I snorted right back at him. He wouldn’t understand how it could be between women. We had each other’s backs, especially when large, egotistical men were involved.

The next vendor I stopped at had the biggest setup in the street.

Four tables full of weapons from the tiniest of knives to some seriously big guns that looked as though they could take down an elephant. I paused there. The shadow world was dangerous, but more so when you drew attention to yourself, which meant quiet weapons were best.

More for defense than anything else in my opinion—which was really Gran’s opinion.

I drew closer to the first table and let my hand drift over some of the steel blades. And frowned. There were hairline cracks in several of them. In fact, every weapon I looked at had some terrible flaw that really didn’t impress me. Maybe this was the cheap stuff, though, maybe the good stuff was in the back.

Moving to the next table of weapons, I looked for the vendor. Make that vendors. A pair of twins, to be exact.

Both were quite beefy, almost as wide as they were tall, and they had matching blond beards that hung to their chests. The pair of them looked rounder than the Vikings in documentaries and movies, but otherwise they fit the image, down to metal chainmail they wore over their tan shirts.

One of the other trainees was already there, haggling with them. The girl who’d been making eyes at Corb as if he were the last man on earth and she was ovulating and eager to pop out a mini-Corb.

“Hey!” I called out to her. She looked at me and quickly turned her back on me. As if I didn’t exist.

It was going to be like that, was it? I did a quick scan for her trainer and found Corb hanging back in the shadows. I frowned. “How the hell did they get here ahead of us?”

Sarge snickered. “They probably used the street-level doors.”

I spun and punched him in the chest, right in the old breadbasket. He let out an oof and took a couple of steps back, and my clenched fist immediately throbbed as though I’d punched a wall rather than a block of muscle. But it was worth it for the low chuckle that rolled from Corb as he drew close.

“Sarge, seems you’ve pissed her off already. I have to say, well done. She hasn’t even taken a swing at me yet.”

I shook my head. “He’s lovely to look at, Corb, but really, your friend is kind of a dick. And not the good kind of dick. A bit on the limp side.”

Corb would have made a better poker player than most, except that I saw the smile in his eyes while his lips fought it off. He cleared his throat. “We aren’t allowed to help, Bree. You have to do this on your own too. All part of seeing how you can handle things as they come up.”

“Yeah, well, that would be great if I knew what the job really entailed, right? Different jobs require different tools,” I said, my voice sharp. Damn it, there was a bit of Gran in both words and tone. I shook off a wash of nostalgia and started toward the weapons vendors. Fine, if they weren’t going to tell me, I needed to get items that would work across the board. “All right, what have you two got for me?”

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.”

Jaysus. My gut did a funny little twist that made me feel like the ground was moving again, right under my feet. What the hell, were vampires real? Gran had not mentioned vampires in any of our discussions. Maybe like this place, she wasn’t going to mention the really ugly stuff until after I agreed to stay, or whatever it was she had been waiting for.

Little idiot, you’re hanging out with a werewolf and talked to a living skeleton last night. Of course there are vampires!

Right, I had to remember I most certainly was not in Seattle anymore. I was in Savannah. Land of the dead. Land of the supernatural, despite what the upper crust might want the world to believe.

I cleared my throat. “Well, what would you recommend for a newbie?” I said. “Working at the Hollows Group is the plan.”

“Ahh, here, I have a few. You are the first in a long time to ask. Most just get weapons and armor and think they be done.” Yes, there was some Irish in his voice for sure. “Smart of you. Then again, you got a few years on most.”

“Thanks for noticing,” I said dryly.

He rifled through a pile of books that was taller than him, and pulled out three thin books, plus one that had to be a thousand pages that he set aside. The bigger book was wrapped in red leather with moons and stars embossed deep into the spine and front cover. I knew that book.

It was Gran’s. My heart picked up speed and I fought to quell it. “Where did you get that one?”

He pushed it under the stack and handed the rest to me. “These will give you great insights into world of grave magic and shadows.” I took note that he didn’t answer the question about my gran’s book.

I didn’t want to seem too eager. I took a quick glance at the titles now that they were in my hands. They would be good. One was about all the things not to do in the shadow world—basic etiquette, if you will—the second one was all about finding loopholes with various creatures, and the last was a guide to understanding curses.

I could almost hear my gran cackling with excitement. She’d have loved these books.

But not as much as she’d loved hers.

Time to bring on the negotiations. I’d seen Himself mediate enough divorces with a skill that even I had to give him, that I knew I could make this happen.

I crouched down in front of him and tapped the three smaller books in my hand. “How much? I’m not sure my trainer will care if I have them or not.”

He curled his lips up and stroked his face as if he wore a mustache that was most obviously not there. “The three smalls? Let’s say twenty. There are many of them out there, nothing special about them.”

Fair enough. “Okay, that’s doable.” I paused in handing over the twenty. “What about that one, there? The one with the red leather?”

He turned to look at it. “That big one, that one is expensive. One of a kind, written by a great woman. I bought it when she died. Mind you, you’d never need another book.”

Shortly after Himself had forged his way to the deed of her house, he’d sold everything he could right out from under me. You see, I wasn’t making up the bit about him being like a demon. The bastard was all about greed and selfishness.

“That one . . . fifteen hundred.” He put his hand on it. “One of a kind, I can only sell it once.”

I rocked back on my heels. “It’s special to you? Did you know her?”

His face was thoughtful before he answered. “She was a friend. Much knowledge is in there.” His pudgy fingers gripped it a little tighter and for just a second he narrowed his eyes at me, but it happened so fast, I’m not sure if I was seeing things or not.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “Half the price, and I’ll let you come and read it if you’re stuck on something. I’ll lend it to you.”

“Half price? That is not a deal for me.”

I shrugged. “How many people are going to let you have a look at it when you need it?”

His eyes narrowed and I could see the wheels turning with what I’d said. “Twelve-fifty.”

I grimaced and turned partially away, paused and looked over my shoulder. “Eight-fifty.”

His hand stroked the cover. “My bottom would be eleven hundred.”

My guts twisted up because that was a lot of money still, but I knew it would be worth it for Gran’s book. That was the book she’d trained me from, in which she’d taken notes, journaled . . . everything. Everything she knew about the shadow world was in there.

It was the closest I’d come to getting her back.

I made another face and tried to think of something I could offer him besides money. “What about . . . eight hundred”—I held up a hand as he spluttered, understandable seeing as I’d gone down with the amount— “and a favor once I’m all trained up.”