Page 10 of Lana Pecherczyk

Just like the mermaid, these people had leaped straight from the pages of a fairytale. Forget Perth. This wasn’t Australia or even planet Earth.

The smell was too vivid to be imagined. The pungent musk of livestock, cloying floral perfumes, briny fish, and overripe fruit saturated the air.

God, she was confused.

And thirsty.

Dizzy.

Faint.

I must be sick. Must have hit me head.

She approached the nearest person: a woman with kind eyes and twitching, fur-tipped, pointed ears.

“Excuse me,” Blake croaked, waggling her dead phone. “Do you have an iPhone charger? Or maybe you’ve seen a tall ex-football player? I seem to have lost?—”

The woman clutched her cane basket to her chest and scurried away.

“—me husband.”

So much for friendly locals.

Blake scanned the nearby stalls and carts. Dirty limestone surrendered to cobblestone. Her gaze caught on a tall, slender man with a scarf wound around his head and ears. He stroked his beard to a point as his gaze locked with hers.

Knick-knacks sprawled across the table before him, wooden furniture stacked behind. Her pulse quickened at the familiar sight. Half her life had been spent haunting antique furniture stores, workshops, and thrift shops. Finally, here was something that made sense.

Two crows swooped down to perch on his canopy, their unblinking eyes studying her approaching figure.

“Excuse me, mate,” she wheezed as black spots danced in her vision. “You don’t have an iPhone charger, do you? I just need to…”

Her words dried up. Her balance wavered. Why did she even need a charger? Who would she call? Her husband? The one who dumped her? Her dad and brothers couldn’t operate their own phones without a crisis.

“Lady,” the man said, his tone dropping to a warning bass. “I’d hide all that contraband if I were you.”

She blinked. “Contraband?”

A harsh caw split the air, followed by the flutter of wings. The two birds descended, landing beside her, invading her personal space. She clutched her bejeweled brick tighter and eyed them warily.

The vendor scowled and slashed his hand through the air. “Begone, scavengers!”

More caws echoed from above as two more crows arrived, their movements as shifty as the first pair.

The bearded man jabbed a finger at Blake. “Now look at what you’ve done.”

He tried to shoo her off, too, but the little black birds hopped to block her path.

“Bah!” he grumbled. “I don’t want trouble today.”

“What did I do?” Blake squeaked.

He gestured irritably at her dress. “Find something else to wear before they peck it from your body, or worse, a Guardian forcibly removes it.”

“I have no idea what’s happening,” she cried. “And I have no other clothes.”

“Find some.”

“But I have no money. It’s all in me phone, and no one seems to have a bloody charger!”