Zuri stepped back to let him in and kept the low table between them. The apartment looked the same as it had that morning, the cluttered shelves and the smell of incense and coffee, but she was different. She studied him with her head tilted slightly, the way someone looks at a puzzle that changed while they weren't watching.
"Sit." She pointed at the cushion he had used hours earlier.
He sat. "What do you see?"
"You're different." She stayed standing, arms crossed. "Something happened to you since this morning, didn't it?"
The word hit him like cold water. She could tell just by looking at him. He was almost sure she meant what had happened with the presence, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Different how?"
"You have access now. To things most people can't see or touch."
Why is she being so vague? "What kind of things?"
She moved to the kitchen counter and leaned against it, putting more distance between them. "Reality isn't what most people think it is. Behind everyday life there's a whole other world, and most people have no way into it. But you, somehow, have been given one."
Makun sat very still. By temperament he was a logical man. If an ex hadn't once called him cursed, he would never have given Zuri a second look, and if it weren't for what had happened on his bathroom floor, he would have thought she was mad. Yet here he was, being asked to believe there was a world hidden beneath this one.
"A way into what?"
She was quiet for a long time. Helping him was going to bring her trouble; she had seen that much in the reading. But he had begged so convincingly at the door, and now here they were, and she was telling him things when she had wanted nothing to do with him. She sighed like someone making a decision she already regretted.
"When I did your reading this morning, I saw strong spiritual forces behind you. Attached to you. In fifteen years of practice I've never seen anything like it. People have bad luck, curses, karmic ties. Yours I couldn't explain."
Fifteen years. The number stuck with him. She looked so young that she must have started as a child, and in all that time she had never seen anything like what was on him. What is on me, for it to be this bad?
"What kind of forces? Why me?"
"I don't know why you. But it's the kind of force that doesn't let go. The kind that follows bloodlines. Generational curses, things that get handed down." She rubbed her arms as if she were cold, and he noticed that her eyes stayed carefully away from his wrists. "But something's changed now. Those forces aren't the same as they were. Now that you can reach the Veil, you might have a chance."
Bloodlines. Generational curses. The Veil. Makun's chest tightened. He knew nothing about his family, so he had no idea what he could have inherited. He could feel holes in what she was telling him, but he knew too little to judge her for them.
He leaned forward. "What world?"
"The Mystic World. Hidden, and layered over everything normal people see." Her voice was flat. "Like I said, people are born and die without ever knowing it exists. Now you know."
He did know, but it wasn't enough. The presence had told him to dive deep into the Mystic. "How do I learn about it?"
"Trust me, you don't want to. I'm advising you not to." Her voice sharpened. "It's treacherous and dangerous and full of vice. People will use you, manipulate you, consume you if they get the chance. Everything has a price, and everyone wants something, and as long as they profit they don't care who they destroy."
"But I need to know." His desperation slipped through. "You said no one can help me. That means I have to help myself, and if I don't learn, how do I survive?" He hesitated, then gave her the truth. "You're right that something happened. I can see things now. Particles, energy, things I don't understand. My head feels like it's splitting open. If I don't understand what's happening to me—"
"You'll go insane," she finished. "Or worse."
They sat with that for a while. Then she pushed off from the counter.
"There are places where you can learn. Markets. In this city they appear between midnight and four in the morning, in different spots around the Lower City. Mystics trade there: knowledge, objects, services. You might find what you need."
"How do I find them?"
"Follow the energy. You can see it now, can't you? Feel it?" She waited for his nod. "The markets draw energy like magnets. If you're walking in the right areas after midnight, you'll feel the pull."
"And once I'm there?"
"Walk from stall to stall. Some people trade spiritual knowledge for payment, and they'll deal with anyone if the price is right. A few are trustworthy. Most aren't." She took a pen and paper from a drawer and wrote quickly. "There are signs that tell you who's safe. Mystics who wear silver jewelry openly usually are; I've heard they belong to an institution that keeps order, though I'm not sure. Avoid anyone who won't meet your eyes, because the eyes are windows to the soul and they might be hiding something. Avoid anyone who asks about your family or your bloodline in the first conversation. And never, ever make a deal with anyone from the Hollow Court."
"What's the Hollow Court?"
"No idea. Nobody even knows how to spot them. It's just what gets passed around." She handed him the paper. "The markets move. The pier district on Monday nights, the warehouse district on Wednesdays, Old Town Plaza on Fridays. But they're never in quite the same place twice."
Her handwriting was sharp and precise. Makun read the list and understood that he was about to walk into a place whose rules he didn't know, where danger could be anywhere.
"How do I pay?"
"Cash works for basic things. Real knowledge costs more. Memories. Favors. Years off your life. Resources, potions, anything that helps a practitioner on their Route. Just be careful what you agree to."
Years off my life. His blood went cold. They can actually take that? What kind of world is this?
"Is there anyone I can trust?"
"No." The answer came instantly. "Trust yourself. Everyone else has their own agenda."
He folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "I know I've imposed on you. Thank you for this."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for my own conscience." She crossed to the door and opened it. "This is all I can give you. Don't come back."
"What if I need more help?"
"Find someone else. I've already risked too much."
In the hallway he turned back. "Thank you."
For a moment her expression softened. "Be careful. This world eats people like you for breakfast."
The door closed, and the locks clicked. Makun stood looking at the wood. He had a direction now, a place to start, and he also understood that he was entirely on his own, heading into a world full of people who would use him and consume him. But the choice was simple: stay ignorant and lose his mind, or learn and risk everything. The Mystic World was also the only place he might find answers.
He headed for the stairs. It was time to see what the Night Market had to offer.