by WB McKay
Everything n Anything was always brightly lit. Today, mauve lighting bathed the store windows. The last time I'd been there it was lime green. Imps were troublemakers in their own special way. Where pixies were mischievous for giggles, Imps wanted to prove their own cleverness. A lot of MOD agents hated them for that, called them career criminals. I kind of liked them. And they weren't all "career criminals". A lot of them just aided criminal activity. Everything n Anything was a perfect example. They sold things that could appeal to everyone, but many of their products were geared toward criminal activity, if you had the eye for it. They weren't picky about selling exclusively to the criminal element, either. They loved it when I popped in to buy things for a case.
A murmur ran through the aisles of the store, a murmur that sounded an awful lot like my name being passed from one imp to the next.
It really said something about my relationship with my coworkers that these folks my coworkers hated were stopping everything in their excitement at my arrival. The imps didn't come greet me though—no, they were going to be hiding in the merchandise on the shelves, watching to see what I'd pick out this time and attempting to guess what I'd be using it for. Then, naturally, once I'd made my selections, they'd suggest items based on their guess of what I was doing, fully believing that their suggestions were impressively superior to anything I had chosen myself, or any the other imps could come up with.
The game playing probably hurt business, but I don't think they gave a fuck. I wondered what Owen would make of all that if I brought him there…
A box toppled off the shelf on the opposite end of the aisle. It might have been a suggestion for what they thought I should buy, but it was more likely an impatient reminder that the imps were waiting to see what I would pick.
I had a few masks at home from previous visits to other black markets, but I didn't want to wear something I'd worn before and risk a previous persona of mine being recognized. Most trips to the market required a clean slate. A scan of the shelves didn't reveal anything remotely bird-like. I chose two different options: a full-head wombat mask for Clarissa, and one that looked human, if it were a caricature of what faes thought of humans. If I wound up wearing it, I thought it might spark conversation from the vendors.
Both items in hand, I backed away from the shelf.
Three imps popped out of the shelf in front of me, each offering up something different. They looked like monkeys… if monkeys had horns and cloven feet and multi-colored scales covering their little bodies. Okay, the only real monkey similarity was that they were short and liked to swing around on things, but it was still what I thought of when I saw them.
Will held a glamour charm. That was a pricey item, and not something I'd seen there before. It was also a ballsy choice, knowing that I never bought any of them before. I had a partial glamour charm at home that would distort a few of my features. I didn't need it with the mask, though, and it wouldn't work on the human I was bringing with me. Only a very complicated, and therefore very expensive, glamour would work on a human.
Grem held a disgusting, shriveled animal's paw. I couldn't tell what kind of creature it came from. I didn't want to contemplate what it did.
Ric held a Pez dispenser with a witch head on top.
Asking them about their choices would only blow up their big heads even more. Sometimes I did it anyway—their speculations were usually interesting—but I was in a bit of a hurry. Still, the witch Pez dispenser was so on the nose. I took it from him and bowed my head. He stuck his tongue out at the others and poofed out in a shower of pink sprinkles. They always left something behind when they teleported, but the item was of their own choosing. Pink sprinkles was a good choice, I thought.
Will tossed his charm back on the shelf and dropped to the floor. He held out a hand, waiting for me to pay him. They wouldn't speak to me unless I asked a direct question. Voluntarily speaking would tell me things about them, and information should cost you something, even if that something was just the hit to your ego of having to ask, thereby admitting that you didn't already know.
I was about to have to take just such a hit.
"It's nice to see you, Will." He smirked. Compliments were an opener to asking an imp for something because it immediately put you at the disadvantage. By saying it was nice for me to see Will, I was saying I appreciated him, and his very presence was something he was giving me, therefore putting him above myself. Imp games were a real hit to the ego. "I didn't see any bird masks back there." Again, acknowledging my own lack of knowledge. "Did you sell out?"
He huffed, clearly wondering what a crow needed a bird mask for, but he wasn't willing to ask when I'd just bolstered him up so much. "We've never sold any bird masks," he informed me.
I didn't figure this was where the witch had bought it, but I had to follow every possibility.
"You could make a mask a bird mask with the glamour charm, you know."
He was right, I could. I fidgeted with the mouth of the human mask, debating the pros and cons of turning it into a beak. There was wisdom to the bird mask—it would aggravate the killer and possibly urge someone to tell me something—but it would too obviously tip the wrong people off to what I was looking for, too. "I'm going to go with what I have."
"Suit yourself."
I pocketed the witch Pez dispenser and waved goodbye to the imps I could see and those I couldn't. I had a market to get to.
Everything n Anything was only a few blocks from the MOD offices, and the portal to the market was back on the other side of the MOD office, maybe a block away from the entrance to Volarus I always used. These were familiar streets. Still, I hated driving them. Fae were everywhere. Volarus didn't have traffic laws—or if there were, I'd never heard them—the fae never would have followed rules like that. The cobbled roads were narrow for Clarissa's sports car, and I edged my way along, wary of stampeding giants appearing in front of me or someone tiny enough for me not to notice them. Keeping the car to a crawl meant, hopefully, anyone out there would move or at least give a good shriek before bad things happened.
Both of Clarissa's legs bounced with impatience.
"I don't see why I have to wear the wombat mask," she said, shaking the thing at me. I'd thought it was fun. She did not appreciate my choices. I pretended not to understand what she meant.
"Masks are normally worn at the market," I explained. "That or a glamour. It's a place of criminal activity. Showing your face is a giveaway that you don't belong." If everyone showed themselves, it would have been easier for the MOD agents roaming the place to know who was doing what. We weren't there to shut the place down. It was a great place to track the more dangerous items being moved around, and as long as we had access to the market, it worked well for us. It was the smarter criminals, who changed the places they did business, that MOD really had to worry about.
"I've been to the Paw Paw market," Clarissa bit out. She was really easily irritated.
"Good," I said. "I hope you wore a mask so people won't recognize you. Oh, dang, did you wear a wombat mask? Well, don't worry about it. This particular wombat mask is one of a kind. You're in the clear."
I turned down the alley and headed for the dead end. Clarissa sucked in a breath. There was a light glamour on the portal. All I normally saw was a shimmery wall at the end of an alley, but if I brought up my second sight I'd easily see exactly where we were going. Clarissa had no such gift as a human, and she saw a very solid wall in front of us. For solidarity's sake, I didn't bring up my second sight.
Even knowing what we were going through, it made my pulse tick up a few notches. "Here we go," I announced. The front of the car slid easily into the portal when it looked like it should have crunched.
With a light pop of pressure, we were safely driving down a road in Michigan that appeared to come from nowhere and merged onto Red Arrow Highway.
Clarissa let out her breath in a whoosh.
"Fun?" I asked her.
She pulled her hair
out of the tight bun and fluffed it around her face, but none of it hid her wide grin. "Yeah," she said. "It's always a rush."
"Gotta like a girl who thinks it's a rush to drive right into a wall," I said. She checked my face to see if I was serious. "It's impressive," I assured her.
She stretched out her arms with an uncontainable smile on her face, really basking in the small compliment. "That's high praise coming from someone who faced down a whole clan of medieval battle goddess worshipers."
My brightening mood immediately soured. Even the damned human agents were gossiping about me.
"That must have been a real rush," she continued. "Getting to see your mother in action."
Damn. That last bit wasn't even something I thought had really gotten around. Everyone knew about the clan and the fighting, but I thought The Morrigan showing up and eating a bunch of her worshipers had been kept a secret.
Clarissa was staring at me expectantly, a hopeful little puppy wanting details on my big, bad, legendary mommy.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring up my mother," I said, through gritted teeth.
I expected her to agree and shut the hell up. I had on a serious face; I didn't say anything snarky. Even if people wanted to ask more questions, they usually backed off. Not Clarissa though. The girl looked shocked. And confused. "But your mother is The Morrigan."
"Uh huh." She was still staring at me, waiting, but I was done. I parked, pulled on my mask, and got out of the car, glad that the movement would end the conversation. We had bigger things to focus on.
The market was as busy as it ever was. The flea market in Paw Paw, Michigan was one of the largest still remaining in the country. The humans in the area believed it closed up in the evenings, but that was when things truly got interesting. Through a rather impressive bit of magic, the five hundred outdoor stalls were cleared of their human clutter and replaced with an extensive array of magical junk. Most of it was harmless, at least the things that were on open display. If you knew who to ask, and what to ask for, anything could be found.
Patrons moseyed in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, human sleepwear, leather battle gear, ball gowns, or nothing at all. The market was really a come one, come all kind of place. Ball gowns were worn by the folks who celebrated the masquerade aspect, and they usually wore the most intricate masks or glamours. I stepped to the side so an ogre in a purple, sparkly number could go past. Ogres weren't naturally gifted with glamour, so they never mingled among humans unless they paid for a glamour, which they considered generally offensive and beneath them. This particular ogre had paid for a glamour, but not to appear human. She'd had her head magnified to three times its size, so it bobbled on her neck. Flowers sprung from her enlarged head—carnations, all kinds of lilies, and Scottish Heather—expanding her already considerable circumference. I wished them well trying to navigate the crowd.
"All right." I dragged my eyes away from the ogre to focus on Clarissa. The wombat mask was endearing. I didn't understand why she didn't think it was fun. "Are you ready?"
She held out her hand and made a grabby motion until I understood she wanted her car keys and handed them over. "I'm good," she said, a stubborn set to her face. She refused to meet my eyes.
"For a witch working with FAB, you are easily offended," I told her.
She met my eyes then, just to glare at me.
If she was going to be this pissed off because I wouldn't tell her about my mother, I didn't think she was someone I was very interested in knowing. The trouble was that I'd recently promised myself to make more of an effort to make friends, and so far, I didn't put much value in the potential new friends I came across. I forced a smile at the little witch, only then remembering that she couldn't see my mouth through the mask. Maybe she could hear it in my voice or something. I was committed to being as friendly as I could manage. "Let's head in and get the lay of the land, shall we?"
I set a slow pace, one adopted by the casual window shopper. It never felt comfortable to me, but it was normal here, and it gave me time to take in everything I could. There was a lot to see. Unobtrusive balls floated in the air next to the magical lights that lit the place like it was daylight. The balls would blast anyone attempting to force their second sight to spy on weaker glamours used in the marketplace. The blasts were different every time, from what I heard. Lightning was common, occasionally there were streams of acid. Some rumors had gone around about flesh-eating bugs. I didn't have much faith that the bugs would stick to only attacking the spy. It wasn't information Clarissa was likely to be privy to, and it might have kept her safer if she knew about it, but I wasn't willing to risk her freaking out on me. I'd have to believe that in the unlikely event that it happened, she'd be ready to take care of herself.
The first thing I noted was that it seemed to be an average day in the market. There wasn't a crowd surrounding a reaper's scythe, which I'd expect if word had gotten out about it. It was too rare not to cause some excitement. Just because it wasn't public knowledge didn't mean it wasn't there, however. Only that they were being careful, which made my job more difficult, but I expected no less from someone who'd killed a reaper.
I fought the instinct to block out the magic rolling over me in overwhelming waves and worked to hone in on the magic I sensed closest to me. It was a difficult skill, but one I was getting better at all the time, and the thrill of effectively accomplishing such a feat always perked up my mood. The market helped, too. Despite its illegal status, and that I only ever went there looking for people to arrest, I always enjoyed the black market. Most of the people wandering around were there for the harmless items, so there was a festive atmosphere. There were fae of every shape, size, and type. Clarissa looked around in what I assumed was awe. The chin of her wombat mask stuck out awkwardly, like her mouth was hanging open.
I followed her gaze and realized the look wasn't wonder, it was disgust. She'd caught sight of a troll eating a horse. It hadn't even bothered to kill it first. Even worse, the troll was naked, every disgusting inch of his knobby, warty, nine-foot-tall body exposed. He bent over to chew on the paralyzed horse's leg, giving us the worst possible view.
"You'll want to move away from the line of fire," I said, giving Clarissa's arm a tug to get her moving again. No sooner had she moved away, than the troll let loose a rather tame fart by troll standards. It knocked the hind legs out from under a passing centaur and started a brawl that was sure to end in bloodshed. "Troll farts have been known to kill when hitting smaller creatures in the head. Ruptures blood vessels in the brain or something. Not a pleasant way to go."
"We should probably get to work," said Clarissa, her skin flushed.
"I've been working since we got here," I replied. "I've scoped out seven or eight likely witches we should question." And four or five fae who seemed agreeable to doing business with witches. That wasn't a common quality. If a witch stole a reaper—fae—scythe and killed a banshee—also fae—at Wailing Lakes—a fae community—then that witch had fae connections. There was no reason to point this out to Clarissa though. Clarissa couldn't exactly walk up and interrogate a fae—they'd never take her seriously.
"We should disband and get started on the interviews then," said Clarissa, managing to look haughty even under a wombat mask. She wasn't used to being outclassed on a job.
I shook my head and lowered my voice. "Not so fast, super-witch. There aren't any interviews here. We have to appear as interested buyers or curious onlookers, nothing more. If our questions get too probing, someone will peg us for FAB and then we're dead. And if by some miracle we survive, then we'll both likely be fired for screwing up a dozen ongoing investigations."
"That's preposterous," said Clarissa, her eyes going to half-mast. "If there are a dozen investigations underway some of the recurring patrons would be aware. Why would they keep coming here?"
"It's a delicate game of cat and mouse. They all know the FAB is working here. And we know that they know. But if we make our play too obviou
s, then they suspect we're going for an all-out raid and they pack up shop."
"Circumspection wins the day. Got it."
I rolled my eyes. "Using five dollar words that draw attention isn't exactly being circumspect, but you're right about one thing. If we're going to talk to this many people tonight, then we are going to have to split up. Just try not to end up a troll snack. I don't have time to save your ass."
Clarissa bristled at the comments about her capability, but she was getting what she wanted, so she smartly kept her mouth shut about them. I wondered how she managed that. I never could have let that much condescension go. "Where and when should we meet up?"
"Meet back at the car in two hours," I said. I grabbed a map of the market from a display in the middle of the aisle, a remnant from the human's day use. I circled four stalls on the map and handed it to her. "You take these. I'll take the rest."
"You're going to do a great deal more than four or five, aren't you?" she asked, eyeing the map.
"I'll probably find more as I go, yes," I said. "I deal with these type of people every day at work. They have things they shouldn't have, and they're wary about showing them off to just anybody. Witch, werewolf, or troll, they all tend to act the same."
"Whatever," said Clarissa, turning on her heel and walking off at a good clip.
"Huh, so that's what that's like from the other side," I said. "That's absolutely infuriating." I nodded in satisfaction.
The first two witches on my own list were very close to three of the ones I gave Clarissa, so I counted to ten and then worked my way toward that section of the market. Smart-ass witch or not, I wasn't about to leave her alone at the market until I was certain she wouldn't screw everything up.