Marlena slanted a glance in his direction. At first she thought he was pulling her leg, but then she saw the sincerity on his face and realized he was dead serious. “It's not a plant.”
He shot her a puzzled look. “You don't meanâ”
“Of course I do.” The way his jaw dropped nearly made her laugh. “You've never met a demon before?”
“A couple times,” he replied, sounding defensive. “But reapers usually don't run in the same circles.”
This was true. As a rule, most non-humans steered clear of the agents of Death. Sensing one nearby meant someone was about to die, and most thought it was better to vacate the area to ensure it wasn't your soul they'd come to collect.
“So how do you get the horn?” he asked.
“I buy them from a guy I know.” Demon horns were similar to those of a rhinocerosâif cut or broken, they grew back in a year or two. When ground into a fine powder, the horn gave Cassie's spells enough of a boost to overpower almost any dark magic. Some cash-strapped demons were willing to sell theirs, but demand far exceeded supply. “It's expensive, but it beats the alternative.”
“Which is what?”
“Tracking down a demon and holding him still long enough to break off one of his horns.”
Adam's eyes got all big. “You've done that?”
“Once or twice, when I was in a bind.” Okay, three times, but who's counting? Each time, the demon in question had tried to take her money without giving anything in return. And for that, she'd taught them a valuable lesson about the dangers of trying to cheat a shifter. It wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't pretty, but sometimes you had to send a message.
Leaning his shoulder against a scrub pine, Adam raked his gaze over the length of Marlena's body. “No offense, but you don't look strong enough to overpower a demon.”
She got that a lot, which was fine by her. Winning a fight wasn't nearly as hard when your opponent pegged you for a pushover. “Judge me by my size, do you?”
Adam's mouth went slack. “Did you just throw out a Yoda quote?”
“I don't know. Did you just catch it?”
He stared at her for a second or two before barking out a laugh. “Okay, so we're both Star Wars geeks. But I'm still having a difficult time imagining you wrangling a demon.”
“Believe what you want, I'm not here to impress you.” She zipped the bag full of pawpaw closed and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Come on, let's go. The market closes at six, and I don't want to get there too late.”
Chapter 7
“F
lea World?” Adam cast a sideways look in Marlena's direction as they drove through the main gate. The outside walls were painted in a garish red, orange, and yellow striped pattern that reminded him of a circus tent. He'd driven by the market at least a hundred times before but had never actually gone inside.
“Where else am I going to find demon horn? It's not like they stock it at Walmart.”
Well, she had a point there. Billed as the world's largest flea market with over a thousand booths, you could get a beer, a pet, a haircut, a tattoo, plants, T-shirts, tires, antiques, lingerie, video games, and God only knew what else. All under one roof.
Marlena pulled into a spot between a minivan and a rusted-out pickup, cut the engine, and pocketed the keys. “Freddie's not the trusting type, so don't be surprised if he starts acting squirrelly,” she told him as she stepped out of the car.
“And Freddie would be the black market demon horn dealer?”
“Among other things.” She studied him over the roof of the car, her sunglasses making it difficult to gauge her expression. “Were you ever a cop?”
During his time on the force, he'd mostly worked undercover, and since that cover had never been blown, the question caught him by surprise. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “I don't know. Something about the way you looked just now screamed âpolice.' ”
Adam swallowed hard, pushing back at the memories of his final few weeks on the force. The horrors he'd witnessed. The bloodshed. The loss of lives, including his own. A sharp, bitter taste flooded his mouth, and he swallowed that back as well. “I used to be one, when I was human.”
Her eyebrows rose over the top of her glasses. “Where? Chicago?”
“Does it matter?”
“Just curious. We don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.” She nodded to the left. “We better get going before Freddie closes down for the weekend.”
Adam fell in line beside her as they walked into the market. For a short woman, she took long, fast strides, forcing him to maintain a brisk pace to keep up with her. She shoved her sunglasses on top of her head, and he couldn't help but notice how her eyes continually scanned her surroundings. Good. Last he heard, her assailants were still on the loose, and it was wise for her to be on the lookout for the men who'd locked her in a cage.
If he had his way, she'd stay safe and secure inside Cassie's house until the bastards were in custody. Every instinct inside him screamed to hunt them down, set up a trap ...
something
. But his responsibilities as a reaper made that impossible. Until the problem with Samuel was resolved, the best he could do was to protect her during the times they were together.
With the metal roof, it was hotter than Hell inside, and his T-shirt stuck to his skin in a matter of seconds. Overhead misting fans did their best to cool the air, but in the dead of summer it was about as effective as putting a Band-Aid over a shotgun wound. But the stifling-hot air didn't stop folks from crowding the aisles. The place was packed with people from every walk of life, all of them eager to find a good bargain.
He appreciated the fact that Marlena hadn't pushed him for details about his life as a cop. After everything that happened, he preferred not to talk about it, especially with someone he'd just met. Then again, at times he got the crazy feeling like he'd known the woman forever. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't explain the connection, but his four years as a reaper had shown him a lot of weird shit that defied all reason.
“Freddie's booth is at the front of row P,” Marlena said as they passed a booth selling action figures and used DVDs. Across the aisle, a young woman haggled with a vendor over a T-shirt that read “Proud To Be A Redneck.”
“So how do you want to play this?” Adam asked after he veered around a mother pushing a stroller.
“Stay near the front of the booth, and try not to say anything to him directly. He spooks easy, and having a reaper inside his shop will make him twitchy.”
They turned the corner, passing a place hawking cheap sunglasses and fake gold grills for your teeth. The smell of hot grease from the nearby concession stand mixed with the incense burning a couple booths over, soaking the air with a pungent aroma that came close to making Adam gag.
“Does the food here come with complimentary indigestion?” he asked.
Marlena laughed. “The funnel cakes are actually pretty good. I'll buy you one on the way out.”
The thought of eating anything from this place made his stomach churn. “No, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” She wove a path down the aisle until they reached a shop selling exotic birds and reptiles.
The store stretched across the length of four booths, with an impressive variety of animals. A large cage at the front held two beautiful blue-and-yellow macaws, while rows of glass tanks along the back wall housed snakes, lizards, turtles, and frogs. An attached garage behind one of the booths was stocked with shelves of pet supplies. To the left, a tall, lanky black man was busy giving care instructions to a guy who'd just purchased a bearded dragon. The customer was huge and heavily tattooed, with so many piercings he looked like he'd fallen down a flight of stairs while carrying a tackle box.
“And don't forget to dust the mealworms twice a week with a calcium supplement,” the vendor told the guy. His voice carried a Jamaican accent so heavy it sounded like he just got off the boat. There was a distinct pulse of immortality to his life force, although Adam couldn't pin down the type. “If you have any questions, just give me a callâmy number's on the card.”
The guy lumbered off with his newly purchased pet and two shopping bags loaded with supplies. Marlena waited until the customer was a few booths away before approaching the vendor. Back straight, shoulders squared. Chin tipped up. Apparently, she wasn't going for the soft and cozy approach.
“Hey, Freddie, long time no see.”
As soon as Freddie caught sight of Marlena, the smile fell away from his face. “Aw, shit. I don't want no trouble.”
She tilted her head to the left. “Now why would there be any trouble, Freddie? I just came here for a little demon horn.”
The vendor's lips pursed as if he was trying to determine the true nature of Marlena's visit. His gaze flicked in Adam's direction while he ran a hand over his freshly shaved scalp. “If you don't want no trouble, then why'd you bring a reaper?”
Marlena waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don't worry about him. He's cool, I promise. Now how much can you sell me?”
Apparently, the promise of a sale outweighed Freddie's apprehension over a reaper being in his shop. He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, his posture visibly relaxing. “I don't know. Let me check my inventory.”
After hiking up his sagging pants, he shuffled to a counter inside the garage. An old school cash register sat on top of the counter, with a small aquarium filled with hermit crabs in front of it. He rummaged through a drawer beneath the register for a few seconds before grabbing a dingy canvas sack.
“This is all I got,” he said as he untied the bag. “You brought cash?”
“Of course.” She sounded offended by the question. “How much for how much?”
He pulled out a large chunk of something blackish gray and placed it on the counter. “Five hundred.”
Marlena barked out a laugh that said exactly what she thought of the price. “That's ridiculous. I'll give you one fifty.”
“Oh no, little shifter,” Freddie said with a chuckle. “Do you know how hard it is to find quality horn these days? The lowest I can go is four hundred.”
“For that much, I'll hunt one down myself. Two twenty-five.”
Freddie's eyes narrowed. “Two seventy-five.”
She stared at Freddie for a second or two before giving him a curt nod. “Deal, but only if you throw in ajar of catnip. Cassie's almost out.”
He smiled, flashing a hint of fang. “No problem. You want a bag for that?”
“Nah, just the receipt in case security busts my chops for shoplifting.” She glanced over her shoulder at Adam, a look of triumph on her face as she tossed him the chunk of demon horn. “Keep a hold of that, will you?”
It was the size of his thumb and surprisingly light, with tiny shallow grooves running along the smooth surface. He tucked the horn into the front pocket of his jeans.
“So,” Marlena said while Freddie scribbled out a receipt. She leaned an elbow on the counter. “Who's been buying all of your demon horn?”
Freddie paused his scribbling long enough to glance up at Marlena, his nose scrunched up like he'd just smelled something bad. “You know I can't tell you that. It would be bad for business.”
“Freddie.” In all his days, Adam had never heard so much menace put into one single word. The temperature in the booth seemed to shoot up another ten degrees as Marlena's face turned harder than granite. “I need to know. It's important.”
The vendor stopped writing, reaching back to scrub a hand against the side of his neck. “Come on, pretty shifter. You said you weren't here to make trouble.”
“I'm not. All I need is a little information so the reaper doesn't lose his temper. Isn't that right, slick?”
Following her lead, Adam shot the guy his best don't-fuck-with-me look. He had no idea what the guy thought reapers could do, but obviously, it wasn't pleasant. “Just answer the lady's question.”
Freddie's gaze went from Marlena to Adam and back to Marlena again. “Fine,” he said with a huff of resignation. “I sold a few pieces two weeks ago to a witch from Bushnell. Kind of tall. Curvy.” He made an hourglass shape with his hands. “Hold on, I'll see if I have her name.”
He opened a drawer and grabbed what looked like an old address book. Time seemed to drag while he riffled through the pages until he finally found what he was searching for. “Ah. Here it is. Mistress Zoe was her name. She bought three pieces. Paid cash.”
Marlena looked disappointed but covered it quickly, giving Freddie a pat on the arm. “See, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Let me know the next time you get a shipment of rue in. Cassie's starting to run low.”
As she turned to leave, she motioned for Adam to follow. He fell in line with her steps, ignoring the nearby vendor barking out a sales pitch for a home security system.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Adam asked once they were halfway down the aisle.
“Just curious to see who else was in the market for horn,” she said, her eyes busy scanning the area. The crowds in the market were starting to thin, and some of the dealers were already closing up shop.
“Do you know who Mistress Zoe is?”
“Oh, yeah.” She sounded far from impressed. “She's a witch, and not a very good one. Mostly, she deals in love potions and shit like that.”
“Could she be the one who put the whammy on my associate?”
Marlena pursed her lips as if mulling it over. “I suppose it's possible, but I doubt it. I'll have Cassie give her a call, though, and see what she's up to.”
“Sounds good.” As they walked past the concession stand, he considered buying a funnel cake, but then he remembered something the vendor had said. “Why was Freddie so afraid of me?”
“Because you're a reaper.”
He stared at her for a few beats. “Care to expand on that?”
She looked up at him as if the answer was something he should already know. “In case you haven't noticed, you guys have a bad reputation. Folks generally don't like to mess around with something if they know it can suck out their soul.”
Well, that explained a lot. But it wasn't like reapers ran around harvesting souls for shits and giggles. It was a grueling profession, one he and his associates took seriously, and not every reaper made it through with their sanity intact. Just look at what had happened a couple years ago with the reapers who'd snapped and gone rogue. In the end, twenty-nine of his kindred were lost, including two that he considered close friends.
He was about to say something when he noticed that Marlena had frozen dead in her tracks. “What is it?”
She held up a finger to indicate she needed a moment. Closing her eyes, her head tilted up, she seemed to be sniffing the air. Her chest expanded on a sharply drawn breath, and just as suddenly, her eyes flew back open. Pure fury flashed across her face. “One of the lowlifes who kidnapped me is here.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I'm kidding?”
“No, you look royally pissed off.” Adam scanned the aisle but didn't see any signs of danger. “Where is he?”
“It's hard to tell with so many people around.” Inhaling again, she focused on the scent of her prey. It belonged to the submissive member of the duo who'd taken her prisoner. During her time in captivity, she never saw his face, so her memories were limited to smell and sound. Another deep breath, and she pinned down the origin of the scent. “This way.”
She took off like a shot, not waiting for Adam, determined to capture her quarry before he got away. A couple with three small children blocked her path, forcing her to slow down to maneuver around them. Once free, she raced through the exit and into the rear parking lot.
Shit, where did he go? She sniffed the air, but his scent was gone. That probably meant he was inside a vehicle. A number of cars were heading for the exits, but since she'd never seen what the guy looked like, she couldn't tell which vehicle belonged to him.