“You know there won’t be a fight,” Xander said, readjusting the leather cuffs at his wrists. “Not at the market.” He wanted to press the situation between Axel and Titus, two of his fellow Guardians but knew better than to ask. They were all brothers, chosen not blood, except Axel and Titus who were actually cousins. They grew up together, their bond strong but complicated.
“Yeah, well maybe we will get lucky.” Axel pouted his slightly too full lips. “You may want to put your shades on, the entrance is just ahead.”
Xander reached for his sunglasses, the mirrored aviators protecting his sensitive eyes. He could see perfectly fine, regardless of the level of light, but preferred the darkness. His mother had always told him he had the eyes of the dead, so pale blue they were almost white. His best friend Riley had always thought that comparison was amusing considering his ability.
The Troll Market was the largest underground place to buy weapons, drugs, black spells as well as a few other questionable products and services. While named by the trolls, it was actually run by two Fae High Lords, ruthless bastards who bought and sold whatever they wanted. They had created specialised doorways to the market beneath the largest cemetery in the city, with temperamental portals connecting to other parts of the country. It was cleverly designed, the portals only able to operate if you had the right token, which you could only acquire through some serious money or services. Once you owned a token it would forever follow you, appearing in your wallet, at home or in your car only hours after leaving the market. Convenient really. It kept the police and paladins out, and allowed everyone to sell their wares without risk.
Xander hated it just as much as the cemetery.
“You ready?” Axel asked as he produced the token from his pocket, the small golden coin imprinted with a jawless skull on either side. There were several entrances to the market, including two within the cemetery itself. The one they stood before was a large headstone with three concentric circles, the patterns engraved in each one mismatched. “You first.”
“Fuck off,” Xander snickered. He knew exactly what would happen once they touched the stone.
Standing on the left Axel carefully moved the outer circle, matching the patterns until it clicked into place. His body was rigid, his teeth clenched when Xander pressed his fingers against the second circle, and the heavy vibrations that paralysed Axel shot up his arm like lightning. It was harder to move the middle circle, and the longer it took the worse the pain became.
“Xee?” Axel growled, barely able to release the word.
With a last push Xander pushed the circle into place, completing the pattern. The centre sunk into the headstone, a slot matching the exact same measurements of the token appearing. “Why did we choose this entrance again?” he asked, flexing his hand as the remnants of the lightning wore off.
“Because the other door has a Cockney ghost who talks in riddles,” Axel replied, letting out a sigh as he clicked his neck. “You think you’re smart enough to answer some stupid brainteasers? Because I doubt I could,” he huffed. “Honestly, what is with the Fae and fucking puzzles?”
Xander grunted in acknowledgment. “Can you hurry the fuck up?” He could feel the individual energies of the spirits around him, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore their cries for attention. “I have a date.”
“What, with your hand?” Axel snorted as he inserted the token, and the ground behind the grave opened to reveal stairs. Wooden, crooked and squeaky. Because it was run by Fae folk no iron could pass through any entrance to the Troll Market, which was extended to all metals when one prick decided to hide iron inside a silver blade. It meant dangerous timber stairs and no weapons.
Not that they needed weapons, but blades, guns and anything else sharp and pointy usually made people hesitate before they resorted to violence.
Hundreds of wooden stalls had been set up in the high-ceilinged mausoleum, with loud peddlers pushing their wares. Xander hoped the scowl that was his go-to expression was enough to keep the shopkeepers from hassling them to buy their shit. He didn’t need the skull of a siren to help with his love life, or a kidney, freshly harvested according to the sign.
It was also the place where glamour magic was nulled, which meant everyone who worked and shopped looked exactly like they did when their mother birthed them, or hatched or whatever. It meant there were humanoids with every skin tone in the spectrum, pinks, blacks, greens, blues as well as feathers, scales and more. Fae in general had the most diverse look, the term Fae itself only an umbrella term for those who weren’t born of earth and came from Far Side through the veil.
“Are we here for anything specific?” he asked, eyes scanning across the stalls. Crystals, exotic fruit, armaments and spells that could easily take a life. Assassins stood and sold people their services, succubus’s their bodies in exchange for secrets and bookies sold bets in the fighting pits. The ceiling was decorated with cages, again made from everything but metal, with many holding specialised artefacts that Xander itched to learn, as well as small animals and even a few pixies.
Xander’s attention settled on the only metal allowed in the room, the weapons that were displayed in a carefully protected shield. The bubble around them shimmered, the stall owner the only person able to handle the deadly pieces.
Food, mostly grey in colour was being sold beside him. Flies buzzed hungrily around the meat, a troll trying to convince anyone the food was edible and that the mould was an added delicacy.
“Riley mentioned that activity has increased down here,” Axel said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear as they pushed themselves through the heavy crowd. “There’s a stall selling Daemon horns which he asked us to look at.”
Xander didn’t need to ask where, a sign ahead written in a very friendly blood red stated clearly that they were selling‘The freshest Daemon horns around!’
It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Daemons had started to infiltrate the troll market, the undercity exactly where Breed famous for death and corruption would enjoy. It would only be a matter of time before they made a play for control, and then it would get real interesting.
“You sir, with the sunglasses!” an old woman called, her hand snaking out to wrap around Xander’s wrist. “Druid, please may I read your fortune?”
She looked at him, her single beady eye widening before she released her grip. Reaching up to her shawl she wrapped the fabric tighter around her shoulders, the bright colours at odds to the black velvet of her eyepatch.
“Please, let me read your fortune.” She sat herself back down behind a rickety old table, a large crystal ball in the centre surrounded by tarot cards, discoloured and well used.
Axel crossed his arms beside him, a smile curling his lips as he nudged Xander. “This could be interesting.”
The old woman touched her crystal, the opaque ball brightening between her fingertips. “I can tell you anything you wish to know.”
Her chi brushed against his, powerful but full of death and decay. It felt like pins and needles across his aura, the sensation choking as he fought the memories that tried to resurface.
“Then you would already know I have nothing to pay,” Xander said. The whole undercity had their own currency, the black onyx coins patterned with different creatures depending on their value. The coins known as Ravyns ranged from one-hundred pounds to one-million. The lesser depicting an imp on the polished black crystal, while the highest value was a dragon.
“It’s only a single Ravyn,” she said, pulling up her eyepatch. The dark socket held what looked like a raisin, her eye shrivelled and used from her black magic. “I’m the best there is.”
