Chapter 35
thirty-five
. . .
“Kit said the Market moves?” Matthias asks as we climb into my car after our shifts end.
“Yeah, but he didn’t say how frequently.” I buckle my seatbelt. “There’s a chance it could still be at the location I visited.”
“You remember how to get there?”
I pause. “Generally.”
“That sounds like a synonym for ‘no.’”
“I can figure it out,” I stress. He took a lot of turns, but I trust I can do it.
Matthias offers a lift of his shoulder. “Whatever. We may as well drive around and look.”
I put my car in drive and head for the highway. My eyes scan the dark road as I search for anything familiar. Then I see the exit we took. I veer to the right. Once we get off the exit, I turn left. It feels correct.
I’m wrong.
I backtrack and go to the right. After a few more mis-turns, followed by several correct turns, I spot the warehouse.
I pull into the empty lot, uneven pavement making my car jolt and bounce as I come to a stop.
It appears deserted, but that’s what I thought last time, too.
We get out of the car, and I march toward the doors.
Matthias stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Hold my hand,” he says, offering his open palm.
“Are you scared?”
His face falls flat. “No, but you reek of normie. I’m a witch and can blend. You cannot.”
“Rude,” I mutter. “Do we really need to hold hands? I can’t just stand by your side?”
He chuckles. “What? Is your demon boyfriend going to be jealous?”
“Yes,” I say honestly, thinking back to how Kit always acted around Matthias or if he ever got brought up. Matthias looks absolutely tickled by that answer. I grab his hand with a grumble and pull him along inside.
“It’s empty,” he observes.
“It might just look empty.” I yank him forward. We get halfway into the room before I give up. “Fine. It’s empty.” I drop his hand. “Shit. I have no idea where to even start looking for the Market now.”
“I can ask around,” he offers, already pulling out his phone and typing out a text.
I shrug a thanks. We’re about to exit, but then I spot something on the ground. I bend to pick up the small, white rectangle of cardstock. On it is a handwritten address. Perhaps? I hand the card over to Matthias.
He gives one bob of his head. “Best shot.”
We jog back to my car, plug the address into my GPS, and peel out of the lot.
We end up at another warehouse, this one in Bridgeport.
Again, it looks empty, but I refuse to be discouraged.
I grab Matthias’s hand without him having to prompt me and yank him inside.
This time, we take two steps into the room and are transported to a full, lively market.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, eyes wide as he takes in the space filled with tables upon tables of vendors carrying magical and mystical items. “Whoa, is that pickled beetroot? That’s extremely explosive. Cool.”
“Cool,” I repeat, less enthusiastic.
He points to another table. “And are those chocolate cauldrons, with real potions as fillings? Amazing.”
I drag him along as I search for anything that could be amber blood.
“Why is this place half herbal shop, half craft fair?” he asks, head swinging around as he attempts to take it all in.
“Murderous craft fair,” I respond, still searching for my intended item.
We keep walking, and that’s when I spot someone familiar. A tall demon with green, scaly skin and bright-orange hair. Kit’s friend. What did he call him? Hallett?
Before I know what I’m doing, I drag Matthias up to him and say, “Hi.”
Hallett studies me, curiously not maliciously, which is a start. “You are not Tonkitgrol,” he states matter-of-factly.
“I’m Lacy,” I confirm. “Kit…left. I was wondering if you know where I could find amber blood?”
He raises an eyebrow, scanning me more. Then his gaze shifts to Matthias. “That one is a witch, but”—his eyes flicker back to me—“you are not. And the witch is not very powerful. Whatever you need amber blood for is far out of your depth, I assure you.”
Matthias growls, “I am plenty powerful.”
Hallett looks at him again. “You could be. But not yet.”
“Please,” I say. “We need it for Kit.”
“Then have Tonkitgrol ask me for it himself.” He disappears without another word, as though he had never been standing there to begin with.
Matthias’s eyes bug out of his head at the witness of teleportation. Quicker than expected, he shakes himself back to reality and says, “Well, fuck.”
“We’ll keep looking,” I resign.
We continue wandering through the aisles of the Market. I ask a few more vendors and get told over and over they don’t have it. It’s hard to find. A hot commodity. Out of our depth. I gnaw my lip as I survey the full room, hoping the amber blood has magically appeared. “This is impossible.”
“Could we find a substitute?”
“Potentially. I wonder if…” I trail off when my eyes lock on the second familiar face of the day. Fuck. Then I say it aloud, “Fuck.”
I start pulling Matthias toward the exit, picking up speed.
“What?” he asks urgently as he runs after me. “What’s the problem?”
Before I can answer, I’m halted by the problem himself. “Balores,” I squeak, skidding to a stop, Matthias bumping into my back.
His mouth widens in a sneer. “Miss Groban.”
“Gordon,” I correct without thinking. I swallow, picking up my sweater to show him my tattoo. “You can’t possess me.” My voice trembles, despite every effort I made to keep it steady.
He glares down at the tattoo, eyes full of flames.
“I could cut that off of you, slice away the skin bit by bit until you’re a shredded, bloody mess.
” His eyes flick back to mine. “However, I won’t bother.
You’ve been tainted by a lower demon.” He leans forward until his face is inches from mine.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.
Tonkitgrol will be exceptionally displeased when I take away his favorite human toy. ”
I gulp again, stepping back. “Maybe we don’t play fridge-the-girlfriend?”
He glares, likely not understanding the reference to a literary trope. He grabs me by the collar of my sweater, tugging me forward. “I’ll make it slow.”
I shove him, surprising him, because he lets go. Instinctually, my hand forms a fist and I swing, connecting with his jaw. Balores stumbles slightly, but I don’t think that punch did anything but piss him off.
“Shit,” I swear as I wave my hand to shake off the pain. I take two steps back, reforming my fist, ready to strike again.
Matthias, who has been very quiet during this exchange, shoves his hand in his jacket pocket and thrusts a collection of what looks like dust in Balores’s face, muttering, “Hyacintho flamma.”
Balores steps back in shock before he starts to scream. His face alights with blue flames, burning through his flesh.
“Run!” Matthias yells. He pulls me out of the Market, sprinting until we get to my car. I hop in and gun it, driving away in a tailspin.
As my speed stays far over the limit, tears slip down my face. We’re back to square one.