The local police would close off Main Street for the day, and supernaturals were encouraged to set up stalls and bring produce and goods to sell. Except—since we’re supernaturals—those good could be anything from a fae potion to make your hair silky to a wizard frying corn dogs over an open flame.
This gave the humans a chance to see and purchase supernatural goods, and get them mixing with us in a fun way that wouldn’t at all be confrontational or let them know how dangerous supernaturals really were.
Basically, the market was a PR move.
But I wasn’t certain the market assured humans we were all cute, harmless beings as I admired a stall of knives—both hunting knives and some really fantastic kitchen knives—run by a werewolf.
“Oohhh, hey, Rigel. Want your picture taken with a giant pumpkin? Looks like a fae spelled it to grow extra big.” I pointed to the stand where a pumpkin the size of a small car was set up on a white drop cloth so people could take selfies with it.
Rigel stared at me.
“WellIthink it looks fun.” I rolled my eyes and moved on to the next stand—a fae selling soaps and low-grade potions.
The fae had been staring at Whiskers and Kevin with terror in his eyes, but when he met my gaze he hastily folded in a deep bow.
I wove around a scarecrow the city had set up to decorate the base of a streetlight, and passed by another row of stalls—a naiad selling sushi, some trolls with a cartload of organic vegetables, a wizard selling slivers of what he claimed was a wizard House that had been destroyed a few decades ago, a werebear that was selling knitted scarves and gloves that were lined with fur, and a werewolf selling what she swore were toy bows, but they came with arrows that looked awfully pointy for being a toy.
A couple pushing a stroller passed me when we reached the end of the market and stopped.
“See anything you liked?” Indigo asked me. She was watching two mermaids sitting in dunk tanks who were performing the most incredible duets.
“I saw a fae stall with some dog biscuits—I’ll want to visit that right before we go,” I said.
“Should I go get our baked goods, then?”
“Sounds good. Here—take cash.” I dug my wallet out of my pants pocket—I was super casual today with blue jeans and a flannel shirt. I was a little hot, but if we were going to the fall market, I was going to celebrate like it was fall!
“They have the chip scanner thingie,” Indigo said. “Most of the sellers here do.”
“Yeah, but those things have a surcharge and eat into a seller’s profits,” I said.
Indigo squinted at me. “Has anyone told you that you’re cheap?”
“I’m being an informed consumer!”
Indigo took the cash and disappeared into the swirl of the crowd.
Kevin reached the end of his short leash and sniffed a rustic barrel the city had planted flowers in while Whiskers panted and peered up at the gargoyle statues settled into the sides of the city police department.
I, however, was drawn to a stand run by the only vampire in the whole market.
“Life Advice?” I read the sign.
“Yep,” the vampire said. She had a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of her small nose and was holding a worn paperback book. Her hair was ink black, and though her eyes were red it was obvious she was Japanese due to her beautiful dusty orange kimono, which was emblazoned with a beautiful white and black crane.
Her outfit wasn’t that surprising. Given vampires near immortality, fashion wasn’t a concern for them, and they typically wore whatever garb they felt most comfortable in.
But the vampire herself was unusual because supernatural markets—or at least the ones I had been to—weren’t typically the vampire scene. Vampires didn’t like being out in the daylight since it made them weak, and most of them were way too snobby—like fae nobles—to even consider coming.
Intrigued, I drew a little closer to the stand, tugging on the leashes so Kevin and Whiskers followed. “You sell life advice? How?”
“You live as long as I do, you will seeit all,” the vampire drawled. “That’s the thing about life. Humans, supernaturals, doesn’t matter. We make the same mistakes over and over. History endlessly repeats itself even if the names and players change.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I held out a ten dollar bill—which was the middle tier of advice according to her prices listed on her sign. “What advice do you have for me?”
“That depends, do you want romantic advice, financial advice, career advice—you name it, I’ll do it.” The vampire gracefully gestured to the pamphlets she had sitting on her table.
I scanned the list. “Advisor’s choice?” I asked.
