Wicked Blood (Dark Fae Hollows) by Margo Bond Collins & Rebecca Hamilton & Charmed Legacy & Dark Fae Hollows

Author:Margo Bond Collins & Rebecca Hamilton & Charmed Legacy & Dark Fae Hollows [Bond Collins, Margo]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Bathory Gate Press
Published: 2017-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“We need to get to the market first,” Sorin announced as he headed out the door.

I scurried to keep up with him. “It’s open? I thought you said it was a Night Market.”

“Well, now it’s the Day Market.”

It didn’t take us long to get there—Sorin really had led me around in a circuitous route last night. As we walked through the market, I ducked my head down, avoiding eye contact. It probably made me look guiltier than I might otherwise, but it was the only thing I knew to hide my features.

Although many of the permanent stalls were the same, the overall character of the Day Market was entirely different from the Night Market. Piles of silk remained, as did a couple of the booths housing metal for sale, but gone were the blood whores and the antiques—both designed to appeal to vampires who needed sustenance and missed the old days—and in their place were more food stalls for humans and shifters, along with at least two stalls with nothing but spices.

It was one of the spice stalls that Sorin stopped. If I remembered correctly, it had held antiques the night before—things made by machine rather than hand back in a time before magic destroyed most of the world and the Fae Queen had split us into Hollows.

Something about the antiques niggled at the back of my unconscious mind. Something about the vampires, too. I was distracted from trying to figure out what it was that was trying to get through to my conscious thoughts by the sight of Sorin leaning over to plant a kiss on the cheek of the young woman running the stall. A flash of hot, red jealousy ran through my abdomen at the sight, flaring up into my chest. I blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity of it.

He’s not mine, I reminded myself. I barely know him, and we have no romantic entanglement.

I couldn’t afford that kind of emotional connection right now.

I realized that I’d gone almost fifteen minutes without the crushing thought of Maicǎ’s death overwhelming me. Tears welled up in my eyes, now, though.

No grief until after.

“I saw one of the posters,” the young woman was saying to Sorin. “It’s a good likeness, but it won’t take long to make a few changes.”

Swiftly, she wrapped up several packets of spices and, pulling a sheet of rough, homemade paper out from a box beneath the stall table, she wrote out instructions with the tiny nub of a pencil. “Go here, and tell Esmeralda that I sent you. She can help.” She glanced at the sack he carried, the one holding his purchases from the night before. “And take this.” She handed him a backpack.

“Thanks, Allessia.” He placed his items into the backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “You’re the best.”

Throughout these exchanges, the woman had done little more than glance at me. This time, though, she turned her full stare on me. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then her eyes rolled back in her head.

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