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Ms. Booker had a stall at every supernatural market—it was a great way to drum up new patrons—and we staff members rotated through helping her.
I followed the scent of apple cider donuts as it led me past a fae selling skincare and hair potions, a pumpkin-smashing game run by a troll who helped his customers swing a massive hammer at the ill-fated squashes, and a wizard who was using her fire magic to roast ears of sweet corn before dipping them in a vat of melted butter.
I slowed down, however, when I passed by a stand of handmade leather goods.
Wallets stamped with werewolf designs, journals with unicorns and dragons embossed on the covers, knife sheaths, and belts that were studded with different metals for ornamentation were carefully arranged on a table or hung from a wire rack on the side.
What I noticed was what could only be described as a necklace.
It was thin—maybe about as wide as my thumbnail—and was dyed black. It was inconspicuous, and had a magnetic buckle as a fastener.
There was something about the sleek, minimalistic design that reminded me of the collar-necklace Noctus had put on me, even though the two looked nothing alike.
My collar—a lacy thing with three pomegranate red gems on it—had cemented a bond between us—one Noctus had taken off me before I left Calor Villa.
He’d slipped the collar in my backpack before I left, and I had unknowingly taken it with me.
It was currently stuffed in a pocket of the backpack I was carrying. I didn’t have the heart to put it on—it wouldn’t reconnect even if I did, so it would only remind me of what I’d left—but I also was too stubborn to just leave it in my apartment.
“Do you want to see it?”
I jumped where I stood, surprised by the comment—people usually didn’t notice me—then guiltily swiveled to face the seller. He was a werewolf—very evident by his wide shoulders and the arm muscles that stood out under his t-shirt, along with his amber colored eyes that screamed “predator.” But despite his slightly grizzled hair and beard, there was a genuineness to his eyes that let me relax.
“No, but thank you.” I tried to smile. “Your work is very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” The werewolf tilted his head, and I could tell he was trying to scent me out by the way his nostrils flared. “But are you sure you don’t want me to get the necklace off the rack for you? You seemed drawn to it. It might be a bit big for you, though.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of it for myself. He has a much bigger neck, though, so I think it would fit him okay,” I confessed before I realized what I was saying and clammed up.
Woah, whatamI thinking? I might have hope that maybe somehow things will work out, but hoping and buying Noctus a necklace are two totally different things.
The werewolf seller rested his hands on his table and opened his mouth to respond to my spontaneous confession.
Unwilling to embarrass myself anymore, I hurriedly blurted out, “Thanks again, but no thanks, enjoy the market,” and lunged at the next stall.
It wasn’t until I was two stands down that my heartbeat started to return to normal and I could breathe again. Relieved, I peered at the new stall I stood in front of.
It had a small, innocuous sign that was printed on copier paper and laminated. “Life Advice?” I read, slightly confused.
A woman sat behind the stall, seated on a folding chair and a thick cushion. She was reading a paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice and had a bookmark pinched between her fingers.
She was beautiful with delicate facial features and silky black hair that was pulled back in a clip, and she was wearing a blue and white kimono that had a sea motif with bright red flowers to contrast.
She must be a vampire, I thought as I studied her clothes.
Given vampires’ near immortality, they didn’t usually follow modern fashion and wore whatever they felt comfortable in—usually something historical. Aristide and the Drake Family were the only vampires I knew of who followed modern convention when it came to clothes.
My guess was proved correct when the woman removed her reading glasses and glanced up at me, revealing dark red eyes.
“Yep, life advice,” she confirmed.
I slightly bowed my head—this vampire was out in the middle of the day, a time vampires usually avoided as daylight made them ill, which meant she was probably very powerful. “You must be very wise,” I said.
“Not really.” The vampire tapped her fingers on her book’s cover. “But history—and general behaviors—are cyclical. They repeat. You live as long as I have, and you see repeat after repeat, and all the reboots you never wanted but got anyway. We’re still making the same mistakes everyone was making hundreds of years ago.”
Thinking of all that I’d encountered over the spring and summer, I grimaced. “I can see how that would be true.”
She arched both her eyebrows at me. “In that case, it’s you who are the wise one.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re the clerk that was working the Book Nookery stand, aren’t you?”
