The Boston Common is the sort of place that I should spend more time in, but never actually do so. It’s a great way to escape the city without having to leave the city and navigate traffic. The Common is still open, which means there’s more people milling about the paths than I would have liked, but it’s the only way into the market that I know about. I enter on the Boylston side, making my way to the old statue of Thomas Cass where the hidden doorway is cleverly installed. It doesn’t lead fully to the Fae Realm. Margadh Sióg, the market, is at a crossroads where their realm and ours overlaps, but that’s a good thing. I’d have to leave Henry behind if we were going to one of the Courts, they don’t take kindly to vampires. Or Centurions for that matter.
The statue is lit in such a way that it reminds me of a child trying to be spooky, holding a flashlight under their face to accentuate odd shadows. I frown at it as I approach, then I notice two figures hovering nearby and immediately tense.
“Calm down, kid,” Billy says as he steps forward. “It’s just me and Henry.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“I bumped into Henry at the station and while we were catching up on things, you texted him about meeting,” Billy replies with a smile.
“You’re not just coming with us to score, are you?”
“Wow, that’s great. Thanks for that,” to his credit, Billy does sound like he’s actually insulted, but I know him well enough by now not to fall for it. He waits for me to apologize and when I don’t, he shrugs. “I mean, I am going to help you down there, but yes, I’m also replenishing my Whiteworm.”
“Your…what?” Henry asks.
“Whiteworm Amanita, my young fanged friend. It’s Fae Shrooms…basically, but it helps trigger clearer visions and since the whole of Boston may be overrun with werewolves soon, I thought it was a good idea to get whatever help we could before that happens.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, moving closer to the statue so I can find the concealed door. “I’m sure you’re just beside yourself having to make such a sacrifice.”
“I will weep endlessly tonight, lamenting my fate.”
I roll my eyes and stop behind the statue, lowering to my haunches to place my palm against what looks like idle scratches and scuff marks made from the passage of time, but is actually an incantation. Sheldon teaches the Centurions this incantation. We’re not really supposed to go to the market for pleasure or window shopping, but if we’re pursuing an adversary and they try to run here knowing we can’t follow, then we’d be stuck twiddling our thumbs waiting for them to emerge again. And who knew how many other exits there were down there?
I whisper the incantation, which sounds like a mix of old Gaelic and the wind through the leaves. There’s a clicking sound within the statue’s base and then the cobblestones next to me draw back and reveal a stairway leading underground. “Hurry, it doesn’t stay open for long,” I say, more for Henry’s sake as I’m sure Billy is far better acquainted with this place than I am.
The three of us descend the stone steps and get swallowed by darkness. That darkness only increases when the door slides back shut above us and clicks into place, and yet a moment after this, torches burst into light along the spiraling passageway. I resume descending the stairs once I don’t have to worry about tripping over myself. At the bottom is a stone wall with an arched opening that leads into the market proper. The three of us pass the threshold and take in the sight.
I’ve been here two or three times, so it’s still a wonder for me. Billy looks unimpressed in the way familiarity tends to dampen awe. Henry is standing there with wide eyes and his lips parted, gaping at Magadh Sióg stretched out before us. I can’t blame him, it’s pretty overwhelming the first time.
It’s not that far underground. In fact, it’s the same depth as the subway but exists in a parallel plane to it. If I were to dig a hole in the Common in an attempt to reach the market, I never would. Only the stairs lead to the crossroad. The depth is about the only thing that is in common with the mundane world, however. There are wooden buildings jutting out of the stone walls, curved and oddly angled to remain flush against unpredictable stone. The shops are stacked one atop the other, with wooden staircases built into the side of the buildings leading to the upper-level shops. The cavern that holds the whole market opens up deeper further in, and I can see wooden bridges that span the chasm, and far in the distance a great gear-shaped watermill. To our left is an enormous boulder, which has been chiseled out and opened on the inside to allow space for a bar within. Lanterns line the cobblestone streets that lead to the depths of the market, their light shifting from yellow, to green, to blue and back in intermittent intervals. Brightly colored banners are everywhere, so I guess that’s another similarity with the mundane’s space - advertisements.
The layout isn’t the only thing to draw the eye, of course. There are the denizens of the market. Fairies flit about, rivaling the light of the lanterns and, in some cases, blowing out those lights when they were deemed brighter than their own. Then there’s the Fae, tall and willowy and with no need to Glamor their appearance, thus walking around in all their pointy-eared, greenish skin and strange-eyed wonder. Their eyes are shaped like a human’s, but they angle upwards and they’re too long. The whites are more gray, and their irises resemble the eyes of an owl. There’s also Elves in the market, also tall and willowy but they look more like I do, except for the ears of course, which are closer to their Fae kin.
There’s also an ogre shambling over to the stone bar, and following in her wake is a host of brownies and goblins having a heated discussion. One of the goblins pauses at a street vendor who I’m pretty sure is a hag, sniffing at the jars of viscera for sale on the rickety table.
I could stare at them all day, I could marvel at the amount of the extraordinary that exists in our world every day, unknown to almost all of the mundane, but I’m here for a reason and I need to follow that reason now. I snap out of my reverie and focus my gaze on Billy and Henry instead. “Alright, so we’re looking for Castillo’s sources. We don’t mention Paradise directly, or it’s my ass on the line. We just ask about the werewolf killer and see if someone spills. Of course…chances are, they aren’t just going to say they’re his sources.”
“Only if they have a death wish,” Billy quips.
“Right. But there’s been enough killings that it won’t be suspicious if others start asking about it,” I continue. “Like vampires,” I add after a beat. Henry lofts an eyebrow and I clear my throat. “There’s a vampire bar down main street…if I remember correctly.”
“And you want me to lead the questioning?” Henry asks.
“They’ll peg me and Billy as Cerberus the second we walk in there,” I point out. “So, chances are they won’t want to talk to us.”
Henry sighs. “Very well. I’ll handle the vampire bar.”
“Thanks.”
“Get yourself a drink while you’re there,” Billy suggests. “I hear they can do shit with blood that makes us non blood drinkers envious.”
“You’ve tried some, haven’t you?” I ask.
“I was sick as a dog afterwards, but fuck was it good,” Billy admits with a shake of his head.
I decide not to ask if he at least made sure it wasn’t human blood, thus avoiding the conversation of whether he was a mild cannibal or not, and smile at Henry. “You got this,” I tell him. “You’re more effective than most of the Centurions.”
“Maybe that’s why they want to leave me out in the sun,” Henry retorts. “Should we meet back here?”
“Yes, let’s say in two hours,” I also decide not to have the conversation about my murderous coworkers and their prejudice against all vampires. “I’ll walk with you to the vampire bar, then I’ll see if I can get some information on the streets. If not, I’ll go to the Archives. They like showing off everything they know there, maybe one of them knows something about this case.”
“I’ll be at the Silver Crescent,” Billy adds. “I have some contacts there that I can ask without stirring any trouble. You two try to stay out of trouble too. As the Senior operative here, that will fall back on me if you do.”
“Your selfless leadership is an aspiration,” I reply, to which Billy grins, gives us a little wave, and walks merrily into the market. “Come on,” I say to Henry, heading down the wide, main street.
There are street vendors haggling their wares in any spot that doesn’t have an actual shop entrance blocking the way. Behind the vendors, I can see seedy dealings going on in the alleyways and now and then, one of the beings we pass looks at me sharply and hurries off. The Order is made up of humans, but there’s still an element of Otherness to us after we pass the initiation and the Incantatores are done enchanting us. We wouldn’t be a match against the supernatural otherwise. Not every creature can sense it, but some do. The ones scowling at me, namely, because they’ll assume I’m here to arrest someone.
“I can’t believe this has been under Boston all along,” Henry murmurs.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Technically it’s not under the Boston you know,” I reply. “We’re at a crossroad, where our world and the Fae realm overlaps. Not quite in one or the other, but a little bit of both. Although, the Fae’s rules of etiquette apply, hence the clusterfuck of all these different species and no violence whatsoever.”
“Have you ever been to the Fae realm?” Henry asks.
“No. I don’t think anyone from the Order has, and I don’t think any of us will ever be invited.”
He nods thoughtfully, then resumes looking around like the most obvious tourist. We continue down the main road, which curves slightly with the layout of the cavernous space. Overhead, shimmering stalactites seem to mimic the stars of a night sky, casting an ethereal glow to this part of the underground. Near the end of the main street, which splits into two directions, is an unblocked alleyway. It’s larger than most and here is where I stop. There’s an open, gothic gate at the mouth of the alley and further back is a steepled, narrow building that looks like it would serve nicely as a Dracula set. Sanguine Sweet does nothing to hide the fact it’s a vampire hangout, and why not? Vampires may be met with general suspicion from most, but they are still welcome in this space. Most of them are quite wealthy and flood the market with money after all.
“Here’s where we part ways,” I say, looking Henry over again. He’s wearing jeans, a plain white, V-neck T-Shirt and a black blazer over it. I know from experience that most of the vampires in the bar are going to be decked out in full Victorian garb or a lot of leather, meaning Henry is going to stick out like a sore thumb. I would’ve warned him to dress the part, but I doubt he has either choice in his wardrobe. “Good luck, don’t draw too much attention to yourself.”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to be successful at that?” Henry asks, as he must have picked up the misgivings I’m feeling from my expression.
“Use that angle? Sweet and innocent?”
“I’m a fledgling vampire, not a virgin.”
“I’m the last person you have to tell,” I remind him. “Just…be careful, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
I nod and watch him as he goes towards the bar. I half expect him to pause before going inside, but he doesn’t. When he’s not immediately kicked out, I resume and backtrack to main street so I can interrupt those seedy dealings I saw going on. If there’s information to be had, that’s the place to start.
If my presence was noted when I first walked down this street, it’s nothing compared to my return. I suppose it’s not such a strange thought for someone from the Order to come to Margadh Sióg to access the Archives, they could forgive me for heading in that direction at first…now they’re suspicious. I don’t bat an eye though, if there’s anything worse than having that suspicion, it’s skulking around and earning it.
My first stop is at The Bouncing Lantern, a boutique run by will-o’-the-wisps. Stepping inside brings me into a dimly lit shop, with an eclectic mess of goods for sales. By the counter are some glowing candies, along the far wall are books, down the center are low display stands with clothing, lined up by the front window are gardening tools and in the nearby corner are headstones. It’s this wide array of goods that has me come here to begin with, it caters to all sorts of the supernatural.
There’s a somewhat man standing behind the counter, his body is that of a person, but his head looks like a globe of light, a flickering flame. And his features? Like the Jack-o’-lantern for which he’s named.
“What d’ya want?” Jack asks. “I ain’t got nothin’ for you and your lot.”
His gravelly voice draws out more will-o’-the-wisps, faint bluish lights that shine through the store. I ignore them and smile at Jack, who’s exaggerated features twist into a scowl.
“I’m not here to shop—”
“Then away with you!”
“I just want to ask a question or two,” I finish. “I’m not here looking to get anyone into trouble either, so you don’t have to worry about being a rat. I’m trying to find the bastard slaughtering werewolves.”
“Nasty bit o’ business, that,” Jack sneers.
“Yes. Hence me trying to get to the bottom of it.”
“Bah! It’s bad for business is all, for me and for you. Don’t try to make it more’n that.”
I’m not looking to get into an argument about the ethics of targeting a single group and why it’s an issue beyond economics, instead I shrug. “Hey, I’m just trying to look out for you. Who knows when this killer may shift from werewolves to anyone who’s served them in any capacity.”
“Well, I ain’t got nothin’ to worry about!”
“You just said their dying was bad for your business.”
“I…that is to say…” Jack flounders and then glares at me. “What d’ya want to know?”
“I want to know if there’s been talk of anyone looking to boost magical power,” I begin. I don’t have to mention the mage is trying to open Paradise, I just need to get a name or some sort of identifier. “Likely something that would rely on blood magic.”
“Blood magic, we don’t sell magic of any sort here!” Jack huffs.
“Not here to bust you,” I remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you sell right now, all I care about is this current case.”
Jack hesitates, deliberates, then ultimately decides I must not be worth it. “Can’t help ya. Got no magic or enchantments or anythin’ here! I stay away from that—”
“I did find the enchanted moon crab and manabeans,” a voice says from the back of the shop.
I raise a brow at Jack, who splutters and huffs like I just insulted his mother. I don’t think he actually has a mother…come to think of it. I spare myself from this tangent and focus on the customer, realizing that I recognize him. Leander Drewe: tall, blonde hair, pencil thin nose. He tried to register with the Order’s Incantatores a few years ago, only his power wasn’t strong enough. The last I heard, he set up a potions and elixirs shop here in Margadh Sióg.
“Leander! Hey!” I exclaim.
He does a quick turnaround and smiles at me, lifting a hand. I don’t think he remembers me as much as I remember him. Or at all. Rude. “Riley Averline,” I remind him. “Centurion.”
“Oh yes!” he replies. “How are you?” There’s an awkward pause as he gestures at me. “Uh, congratulations!”
I then remember the last time he saw me was those few years ago, when I still had long hair and wore blouses instead of button downs. No wonder he didn’t remember me clearly. “Thanks,” I say automatically. “And I’ve been better, but maybe you can help me out there since someone likes to lie.”
“I don’t owe you nothin’,” Jack grumbles.
“You do realize that those items are legal. Why would you try and hide that you sold them?” I ask.
“In case your Order decided they weren’t legal all of a sudden!”
“Okay, well, now you’re in my ‘fuck you’ book and seem sketchy as shit. But whatever, I’m over it. I moved on; we have nothing more to say to one another.”
“Good!”
“Good,” I agree before looking to Leander again. “Sorry about that…do you have time to talk?”
“I have a little,” Leander says, dropping some coins onto Jack’s desk. “I’m about to head back to the shop. We can talk on the way there?”
“So long as it’s discreetly.”
Leander nods. Part of me wants to ask about what Carver said, about mages escaping. Did he have to sign some binding nondisclosure agreement before he was allowed to leave and set up a business here instead? I’m burning with curiosity, but it seems that I won’t have much time to speak with him so I better keep it to the case.
“What’s going on, Riley?” Leander asks once we exit The Bouncing Lantern.
“It’s about the werewolves, have you heard about that?”
“Of course, everyone here has.”
“I’m trying to find out if there’s been anyone in the market looking for a power boost.”
“How do you mean?”
“Say someone wanted to conduct a spell that would take a massive amount of energy from the mage, too much for them, so they turn to blood magic. Has there been any kind of rumors about that going around?”
Leander thinks for a minute, and I feel my spark of hope in our chance meeting dwindling that he doesn’t have an answer spring to mind. It doesn’t even have to be information pointing right to the mage, I will happily settle for getting to Castillo’s sources and asking them how the hell they learned about the True Source. Leander finally sighs and shakes his head. “Sorry,” he replies. “I haven’t heard of anything like that, just that everyone is on edge…understandably. Most of the market assumes it’s a vampire behind it…I take it that isn’t true?”
“There’s something big going down,” I can’t help my impatience getting the better of me, even if I seem to be the only one giving information so far. “And someone here knows more than they should, and they’re passing that information along. You know Castillo?”
“Of course.”
“He’s one getting the information. Does that bring anything to mind? Any whispers about clandestine meetings with the Alpha?”
“I’m sorry, Riley, as far as I know…Castillo doesn’t really come to Margadh Sióg. These sources…they may not be based here at all. Your best bet is the black market, and that’s not really an option for a lone Centurion.”
“Dammit…” I’m getting nowhere with this and we’re coming up to Leander’s shop, Drewe’s Brews. “I can trust you won’t share any of this? What we talked about?”
“I have no reason to gossip, I want this over as quickly as the next person,” Leander replies.
Our conversation ends as we get to the door. I notice three men scowling at us, and a quick glance at Leander shows me that this isn’t the first time the trio has glared at him. “What’s up with them?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m not sure. They’ve been hanging around the market for the last month or so…I never see them buy anything, or doing much of anything except glower at people.”
“Strange,” I muse, and he nods. “Thanks anyway, for taking the time to answer my questions. Stay safe, okay?”
“You too, Riley. It was good to see you. Maybe we can catch up sometime?”
“Yeah,” I answer vaguely. I’m already planning a myriad of excuses as to why I can’t. I know I should be more social, but it’s not easy for me. Fortunately, with a bloodthirsty mage on the loose I don’t have to linger to set an actual time, and wish Leander a good night before I depart from his shop. I pass the three scowlers, but they don’t do anything other than retreat into the little diner they were lurking around.
I could continue trying my luck with the shopkeepers and customers of the market, but I’m almost certain I’ll get the same sort of answers. I’ll have better luck with the Archives…or at least, I better have better luck or else I’m screwed. If there’s no word about current dealings, then I may be able to find some ancient tome about the True Source. Either way, I won’t leave Margadh Sióg until I have something in the way of progress.