Chapter 129: Chapter 129: The Hollow Market 2

LUCIEN’S VOICE was calm but firm. “We need to leave. Now.”

But the crowd had already begun to close in—not threatening, exactly, but curious in that particularly dangerous way that supernatural beings had when something interesting caught their attention.

Mailah could feel dozens of eyes on them, assessing, calculating, wondering if the demon who’d just destroyed a corrupted familiar was friend or foe.

“Too late for subtle,” Grayson muttered, his hand finding Mailah’s and gripping tight. “Stay with me. Don’t let go for anything.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Mailah replied, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Oliver had gone pale, Shadow clutched against his chest like a furry shield. “This is bad, right? This feels bad.”

“Very bad,” Lucien confirmed cheerfully, his wings already folding back into whatever dimensional pocket angels kept them in. “Which is why we’re going to walk—not run, walk—toward the east exit like we have every right to be here.”

“Do we have every right to be here?” Mailah asked, glancing around the crowded, flickering expanse of the Hollow Market.

The air shimmered faintly with magic, carrying scents of smoke, iron, and something sweetly rotten.

“Absolutely not,” Lucien replied cheerfully. “Technically, the Market doesn’t allow beings like us inside without sponsorship.”

Mailah frowned. “Beings like us?”

“A fallen angel, a demon, a witch-in-training, and a human,” Lucien said. “The Market doesn’t like instability. We’re walking, talking instability.”

Grayson’s jaw tightened. “The Market fears exposure, not instability. It runs on secrecy, and the moment we step inside, that secrecy starts to fray.”

Lucien smirked. “So we’re too interesting

to be welcome. I’m flattered.”

“Try not to act like it,” Grayson muttered, scanning the crowd. “The last thing we need is attention.”

As if on cue, attention found them.

As if on cue, a man or creature with scales instead of skin stepped forward, blocking their path. His smile was all teeth, literally—rows of them visible when he spoke. “Grayson Ashford. Heard you were keeping to yourself these days. What brings you to the Market?”

“Shopping,” Grayson replied with impressive blandness. “For candles.”

The demon’s laugh was like grinding stones. “Candles. Right. And the angel? The human? The terrified boy with the familiar? They’re all here for candles too?”

“Scented ones,” Mailah added helpfully, earning herself a sharp look from Grayson that she chose to ignore. “Lavender, specifically. Very hard to find in the mortal world.”

The creature’s multiple eyes swiveled to focus on her, and Mailah had to work very hard not to flinch. Up close, he smelled like sulfur and old pennies, and his breath came out in visible puffs despite the mild temperature.

“A human with humor,” the demon said slowly. “How… refreshing. Though I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when you realize how exposed you are here.”

Grayson moved, subtle but deliberate, positioning himself between Mailah and the demon. “She’s under my protection. Anyone who forgets that will regret it.”

“Ooh, protective,” the demon drawled. “How very un-Ashford of you. The rumors are true then—you’ve gone soft for a mortal.”

Before Grayson could respond with what Mailah suspected would be violence, Lucien stepped forward with that particular smile that suggested mayhem was about to unfold.

“Korax,” he said pleasantly. “Still pretending you’re a respectable merchant instead of a debt broker with creative collection methods?”

Korax visibly bristled, scales rippling with agitation. “Watch your tongue, angel.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Lucien replied, his voice dropping to something darker, more dangerous. “Because if you delay us any longer, I’m going to be very concerned about why. And when I get concerned, I start asking questions. Loud questions. To people who might be very interested in your side businesses.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade. Mailah watched, fascinated despite her fear, as Korax’s aggression shifted to calculation.

Whatever Lucien knew, it was apparently enough to make even a creature with rows of teeth reconsider his position.

“Fine,” Korax said finally, stepping aside with obvious reluctance. “But tell your demon lord to stay out of the Market. He’s not welcome here, protection or not.”

“Noted,” Grayson said curtly, already moving past with Mailah’s hand still firmly in his.

They made it another twenty feet before the second interruption.

“Leaving so soon, Ashford?”

A witch stood ahead, her tattoos shifting like shadows caught in candlelight. Her beauty was sharp, dangerous—every inch of her radiated practiced power.

“A word, Ashford?” the witch said, her voice musical and dangerous.

“Not interested,” Grayson replied without stopping.

“Not even about the Collective?” the witch called after them.

That made them all freeze.

The witch’s smile was triumphant as she sauntered closer, her tattoos shifting. “Thought that might get your attention. Word on the street is you’ve been making waves. Challenging old agreements. Taking in strays.” Her eyes flicked to Mailah, Oliver, and back to Grayson. “Some people are… concerned.”

“Some people can mind their own business,” Grayson said flatly.

“Except it is their business,” the witch countered. “You’re disrupting centuries of carefully maintained balance. The Collective isn’t the only faction worried about what you’re building.”

Lucien’s laugh was sharp. “Building? He’s just living his life. Since when is that a crime?”

“Since he started living it publicly,” the witch replied. “With a human fiancée. And protection rights extended to victims of pain-feeders. And now, apparently, recruiting hedge witches and their familiars.” She looked at Oliver, who squeaked and tried to hide behind Grayson despite being taller. “You’re making a statement, whether you intend to or not.”

Mailah felt Grayson’s hand tighten on hers, felt the tension radiating through him. But when he spoke, his voice was controlled, almost calm.

“If people choose to see my personal choices as a statement, that’s their problem, not mine.”

“Is it though?” the witch asked. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve painted a very large target on everyone associated with you. Including your lovely human.”

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Mailah felt something cold settle in her stomach, but before she could respond, Grayson moved.

He was suddenly inches from the witch, his presence expanding with menace that made even Lucien take a step back. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries and the promise of violence.

“Let me be very clear,” he said softly. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—makes a move against her, I will burn their world down and salt the earth where it stood. I will hunt them through every realm, every dimension, every afterlife they try to hide in. And when I’m done, there won’t be enough left to remember they ever existed.”

The witch swallowed, her tattoos flickering nervously. “Understood.”

“Good,” Grayson said, stepping back. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we were leaving.”

They made it to the east exit without further incident, though Mailah could feel dozens of eyes following them every step of the way.

The forest path that led away from the Market felt like sanctuary, the natural darkness a relief after the overwhelming presence of so many supernatural beings.

Oliver was the first to break the silence. “So that was… that was a lot.”

“That was Tuesday,” Lucien replied, his earlier humor returning now that they were clear of immediate danger. “Relatively speaking, that went well.”

“How is any of that going well?” Mailah demanded, finally releasing some of the tension that had been coiling in her chest. “We got attacked by a corrupted familiar, threatened by at least two different beings, and basically declared war on anyone who might have a problem with our existence!”

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “But we’re all alive, we got some useful information, and Grayson made a very dramatic speech that will be all over the supernatural gossip networks by morning. I call that a win.”

“You have a very strange definition of winning,” Oliver muttered, still clutching Shadow like a lifeline.

Grayson had gone quiet, his expression unreadable as they walked.

Mailah could feel the tension in him, the barely controlled fury that had erupted when the witch threatened her. It should have been frightening—this reminder of exactly what he was capable of when pushed.

Instead, she felt…

Protected. Valued. Like she mattered enough for a centuries-old demon to threaten the destruction of worlds on her behalf.

It was possibly the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her, which said concerning things about her taste in gestures.

“Grayson,” she said softly, tugging on his hand to get his attention.

He looked down at her, and some of the coldness in his expression melted. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Though I think we need to talk about the whole ’burning worlds down’ thing. That seems like it might have political ramifications.”

“I meant every word,” Grayson said flatly.

“I know you did,” Mailah replied. “That’s what concerns me. And also…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Also makes me want to kiss you very badly, which is probably not the appropriate response to death threats and dramatic declarations.”

Grayson stopped walking, turning to face her fully. Behind them, Lucien made an amused sound while Oliver suddenly became very interested in examining nearby trees.

“You want to kiss me,” Grayson said slowly, “because I threatened to destroy anyone who hurts you?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds concerning,” Mailah admitted. “But yes. Apparently I have a thing for overly dramatic demons who make apocalyptic promises on my behalf.”

His smile was slow and devastating. “Just checking I understood correctly.”

And then he kissed her.

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