The place was a nightmare. Gaudy pink walls, a vanilla scent, plush toys on the shelves. It didn't fit the image of a gloomy vampire slayer at all. However, judging by our short conversation, Blade is quite the fan of breaking stereotypes. I ordered two signature burgers, a couple of milkshakes, and waited, admiring the play of light on the facets of my watch.
"Cool watch. Where'd you get it?"
A low, brutal voice came from right over my ear, making me jump. I didn't even hear him approach.
"Don't sweat it, rookie," he continued, smoothly lowering himself into the chair opposite. "I'm one of the good guys. You ordered a burger, I hope?"
A black tight-fitting turtleneck, dark jeans, sunglasses, even though twilight was already thickening outside. It was him. How he knew that I was me remained a mystery.
I caught my breath and, feeling the pleasant weight of the watch on my wrist, felt a surge of confidence.
"I assembled it myself. Literally before the meeting," I replied with a slight smile. "They're bringing the burgers now."
He grunted, tilting his head slightly to the side. Through the dark lenses of his glasses, I felt his studying, piercing gaze. The conversation was just beginning, and I hoped that if he could sense lies, then in his eyes I was at least a little more interesting than just an unnamed problem kid who had become the target of Vampires.
"Yourself, huh. That's good. It's hard to find skilled craftsmen these days; they've mostly switched to button-pushing. Do you take orders?"
His question was casual, but I sensed a catch in it. Is this a test?
"Possibly," I calmly met his unseen gaze behind the glasses. "But you understand that in order to fulfill any order, I need to stay alive first."
"Pfft, don't sweat it. Do you think I flew halfway around the world for nothing?" he waved his hand. "Periodically, I have to carry out a sanitary cleaning of particularly brazen bastards and, at the same time, save some poor sap's hide. Not for free, of course. So come on, fill me in. But this time, no bullshit. Absolutely none."
I nodded. The moment of truth.
"No bullshit it is..." I muttered, putting my hand in my jacket pocket. For a second, I felt Blade's muscles tense, his body turn into a compressed spring. He was ready to attack. I slowly pulled out my hand, in which a vial had materialized from my Inventory in advance. "This is a Potion of Intellect. It boosts the brain to superspeeds for a couple of hours. Thanks to it, I found out that it was Vampires who were after me, and not just bandits. And it helped me reach out to you. You can wipe away the digital footprint, but you can't erase absolutely everything: old web archives, dusty forums... So I stumbled upon the Order of the British Empire, issued to a certain Eric Brooks in 2003."
"Okay, I get it, I'm not stupid," Blade stopped me. At this point, the waitress brought our burgers. With bright pink buns. I involuntarily stared at this culinary misunderstanding. "Don't look at it like that," Blade grumbled, grabbing his portion. "They're the best in town. So I understand, Ghost Orchid is the main ingredient?"
"Yes," I nodded, cautiously biting into the burger. Indeed, not bad. "It's not the only thing I can create. But it's the one that gave me the most trouble."
"To be fair, your watch can also cause problems," he said with his mouth full. "Especially if you walk around with it in the wrong neighborhoods."
"I know. But it's my first. You know, like the first earned dollar that you hang in a frame on the wall? I just couldn't help but wear it to this meeting. It's... a business card."
Blade stopped chewing and looked at me.
"Are you kidding me? First assembled watch—and of such quality right away? Potion of the Ghost Orchid... and something else that you wisely keep silent about for now. You, kid, are a walking treasure trove of talents. And the scariest thing is that you're not lying. I can feel it."
"You said no lies, I'm trying."
"But you're clearly lying right now, though the tactic of not saying everything has a right to exist!" Eric chuckled. "Okay, the situation is roughly clear. I can even secretly give you some info: Vampires from the Anhoriel clan will buy the recipe for your potion for the price of a private jet. They've been struggling for centuries to create their own 'Potion of Higher Wisdom,' and your recipe is probably what they're looking for. They are one of the few adequate ghouls. Just so you know."
"That's... a very interesting thought. Thank you. Could it be them?"
"Were you even listening?" Blade looked at me like I was an idiot. "I said 'adequate'. Anhoriel are hermits, they drink animal blood and preach the philosophy of non-violence. Vampire-Buddhists, hah. I am the best specialist on these creatures in the world, believe me."
"Then who?"
"Obviously, the clan that 'oversees' the territory where you swiped the flower. Where was it?"
"A park in Bowling Green."
"The Financial District. I see. Only top-league players can snatch such a district in the clan wars. Clans with three or more purebloods in their ranks. There are four of these in New York: Mistiel, Kriegers, Haskiel, and Moksha."
He took a sip of his cocktail, giving me time to digest the information.
"We can cut out the second and last ones right away."
"Why?"
"Because the Kriegers are thick-headed berserkers. They would have torn you to pieces right in the middle of the street, and then erased the memories of the witnesses. And Moksha... they are seers. If they wanted to get rid of you, you simply wouldn't have lived to this moment—you would have tripped and fallen onto a rebar. They have their own methods."
The fact that the prophets' abilities might not work on me, I wisely kept to myself.
"That leaves Mistiel and Haskiel. Cunning technologists versus old-school aristocrats. The former actively use modern weapons and gadgets, preferring a thermal scope rifle to fangs. The latter are corporations, hedge funds, connections in high society. They prefer not to show their faces, to act through proxies. Relatively adequate, but," he paused, "only with equals or those who are stronger."
"So what to do?"
"Well, that's your question. I see that you are not as simple as you want to seem. You couldn't have come here without a single thought in your head. What are your suggestions?"
He was testing me again. I took a deep breath.
"I have a Honda in the garage. The very one I used to escape the pursuit. It's exposed," I carefully watched his reaction. "If I drive it around the Financial District... we can try to lure them out with bait."
A wide, predatory smile touched Blade's lips.
"I like you, kid. Let's not beat around the bush. Let's go to your place."
"We haven't discussed payment yet."
"Screw it, we'll discuss it along the way. I'm not particularly bothered about money. But potions... if your potion works the way you say it does..."
I didn't let him finish.
"Here."
I handed him the vial. And then, again putting my hand in my pocket, I materialized an injector there, with another liquid.
"And this too. Muscle Stimulator. It accelerates all physical indicators to superhuman levels for 15-20 minutes. No side effects. I don't know how it will work on someone like you, but it shouldn't be worse. Consider it a deposit. And an investment in our... business relationship."
Blade silently took both vials. He carefully examined them, turned them over in his hands. His smile widened even more.
"Hmm. I like my decision to fly here more and more."
And me... I can only hope that my decision was the right one.