Obligatory mumbo-jumbo: I don't own anything you recognize from the book El Club Dumas or the movie, The Ninth Gate, nor do I claim any rights to Neil Gaiman's excellent novel, American Gods. I seek only to entertain, I don't profit from this in any way. Please don't sue me, it would be an expensive waste of time.

If you just got here, you might want to read my stories, Ninth Gate: Corso's Choice first, followed by Fortune Foretold, then Reminiscence to have a better idea of how Corso survived the end of the movie and what's been going on with him since then. If you're unfamiliar with American Gods, I wholeheartedly recommend you read the book for maximum comprehension. It's worth it, honest!

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy it!

vanillafluffy

Chapter Four

The Taste of Knowledge

Corso swore that after the gargantuan breakfast Cerridwyn fed him--and he'd finished every bite--that he'd be waddling for days. She also produced a large stoneware jug stamped "Vermont Maple Syrup". "That's not maple syrup," she informed them. "It's tonic, for him." She pointed at Corso. "Your pupils are still dilated from all the junk in your system. How long have you been on that shit?"

"Months," said Corso, concerned. "What, you think I'm hooked?"

Her snort of laughter wasn't reassuring. "Sure you are. Take a shot of that every time you would've taken a dose of pharmaceuticals. Don't shrug it off and think you don't need anything, and don't keep taking that dope they had you on. You didn't need that crap to begin with, but if you try going cold turkey in your condition...." She shook her head. "Don't try it."

The book dealer looked dismayed, and Shadow cleared his throat. "When you say a shot, you mean how much?" He had an image of Corso chugging the stuff in an attempt to purge his system.

"Here." She went to one of the cupboards and found a small juice glass. "Take this. There ought to be enough in the jug to last you about a week. By then, your system should be getting back to normal from the chemicals. If your headaches get worse and you start seizing again, it's from the Other problem."

Corso uncapped the container and poured a small glass of the stuff. It was pale green and opaque. He sniffed at it, then raised the glass to his lips and drained it with two gulps. "Is it going to do anything?" he asked, then answered his own question, sputtering and shuddering as the aftertaste hit. "God, what is that shit?"

"Tonic," said their hostess firmly. "You don't have to like it."

"How long do you think I have before things start going back to the way they were?" Corso's jaw was set. There was fear in his brown eyes, but he was making a good front of matter-of-factness.

"This isn't an exact science," Cerridwyn told him, not unkindly. "Your initial symptoms came on gradually, didn't they? Pay attention to what your body tells you. Of course, it could be aggrievated if you run into anything nasty. And neither of you boys...." She shook her head. "Oh, you're not too bad," she said grudgingly to Shadow. "You're not completely in the dark. But him--! Jess was right about you, Dean Corso--you're about as Sensitive as an earthworm!"

"Thanks."

"I mean Sensitive to supernatural influences." She turned away from them and went rummaging again. "I hate to do this, I really do, but you're a sitting duck, in your condition." There was a small amber vial in her hand. "Stick out your tongue," she told Corso, and squeezed three drops from a tiny eyedropper onto his tongue.

Corso grimaced at the taste. "Tastes like funky shrimp with strawberries. Still not as bad as that tonic, though." He blinked, then squinted at them. "What the hell--?"

Cerridwyn returned the little bottle to its place. "Auras, Dean. Yes, there really are such things."

"Oh." He looked bemused. "Yours is white with bands of soft green...pink and red, and it's really shiny."

Cerridwyn looked genuinely amused at this information. "And his?"

Corso looked over at Shadow. "Not so shiny. Mostly silver-grey, kind of pewter, streaks of darker green, with little flickers of really dark blue."

"Trustworthy?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered with certainty. He looked surprised by his own words. "How do I know--?" He stopped and stared at her. His eyebrows went up. "Is this going to be permanent?" There was a sly note in his voice Shadow hadn't heard before.

"Bear in mind, Mr. Corso, that first, you have to live long enough to be able to take advantage of the gift I've given you." The censure in her tone was severe. "Now, for a look at your own aura, go into the bathroom--it's through there, on your right--and look at the wall behind your reflection." He took the hint and left the table quickly.

"She was right, he really is a self-centered bastard," Cerridwyn said to Shadow, shaking her head. "Aura like a goddamn cesspool, even allowing for what's eating him. I'm not sure why I'm trying to help him, to tell you the truth. I'm not sure if he's learned anything from his experience." She snorted. "He's scared, he's miserable, and even knowing what he knows now, I think he'd do it all over again because his ego is bigger than his sense of self-preservation.

"The only good thing I can say about him is, he respects knowledge. Oh, he's quick to use it to his own advantage, but he does respect it. I'm just not sure he understands the difference between experience and knowledge." Shadow said nothing; the goddess was glaring at Corso's chair as if he were still sitting in it. "At least he had enough sense to destroy those engravings, although he'd be a lot better off if he'd just lit a match to them."

"I wish I had," Corso said quietly from the doorway. Shadow wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there. "I think we'd better be hitting the road. I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time, Ms. Owen. You've been very helpful, considering--" His voice died away, and his earlier geniality was gone.

Shadow pushed his chair back from the table. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, ma'am." He picked up the glass and the syrup jug, and they traipsed back through the house, past the pigs, and out into the front yard, where it was, indeed, a beautiful day.

The surprise came when Jinx leaped in through the open car door ahead of Shadow and bounced into the backseat. "Huh," said the sow goddess, regarding her. "It's like that, is it?"

Jinx honed her claws on the velour uphostery. "Meh," she agreed.

"That cat doesn't like me," said Corso, eyeing her. "Besides, she's your cat."

"You don't know much about cats, do you? She's apparently decided she wants to go with you boys." Corso rolled his eyes.

Shadow was inwardly pleased. Bast would be keeping an eye on them. "We'll take good care of her," he promised. He got a kick out of the way the buxom goddess called them 'boys'. Mae West, he thought, without the false eyelashes.

"She can take care of herself. Jinx, I'll miss you. Have a safe trip, gentlemen," Cerridwyn addressed them. "Good luck, Dean. And you--if you see your father, tell the randy old bastard I said leave the ones with freckles alone."