Even The Vampires Get The Blues

'Beppo?' The monkey promptly held out his hand. I gave it a little two-fingered shake. 'He jumped on me earlier, but I was just taking him back to his—what's this?'

The man shoved a shoebox-sized package at me.

'I am charged to give it to you. It is yours now,' the man said, then without another word, dissolved into black smoke that sank down into the floor.

Chapter 2

'What the… OK, this day is really starting to go strange. What the heck is in this? It's heavy… hey!'

At the front of the store a man's voice rose in anger. He was speaking some language I'd never heard, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. The bell on the door tinkled distantly, sending Beppo flying off my shoulder with an agitated squawk. The little monkey loped down the aisle until he was out of sight.

'Damn it, just when I needed—ouch! Who on earth would want to buy a guillotine?—just when I needed him, he runs off.'

I made my way around the blocky guillotine, rubbing my arm where I had hit it on a pointy bit of wood, past an eight-foot-tall reproduction of the Sphinx, and into the aisle that would take me to the front of the store. The small man I had seen earlier standing in the doorway was at the desk bearing an antique cash register. He looked startled to see me.

'Good morning. I had no idea there was anyone in the shop. Can I assist you? Are you looking for something in particular, or just browsing?'

'I was just browsing while you were busy with the other customer, but I am looking for something in particular. It's a fifteenth-century manuscript named the Simia Gestor Coda. It was stolen from a nearby collector. I don't suppose you've heard of it?'

'Stolen! Oh no, we do not deal in stolen goods,' the man said, his soft voice filled with outrage.

'No, no, I didn't mean to imply you did. The owner just found out about the theft, which could have occurred up to six years ago, so there's no way anyone would have known that it was stolen.'

'Regardless, I do not have any medieval manuscripts,' the owner said stiffly.

'Well, it was a long shot. I'm interested in contacting some of the area collectors,' I said carefully. 'People who collect medieval antiquities such as the manuscript. Would you be able to tell me who in this region might be interested in acquiring something of that sort?'

'I would be happy to appraise any object you wish to sell,' he said quickly, moving around the desk.

'Thank you, that's very kind, but I prefer to talk to collectors myself.'

His helpful expression turned to one of stone.

I sighed. 'I didn't think you'd go for that. None of the other dealers and sellers have. Well, thank you anyway.' I had started to leave when I remembered the box that had so oddly been thrust upon me. 'Oh— something popped up while I was in the back of the shop with your monkey, and gave me this. I thought maybe he mistook me for you… ?'

The man looked at me as if I had spider monkeys growing out of my ears. 'Something popped up?'

'Yes, some sort of being or entity. Perhaps a spirit, although I haven't heard of spirits acting as delivery services. Then again, it could have been a demon—I'm afraid I haven't had much experience with the dark beings, so I'm not absolutely sure I would recognize one if I saw it.'

'Erm…' The man's eyes turned wary as he edged toward the part of the desk bearing a phone.

'Not a demon?' I asked.

He shook his head slowly and glanced toward the front door. 'I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, madam. I don't have a monkey, nor is my store haunted with demons and ghosts. If there's anything else I can help you with?'

Clearly this man was not hip to all the woo-woo stuff that went on in the Otherworld. I smiled what I hoped wouldn't look like the smile of an insane person, and said very carefully, 'My apologies for startling you—my imagination gets away with me sometimes. I assume you don't want this box?'

I held out the shoebox to him. He backed away as though it contained projectile leprosy. 'I'm afraid I cannot accept gifts from… visitors.'

The words 'freakish Canadians who babble about weird stuff' hung unspoken in the air, but I took his meaning. 'All right. I'll just leave you my card in case you do happen to hear of anyone with the Coda for sale.'

I extracted one of the brand-new business cards from my purse and set it down on the counter, thanking the man as I left. The box was heavy in my hands, reminding me of the rashness of hauling around a strange gift from an even stranger being. With all sorts of visions of plagues and blights in mind, I stood outside the antique store for a moment, chewing my lip.

'When in doubt, go to an expert,' I said to myself, and hustled my way through the misty drizzle to the nearest bus stop. A short time and a pound coin later, I stood outside a familiar white brick building. The buildings were designed in Georgian style, all clean, classical lines, but the Diviners' House itself (donated to the Order by a grateful client) was unremarkable, its polished oak and brass door speaking of the same quiet affluence as the hotels that sat on either side of it. I shook away the bad memories of the last few years and entered the house, quickly locating one of the few remaining Diviners who would acknowledge my existence.

'… so I thought it would be better to have it checked out before I opened it, in case there was some sort of Pandora's box thing going on,' I finished five minutes later, carefully watching the man who stood next to me with the box in his hands. 'What do you think? Is it something bad?'

Brother Jacob, head of the Scottish branch of Diviners, and erstwhile schoolmate from a childhood spent in Calgary, gave me a look that almost made me squirm. Almost. 'Sam, you didn't leave here utterly ignorant. You possess the skills to determine if this object is tainted by dark powers.'

'Uh… Jake, I hate to disillusion you about any of my so-called skills, but I flunked divination, remember? I was kicked out of the Order.'

'You left voluntarily,' he said, still giving me the look that said I shouldn't be bothering him with petty things.

'Right. Only I was volunteered to leave by the head of the Order.'

'Master Tsang was acting in your best interests—' Jake started to say, his brow furrowed.

I laughed and held up a hand. 'Don't worry, Jake, I'm not here to start up that whole how-I-left-and-why-I- left thing. Honestly, I'm over it. And perfectly willing to accept that Master Tsang was right and I was wrong about divination being my calling. I'm a mutt, half human and half elf, neither one thing or another, and as we both know, divination is a gift, not a skill. Hence my inability to tell if that box is nasty or not. What do you think?'

Jake sighed and gave up trying to glare me into being something I just wasn't. He looked off into the distance as his hands spread across the box, an abstracted look on his face indicating he was deep in a world that only Diviners could access. 'The box itself has been in the possession of a demon.'

'So that was a demon? Interesting.'

'However, the object inside it does not seem to be imbued with any dark powers.'

'That's good to know. So what is it?' I asked, curious.

Jake blinked and shot me a jaded look. 'I'm not an X-ray machine, Sam. If you want to know what's in it, you'll have to find out for yourself.'

'But I told you, I can't divine anything—'

He rolled his eyes, shoving the box back at me. 'I meant you'll have to open the box, you idiot.'

'Oh.' I smiled and punched him lightly in the shoulder, just to let him know I appreciated the insult. I bummed a pair of scissors from him to cut the leather thongs that bound the box, then popped off the lid, wondering what on earth a demon could be delivering, and whom it was supposed to be delivered to. 'Huh. It's a statue.'

'Of what?' Jake asked, peering over my shoulder. 'A bird?'

'Yeah.' I lifted the small statue from a nest of velvet material, surprised by its weight. It was gold-colored,