Even Vampires Get the Blues - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,12

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