My relief was palpable as we strolled the stands of shifters, inhaling the smell of clove and nutmeg, and passed by a coven of vampires who, for some reason, bowed to Onyx as they passed. “What’s that about?” I asked. “I paid them twenty dollars to do that in front of you. You know, so I’d look cool,” he said, buying a caramel apple and passing it to me.
