The two oversized Viking-esque vendors ignored me and kept on fawning over the pretty young thing beside me. I snapped my fingers in front of me. Nothing. “I might as well not even be here, hey?”

There had to be more than one way to skin this cat. They had to have competition.

I turned and started down the false street, walking to the end looking for said competition, but there was none. I snagged a great leather bag to replace the one I’d lost out in the graveyard and a new set of lock picks that I got for a song. At another table, I snagged a new flashlight that apparently was good under water for a mere fifteen bucks.

I’d passed a book vendor, which I planned to return to, but I needed to get some protection before I bought any books.

But there were no more weapons vendors. Not a single knife on any of the other tables. Really?

I had a hard time believing that. I went back to the beginning, to Bob-John. “Hey, BJ.”

Bob-John lifted his head and stepped forward. “More clearing powder?”

I shook my head. “Only one weapons table?”

He looked past me to Sarge. I turned around to see him narrow his eyes at Bob-John, making Bob-John shake his head quickly. Then he mouthed one word. “Later.” Interesting.

“Thanks.” I slid another ten to Bob-John, and he passed me another rhinestone-encrusted box of something that I put in my new bag, and then continued on my way, thinking about just what I was going to do about this. I needed weapons—something I was still wrapping my head around—and I didn’t like the thought of buying one of the knockoffs sold by the Vikings.

I paused at the one table near the end of the walk loaded with books. This was Bob-John’s suggestion, and even if he hadn’t encouraged me, I would have come here, drawn by the stacks of books. Books upon books, piled high and spread out all around on the ground as if they’d just poured out of the wall behind the table. I bent and picked up a thin book.

I read the title out loud. “Avoid Becoming A Vampire. Really? Is it that difficult?”

A round little man no taller than Eammon stepped around the table. His cheeks were bright pink, and his eyes had a deep purple tone. He moved in a way that reminded me of Eammon, kind of a strut with his chest puffed up. “Yes, not been a problem in a few years, but doesn’t hurt to be careful.”