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Jack exited the chat before Adam could thank him again.
Adam closed the app and scanned the room once more. He didn’t sense anything, and no one seemed interested in him, but he still felt a bit like a spy as he headed for the bus stop.
They might be alive, but Cole, Tristan, and the others didn’t have forever. If their spirits didn’t return, something else might try to take up residence. At least as long as they were at Mercy they were behind the elven wards, which few, if any, human practitioners could crack, but Adam needed information, and he needed it quickly.
He didn’t know how long it might take Jack or Dautre to learn anything he could use, and he didn’t like being wholly dependent on others.
Adam took the bus to South Broadway. The vibe here was everything from hipster-infested coffee shops to older businesses trying to stay afloat. The movie theater where he met Dautre was a few miles north.
The antique mall was one of those places that always felt a little sad, but also hopeful. The discarded pieces of people’s lives mixed with the chance at stumbling across an overlooked treasure. He and Vic had found a few useful pieces here as well as at the thrift store up the road. A careful inspection for bedbugs and a little black spray paint went a long way.
The owners, an old couple named Betty and Bill, ran the place.
Bill was sweeping near the door. He looked up as the electronic bell connected to it dinged twice. Betty sat knitting behind the counter with the register.
Adam gave them both a friendly wave.
They appeared human, but he could see behind their glamours.
The last thing he wanted was a fistfight with a pair of ogres. Eight feet tall, they were a lovely shade of deep purple. Their eyes, bright yellow, were large and slitted, like a cat’s or something reptilian.
Their glamours were solid. The only thing that might give them away was the smell, a sort of old furniture odor, like leather and stuffing left to mold in the rain.
The mall was divided into stalls and booths, each a reflection of the proprietor’s taste. Some of it was just junk. A lot of it was collectibles that Adam’s mom might have liked. One booth was mostly antique dolls, and Adam swore their eyes followed him as he moved toward the stairs at the back.
A makeshift curtain, probably sewn from an old bedsheet and hung from a brass suspension rod, blocked the way. He stepped through and braced for the shift.
The air felt colder, damper, and he was no longer inside. Broad bands of stars crossed the twilight sky. Adam knew from experience that he couldn’t stare too long at them. They’d twist and spin if watched too closely, then laugh and giggle when he grew dizzy and toppled over.
The Night Market wasn’t that different from the antique mall, though it sat outside in the open air, in a bit of spirit realm that tilted more toward true night than the constant emerald twilight.
The market was neutral ground. That didn’t make it safe, but it meant Adam could walk among the stalls without triggering a turf war between the elves and leprechauns, whose quiet, cold war didn’t seem to be improving.
Many of the stalls had cloth coverings, some brightly woven, some of rougher fabric. A few were grown, with leaves and branches worked into a natural awning.
He wished he’d brought Vic, who’d marvel at the sights and admire the food, even though they could not eat it without becoming Lost Ones.
Adam didn’t understand the process exactly, but it had something to do with resonance, that if you took in sustenance or magic from another realm, it changed your frequency and you no longer fit in your own time and place.
One shop sold magic mirrors; the backgrounds behind his reflection were windows to other planes. Some were snowscapes, others a luminous ocean. He couldn’t imagine brushing his teeth with a fiery hellscape for company, or what might peer back at him, so he moved on.
Another stall sold jars, their contents a collection of blinking eyes attached to inky tentacles. Adam didn’t know if they were meant to be pets or food. He didn’t ask.
More ogres, some taller than the shops, ranged through the streets. They carried heavy clubs and wore vests with a crudely drawn sigil embossed on the back, acting as security.
Mixed among the ornate floating lanterns and trinkets was a shop that sold items from the mortal world, most of it snacks, camping gear, or items that the Lost Ones would find useful.
The two proprietors, a pair of imps named Wendy and Joey, perked up as Adam approached. Ruddy-brown with cragged skin that made Adam think of tree bark and large ears that stuck out like knives from the sides of their head, they came as high as his chest, a difference they compensated for by using their bat-like wings to hover at eye level.
“Adam!” they said in unison.
He didn’t know if they were siblings, a couple, or just business partners, but they were chatty, and that was what he needed today.
“Hi!”
“What did you bring us?” Wendy asked, eyeing his backpack with large eyes the color of sea glass.
She wore a very frilly dress that Adam suspected had come from a life-sized girl’s doll.
