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. Please don't sue me, it would be an expensive waste of time.

If you haven't read my other stuff, you're obviously a masochist who enjoys being confused. Go for it.

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

vanillafluffy

Chapter Six

The Price of Books in Baltimore

After a six-hour drive, they took a room at a Pennsylvania motel for the night, where Shadow dreamed confused images of a beautiful blonde who wanted to take him to Hell with her. Harry Houdini had told him how to escape: all he had to do was turn her into a pig, but first he had to find the blue-eyed cat who'd disappeared into a cloud of smoke, looking for a chicken dinner.

Shadow woke groggy and less than rested. Jinx requested a morning excusion and breakfast, in that order, and he complied. She vanished discretely into the high grass beside the right-of-way, and reappeared as he walked into the small diner attached to the motel. "No dogs allowed, except service animals," the counterman said as Shadow took a stool, Jinx jumping up onto the one beside him. It swiveled, and she dug her claws into the vinyl.

"That's not a dog."

"Ah, what the hell, those lazy fucks at Code Enforcement are never out this early anyway. What can I getcha?"

"I'll have the number five and black coffee. Make hers tuna."

Jinx gave a short, smug, "Rah." Apparently, that met with her approval.

Corso hadn't been up long when they got back to the room. He was standing in front of the sink, holding Cerridwyn's juice glass, wearing the disgusted expression brought on by a dose of tonic. "Vile," he muttered. "Absolutely vile."

When they finally got on the road, Corso wanted to swing by to visit with a book dealer he knew in Baltimore. Since it was his nickel, they detoured to Baltimore. The bookstore itself was in a tidy storefront in a historic district, and Corso seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of seeing his colleague.

"I'm looking for Dave Porter," he told the woman behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Porter has retired. I'm Jennifer DeMagestris, the new owner." She held out her hand.

"Retired?" Corso shook her hand mechanically, looking stunned. "When was this?"

"He had a heart attack about eight months ago, and had to have a bypass done. They told him he needed to take things easier, so he sold the store to me."

"And how's business?"

"A little slow," she admitted, her smile uneasy, "but I'm sure it'll pick up."

"I'll just browse a little," Corso told her as Shadow wandered over toward a section posted 'Hobbies'.

Shadow found a couple books of illusions and coin tricks that looked intriguing. One of them was "Houdini On Magic". Remembering his dream, Shadow added the volume to his pickings. He was bemused as Corso piled several stacks of books onto the counter. The proprietor was trying unsuccessfully to conceal a look of joy at the size of the sale. The total was well over $300, which Corso pulled out of his satchel, crisp fifties in a well-handled envelope.

"I'm traveling at the moment," he said smoothly. "If I were to give you, say, an additional fifty dollars, could I persuade you to ship them to me when I settle down?"

"Of course!" She and Corso beamed at each other.

"I'll need a detailed reciept," he added. "Title, author, publication date and price, details of shipping arrangements...."

Her smile dimmed slightly at the paperwork involved on thirty or more books. "It'll take me a little while to type it all up."

"Make carbons," Corso advised. "We'll just run next door for lunch."

There was a pub next door, and Corso led Shadow there in surprisingly good spirits. Maybe this was his last chance to engage in his business, Shadow thought. There was no guarantee Jacquel and Ibis could help him. If his condition worsened again, he might not have another opportunity to wander through a friendly bookstore and browse.

They timed lunch well. Jennifer DeMagestris was just pulling the last sheets from a venerable IBM Selectric when they reentered the shop. Corso scanned his copy and nodded, satisfied. Jennifer's face when the cash changed hands was all smiles. Eight new fifty dollar bills went into the cash register, and less than $20 came back out in change.

Shadow's purchases were more modest, but the woman was just as happy to make the sale. "You get the feeling we just paid her rent for the month?" he asked as they returned to the car. The windows were down for Jinx's comfort. She was napping on the back seat, looking bonelessly comfortable.

It wasn't until they were back on the highway that Corso started to laugh. He was looking inside the cover of one of Shadow's books.

"You got a signed first edition of 'Houdini on Magic' for five dollars?" the book dealer chortled. "Good work! If that's an authentic signature, I'll give you fifty for it."

"If you'd give me that much, it's probably worth three times that, at least."

"You're learning." Corso was smiling like a well-fed shark.

"And those books she's holding for you--how much are they really worth?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," smirked Corso.

Shadow was silent for a moment. Corso's glee made him a little sick. That poor woman was obviously struggling to keep her dream afloat, and here was Corso preying on her. Why? He didn't need the money OR the books. What the hell, what was the worst thing that could happen if Shadow spoke his mind? He and Jinx would end up hitching a ride to the nearest town and Corso would have to drive himself to Mississippi.

"That stinks," he said bluntly. "Why'd you do something like that? That woman's hurting for money."

"Shadow, I heard what she was saying to you yesterday. She was right about one thing: I DO respect knowledge. And I don't have a lot of respect for someone who doesn't know enough to value what they've got."

"Like health? Like having a life?" Shadow shot back. "Tell me something--what made you get up one day and decide to fuck over everything in your path?"

"I don't--" Corso stopped. "Okay, maybe I do," he conceded. "Sometimes. That doesn't make me a bad person."

"Oh, no," Sarcasm laced Shadow's words. "You tracked the devil to his doorstep and gave him the finger--or you literally fucked her, if I believe your version of it--but that doesn't mean you aren't a nice guy."

Corso was silent for a long time. If he'd made a snide comeback or snapped at him, Shadow thought he might just pull the car over then and there and say fuck you very much, but Corso had no answer.