Uncle Jo huffed in exasperation. “I don’t see anything other than a dark field.
“Shh,” Pete scolded. “Just hush and watch. Whaddya see?”
I turned off the engine and stuck my head out of the window. A night breeze battled the humid heat that still lingered after a long, hot day. Crickets chirped and the buzz of cicadas filled the air. Tiny lights hovering close to the ground blinked on and off across the entire expanse.
“Ooh, I think I’ve got it,” I said, slapping the side of the truck. “Say the first part again.”
Pete chuckled and obeyed. “Cicadas sing their nightly tune. The stars, they twinkle in the skies.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I repeated the words under my breath. With a snap of my fingers, my eyes flew open, and I recalled the rest. “My way is lost without no moon unless I’m led by fireflies.”
“Well done,” the amused guard complimented. “You know your country song history.”
Turning the engine over with a roar, I let the truck idle. “I’ve got some family members who like the oldies.” I thought of Granny Jo singing off-key in the kitchen while frying food in the skillet.
Pete pointed down the dirt road in front of us. “Follow it until you pass through the veil. Feel free to pull up closer to the entrance to unload before you park.”
I thanked him with a tip of my hat, and he bowed a little in response. We pulled forward and bounced over potholes and other divots in the dirt until we reached the edge of the woods.
The pressure of magical energy tingled over my hands and down my arms as we drove through the glamour cast to hide the market. The bronze of the elephant coin warmed, and I braced myself for the full effect.
“Hold on, Deac,” I shouted through the small window at the back.
It felt a little like what I imagined toothpaste would when being squeezed out of its tube. Once past the magical barrier that kept out mortals, we drove through the woods until we spotted some glittering lights up ahead.
Breaking through the dark thicket of trees, we entered the parking area in front of the Midnight Market. Several large tents of varying bright colors stood in the middle of the clearing. On the east edge, open-air stalls offered more room for the smaller goods to be sold. A few food trucks lined the west side, and the scent of food wafted through the open window. I hoped we’d find what we came for fast enough for us to at least try some samples.
A ginormous guy who looked like a mix between a troll and a Sasquatch wearing a bright orange vest stopped us with his enormous paw of a hand. He leaned down to see through my window.
“Buying or selling?” he asked in a deep, rumbling voice.
“Both,” I replied. “My dad should have already checked in for his slot. Last name’s Jewell.”
The giant of a man ran a thick finger down the sheets of paper, tapping the clipboard. “Here you are. Yes, you’ve been checked into space 147, which is under the green tent over there.” He gestured in the right direction.
Uncle Jo leaned across me. “Has the seller Mystic Misty checked in yet? We’re supposed to meet with her.”
With another look, the guy nodded. “Yes, looks like she’s in one of the outside stalls.” He stepped to the side to take a gander into the back of the truck. “Is it for sale? Your animal?”
“No, he’s not. We’re here to purchase something specifically for him tonight,” I said, hoping not to get interrogated with more complicated questions. “So, we’ll be bringing him with us.”
The guy scratched his chin. “That’s a bit unusual, but I guess not out of the realm of tonight’s market.” He tore off a piece of paper with an orange tag stuck to it and handed it to us. “This will let you park in the lot around back with the other sellers. Please make sure your animal’s secure and won’t run loose or cause problems.”
“I can control myself, thank you, oink,” Deacon complained.
The protruding brow of the troll-like man lifted into his shaggy hairline and he guffawed with merriment. “Well, all right then. Take the path to the right of the tents to the parking lot in the back, please.”
Uncle Jo pointed out a free spot at the very end of the first row of vehicles. He hopped out and directed me so I could back the truck into the space. The tailgate was dropped by the time I secured the cab and got out. My uncle and I positioned ourselves on either side and assisted Deacon onto solid footing on the ground.
My cousin shook his entire body from snout to curly tail and smacked his chops a couple of times. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been out late at night in too long. I wonder if this Misty we’re looking for is cute.”
“Seriously?” I barked at him. “Need I remind you exactly how you got yourself into that form in the first place?”
Deacon cocked his bulbous head toward me. “Hey, give me a break. I can’t help being who I am despite my outer appearance.”
Uncle Jo shrugged his shoulders when I looked to him for support. “Let’s stop wasting time and make our way down the outside stalls. I’d like to make the transaction before things pick up.” He slung a bag full of Deacon’s clothes over his shoulder just in case we found what we needed to return my cousin back to his former glory.
I followed behind my uncle, keeping careful watch over Deacon and whoever eyed him with a little too much interest. We’d already been asked twice if he was for sale, and I didn’t want anyone else getting any ideas. Once the market opened at midnight, the place would be teeming with potential buyers, and more than a few would probably offer a hefty price for a talking pig.
Uncle Jo
