Celia nods. “To take to his mom. He’s a good lad.”
Lad.That makes my lips twitch. “Did you know him when he was a boy, Celia?”
“Sure did, since he was a wee orcling. Always polite, always kind. Quiet and studious. We hoped after his father died, he’d find a good mate to share that big house with, but that damn sprite took advantage of him, used him up, then cast him aside. I guess he swore off women after that.” She casts me a sly glance. “But maybe you can change his mind.”
“Oh, no.” A giggle escapes me. “I’m just, you know, helping him get organized.”
“And I wasn’t born yesterday, honey.” Celia winks at me, and her whiskers twitch comically. She gets up and picks me a flower from an array in a large pot, places it behind my ear. “There.Pretty as a picture. It’s lovely to have a human living down here of their own free will.” She smiles.
“How do you mean?”
“I can tell by looking at your neck.” She moves closer and adds, “And that gives us all hope.”
I am about to ask her to elaborate when she gives my arm a pat. “Off you go and buy those berries. Best stall is Betty’s, she’s a brownie. Can’t miss her, she always wears a bright red beret. She gets the pick of the crop from our orchards.”
“Thank you, Celia,” I say, deciding now is not the time to start quizzing the neighbors. “And for the flower, too.” I touch my ear, beam at her, and hurry off down the street swinging my basket.
I spend a happy hour wandering through the stalls brimming with products.
These monsters are amazing creators, something we humans have all but forgotten how to be. There are homemade pots in bright colors, and tapestries the likes of which I’ve never seen, so detailed and intricate are the designs. There are knitted beanies with holes for ears, which are just adorable, and clothing to fit all different shaped species, with various gaps for wings and legs and tails. Patchwork quilts are hung up on show, and jewelry and beads are being picked over by small dragons searching for the brightest, most sparkly find.
I get to the fruit and vegetable stalls and marvel at their size and color. It’s so hard to imagine they can grow just under lumen lights.
I buy punnets of blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries from Betty. It’s tempting to pop some in my mouth, but I know if I start, I’ll never stop.
Luckily, Betty hands me a small punnet and waves away my coins. “For free, to eat now.” She smiles.
I’m meandering around, popping berries in my mouth, when I see a figure in jeans and a leather jacket, sitting on a black motorbike at the edge of the brightly lit stalls. His visor is over his face, but I know who it is.
“Jax,” I call out.
His head tilts, and even though I can’t see his face behind the visor, I sense he is looking straight at me. I wave and advance toward him, but suddenly he revs his bike, spins the wheels and hightails off in the other direction.
That’s weird.
I stand perplexed, staring after the plume of exhaust disappearing down a side tunnel.
I’m certain Jax saw me—so why didn’t he come over and greet me?
Why would he take off in the other direction?
I thin my lips, resisting the urge to follow him. Otis said not to go anywhere else.
Bloody Jax. But then it occurs to me that maybe he’d been visiting Tippy and didn’t want me to catch him.
That would be so like Jax, dark horse that he is.
There’s one person who could confirm that for me. Tippy.
I pop the last of my berries in my mouth and head over to Digger’s Diner. Inside, it’s buzzing with folks eating, drinking, and chatting.
Tippy is at the counter, whizzing up smoothies in a vitamizer. She looks up and beams at me.
I locate a stool that’s about right for my height at the counter. A small golden furred creature with a long tail like a squirrel is sitting on a high stool, next to a monster with green scales and veined wings furled at its sides. The green smoothie in its claws is the same color as its scales.
Tippy grins at me. “Want one?” she asks, pointing to the mix in her blender.
“Sure, I won’t let Jax put me off.” I grin.
