[5]
Pain jolted through my left shoulder and I woke up swearing.
Ok, I felt pain. Up side, I was alive. Down side, that fucking hurt.
Slowly my vision came back to me through the painful haze and I found myself in what looked like a large stock room. The room was poorly lit, but I could see a series of grey shelves, about six feet tall, stood to attention in neat rows. Each of the five sets of shelves full of different types of items, most of which I couldn't quite make out from my current position. I was laying on an old fold out cot that had waved farewell to its more comfortable days decades ago. A sweet smell registered next, lofting over me from close by. Looking around I could just make out a work table about ten feet away with some kind of pink looking liquid bubbling away in a beaker set up over a Bunsen burner. A quick burst of pain screamed from my shoulder snapping up all my attention and throwing it at the person causing me great discomfort. He was a brutish sort of man with the rough features of a long and harsh life. His hair was very short to the point of being nearly clean shaven and his nose slightly crooked from maybe one too many hits to the face. He was frowning in deep concentration as he applied some kind of ointment onto my bare shoulder and then it suddenly hit me; I was topless.
"Don't move!" he said in a true east London cockney tone. "You dislocated ya shoulder. I set it back in place and this stuff'll keep the swelling and bruising down."
"Jeez Reggie, any one ever tell you your bed side manner really sucks?"
"Stop bloody moaning," he replied unimpressed as he continued to apply his salve. "Me ex-wives piss and moan less than you do. And I got three of 'em!"
Reggie rubbed the last of his cream onto my shoulder a little harder than he needed to, but I'll be damned if it wasn't good stuff. I could barely notice any swelling and the bruises were almost invisible. I followed the 'doctor's' orders and stayed where I was, lying on the world's most uncomfortable cot. Reggie rose from his stool and wondered over to the work bench with the boiling liquid and began to give it a stir. I'd known Reggie for a few years now. He was a good go-to-guy when you needed information on what was happening around the city. It was because he had his fingers in so many natural and supernatural pies that I was always left wondering just how he kept himself alive – but then again, they do say that knowledge is power. Whilst Reggie isn't a Wizard he more than makes up for it by being arguably the best potion maker in the city; I think that's why he knows what he knows, everyone comes to him for a potion. The Council know of him but somehow Reggie has been able to keep them from knowing too much about him. He gives me a discount on products to keep me from spilling the beans to the Council so I have no incentive to tell them anything. He was very good at what he does.
"Ya lucky I was already coming to see you," Reggie said as he continued to stir his latest concoction. "Was just walking across the street to ya building when you and the Fanger did ya bloody swan dive out the window."
Amazingly I kept forgetting how unbelievably cockney Reggie was. And when I say cockney, I'm talking cockney rhyming slang, the over excessive hand gestures and head movements, the works. At around six foot seven, he was a big guy, well built, the type of person you wouldn't like to meet in a dark alley late at night. But then you hear him talk and it's hard to not think of Derek Trotter from Only Fools fame, instead of this physically imposing east London dealer.
"And ya don't need to worry about ya gear," he continued. "After I got ya up off the street and stashed here, I went on back to ya gaff and found ya bag in the hall."
He waved his hand in the vague direction of the area near my cot. I turned my head to see that my bag, along with the two eskrimas, was resting on the floor. I didn't realise it straight away, but slowly I began to feel myself physically relax a little. Not because I was emotionally attached to anything in the bag, but because they were dangerous in the wrong hands. Or more accurately, less informed hands. There was a family that lived down the hall from me with two little kids. If they'd started playing with some of that stuff…I shivered as I cut off that train of thought sending a quick spark of pain through my shoulder. Being deep in my revelry I hadn't realised that Reggie was still talking.
"Course the bloody pigs kept askin' questions and….'ere, you even listening to me?"
"Of course I am Reggie," I lied. "You did me a great favour by putting yourself out there to get my stuff back. Thank you."
I had taken the wind out of his sails by giving him my thanks. Primarily all I did was take away a reason for him to complain.
"Right," he said, nodding satisfaction in my direction. "I should think so too."
I decided that I had had enough of lying down and attempted to sit up. My shoulder began to throb as the blood started pumping through it at a more regular pace. Reggie had finished stirring his concoction and was somewhat impatiently waiting for me to right myself.
"'Ere," Reggie ordered, thrusting the beaker into my face. "Drink this. It'll give ya back some of the energy ya spent fighting that Fanger."
Without thinking about it, I gulped down a healthy amount of the pink liquid and then immediately started to choke.
"Christ Reggie," I spluttered in between coughs. "My god, that tastes like goblin piss!"
"Yeah," Reggie replied. Maybe it was just me, but he looked a little too proud with himself. "It don't taste pretty, but it'll sure put some hairs on ya balls. Besides ya know, it's good stuff."
He had me there. Already I could feel my strength returning to me bit by bit. In a couple of hours I'd be right as rain…however right that is. I've never really understood that saying.
"Not that I'm ungrateful for you helping me heal up and everything, but do you have a spare top I can put on or something?"
And with a simple grunt Reggie walked over to one of the many grey shelving units, took something from the second shelf down and tossed it in my direction. As it landed beside me on the cot I could make it out as a medium sized shrink-wrapped package. Unwrapping it revealed a white long-sleeved T-shirt with black tribal like designs spiralling down the sleeves. My shoulder cried in discomfort as I slipped into the top and pulled it down. I felt as if enough of my strength had returned for me to attempt to stand up. Slowly I began rising to my feet and took a little walk over to examine some of Reggie's stock. Most of these shelves where full of Tupperware boxes of all different shapes and sizes with little white description labels on each; depleted uranium, beams of sunshine, stardust, unicorn horn, frost giant eyes.
"Reggie," I called out. "Where the hell did you get some of these things?"
"I'm well connected," he responded. "Plus there's little shop in Camden 'at sells some good items. But enough about that, I'm more interested in what you've got ya'self into."
I turned away from the shelves and back to find Reggie leaning against his work bench with a serious dead-pan expression locked on his face.
"For example," he continued. "Why did a blood sucker attack ya in the middle of the day? And on top of that, is what they sayin' about the Fangers true? That they stole from the White Council?"
Ah you've gotta love the supernatural community. They do love their gossip.
"Well that all depends. What have you heard exactly?" I answered. I didn't want to give anything away if I didn't half to. It's not that I didn't trust Reggie or anything; it's just that he's not exactly the silent type. Whether he would mean to or not, he would inevitably let slip the wrong thing to the wrong person and then everything would suddenly become dangerously more complicated. Sadly I say this from experience.
"Everyone's buzzin' about how the Vamps have got their hands on somethin' that'll win'em the war against the Wizards." He paused briefly, his brow frowning in thought before speaking up again. "Is that why they went after ya? Because ya got something to do with it?"
I nodded slowly.
"So it's all true? That's the reason why everyone's scared shitless."
"And I'm trying to make sure that whatever the Red's are planning doesn't come to fruition. So if you know anything Reggie…" I left the end of my sentence open and in the air so Reggie would hopefully volunteer some useful knowledge.
"Well…" he said hesitantly, shifting his weight as he continued to lean against the table. "There may be somethin' I've heard from a guy who knows guys whose friends with someone that…"
"I get the picture Reggie," I interjected. "What have you heard?"
After a bit more weight shuffling, Reggie finally began to answer.
"There's been people muttering, saying all kinds a things. Some let slip that a couple of big wigs in the Red Court arrived in the country two days ago. A couple o' Yankee Fangers in expensive suits, probably politicians or at least that's what I've heard."
"Do these 'Yankee Fangers' have names?" I asked, trying hard to pry more information form Reggie.
He shook his head. "Nah. There ain't been no mention of any names. But there's been plenty of whispers about these two being dangerous."
I took a moment to think about that. Bringing in two power players would make sense and it also explained how they planned to get away with the charm. As I've said before, the Red Court has 'people' in a lot of powerful places; government, law enforcement, courts of the legal kind; it's kind of like a symbol of their status within the Court. The higher you are in the Court, the higher your standing in the vanilla world of everyday life. If the rumours were true, then I'd wager they'd probably be politicians of some kind. And we Brits just love American politicians. So if our thieves passed on the charm to the out-of-towners, they would have an almost guaranteed escape route hiding behind their political credentials. This wasn't an act of opportunity; this had been planned. And planned in great detail. If my theory about the missing persons increase didn't pan out, then at the very least this gave me another path to follow.
"I don't know all the ins 'n' outs of what you're caught up in Crane," Reggie said, halting my train of thought and drawing my attention back to him. "But what I do know is that you need to watch your arse."
"Well it is an arse worth watching." I said with a smile on my face. Reggie just rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh of annoyance.
"Well knowing how bat shit crazy ya can be, I guess ya gonna dive in head first. If ya are then you're gonna need some help." He reached under his work bench, pulled out a carrier bag and handed it to me. I checked its contents to find three sports bottles; one small and red, another blue and the last yellow. Looking back at Reggie, I cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I brewed them while I was waiting for the swelling to go down on ya shoulder. The blue one'll give ya a temporary boost of endurance and the yellow one'll give you a resistance to the vamp spit." I nodded in recognition; Vampires from the Red Court had the ability to produce saliva with a powerful narcotic side effect. They used it to subdue their prey, making for an easier feed. In extreme cases, it wasn't unheard of for a Red Court to actually make people addicted to the narcotic effect, basically creating their own personal blood banks. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
"What's in the red bottle?" I asked.
He gave me a solemn look. "The red is just in case they fancy a bite. I hope you don't have to drink that one."
I knew what he meant. One of the unwritten rules of hunting Vampires; don't let them take you alive.
"Reggie I didn't know you cared so much." I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I don't," he shot back with a snort. "If you die, who'll keep the Council off my back?"
I had to smile at that. In my life I took the laughs where I could get them. After a moment I suddenly got the feeling that I needed to be somewhere.
"Reggie what time is it?" I asked
Reggie looked at his watch and said "Six forty five. Why?"
"Crap. I need to be somewhere by seven. Thanks again Reggie, you've been a huge help."
I collected my belongings up off the floor and made my way out the door. Reggie's lockup, slash place of business, was in a remote estate across town from where I needed to be, which wasn't useful. But by some divine intervention I managed to flag down a taxi as soon as I had reached the main road.
Finally, something was going my way.