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I slipped inside my apartment and grabbed my leather backpack off my kitchen counter—I’d have to make sure I didn’t let Connor get a glimpse inside it or he might wonder why a secretary carried a knife set with her—then popped back into the hallway, locking my door behind me. “Let’s go!”

I led Connor downtown—the market was held on Main Street, which was shut down for the day so all the stands, tents, games, and displays could be assembled on the street.

I was surprised he didn’t show any of the usual signs of being uncomfortable out in the afternoon sun—the cloudy sky might have helped that. The only sign he was bothered at all was that he put on a pair of sunglasses as he peered around inspecting all the sights and sounds.

“Have you ever been to any of the Magiford supernatural markets?” I asked as we stood at the very edge of the festival.

Connor watched a fae setting up a display of her suncatchers—some were magic-formed gems while others were colored glass cut and shaped in forms of the various Court crests. (I was willing to bet the dozen she’d made of the Night Court’s nightmares were going to sell out fast, as the Night Court was the most popular Court among humans.) “No, I’ve never seen any supernatural market open to humans like this.”

“I’m not sure if they have them outside of Magiford, here it’s a seasonal thing,” I said. “They frame it as a way for humans to have a chance to buy magic goods that are safe for human consumption, but really it’s a big PR push from the Curia Cloisters.” I realized a heartbeat too late that—as a human—I probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

Connor, of course, caught on to the inconsistency. “My, don’t you sound jaded?”

I kept my expression bland as I started walking, joining the swirling crowd that filled the street. “Not really. It’s just that since I work at the Cloisters, I get a better idea of how supernaturals think. I don’t think it’s wrong of them. Humans have their own PR efforts, supernaturals are just better at it.”

I sniffed picking up the sweet scent of kettle corn and sugar-glazed nuts that a wizard was making with her fire magic. “A lot better at it,” I said as I drifted towards the wizard’s cart.

Connor laughed. “You are wasted being a human.”

Thrown off, I peered up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Merely that you are fun. Relax—it was a compliment,” he said. “I wasn’t plotting to drain you before discovering you are humorous.”

I rolled my eyes. “I already warned you, it’s a no to the blood sucking. If you agreed to come here just because you thought it was going to be afternoon snacktime, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Connor stared down at me. “Snacktime?” He broke off into a bark of laughter. “I see. Very well,Snack, why don’t you show me the best of the stands?”

“I don’t know which stands are best,” I said, unbothered by the nickname—I could tell Connor didn’t really mean it. His eyes weren’t changing to signal he was feeling peckish, and he hadn’t tried busting out pheromones anywhere in the building. (And if it was his aim and he went for it without my permission, he’d only have himself to blame for his death.) “The fall market is the only supernatural festival I haven’t been to yet.”

I’d been in town checking out Magiford and applying to a task force position when I’d decided to go to the winter market on a whim, which had pretty much sold me on making the jump after I’d had a cinnamon roll from a brownie bakery stand.

“Then how do you best enjoy a market?” Connor asked.

“By eating your way through it.” I paused, then peered up at him again. “Sorry—do you no longer like human food? I know vampires can be iffy on that.”

“I don’t have cravings for it,” Connor said. “But I’m game to try something. Lead on, Snack.”

“Is that going to be a thing, now?” I asked. “Food related nicknames?”

“It’s going to be now that you gave me the idea,” Connor said.

I dodged a troll carrying a massive pumpkin towards a photo booth. “Then can I call you Dracula?”

“Certainly,” Connor said. “Though let me assure you Vlad—the inspiration—was entirely human, though his lust for power was impressively strong.”

“You knew him?” I paused in front of a sign advertising fireworks sponsored by the wizard House Tellier later in the evening. “Wow. You’re older than I thought.”

“See, if you get to make age jokes, I get to make food jokes,” Connor said.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “That’s how friendship works.”

Connor looked down at me with so much alarm I had to laugh.

“Thatscares you?” I hooted. “Friendship?”

“I fear nothing,” Connor insisted. “I am the night. I am so very fearsome, you ought to be trembling before me. You never know, I could be keeping you as my emergency rations.”

I laughed; our banter was so natural I could feel myself relaxing—it was almost like being home with my family. “Okay,Night.” I grabbed his wrist and tugged him along. “Let’s see if you can stomach kettle corn.”