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“You seem to be enjoying your job lately.”
“I am. I think I needed an outlet.” She opened the doors and they climbed out of the car.
Adam followed her into the hollow, a low place in the spirit realm. Twilight shifted to true night and Argent dropped some of her glamour, keeping enough of it to protect him.
Her sword, double-edged and heavy, appeared on her back as her suit morphed into something like black tactical gear, telling him she meant business. Cold magic washed over him as she dressed Adam in similar clothing: black jeans and a deep gray T-shirt beneath a stiff jacket made out of something synthetic and glossy.
He shifted, adjusting to its weight. None of the clothing was as light as he expected.
“Carbon fiber,” she explained. “I told you that you needed armor. This will suffice for most things.”
“No helmet?”
“There’s a hood.”
The sword settled onto his back.
Still wearing her sunglasses, she cast him a glance, but he didn’t question the weapon’s return.
All he needed was a cape, a cowl, and a utility belt and he’d have this year’s Halloween costume settled.
The ogres had not returned, and the market still wore the wounds of the banshee attack. Some stalls were empty, the keepers having cleared out. He’d never seen the place crowded, but now it felt abandoned, a bit like a ghost town or a dying mall.
The few browsers gave Argent a wide berth. The shopkeepers lurked behind their counters, but sensing drama, they peeked or leaned out as Argent and Adam passed by, curious and ready to watch the show.
Wendy and Joey’s stall stood ahead.
Joey’s eyes went wide. Wendy’s darted from side to side.
“Please try to run,” Argent said with a grin.
She lifted her hand to clasp the hilt of her sword.
“We didn’t do anything,” Wendy barked.
She flew to hover above the countertop.
The warlock wound opened in Adam’s chest. It snarled, hungry as it sensed his anger. The market was trashed. The ogres were dead, and the imps were playing games.
“We know about the soul bottles,” Adam growled. “And we know about Cole.”
“What?” Wendy asked. “Who?”
“The buyer. Big human, green hair,” Adam added.
Joey shrank back.
“If you reach for that shotgun, or anything else behind that counter, I’ll fold your clothes with you inside them.”
Joey squeaked and raised his hands. Wendy shot him a disgusted look.
“Who else did you sell them to?” Argent asked.
Wendy cut her eyes at him, closing them to slits.
“Tell us,” Adam said. “You owe me.”
“I told you I wouldn’t pay you for the protein bars.”
