Inside the Farmer’s Market, the mood was more boisterous. Voices echoed as men shouted back and forth. Under ordinary circumstances, I’d spend hours browsing through the stalls, admiring the home-grown produce, the jars of honey with hand-written labels. Checking out the gaily wrapped bakery items—cookies, pastries. Small cakes.
But despite the ambiance, nerves tingled beneath my skin. Every species in Westvale had their own agenda. Even with Anson’s wards, he had no control over who hid in the crowds. The roads were public. We lived in a human world unused to the concerns of the Others.
And my knowledge of witches was limited to the ones I’d met, most of whom were now dead. The woman with her booth in the Farmer’s Market could belong to the scattered Gemini coven. Feel vindictive, since their primary seers were dead and the cave collapsed into rubble. If she was also a seer, she’d know that I did it. She might pry into my past. See my future. Taste my emotions and use them against me.
The only saving grace was knowing she had no ability to read my thoughts.
Only pretend that she did.
Light faded through the greenhouse glass of the Farmer’s Market, a consequence of shortened winter days and storm clouds moving in again. Strings of overhead party lights worked to chase away the gloom.
With the witch’s booth hidden at the far end of the space, getting there meant pushing through cluttered aisles. I tried not to sneeze when the scent of floral candles turned thick, fighting against the spice-covered pinecones in an adjacent booth. Haggling conversations over prices blended with good-natured rivalries over the playoff games and which teams were going to dominate.
A boy wearing a slouched shirt bumped against me and said, “Want some fun?”
I peered at the baggie in his hand. “Are those brownies legal?”
The kid’s smile was sly. “Try them and find out.”
“I’d rather not have the headache,” I said sweetly. Sidestepped when he wouldn’t move.
His fingers snagged my coat. “I got other stuff.”
With a subtle hand flick, I let a spark fly in his direction. Smiled when he yelped.
The red-faced man who’d been sorting through mason jars filled with white liquor glared from behind his counter.
“Static electricity is wild right now,” I said brightly. “I’m zapping everything.”
The shop keeper scowled like the elders I’d met in Sentinel Falls. I gestured to the jars he was still touching.
“I might get some of that on my way out.”
For a moment, the man said nothing. Then his gaze skimmed past me and over the boy, who took that as his cue to disappear.
I shrugged and said breezily, “Kids. I was once that young.”
The shop keeper huffed and turned to another customer. I glanced around. Hanging in the booth across from the white liquor display were small gold cages. Birds chirped, their heads cocking, wings twitching with a mechanical rhythm. A nymph stood behind her counter, flowing red hair brushing her waist. The diaphanous gown reminded me of Aine’s gowns, as did the little birds in rainbow colors.
“You made these?”
The nymph gestured with long, graceful fingers. “You like?”
I bit my lip, swallowing back the delight. An image of Aine, with the orange, curly-winged bird in her hair, burst into my mind. These little birds, animated by a key and winding mechanism, were near replicas of the real thing. But underneath was the feather-brush of an enchantment—what really kept the birds chirping.
I should have expected it, since nymphs had more magic than they needed in a modern world; like the other species living in human spaces, they’d learned how to profit off their skills.
“I keep forgetting about nymphs.”
She arched a brow. “But you know Caerwen and Effa.”
“I meant about seeing them mingle in the human world,” I said with an irreverent smile. “And how they love to gossip. I didn’t think you’d know me.”
“We all know you.”
“And you don’t have trouble with the shrinking?”
She blinked, her black eyes glittering, and I forced a laugh. “Sorry, bad joke.”
