Page 31 of Thirsty
It took him a moment to realize that Charlie hadn’t responded. “What?”
“I can just keep asking questions, y’know,” Charlie said. “You answer in monosyllables and I’ll just keep asking more and more questions until I get what I want.”
“Sometimesis a duosyllable.”
Charlie bit his lip, but it didn’t hold back his pleased smile.His eyes were dark and sharp, like he was pinning Lorenzo in place just by looking at him.
Or maybe he was remembering the dream.
Lorenzo cleared his throat, noticing the turn he had to take just in time. “A clinic?” Charlie asked, sounding surprised. “Is this the right spot?”
Lorenzo parked next to some scrubby bushes and didn’t bother to respond.
Inside, the clinic was as dreary as these things usually are—there was a door that led to private rooms, a screen to one side setting off a section of the room for shots, and an old TV in the corner playingBluey. Luckily, though, they were the only patrons aside from a woman up front who was speaking with Dylan, Lorenzo’s druid friend.
“Now, heat-quenching potions are kinda unreliable,” Dylan was explaining as he handed her a small prescription bottle. “And your insurance is only going to cover some of them.”
“Which ones?” the woman asked, peering at the runes on her prescription label.
Dylan grabbed a sheet from under the desk and handed it to her. “Call this number, and then this number, and they’ll send you some forms. Once you submit those, a shaman will perform a ritual that will indicate whether the insurer will cover it. But sometimes they change their coverage, and even the shamans can’t predict it, so.” Dylan shrugged, looking sympathetic. “Best be prepared to pay out of pocket.”
The patient thanked him and left, and Dylan grinned when he realized Lorenzo was waiting. “Hey man, haven’t seen you in a beat.” He was one of the younger druids, beefy and handsome in a grungy kind of way. Dylan was a bit more of a freethinker than the rest of his family—he’d left town after high school and only come back a few years ago.
“Dylan,” Lorenzo said. “This is...Charlie.”
If Charlie noticed that he’d given up trying to define their relationship, he did nothing other than flick Lorenzo a quick look. “Hi!” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Dylan said. Turning back to Lorenzo, he asked, “So, you need some potions, or are you selling again?”
“Selling?” Charlie asked him.
“Neither,” Lorenzo said, hoping that would dispel Charlie’s questions. “Charlie...has some questions for you. He is a student.”
Dylan looked intrigued, and Charlie leaned forward against the counter, his smile widening. “Well, I have a lot of questions,” he said. “About you, and this clinic. But first, and most importantly...” He turned to look at Lorenzo. “What does he sell you?”
Lorenzo stifled a groan. “Vamps, man?” Dylan said. “Oh, we buy everything—hair, teeth, nails. Blood, obviously. It’s all great in healing spells.” He clapped Lorenzo on the shoulder. “But this guy’s usually only good for the little things.”
Because Lorenzo’s blood could be used for magicks far more dangerous than mere healing spells. But he declined to mention that; he could only imagine how insatiable Charlie would be with that knowledge.
“The little things,” Charlie was echoing. “So—you sell him...”
“Locks of hair,” Lorenzo grunted. “On occasion.”
“Wow,” Charlie said. “What does that get you?”
Lorenzo refused to dignify that with anything more than flinty silence, so Charlie turned to Dylan. “I mean, generally, what would you...”
“Depends on the day,” Dylan said, dragging a small scale from the side of the counter closer to them. “We got some vamp hair the other day, actually, where was it...”
He fished a small plastic baggie with a few locks of reddish-blonde hair out from under the counter and put it on the scale. Rather than displaying the weight, the scale glowed faintly bluish-purple for a moment before displaying some glyphs on the readout. “This was thirty-five bucks. Damn, that’s rough.”
“Hang on,” Charlie said, leaning in closer. “Is that...surge pricing?”
“Yep,” Dylan said, putting the scale away and crossing his thick arms. “That’s the coven for you.”
“Wow. So—you’re not affiliated with them?” Charlie asked. “The coven?”
“Oh, no. I’m a druid, not a witch,” Dylan explained. “I just work for them.”
