Page 4 of The Minotaur's Valentine

Chapter Five: Milo

The Night Market opens at dusk, but the stall owners who can tolerate sunlight tend to come a little before so they can set up and not waste a single second of selling time.

Stalls are set up in a grid between the light poles in the lot. There are three rows. The ones closest to the street are run by residents who are human or who can pass for human. They also tend to sell stuff human “tourists” would buy, like crystals, fudge, hand-embroidered clothing, and more run-of-the-mill stuff. It’s not any kind of “human-looking equals better” mentality, believe me. It was decided a long time ago, back in the fifties when the Night Market was first getting set up, that this arrangement would help the more “unique” vendors stay safe. After all, no matter how oblivious a human is, he or she will notice if you’re about seven-feet tall and have horns coming out of your head. My stall is in the back row, the corner spot. It’s a prime location.

Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, Kwanzaa, and Solstice weren’t too long ago, so there are still a dozen strands of multi-colored lights strung up between the poles. I think we should leave them up all year. It gives the market a bustling, festive air, and that’s important in cold, foggy, mountain towns in January. Festive, fun places attract customers who want to browse. Otherwise, people go straight to the stall they need, buy their potion or bat wings, and get the heck back home to their nice cozy houses.

“Milo! Hey, man!”

“Leo! Good to see you! Back from touring, Mr. Big Shot?”

Leo is a werewolf who is also in a local band. (It’s a pretty big deal in the NYC club scene, but he never brags. Actually, he rarely talks at all.) His wife is a witch. They’re some of my best customers because they’re part of the “Neighborhood Watch.” It’s not a full moon, so I don’t hurry to put my silver-tipped goodies away.

The stocky, auburn-haired man grins at me. “Out again next weekend. We’ll be gone for a solid week.”

“Ah. Looking for something to fend off those city demons?” I start moving weaponry around, sliding choice pieces forward for Leo to see. Everyone knows violent demons love big cities. Their kills blend in and get blamed on drug dealers and gangs.

“Actually, no. I’m packing Robbie. What else do I need? Plus, Tessa and Charlotte will be with us.”

I nod. The two-man band usually travels as a foursome, two sets of best friends, two couples. My heart stabs me in a way I wasn’t expecting. “What can I get you, then?” I ask in a gruff, clipped voice that shocks the hell out of me.

Leo doesn’t seem to mind. “Can you make me something pretty?”

I take out one of my tackle boxes. Tackle boxes are great for holding tiny tools and metallic parts like springs and screws. My boxes are covered with all kinds of band stickers. Skin Deep, the band that Leo is in with Robbie, another local (and vampire), has a fair amount of signage on my boxes. Leo sees the stickers and smiles.

“I gotta tip you better,” he mutters, hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’d never say no to that.” I have a black velvet drape on my table every night. Just because I’m showcasing deadly weapons doesn’t mean I can slack on presentation. Right now, I clear a space and put down a selection of poison rings and some of my “daintier” weapons.

Leo looks at a black leather band that has a shiny silver box in the center. From the filigreed box came a knitting-needle thin dagger of shining silver. From the other side was a wooden rod of the same length and thickness with a silver tip.

“Don’t trip.” My voice is just a rumble in the dark, protective instincts nudging up in my chest. “The silver makes for easy penetration. The wood will slip right through the heart. It’ll kill a vamp or a werewolf.”

“Hell, that’ll kill a human,” Leo points out, never losing the half-grin on his face. “Anything in the heart, dude, beating or still. How does it work?” He lightly taps the center of the metal box with its ornate design.

“Telescoping barbs controlled by a catch on the band. It has a safety. The barbs resist pressure, however. An effective weapon that I can demonstrate.” I bend down to my insulated lunch box at my feet and pull out a cantaloupe. I’m a vegetarian, and I usually eat one melon per night during my “lunch” break. If I get to use it as a demo first, that’s fine. “Let’s say this represents a human head.”

“Let’s say it doesn’t. I believe you without puncturing an innocent fruit. How much?”

“Fifty.”

“A steal. I’ll take it. But can you make me something else, too? Something that isn’t a weapon. A necklace?”

I flex my thick fingers, fingers that have a light coating of hair, the same as any bull. These mitts are big, but not clumsy. Still, I wouldn’t consider myself adept at jewelry making. I’ve never really tried it unless it was to conceal a weapon. “There are two other stalls here that sell jewelry, Leo.”

“Yeah, and they’re both good places, but not what I want. I like your work. Your style. You put something of longing into the metal. Like a little piece of your soul, man.”

I blink down at my wares. Really? My soul was in there? Maybe an occasional piece of hair, but... I shrug. Leo is a good customer and he doesn’t talk much. That speech contained the most words I’ve ever heard him say at one time. If it means that much to him, I’ll do it. “Sure, Leo. When do you want it and what did you have in mind?”

He hands me a drawing on a creased piece of staff paper. Two interlocking metal hearts, one covered with leaves and flowers, one covered with thorns and spikes. Leo and Tess.

Dang it. My eyes were instantly welling up. The wolf and his witch. My voice cracks, “Two weeks?”

“You’re the best, Milo. You know, some woman’s going to be so lucky when she finds you.”

Leo walks off. I fold the paper carefully and hide it in my tackle box. I feel a tiny sliver of hope in my heart. When Leo speaks, it’s important and he means it.

Lucky to find me.

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