As a result, I only felt slightly on edge as the three of us edged our way down Main Street, observing the human organized Holiday Bazaar that cluttered up downtown. (Despite Magiford’s Christmas decorations being up and on display, American Thanksgiving was still a little less than two weeks away.)
“Are we here to make the humans feel like supernaturals are contributing to society and extending friendship, or because the Cloisters think this…bazaar is a hotbed of crime?” Considine asked.
We passed by a stall set in front of a grooming salon that had dog sweaters, collars with bow ties, and a table they’d been using for grooming demonstrations earlier in the day. (A passing werewolf, who was walking faster than us and headed toward the part of Main Street that didn’t have any stalls but was filled with cars as everyone was heading back to their vehicles to get home, paused just in front of us just long enough to incredulously eye a dog sweater that had a white wolf knitted into the fabric.)
“The former,” I said, passing underneath an evergreen wreath attached to a streetlight. “It’s for show. Generally, Magiford supernaturals know better than to prey upon humans, and we don’t bother patrolling human events. But Sarge thought this would be a good starter patrol for you, and it’s not a bad ideaconsidering the wizards of House Tellier proved supernaturals will stray.”
Our peaceful coexistence with humans counted on them believing we were harmless and friendly. While the different supernaturals didn’t necessarily get along well, we were united in the knowledge that we had to keep humans convinced they didn’t need to fear us.
Not that there weren’t stupid supernaturals who still tried to take advantage of humans, or that supernatural conflict sometimes splashed over into human interests, but that was why the task force had been created.
Brody sneezed, then groaned as we walked past a mostly dismantled stall of strong-smelling candles that filled the air with the smell of cinnamon, balsam fir, and sage. “Why are humans so obsessed with smelly scents?” He plugged his nose, giving him a nasally pitch to his rumbly voice.
“They don’t have as strong of senses.” I smiled—belatedly remembering they wouldn’t see it with my face hidden by my slayer mask—at a cluster of humans that passed us on the sidewalk, likely heading back to their car.
The bazaar was almost finished—there were just a few customers left and stores were taking their goods inside and closing up for the night.
“Tell me about it,” Brody grumbled. “I went to a gym last week. I gagged and almost choked from the overwhelming scent of BO.”
I was delighted Brody was discussing a non-work related topic—it was a good sign for my friendship campaign. Before I could respond, I was distracted by the sight of an elderly dwarf.
Dwarves were a rarer type of supernatural, only a handful of which lived within Magiford. Despite their rarity, their skills with weapon forging, architecture, and creating jewelry pieces that could be successfully turned into magical artifacts for faegave them enough wealth to be fairly prominent in supernatural society. This dwarf was carrying a wooden crate as big of his torso that was filled with newly purchased, glass Christmas ornaments. He was also headed out of the bazaar and likely toward his car.
If he drove here…do dwarves drive?I knew as little about dwarves as I did about fae—my supernatural knowledge as a slayer focused on vampires, wizards, and werewolves as those made up most of my family’s contract targets.
When we reached the edge of the bazaar, I stopped. “Since we’re supposed to be patrolling downtown for the next half hour, we should cross the street and walk back through the bazaar again.”
Considine—dressed similarly to Brody in that they were both wearing the task force’s navy blue, long-sleeved winter uniform but didn’t have any of the extra layers I had on underneath my uniform—ignored the boutique worker who was gaping at him, taken with his vampire looks. “Fine. I don’t know what the sergeant was so worried about. This is similar to what I did on my own before joining the task force, just done in public instead of sticking to the shadows—which is a mistake. Shadow stalking is better for tactical reasons.”
“No, it’s different,” I said. “We stop supernatural crime. We don’t beat up supernaturals we dislike the look of.”
“I beg your pardon, I didn’t senselessly beat supernaturals just because I dislike their appearance,” Considine said. “It was also because they annoyed me.”
We arenevergoing to turn him into the upstanding citizen task force members are supposed to be, I wearily concluded.
I watched a muscled woman—a werewolf, I could tell by her yellow eyes—stroll down the sidewalk across the street, heading away from the bazaar and toward the part of Main Street thatwas practically a parking lot. “As I said, it’s different. Very different.”
“It’s different because a bunch of fuss budgets run the Cloisters,” Considine said. “Also, I didn’t have tosmile.”
“We’re symbols of the Curia Cloisters,” I said. “We have to be approachable and friendly.”
“That’s very fine for you to say, you get to wear your slayer mask,” Considine said. “I don’t understand why you get to wear a mask, but my request to use my enchanted hood was refused.”
I looked back over my shoulder and scanned the bazaar. The owner of the food truck selling sugared nuts was turning off lights and dismantling signs that listed Christmas flavors. “I don’t show my face as a safety precaution.”
Considine mulled my response over, then nodded. “That’s acceptable—since it’s you.”
Brody eyed him, then drew close enough to mutter to me, “How much do you wanna bet that upper management refused his request because they wanted to parade his pretty face out and get good PR?”
I was mute with shock. Not over the idea—there was a good chance he was right. But because Brody was talking to me as if we were friends.
I desperately wanted to befriend my squad, but they treated me with a kind of respect that I knew was complimentary, but also drew a line between us I had been unsuccessful in breaching.
Unfortunately, my surprise gave Brody enough time to remember who he was talking to. He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
Wait, no, I think you’re right, too, and that it’s funny!
With all of those words mixing around my brain, what came out of my mouth was “Right.”
