Kit pushes off from the dumpster and takes a few steps toward the cars, placing his hands on his hips.
Four large, beefy men get out of the cars. Oh god. He’sabout to get me killed. Or worse. I take deep breaths in an attempt to keep both myself and my body calm. Kit will not be happy if I cause him to hyperventilate again.
“We’re okay,” he murmurs in my void, his voice soothing my nerves. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
Three of the four men are carrying black duffel bags. The biggest and the beefiest steps right in front of Kit, glaring down and eyeing him suspiciously.
“Have the payment, little girl?”
Kit rolls his eyes. “Oh, please.” He pulls a wad of cash out from his boot.
I can’t help asking, “Where did you even get that?”
“Shush,” he hisses in the void.
The man reaches for the cash, but Kit snatches it back and says, “Uh-uh. Not until I see it. Do you have what I’m paying for?”
The three men behind the one he’s speaking to lift the duffel bags up as though that is proof enough.
“Let me check the bags.”
The three men stand there motionless until big-and-beefy gives them a brief nod. One by one, they step forward, flashing Kit a glance inside their bags. In one bag is an assortment of wooden masks, another bag has a bunch of crystals, but I can’t see what’s in the third bag. It appears empty.
However, Kit seems satisfied. He hands over the cash then takes the three duffel bags from the men with a grunt. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says with a little wave in their direction.
We watch them drive off before Kit heads back to the car. He hotwires it again to get the engine going then drives back off into the night.
I figure we’re heading home—it’s already eleven p.m.—but he drives past my exit. Again, I don’t know why I’m surprised. He doesn’t need to sleep unless he’s blackout drunk.
He keeps driving until we are far out of town. We drive down backroads in the middle of nowhere until he pulls off into what comes across as an abandoned warehouse. He parks and strolls into the warehouse through a crooked metal door. It’s empty inside as well. That is, until he is three steps in.
I intake sharply as the scene before me shifts—the once quiet, empty space transforming into one that is crowded and loud. There are people and…andthingseverywhere. Beings roam rows upon rows of booths and tables. Some look human, others humanoid, others…not so much. People are selling and buying items, sampling and offering food.
This is a market. A supernatural market.
As Kit makes his way toward an empty table near the center of the room, I ask in wonderment, “What is this place?”
Kit shuffles behind the table and smooths out the wine-red tablecloth spread on it. “The Black Market.”
“The Black Market?” I repeat skeptically. “The Black Market isn’t a physical place.”
He drops the three duffel bags on the table. “Not always. This is a pop-up.” He opens the bag of crystals first and begins to remove them one by one, lining them up on display and organizing them by type.
The supernatural world has a pop-up Black Market. What’s next? Vegetarian vampires?
Once the crystal bag is empty, he moves on to the one with the wooden masks. Looking at them makes me uncomfortable, like there’s something wrong with them.
“These masks aren’t cursed, are they?” I ask warily.
Kit chooses not to answer, which means,Yes.
Once the masks are lined up on the table, Kit moves on to the bag I thought was empty. He reaches inside and removes…nothing?
“Ball of energy,” Kit explains before I can ask. “Invisible to the human eye, but I can see swirling blue light moving around in thick streams.” He sets it down gently. “It’s stolen from an energy demon. Nasty suckers. They like to take people to whatever location they consider home and then fatally electrocute them. Cruel and unusual.”
My nose wrinkles. “You sound like you admire them.”
“I admire the dedication to a bit.” Kit shoves the duffel bags under the table then takes a seat and surveys the crowd.
