Brush of Darkness (7 page)

“Outrageous,” the hag snapped. “What is Moira thinking with these kinds of prices?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am,” I said, keeping my voice bland. I was in no rush to piss anyone else off this evening, and I could already tell where this was going. “I’ll be happy to take down your opinions and pass them along.”

“Excuse me, miss?”

I glanced over at the courier elf standing beside the counter. He wasn’t our usual delivery guy, and I didn’t recognize him. Tall, with auburn hair and green eyes. Bored, disdainful eyes. There was some kind of animal carrier thing sitting on the counter in front of him.

“Uh, yes?”

His name tag read “Hi, my name is Glorfindel. Ask me about our specials at the Gap of Rohan.”

My lips pursed. “That’s not really your name, is it? I mean, I know Tolkien is sort of the godfather of elves, but isn’t that a little over the top?”

He flushed, his hand jerking over the badge protectively. “Management makes us wear them. My real name is Alisair. You can call me Al.”

I grunted, understanding that particular predicament a little too well. “What is that?” I pointed a skeptical finger at the carrier, hearing a soft bleat come from inside.

“Sign here, please.” The elf ignored my question and handed me a parchment form.

“Oh, no,” I said firmly. “We don’t take livestock. It’s against store policy.” And mine. The last thing I needed was to be stuck taking care of vegetable lambs or barnacle geese or some other such nonsense. I damn near killed everything
I touched, anyway. The sad little garden out back was proof enough.

“Let me check the order.” He frowned, flipping through the stack of documents in his arms. I felt a momentary twinge of glee. For all that most OtherFolk look down on technology, I couldn’t help but feel superior for a moment. Give me an Excel spreadsheet any day of the week.

Ignoring the hag as she tapped her foot, I bent over to take a careful look inside the carrier.

“Is that what I think it is?”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t wager on anything that you might be thinking, but yes, that’s a miniature unicorn. Rather expensive species to be shipped and a very ornery fellow at that.”

I peered closer, meeting the tiny beast’s silvery blue eyes, losing myself in the delicate hooves and seashell horn, spiraled and sharp. Its face was a strange mix of goat and deer and something else, its tufted tail flicking like an irritated tiger’s against the side of the carrier. It wore a jeweled silver collar and what looked like a blue topaz shining from its throat. “It’s lovely,” I murmured, myriad little-girl dreams filling my voice with longing.

The hag curled her upper lip. “Unless you’re a virgin, girly, don’t get your hopes up.” The brownie in line behind her covered his mouth with a dark-skinned hand, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll keep that mind,” I retorted dryly.

“Indeed,” the courier agreed. “And ‘it’ is actually a ‘he,’ according to the invoice.”

I snapped my attention back to the pointy-eared prig. “That’s all well and good . . . Al . . . but we didn’t order him, so you’ll have to take him back.”

“I’ll have to check with my manager.” He pushed his hair back to tap the Bluetooth headset curled over his right ear.
“Let me get the rest of the deliveries and you can sign off on that part.”

“Okay.” I moved the carrier away from the counter’s edge. “I’ll be waiting.” He disappeared into the crowd and back out the door. I eyed his headset bemusedly. Maybe I’d been wrong about the technology thing.

The hag cackled at me as I rang her up. With a last chuckle, she hunched away, clutching her purchase to her breast. The rest of the line moved briskly after that, as I marked down the purchases of the brownie and a scaled dragon man, two pale angels and something I could only recognize as a shambling mass of flesh. It smelled like a mix of a freshly made zombie and dried pig feces. My dinner roiled in protest as the scent slammed into my face. I swallowed hard to keep from gagging. The blob burbled at me, a stray tentacle dragging something slimy up to the register. I couldn’t even tell what it was in the mucusy mess trailing behind.

“On the house.” I forced a smile. That gray slug track it left behind was going to be a bitch to clean up.

A shadowy figure stepped up to the counter next, hands empty. Inwardly I cringed. The Marketplace was supposed to be a place where the OtherFolk could be themselves, such as they were. Glamours weren’t allowed, or at least not major ones. It gave everyone equal footing, or so Moira’s theory went. It was never a good sign when they tried to hide themselves. Well, unless it was a medusa or something. I’d deal with a cloaked face over being turned to stone any day.

The figure paced about, paying careful attention to the carrier. “How much for the unicorn?”

“It’s not for sale, I’m afraid. There was a mistake at the—” The what? Manufacturer’s? Mystical Petting Zoo? “Shipping company,” I finished up lamely. “He’s going back
in a few minutes. I’m sorry. I don’t know where you can get one, but maybe Al can help you.”

“I’ll pay you double what he’s worth,” the figure said. “Even triple.”

My eyes narrowed. What was it with dark and mysterious men that just couldn’t seem to listen today?

“The answer is no,” I snapped.

“You don’t understand. I
need
that animal.” The guttural voice became desperate and wheedling. I wavered, pity warring with bitchiness. What would Moira do? My gaze roamed around the store, and I realized it had grown quiet. They were all watching to see what I would do. I exhaled softly. Any action by me would be seen as an action by Moira. Another bleat emerged from the box, and I shook myself.

“Listen, I don’t care if you’re Voldemort under that thing. We don’t sell livestock. Period.”

The snigger that erupted from the back of the store abruptly cut off as Alisair reappeared, frowning. “You were right, there’s no record of this animal being requested or purchased by the Marketplace. Strange. Ah, well.” He shrugged. “Wires get crossed all the time. I’ll just take him back and we’ll sort it out.” I couldn’t quite help feeling a pang of regret. After all, it’s not every day a girl gets to see a childhood fantasy brought to life. I opened my mouth to speak when the hooded figure lurched for the carrier. Its gloved hands curled around the handle. “I’m sorry, but I
must
have it.”

“Back off, there, sticky fingers.” The elf bristled, snatching the carrier back. They struggled for a moment, the unicorn making a panicked cry as he slid helplessly back and forth. My eyes darted between them.

“That’s enough, both of you.” I pointed at the door. “Take it outside before one of you breaks something.”

There was a snap and a crack as the figure heaved backward. The plastic carrier split open, spilling out one very disgruntled unicorn. He twisted in midair like a cat and landed on all four hooves.

“Now you’ve done it.” Alisair glowered at the figure as the unicorn sidled toward the door. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to capture one of those?”

“Nobody move!” The music cut off with a discordant flourish and I winced at the arched brow of the Gypsy. “Sorry.” I raised my voice, craning my head over the shelves, trying to remember whatever bits of unicorn lore I knew. “Is anyone here a virgin?”

Silence.

Of course not.

“You’re no help.” I knelt on the floor, my left knee grinding in protest. “No one make any sudden moves.” All I needed was for this thing to take off through the store and gore someone. Although, really, how bad could it be? He was only fifteen inches tall.

“Shhhhh.” I slowly held out one hand to the little beast. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but I was the only mortal female in the store, so that was going to have to do.

His tail lashed from side to side, his nostrils flaring. “I don’t blame you,” I said, pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy being dumped on the floor either. He sniffed my hand, his breath tickling the back of my knuckles. We hovered there for a moment, and then he turned away with a snort.

The elf tittered. “Told you.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I never said I was a virgin.” I looked up at the cloaked figure from the corner of my eye, my face flaming. “And don’t think
you’ll
be getting him, even if you help.” It stared at me impassively, and then pulled back the hood of the cloak to reveal azure scaled skin and cat-slit eyes.

An old-world daemon. Great.

“We’ll see.” It smiled, revealing a frightfully large number of teeth. “If we have no maidens here, you’ll need a golden bridle. Or a jeweled snare,” it added helpfully.

“What you need is to let that poor creature go.” A blond fae pushed her way to the front of the store. Her diaphanous wings quivered in indignation. She wore combat boots and a T-shirt proclaiming
Pave the Rainforest
.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Didi. Second in command of Pixies for PETA. And he’s
not
livestock. He’s a living, breathing being, deserving of your respect and compassion.” She crossed her arms. “I demand that you free him from his bonds of captivity.”

“Right.” The urge to run screaming from the room bubbled up in my chest, tightly wrapped in a slight wave of hysteria. My eyes flicked toward the daemon. His grin became broader.

“And what do
you
want him for?” I forced myself to meet the daemon’s eyes.

His smile never wavered. “Bachelor party.”

“I don’t even want to know.” I held up my hand before he could say anything else, my stomach churning at the thought. The pixie stomped her foot but I waved her off. “Enough. Let’s just catch him first.”

“I refuse to be party to this . . .” She flounced away toward the back of the store in a swirl of pink glitter, followed by what appeared to be a cluster of chipmunks, jeweled beetles, and one very confused baby seal.

“All right, come on then.” I scrambled forward. “Oh, no you don’t.” The unicorn edged away, his tiny hooves scraping over the floor. My hands slid over fur as soft as dandelion fluff, his silken muscles bunching madly as he squirmed. “Gotcha!”

A low ringing echoed through my ears, strangely
subdued, my limbs vibrating as though something snapped into place. Immediately the unicorn stopped moving and became heavy in my arms. He shifted and blinked blearily at me; he was as stunned as I.

“Wha . . . what is that?” I was lost in the sapphire brilliance of his eyes, my head suddenly dizzy. I slumped on the floor, overtaken by the scent . . .

. . . the scent of a hidden forest glade, dew-tipped violets over my tongue, and the creeping shadow of delicate ferns shading us from the harsh light of the golden afternoon . . .

“Touching. Sign here, please.”

“What are you talking about? I caught . . . him.” I gazed back down at the unicorn, the angst and heat of the moment rolling out of me in a wave of giddiness.

“You caught him, all right.” Alisair flicked the rim of his baseball cap, which declared him a Cincinnati Bengals fan. “You just became his TouchStone. That makes him nonreturnable. So if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be going now.”

“I don’t understand.” I shuffled to my feet, cradling the unicorn in the crook of my arm. I stroked his head, my fingers scratching at the base of his ears. He began to . . . purr? Hum? “How can I become his TouchStone without a Contract? Besides, I’m already Contracted to Moira.”

“Good question.” The elf shoved a pen in my face, his voice a study in complete indifference. “Wish I could stay to chat, but I’ve got more deliveries to make. Truly, you’re fascinating for a mortal.”

“You don’t have to be rude.” I took the pen and signed my name next to Moira’s seal on the parchment. He rolled up the scroll and left, muttering something under his breath. The daemon stared at me hard enough to burn holes through
my skin.

“Well,” I said, unable to completely keep the smugness from my voice, “I guess you’re going to have to leave empty-handed.”

He let out a humorless laugh. There was a hint of brimstone about it, like it contained the promise of damnation wrapped in silk. “Don’t be too sure of that,” he said, his eyes resting on me for a moment. He sniffed the air, a forked tongue flicking out toward the unicorn, scenting him.

I shifted the unicorn in my arms, turning him away from the daemon. “That’s enough,” I said. “Buy something or leave.”

He straightened up as Didi fluttered by, scaled face brightening. “Ah, well, perhaps I’ve found something just as good, eh?” With a chuckle that would have turned milk sour, the daemon licked his lips and followed the pixie out the door.

I shuddered, knowing it wasn’t right, but also knowing there was very little I could do about it. Whatever pathetic amount of authority I had ended as soon as they crossed the threshold. But I had bigger things to worry about. A murmur of voices rippled in my ear, a cacophony of elbows and polite coughs and “highly unusual,” and “I wonder what Moira will make of this,” and “it’s not right . . . it’s just not right.”

I was suddenly eager to be done with this day. It was nearly 1:00
A.M
. Close enough. “We’re closing,” I announced loudly. “Make your purchases and we’ll see you soon.”

There were a few grumbles, but most of the patrons filed out sharply enough. An unassuming fellow wearing spectacles and a scarf brought up the rear. A tiny pair of horns burst from his brow, nearly covered by the soft chestnut waves of his hair. He bought tea and a tin of biscuits before disappearing into the night, a winged cat at his heels.

Apparently some daemons really liked their chai.

The Gypsy was the last to leave, pausing at the counter to tip his violin at me. His gaze held a gleam of amusement when it fell upon the unicorn. He eyed me suggestively and then laughed softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Everyone’s a critic.”

He chuckled again, teeth flashing. I gestured at the boxes that Al had left beside the counter. “Looks like your special order didn’t come in again. Maybe next time?”

He nodded and bowed before gathering up his violin and slipping out the door. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden silence.