I'm told it's better if you combine a couple of methods." "What about garlic?" I shook my head.
"Nope.
Though a vampire I know told me that given a victim who smells like garlic and one that doesn't, most of them will pick the one who doesn't.
Not that we have access to garlic or wooden stakes." "I know about the sunlight--who doesn't? But it doesn't seem to affect Blackwood." I nodded toward the oakman.
"Apparently he is able to steal some of the abilities of those he drinks from." No way was I going to talk about blood exchanges with Chad watching.
"The oakmen like this gentleman here feed from sunlight--so Blackwood gained an immunity to the sun." "And blood," said the oakman.
"In the old days we were given blood sacrifices to keep the trees happy." He sighed.
"Feeding me blood is how he keeps me alive when this cold-iron cell would kill me." Ninety-three years he'd been a prisoner of Blackwood's.
The thought chilled any optimism that had survived the ride here from the Tri- Cities.
The oakman wasn't mated to a werewolf, though--or bound to a vampire.
"Have you ever killed one?" the oakman asked.
I nodded.
"One with help and another one who was hampered because it was daytime and he was sleeping." I didn't think that was the answer he'd been expecting.
"I see.
Do you think you can kill this one?" I turned around pointedly, looking at the bars.
"I don't seem to be doing so well at that.
No stake, no swimming pool of holy water, no fire--" And now that I'd said that, I noticed that there was very little that was even flammable here.
Chad's bedding, our clothes ...
and that was it.
"You can put me down as something else that won't be of any use," Corban said, bitterly.
"I couldn't even stop myself from kidnapping you." "That Taser was one of Blackwood's developments?" "Not a Taser--Taser's a brand name.
Blackwood sells his stun gun to ...
certain government agencies who want to question prisoners without showing any harm.
It's a lot hotter than anything Taser makes.
Not legal for the civilian market but--" He sounded proud of it--proud and slick, as if presenting the product at a sales meeting.
He stopped himself, and said simply, "I'm sorry." "Not your fault," I told him.
I looked at Chad, who still seemed thoroughly spooked.
"Hey, why don't you translate for me a minute." "Okay." Corban looked at his son, too.
"Let me tell him what I'm doing." He wiggled his hands, then said, "Go." "Blackwood's a vampire," I told Chad.
"What that means is that your father can't do anything but follow Blackwood's orders--it's part of what a vampire does.