Page 64 of Tainted Souls
Behind us, the market swells with noise. Children of all ages excitedly dart between stalls, a musician is setting up a battered synth keyboard, and vendors are shouting out their wares in a dozen accents.
There’s a kinetic energy alive in the crowd, and for the first time in days, I’m not thinking about my wound or my enemies, only the heat of spiced meat in my mouth and the laughter of my friends echoing off the hollow walls. I’m about to suggest getting seconds when my eye is caught by a neighboring stall with a table festooned with glossy, hand-sized pastries. The woman behind the counter wears a dress stitched from patchwork silks, with each panel being a different color.
She’s arranging her display with care, fanning out the pastries so their golden crusts catch the light like treasure. Drawn by curiosity and a little greed, I wander over, toothpick still between my teeth. The aroma is nothing like the fire-glazed meat. It’s floral and bright, with a citrus tang that cuts through the heavier scents of the market.
I lean in, my eyes tracking the neat rows of what looks like fruit pies, each one glazed to a mirror-finish and flecked with what looks like edible flowers and candied rinds.
I point to a row of golden-brown pastries. “What’s in these?”
“Sunfruit and honey,” she says with a smile. “Grown in the recovery zones of Mythcrest. Very rare.”
I buy one, taking a bite as I rejoin my friends.
The tangy flavor explodes on my tongue, and there’s an underlying warmth that spreads through my chest. It’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before.
“Good?” Evan asks, noting my expression.
“Incredible,” I admit, taking another bite.
We spend the next hour exploring the food section, sampling dishes from across the continent. Evan and Haden stick to stalls that cater to vampires, while I discover a vendor selling pastries made with a flour that’s supposedly from plants that grow only in Mythcrest.
Evan wipes his hands on a napkin. “Where to next?”
“The tech section?” Haden suggests. “It’s supposed to be among the biggest this year.”
We slowly make our way through the swarming aisles, stopping every time something grabs our attention. Evan finds his glowing mushrooms, buying a set of five that pulse with soft blue light when he touches them. Haden spends nearly thirty minutes haggling over a neural interface modification, eventually walking away with a smug grin and a small package tucked into his jacket.
“Your turn,” Evan says, turning to me. “What’s calling your name?”
I’m about to say nothing when a diminutive stall in the corner catches my eye. Unlike the flashy displays around it, this one is simple—just a table covered in a dark cloth, with various objects arranged in neat rows.
The vendor, an elderly woman with silver streaks in her hair and a faded floral headscarf, regards me with an unsettling intensity.
“That one,” I say, pointing.
Before they can respond, I’m already moving toward it, drawn by something I can’t quite explain. Pendants, carved figurines, and polished stones are displayed in messy rows on the table. When I drift closer, I notice subtle details that mark them as anything but ordinary. The objects are antiques, not the mass-produced replicas sold at tourist shops, but genuine artifacts with the patina of age and use.
“Looking for something specific?” the woman asks, her voice lilting in that unmistakable Mythcrestean accent.
“Just browsing,” I reply, my fingers hovering over a tarnished silver locket.
“That thing is not for you,” she says, kindly moving my hand away. “This, however…” She reaches beneath the table andproduces a small keepsake box, its surface carved with intricate symbols I recognize from old vampire texts.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly wary. Is she trying to upsell me?
“A protection charm.” She opens the box to reveal a pendant. It’s a simple, dark stone set in twisted metal that seems to absorb rather than reflect the light. “For those caught between worlds.”
I bristle at her presumption, lifting my head ever so slightly. “What makes you think I need protection?”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Everyone needs protection, child. Especially those marked by fate.”
“That’s quite a sales pitch, but I don’t believe in fate,” I say, even though my hand reaches for the pendant anyway. It’s heavier than it looks, and warm to the touch. The red spots on the dark green jasper remind me of blood.
“I am not pitching you anything, my dear.” She laughs, the sound like dry leaves rustling. “The right objects find the right owners. And if not fate, then foresight.” Her crinkled hands fold around mine, helping me turn the pendant over until it catches the light just right, revealing subtle glimmers that make it seem almost alive. “Heliotrope gemstone is formed where vampire blood seeps into the earth during celestial alignments. It’s very rare, you know? Very powerful.”
“How much?” I ask, curiosity overtaking me. It looks expensive.
She shakes her head. “No charge. As I said, it’s been waiting for you.”
