26. Finn
Twenty-Six
Finn
“What’s in your pocket?” I asked Azzie to distract her as much as because I was curious about what Enid had handed her.
She patted her hips and ass as we meandered down the sidewalk. “Nothing.”
“Then whatever Enid gave you magically vanished?” It had seemed to, and that still concerned me.
Azzie glanced at me with faint frustration. “You’re a big spoil sport and it’s not nice to ask people about what they’re picking up, especially around other people’s birthdays.”
We walked past a building with several Available signs in the window, and a realtor’s phone number that seemed to fuzz and was hard to focus on. It was like trying to read a book in a dream.
“Present for me? I like presents.” That had Zeke’s attention.
“ No .” Azzie’s exaggerated huff very much meant yes . “But it’s not the kind of thing you can open here, in the middle of the street.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught one shadow and then another scurrying around the inside of the abandoned shop front. I suspected if someone knew the code for the lock hanging from the door handle, they could walk into some sort of magical business.
Best not to stare too long. If one didn’t know the code, the magic used to make people ignore the place would fuck with my head. “Is it a butt plug?” I asked Azzie.
“It’s not your birthday.” Azzie had stopped glancing back at Enid’s.
“That could be a present for everyone,” Zeke said.
Azzie wrinkled her nose. “Filed under lists of things I don’t let other people borrow—my panties and butt plug.”
“Oh. I wasn’t supposed to borrow your panties? You’ll have them back tomorrow,” I teased.
The look of disgust and disbelief that Azzie gave me could’ve withered a rose on the vine.
“What? They were just lying in the living room.” This entire street was fascinating. It looked like any small-town street on the surface, but the air tingled with magic, and a quarter of the shops radiated don’t notice me while another quarter whispered you know you want to.
Azzie huffed and shook her head. “Keep them.” She led us toward a building with an old pharmacist sign near the door, and a black and white striped awning. The windows were painted in white and trying to pretend the entire place was an old-fashioned pharmacy.
Inside was nothing like the exterior. The room was light bright white, with generic carpet, and glass cases lining the wall and in the middle of the room. It reminded me of modern dispensaries.
“Not sure you realize this, given how you grew up, but weed isn’t magic.” Zeke was looking around with wide eyes despite the teasing sarcasm.
I still had so much to teach him. “There are plants that have far more interesting side effects when they’re bred and prepared properly.” Considering how few people were on the street outside, the couple dozen milling around in here was a surprise. “Is this where the gate is?” I assumed there was some fast way to get to this town, if Azzie visited regularly on her own.
She nodded. “The owner is an elf, and makes sure the street can do steady business. But there are more than just go home and get stoned herbs here.”
Which made sense. I’d figured out early on that Azzie didn’t like anything that fucked with her perception and awareness, and that included booze and drugs.
Her loss.
“I’m gonna look around.” Zeke was already wandering toward one of the cases. “Why haven’t I ever seen a place like this before?”
Despite him knowing a lot of immortals and gods, and the things I’d taught him, the only magical places he’d visited had supplies for drawing or blacksmithing.
Some of that was on me. I worried about him being places someone might associate him with a prophecy. There were organizations out there working hard to either make sure fate happened, or were willing to kill to hold onto their power. That especially applied to potentials who were meant to be gods. “Never got around to it?” I said.
For the most part, Loki had done his part to quietly keep Zeke safe, but Draugar showing up at the house had me suspicious even months after it happened. Loki’s insistence that it hadn’t been his doing didn’t reassure me.
“Because Finn is stuffy and old and doesn’t recognize how neat the things around us are.” Azzie pointed at one bottle under the counter, and then another, drawing Zeke’s attention.
As if she was any better. “You were raised in it. You don’t know what’s unique and fun either.” Wonderful. I’d just countered with I know you are, but what am I?
Azzie pointed to something else. “That one goes in coffee and makes pretty pictures in the air. And gets Berserkers drunk.” She barely glanced at me. “I had to figure out what was human and what was magic after I lost”— she cleared her throat—“and it pushed me to explore what made the two parts of my world unique.”
“Name one thing that isn’t magic that makes mortals fascinating,” I said.
Zeke dragged his attention from the display cases long enough to fix me with a look of disbelief. “Computers. Television. Donuts.”
“Computers, inspired by a muse. Television? Witch. Donuts…” I trailed off with two fingers up. “Those on the other hand are without a doubt a human thing.”
“Which one was the muse, Jobs or Woz?” Azzie asked.
I wasn’t answering such an obvious question. “Your turn. What’s so great here that’s not magic?”
Azzie twisted her mouth and scanned a rack next to her. After only a few seconds, she grabbed a paper package with a brightly colored logo. “These. I’m kind of surprised they have any in stock.”
“It’s candy.” I wasn’t impressed.
She shrugged. “You asked. Skeptic.”
Zeke wanted to wander and look a little longer, but it didn’t take him long to realize the rest of the offerings were like any supplement shop, magic or not. The goods boasted power or strength or a better sex life with All Natural Ingredients.
Azzie left us long enough to pay. Her brief exchange with the man at the register was friendly enough, but it was the mention of work and the fact that he slipped her a business card as if they’d had this exchange a dozen times before that hinted at how well she knew the people here.
I didn’t have an issue with the work she did, but the way she lied to herself about the reasons was sad. She was lying to herself about a lot of things, but mostly that she didn’t need the world or the people around her.
That was one of contrasts with Zeke, and another reason I adored him—he didn’t hide how he felt behind excuses. It may take him a little time to warm up to someone, but he didn’t ignore his own heart.
It was also one of the reasons I had to protect him. Especially from her.
As the three of us headed outside, Azzie ripped the top off the candy and handed us each something that looked like a sugar-covered licorice twist.
Zeke took his without question. “What’s in it?”
“I’m good.” I held up a hand.
She pressed the candy to my lips. “It’s just candy, not magic. It’s not going to turn you into a frog or anything.”
“Then why does it matter?” I flicked my tongue out and licked the end. Why was I being resistant? I didn’t know.
Azzie rolled her eyes as she grabbed my hand and pressed the now-sticky candy into my palm, before grabbing a piece for herself from the bag.
Zeke ate his, and as he chewed a range of expressions flashed across his face. A wince, then contemplation, a faint smile, and back to the too sour face. “Oh my fuck,” he muttered between chewing.
That sounded like a good exclamation rather than disgust.
“Right?” Azzie ate hers too.
It was a sweet. Big deal.
Zeke grabbed the candy from me and pushed it past my lips. “Stop being a dick and at least try it,” he said.
Okay, so it was all right. Fuck me for that being my first thought. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I couldn’t hide my reaction at the burst of sour, and then the shift to actual peach flavor, and then back to sour.
I had no idea if I liked it or not, but I did want more. “What the fuck did I just eat?”
“Exactly.” Azzie looked smug.
“That’s not an answer.” But I still wanted more. “It’s got some sort of addictive chemical in it.”
“Nope. Just candy.” Azzie handed us each another piece, and held up the package so I could see the ingredients.
As long as the home-printed label wasn’t lying, it really was just sugar and fruit and water. The combination of flavors though… I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of admitting there was something to it, but this was definitely one of those things it seemed a mortal got right without magic.
She closed the package and shoved it in her pocket. As with the gift from Enid, there was no lump or indicator she was carrying it.
We continued our trip down the street, pausing in front of some store windows, and spending a few minutes inside others. There was clothing, furniture, and least surprisingly a tattoo shop. Azzie stared at that window the longest, gaze drifting over the designs.
Early on after she arrived, Zeke offered a few times to make a design for her, and even to ink her himself if she wanted. She always refused, because she’d promised her mother she’d never scar herself willingly. She didn’t even have her ears pierced.
I was glad I’d never had to talk her out of it. Malsumis didn’t want her vessel scarred; especially not with another god’s marks, like Zeke tended toward.
“I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that a street like this exists. Out in the open and deceptively dull, but really magic.” Zeke looked up and down the sidewalk. “Don’t normal—sorry, average— people ever stumble on this place?”
Azzie shrugged. “Probably. If they’re actually just the boring masses, most of the things sold here would just be things. If they do have a little bit of magic—more likely for them to get past the weak wards—a lot of these things still don’t do anything unless you know what you’ve got.”
There weren’t a lot of places like this in the world, but they did exist elsewhere, and what Azzie was saying was true about any of them. For the most part shops that sold magical goods were part of street markets hidden behind a stronger entrance, or a one-off shop that served everyone, regardless of magic or not.
“So is there a quirky street in London that you can only get to if you tap on a brick, and they sell cauldrons and witch hats?” Zeke asked as we walked along the sidewalk.
I clucked and shook my head. “Humans make better steel than gods—you know that.” It was an arrogance thing—gods thought they did everything best, so there was no reason for them to actually learn how. “A witch buys a Dutch oven from their favorite camping store, and a hat from their favorite boutique or gas station, like anyone else.”
We paused in front of the most featureless building on the street. Aside from three steps of concrete, leading up to a single glass door, the facing was beige stone with no decoration or sign.
A shiver of anticipation raced over me as we approached. I’d wanted to get in here for a long time, but entrance was barred without a recommendation or accompaniment. In other words, I had to know someone.
Having loved a seer who kept most of her visions to herself meant I was persona non grata with a large number of gods and other immortals, and those I hadn’t wronged knew me by reputation and name.
No one was going to do something as simple as get me an introduction to a place like this. Azzie was happy to show me though.