by Erin Johnson
Cool rain pattered my head. I flipped the hood of my sweatshirt up and jogged into the wet, bustling street. I headed for my friend Will’s back alley vet clinic.
Heidi, black hair wound around her head in a milkmaid’s braid, let me in. I tugged my hood back and looked around. The small lobby was empty, the flickering fluorescents overhead casting a sickly glow off the linoleum. Heidi grinned at me. “Busy night?” She moved back behind the tall counter and slipped on her jacket.
I followed her and leaned my folded arms on the counter. “Unfortunately.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wish I could say the same. I got so bored.”
I looked toward the swinging double doors that led to the exam room. “What’s Will doing?”
She raised her brows and shot me a significant look. “No idea. He went out.”
I frowned. “He left? When’s he coming back?”
She shrugged and stuffed a stack of magazines with magically moving models on the covers into her purse. “He told me I could close up early.”
I scoffed. “Okay, weird. Where’d he go?”
Heidi shrugged her purse over her shoulder. She sported long pink spandex shorts and a highlighter-yellow crop top, with a furry short coat over it all. She was the only person I knew who could pull the look off.
“He said he had to make a house call.”
Her tone clearly expressed her doubt and I didn’t blame her. My friend had been one of the island’s top surgeons until he lost his temper at a fancy shindig and publicly shifted into a bear. He’d lost it all and been forced to use his skills on pets and shifters. I lifted a brow. Making house calls for pet surgery seemed unlikely… and unhygienic.
I followed her out into the dark alley. She turned and locked the clinic’s nondescript metal door. A few rats scurried nearby, rattling some paper trash and an empty bottle.
Rupert, we’ve been over this—I don’t want our children picking up bad habits.
Oh, come on, Glenda! It’s street food—a delicacy!
Yes, but if they learn to eat human food it could lead to risky behavior. I vote we stick with a diet of crickets and—
Mom! He’s biting my tail!
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I’d assumed that when I’d been cursed a few years ago, the intention had been to end my powers and ability to shift and that this gift of speaking to animals had been an unintended side effect.
But given the overwhelming amount of asinine chatter I had to listen to from rats, insects, spiders, and birds all day and all night, I was starting to wonder. Slow claps to the creator of that potion—if they’d intended this as the real curse, it was not only creative, but effective.
“Headache?”
I looked up at Heidi’s concerned face and softened. “Nah.” We started down the alley side by side. “Want to grab some dinner? My treat?” I’d intended to ask Will too, but since he was mysteriously absent, a little girl time would be fun.
She groaned. “Totally! But I can’t this time, I’m sorry.” She shot me a pinched look. I could barely see her features in the darkness of the alley, but enough pale moonlight filtered through the clouds to highlight her cheeks and eyes.
I waved it off. “No worries.” I waggled my brows at her. “You have a hot date?”
She sucked on her lips. “Maybe.”
I nodded. “Who’s the lucky guy this time?”
“That bouncer from the Unicorn’s Horn.”
I smirked. “Another bouncer, huh?” The girl had a type.
She giggled and shrugged, the shoulders of her furry coat bouncing. We reached the end of the alley and stepped into the neon lights of the street. The narrow, crooked buildings that lined the alley had sheltered us from the rain but now it pelted our heads. Heidi drew her wand and cast a protective spell around the both of us.
“You heading this way?” She tilted her head.
“Other way.” I decided in that moment to grab a quick bite by myself and treat myself to a visit to the bridge.
She bit her lip. “Sorry about the—” She lifted her eyes to the falling rain. She wouldn’t be able to shelter me from it with her spell if we parted ways, and without magic, I was at the mercy of the elements. But tonight, the rain didn’t bother me. The nights were starting to cool off, and instead of being muggy and oppressive, the rain actually felt refreshing.
I waved it off, drew my headphones up around my ears, then pulled my hood forward. “I’m all good. Have fun tonight—and be safe.”
She shot me a good-natured smile. “Always. You, too, Jolene.”
She headed one way, and I ducked into the milling crowd, going the other.
TIME TO FACE THE MUSIC
I reached into my pocket and punched the play button on my Walkman. Gary Numan’s “Cars” blasted through my headphones. The upbeat, human 80s classic gave me a little extra pep in my step as I headed for the bridge.
While the rest of Bijou Mer was probably nestled asleep in their beds, the Darkmoon Night Market District was at its peak. Neon signs flashed overhead, hung from the crooked stone buildings that leaned inward over the narrow cobblestone street. Steam rose from an iron sewer grate, and a mix of shoppers, revelers, and shady characters jostled together, some heads down, slinking through the shadows, others drunkenly belting out sea shanties.
I passed by the bathhouse on the corner, the red lanterns still burning bright. I did some quick mental calculations. I’d had a bath just two days ago. I nodded to myself and continued on.
Seeing as the entire island ran on magic, losing mine posed quite the inconvenience. I had no way of using the magical plumbing in my apartment or any of the kitchen appliances. Luckily, I had a human goods hookup who helped me figure out a few work-arounds and luxuries, like the Walkman I used to drown out the constant chatter of animals. But for most life basics I’d simply gone without for way too long.
But now that I’d been working with Peter as a consultant for the police, I had decent money coming in on a semiregular basis and could afford to cover the staples. It felt good to be on a regular bathing schedule, to not be constantly starving, and to have dry socks now that I had new boots that weren’t riddled with holes. Plus, for the first time in a while I could get a comb through my long hair—bonus!
I was still a long way from my life before the curse, when I had a thriving law career, casually bought designer clothes for fun, and lived on an upper tier of the island in a swanky loft. I took a deep breath and straightened my spine. And that was okay.
I wasn’t going to pine for the past anymore. And I wasn’t going to selectively remember the good times—I’d also been a workaholic, had no real friends, and was willing to do less than upstanding things to get ahead.
I wasn’t aiming to reclaim the past anymore. Just to create a better present for myself—starting with a visit to my favorite black market human goods dealer for some new tunes. That’s what the youth were calling them, right?
I hurried on and shoved my hands in my pockets. The air held a briskness I’d missed over the warm, humid summer. Though, once winter came, that posed its own challenges in terms of, you know, not freezing to death. It took spells to heat my apartment… and I had no magic. I rolled my shoulders. I’d deal with that when I had to.
For now, I’d worked a long night, had food in my pantry and clean hair—and I was going to treat myself. I swung by a pod of food carts and grabbed a gyro, which I devoured as I walked, and soon came to the bridge.
Bijou Mer was a maze of bridges and canals, but in the Darkmoon everyone knew the bridge meant the big one that spanned a long dry canal. A warren of businesses, some above board, others a little more… unofficial… crowded together under the bridge and under tarps strung over the stone-lined canal.
Fog gathered under the bridge and covered the top of the canal. The red lanterns that seemed to be a requirement for bridge businesses lent the place an eerie glow. No wonder tourists and partiers tended to avoid this place—it was
for locals, and maybe pirates, only.
A few silhouettes of people moved in the fog, but I ignored the bridge and headed for the moss-covered stone steps that led down into the canal. I jogged down, my legs nearly disappearing below me in the mist, and entered a crowded alleyway between tents and tarps.
An old woman with a hard look shoved past me, a basket slung over her arm full of paper bundles and glowing potions bottles. I turned sideways to let her pass, then edged down the path. People and businesses slowly emerged from the fog, the tarps overhead making it feel like a low tunnel, a hidden underground world. The only light came from the red silk and paper lanterns hung from tent poles.
A thumping bass beat cut through the music of my headphones as I passed a makeshift nightclub that looked like it could hold about ten people, tops. A heavenly fried scent came from the next tent, where a few men hunched over a tall countertop while the cook turned skewers of meat and onions over a grill.
I tugged my hood off—the tarps overhead did a good job of keeping the rain out—and wound my way through the warren of shops until I found Bixby’s. I pressed the stop button on my Walkman, which he’d sold me, and tugged my headphones down around my neck.
My friend looked up as I ducked through the split curtain hung in the doorway and grinned. “Jolene.”
I winked. “Hey, Bixby. How’s business?”
The tiny shop was empty aside from the two of us. He leaned back in his rolling office chair behind his desk. It was littered, as always, with a mess of human electronics in various states of disassembly. The guy had an obsession with human goods, especially their technology. I didn’t share his interest, but I enjoyed benefiting from it.
“Eh. Slowing down.” He removed his glasses and polished them with his shirt, revealing his round, hairy stomach. He replaced them and tugged his shirt back down. “It was busy earlier, though. Got a bunch of teenagers in from one of the upper tiers.” He chuckled. “Apparently human goods are very in right now. They bought half the store.”
I grinned. “Sweet.” I moved through his displays of metal boxes, screens, plastic cases and cords and wires. He’d told me what all this stuff was before—told me way more than I wanted to know, in fact—but I’d forgotten it all. “At a markup, I’m assuming?”
Bixby splayed his thick hands. “I can’t give the Jolene discount to just anyone.”
I clicked my tongue at my friend. “You flirt.”
He chuckled, the hairs of his goatee bristling. “Hardly. You and your referrals make up half my business.”
I gave him a little salute as I perused his wares, looking for what I was really here for. It was true that I’d gotten Heidi, and apparently her friends, pretty hooked on human music. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s an inter-kingdom tragedy that not everyone has heard the synth masterpieces that are human 80s music.”
Bixby nodded, his ponytail bobbing behind him, in mock solemnity. “Agreed, Ms. Hartgrave. Agreed.” He grinned. “Unfortunately, the authorities feel differently.”
The magical kingdoms had originally been formed, in part at least, when human knowledge of magic led to persecution of witches and wizards and our ancestors were forced to create secret havens. Since then, a distrust of humans and everything related to them had persisted, and it was nearly impossible to get a permit to visit the human lands. I wasn’t sure how Bixby got ahold of his merch—he was always fairly dodgy when I asked him about it—but I appreciated it.
He pointed to a shelving unit in the back of the tent. “Cassettes are back there.”
I grinned at him and headed to the back. “Thanks. Anything good?”
He swiveled in his chair and pointed to the right side of the shelves. “Find the cassette by a guy named Sim—Sim—” He snapped his fingers. “Simon something. I think you’d like it.”
I shook my head as I reached the jumbled shelf. Cassettes were stacked on more cassettes, some labeled, others not. “You know, if you organized this, at all, it’d be a lot easier to find things.”
“The hunt is half the fun.”
I rolled my eyes, my back to him, and trailed a finger along the plastic cases of cassettes, flipping some to read them. I grabbed one and turned, holding it up to him. “Paul Simon?”
My friend gave me double finger guns. “That’s the one.”
I frowned down at it, turning the little rectangle in my hands. Not the flashiest name, but Bixby rarely steered me wrong in the music department. Books were another story. I’d told him to stop recommending me human reads long ago. He loved something called sports biographies? Didn’t see the appeal.
I scanned the rest of the cassettes for another minute without seeing anything new before turning around and holding up the Simon one. “Alright. I’ll take it.”
Bixby opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when a brass bell that hung over the door started ringing frantically. I froze and listened. Bells all around us in neighboring tents rang, too. My eyes widened. “Is that—?”
The big guy leapt to his feet, wand drawn and eyes wide. “Canal alert system. The police are here! I’ve got to hide this stuff—quick!”
A CASE
My chest heaved. “Wait—what? Hide it where?”
I glanced around the tiny tent.
Luckily, I was saved from making up some lie to excuse my lack of magic and inability to help by Bixby’s quickness. I didn’t expect the overweight guy to move so fast, but he muttered spells to himself, pointing his wand here and there. Displays flipped over, turned into shelves containing rows of bottled spices or disappeared completely. Within less than a minute, the whole place had transformed into a nondescript spice shop.
He slumped back down into his human office chair, then startled when he realized he hadn’t changed it. He pointed his wand at it, and in a whirl of glowing green magic it transformed into a wooden stool.
I blinked, still shocked at what had just happened. “Wow.” I frowned. “Does everyone in the canal do this every time the police come by?”
Bixby’s chest heaved, his face flushed. It took him a moment to catch his breath before he could speak. “All the illegal—ones do. The cops—don’t come by—all that often.” He pressed a hand to his chest, gasping. “But we have the alert—system for when—they do.”
I slid up to his desk, all the electronics gone, replaced by large jars of red, gold, and brown spices and plunked a merkle down. “I’ll take the cassette and be on my way, thanks.” I shook the tape at him before stuffing it in my pocket.
He gave me a wary look, then scooped up the gold coin and punched a button on his metal till. The drawer flew open and he counted me out change in silver coins, then dropped them in my hand. He looked at my pocket, which bulged with the cassette. “If you get caught with that, you didn’t get it here.”
I scoffed. “I’m sure the cops have bigger things to worry about than some smuggled human music.”
He shot me a heavy look. “You’d think. But be careful.”
I gulped. Geez. I mean, I’d been working with Peter for a few months now—murders abounded on the island. Surely they wouldn’t care about a cassette?
Then again, I’d also seen plenty of corruption and cruelty within the police department. And the way a Darkmoon citizen was treated down here on a bottom tier of the island was much different than the way an upper tier citizen would be handled. Growing up in the Darkmoon District had taught me that much.
I nodded my thanks to Bixby and ducked back out into the alley. I headed toward the stone steps that led up and out, the place now eerily quiet and dark. Many of the red lamps had been extinguished and storefronts closed. Bells still tinkled frantically from somewhere nearby in the dark.
As I dove into the dim fog, a shadowy figure emerged up ahead. The hairs rose on the back of my neck as I recognized the outline of a police cap. I looked around but found all the nearby tents closed up and so tightly packed that I couldn’t squeeze between them. The dark figure advanced, and I considered
chucking my cassette to avoid being caught with illicit goods.
I pulled it from my pocket, ready to throw it away, when the figure emerged from the swirling fog and I recognized Peter and, of course, his canine partner, Daisy. My shoulders slumped with relief.
“Hey, Jolene!” he called brightly, oblivious to the panic he was causing the people in the canal. “I was looking for you!”
I grimaced and stepped closer, my voice low. “Hey, Peter. Maybe keep it down in here?” And maybe not use my name—I didn’t need a reputation for being friendly with the cops.
He frowned and looked around. “Oops. Yeah, I figured it’d still be going strong here in the Darkmoon, but I guess these guys decided to close up shop early tonight, huh?”
I sucked on my lips to keep from smirking. Oh, sweet, innocent Peter. “Something like that.”
Daisy barked. Liar!
I shot her a simpering smile. Oh, how I’d missed Peter’s magically lie detecting dog and her brutal honesty.
Peter, who could understand her tells, if not her actual words, shot me a puzzled look.
I ignored it and grabbed his arm—I couldn’t help appreciating the firm muscles under his navy uniform sleeve—and spun him around. “Let’s get out of here.” And stop tormenting the poor people who thought he was here to raid their businesses.
He fell into step beside me with Daisy leading the way up ahead. The alleyway too narrow for us all to walk shoulder to—well—haunches.
I shot Peter a puzzled look. “Wait. How’d you know I’d be here?”
He shot me a sheepish grin. “I, uh, went by your place first, then swung by Will’s clinic, which was closed, but by chance, I ran into Heidi. She told me I might either find you at those food pods on the corner or down here.” He grimaced. “Hope that’s okay?”
I sucked on my lips. Heidi knew me too well—either that, or I was way too predictable. I shot Peter a grin. “Yeah, that’s fine. What’s up?”