burst into a fit of giggles again. “Honestly. And the man entrusts you with his immortal soul... Here, have a lollipop, I wash my hands of you.”
Elliot took the proffered candy (another ritual at Blood Works) and grabbed his coat and sword as he followed the man out to pay up.
“Come back for photos?”
Elliot nodded, grinning round his candy. “Of course.” He'd been inordinately proud when one of his pieces first made it onto Zach's site. “Give it about a month?”
“That should do it.” The vampire finished jotting in his ledger, shelving it and the diary below the counter. “Now, let's have a look at what you've got.”
“Sure.” Elliot lowered the sword carefully on the counter top and fished in his jacket's inner pocket, pulling out the crumpled cigarette packet. Placed it on the counter between them.
“Oh my...” Zach reached out gingerly, expression taking on an intensity that had the hairs on Elliot's arm and the back of his neck standing on end. Shadows about the corners of the room seemed to creep out like ink stains as the vampire framed the packet between thumb and forefinger, without actually touching it.
Then the moment passed, warmth seeming to leak back in. Elliot glanced at his blade in surprise as he felt more than heard the chime dying from its length.
Apparently someone was worried.
But he'd decided a long time ago that he trusted the immortal stood before him. Some things you just took on faith.
“You say you found this on the body?” He was touching the packet now, turning it this way and that in the room's soft, warm light.
“Not on, but near enough. And the cops found a butt on the carpet, whose taint Crescent here could still smell, even after it'd been removed.”
The vampire was nodding slowly. “Tell me: is Master Roscan currently doing business with any of the old guard?”
Elliot's turn to nod cautiously. “He's been glad-handing Chiang recently, sniffing round the shipping rights to their import contracts. Why?”
“This,” and the vampire lofted the packet between them, “was something of a legend even a century ago. They were used as a badge of fellowship during the Insurgency Wars, back when our beautiful world's was founded. Given to the resistance by...”
“...their daemon handlers. A token of friendship from the otherside...” Elliot stared in wonder at this piece of his own history. A relic from the founding of his movement. It was a story everyone knew, but the iconography itself was all supposedly long gone; destroyed by the daemons in their final gambit.
It was a cornerstone of the Shakya movement that their final victory, in the face of impossible odds, had been built on trust undiluted by the need for such material reassurances. A pure faith.
He twisted his head so the box was horizontal in his field of vision, the white field on the front with its encroaching triangles of fiery red resolving itself into the letters N-S, done as stylised blocks.
Then he leaned through the aether, partially submerging himself in the otherside.
All about him the room dimmed, the dimensions of things twisting and shifting. Points of psychological focus became fairground bright, several of the photos about the room ballooning beyond proportion whilst the bead curtain across the top of the stairs swayed elegantly towards him across a suddenly great distance, like kelp in the pull of the tide.
The vampire opposite him was a gorgeous shadow, with cherry lips and come to bed eyes.
And the thing in his hands shone with sudden intent, inky blood red script flowing across a nacreous background, muttering its credentials and purpose.
“Shit,” El murmured softly, withdrawing into the corporeal realm once more.
“And, quite possibly, fans.”
He glanced at the vampire's deadpan, nodded slowly. “So you think the Chiang may be the source?”
Zach shrugged, eyes uncertain. “It was always rumoured the last of the stash ended up in Mahaian hands, following the collapse of the corrupt power base. Of course the subject of which families may still have them is a touchy subject, given how few of them defected to our side.”
“Hmm, isn't it just.” Many of the city's older bloodlines had ties to the Mahaian dominated elite who originally founded Neppon, and therefore ended up becoming the pies into which Infernal fingers were inserted. As a result that period in history remained a tetchy subject, for all the 'past is past' talk that had gone on in the years since.
The rich do enjoy their finger pointing. He sighed, straightening. Took the proffered packet back almost unwillingly after he'd shrugged into his coat. “So, time to go dredging up the past then.”
“I'm sorry El.”
He quirked a smile. “For what it's worth, you've probably only beaten Beth to the punchline. I was going to find out sooner or later.”
Zach stood, but instead of the usual handshake he placed the open palm on Elliot's shoulder, eyes serious. “You take care, you hear? It may be the past, but there are still some very real grudges lingering in the air. Lot of bad feeling over what went down.”
“I'll be careful with my pokey stick.”
Zach gave him a lopsided smile. “See that you do.” He squeezed the kya's shoulder before releasing him. “I want those pictures!” he called after, as El disappeared through the (once again normal looking) bead curtain down the stairs.
Elliot chuckled to himself, as he headed out into the cold night.
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