, someone who spent his days and nights watching the city and its inhabitants. Unfortunately, they weren’t the friendliest group, hence the bribe/peace-offering of cereal.
Lindner Tower was the tallest building in the city, sitting in the middle of downtown. The skyscraper was finished in the 1950s, and was a mix of silvery steel and cold concrete as it soared above the world. It managed to be foreboding as well as elegant. It had none of the glass sparkle or curving lines the other buildings possessed, but was more of a regal relic from a day almost forgotten in the modern push forward.
Parking was a bit of a pain, as most of the night shift had already started, making the city garages crowded, but I managed to maneuver my way to the top of the tower through with a mix of luck, sweet talk, and a little grease on the palms. I put down my plastic grocery bags filled with family-sized cereal boxes with a sigh and looked around. The large rooftop was empty as far as I could tell. The light along the side of the building illuminated the rooftop some, but there were shadows by the storage building that it couldn’t pierce. I stayed in the center of the rooftop, fighting the shivering that was starting as brisk winds swept up the building and across the roof, ruffling my hair. They weren’t gone, just waiting and watching. I could get them to come out. If I could count on one thing, it was that gargoyles loved cereal.
Bending over, I pulled one colorful box out of the bag and gave it a shake, causing the crunchy frosted bits insid
e to rattle. “Come on out, guys! I’m alone and I brought breakfast,” I called out. I gave it another shake and waited. There was a scratching of talons on concrete, but no one appeared. Setting the box on the ground, I turned back to my collection of bags to dig out another box. While my head was down, I felt a whoosh of wind beside me and the scrape of cardboard along the ground. I twisted around with another box of cereal in my hand to find that the first box was gone. Someone had swooped in and snagged it.
“Ahh . . . come on! Balen? Pellanor?” I shook the box and then looked down at the front again. “It’s Sergeant Sugar. There’s a prize inside; looks to be a race car that transforms into a robot.” I smiled when I saw a head pop over the far side of the building. I put the box on the ground and backed up a few steps, holding my hands out to my sides. Throwing out massive leathery wings, the gargoyle with the fang-filled smile launched himself over the edge of the building, gliding toward me. Balen snagged the box of cereal and plopped down on the ground. He started to tear the top off with long talons but paused, looking up at me. I took another step backward and bumped into something big and hard.
My heart stuttered in my chest as I twisted around and looked up. Uther was standing behind me, looking like some demonic nightmare, complete with dark gray skin, protruding fangs, and horns curling out of his head.
With a nod, I bent down and pulled out a box of bran flakes with dried strawberries, which I handed up to the big man. “What’s up, Uther? Got your favorite,” I said, trying not to show my fear, but it wasn’t easy. I knew that Uther or any of his clan mates could rip me in half without trying.
The gargoyle accepted the box of cereal with a nod. It must have been what the rest of them were waiting for, because Uther’s clan swarmed the rooftop, falling on the bags of cereal. I had visited the Low Town gargoyle clan several times in the past few years, and had taken the time to learn their favorites. Uther, Mordrain, and Ryons preferred things like bran flakes and wheat that included bits of fruit. Astolat, Deira, Lynsanor, and Enid liked anything with chocolate. I got the impression that Balen, Pellanor, and Evrain were the younger of the group because they ate anything that was sugar frosted, included marshmallows, and had a prize inside. Of course, younger didn’t mean much since as far as I could tell, gargoyles were among the long-lived races, failing to show their age once they reached maturity.
0.6-The Asylum Interviews: Trixie Page 5
