Page 42 of The Monsters We Are

Snorting, Wynter peeked up at the handwritten price guides on the sign. Reasonable. She paid for the frames and slipped them into one of her bags.

Many tables and booths were lined up on the grassy field of the underground park. A market was held here at least once a month, mostly selling local seasonal produce. This particular market was Halloween-themed as part of the October celebrations, hence the balloons, flags, and garlands that were only available in the colors of orange, black, and green.

There were plenty of foods for sale, such as fruit, vegetables, jams, and jellies. But there were also Halloween treats and decorations, as well as costumes, masks, and props like bloody knives.

Lots of haggling went on. Vendors weren’t shy about calling out to people, hoping to lure them closer. Some people had settled on hay bales, benches, or picnic tables to munch on food they’d purchased.

Someone had dragged the piano out of the town hall and set it near the doors. Beneath all the music, chatter, and laughter were the sounds of water boiling, meat sizzling, and the flapping of tablecloths courtesy of the artificial breeze.

So many scents laced the air—flowers, fruits, herbs, meats, soaps, lotions, and food cooking. Wynter drank them all in.

“Are you planning to move your ancestor altar to Cain’s Keep?” asked Delilah.

Wynter felt her nose wrinkle. “No, I don’t want to disturb it.”

“That’s probably the wisest decision,” said Hattie, fingering a scarf. “It’s important to be careful with such things.”

“Ooh, I want that,” proclaimed Anabel, pointing at . . . nothing.

“What?” asked Xavier, nibbling on one of the fresh doughy cookies he’d bought.

“That,” said Anabel, wiggling the finger she was still pointing. “The electronic clapping witch.”

He sighed at her. “You’re hallucinating again.”

Her shoulders slumped, and her arm dropped to her side. “Ugh.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself,” said Delilah primly.

Anabel bristled. “I never implied differently.”

Maybe there would in fact come a day when the blonde actually stopped experimenting on herself, but Wynter wasn’t all that hopeful. She’d chewed a chunk out of Anabel’s ass as usual, and the blonde had apologized just as she normally did. And though the apology had been genuine, it had to be remembered that her apologies werealwaysgenuine. She always regretted her mistake. She simply couldn’t help later repeating it.

Delilah coaxed them over to a table that sold handmade jewelry, her face lighting up at all the pretty, shiny things. Classic cat. Okay, so she only had the ability to shift into a cat, but she did nonetheless have some feline qualities.

Xavier was more interested in the woman behind the table. “Well, hello there, lass,” he greeted in a Scottish accent. “A pretty wee thing, so ye are. My name’s Angus.”

Oh, dear Lord.

The woman’s lips curved. “Milly. And I’m quite sure your real name is actually Xavier.”

Ha, good for her.

“Or it’s Angus,” he said, his accent still Scottish, “and I like telling others it’s Xavier.”

Wynter only shook her head. He was hopeless. Utterly. Yet the lying little shit also possessed enough charisma to lure women to him anyway.

Once Delilah had bought a few dangly bracelets, they walked off.

Xavier’s grin was all smugness. “Milly agreed to go on a date with me.”

Wynter patted his back. “Good for you, Angus.”

His grin widened. “Awesome name, right?”

“Absolutely. But it’s not yours.”

A line dented his brow. “So?”