Forbidden Power

Chapter 12-Street Market Finds

This has been my favorite second-hand store in the area. Every time I come into town I buy my clothes here only to re-donate them before I leave. I browsed the racks, happy to see that some of the clothes I wore last year are still here, and grabbing them to purchase for maybe the third time. I can't remember how many times I've bought these exact clothes now.

I turned around with two sets of traditional men's clothes, a pair of jeans, three collared shirts, and a set of loungewear. All mine from last year and all together on the same rack. That's convenient. Marco, on the other hand, was holding so many clothes I could no longer see him. The shopkeeper was trying to help him, but there was a language barrier, and Marco was afraid the man was taking his clothes away.

"No! I'm going to buy these! I want them! I don't want to put them back!" He was yelling from behind his pile, talking slower like that would help. I chuckled to myself and shook my head. This guy. He's going to make this trip very interesting, I can already tell.

I called out to the shopkeeper in Egyptian and by name as I knew him by now. "Ahmed, these items for me, please, and add on the clothes that i***t has to my total."

The shopkeeper looked at me in surprise before bursting into laughter, causing Marco to jump.

"I will not be charging you for those clothes, Teddy. You've bought them three times already," he chuckled.

"Has it already been three times? Well, perhaps you should start renting clothes instead of selling them," I joked.

"Only for you, my friend. Who is the loud man with you?" He asked.

"A humble monk from Spain who has never had material possessions. As you can see, he is eager to leave his beliefs in his native land," I indicated Marco's mound of clothes, which he had stumbled forward and dropped at my feet.

"Wait! I need to look at the other stuff here!" Marco held up his finger for me to wait. I shook my head and rolled my eyes as Marco ran around the shop like a child in a toy store.

"I can see he is eager to spend his money," the shopkeeper said in amusement.

"No. He's eager to spend my money," I told Ahmed. "He left Spain with nothing but the robes on his back. If you can't tell, his current clothing is mine."

Ahmed paused and looked at him before hiding his laugh behind his hand. "Yes. A bit too big, I think."

"Indeed," I agreed.

Marco called out asking where undergarments were sold, and I translated for Ahmed who walked over and showed him what he was looking for.

Finally we were ready to check out. I sized up Marco's stash. "Ahmed, would you happen to have a used suitcase in stock?"

Ahmed nodded and disappeared behind a curtain. "This one arrived here right when you two arrived. A gentleman dropped it off as you were browsing. I haven't even looked inside it yet, but you may have this one. Consider it a gift for your continued patronage."

"Thank you, my friend. Your generosity is appreciated," I responded with another bow. Ahmed has made it no secret that he relishes in my acts of respect. Probably because of my stature. Men my height are rare in these parts, and it's considered an honorable thing to be tall. For a tall man to show respect to a short man is considered a great honor.

Ahmed rang up the total of Marco's clothes, and I paid him the correct amount of pounds. He grinned broadly and helped me carry Marco's clothes out to the waiting van. His expression turned severe when he saw Layla in the driver's seat, and he didn't acknowledge her, which didn't surprise me. He's an older man with a disparaging view of women. He helped load the clothes, and I put the suitcase in the back.

"Don't be a stranger," Ahmed said, offering me a handshake, which I accepted warmly.

"You know you'll be seeing me again, if only to donate the clothes for another time," I answered. Ahmed nodded and returned to his shop while I joined Marco in the back of the van.

"Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?" Layla called back.

"No, I..." I began.

"Is there a street market anywhere?" Marco asked excitedly.

"Marco, we need to get to the site. You're here as my new partner, remember? That's the story we're going with. We need to act like archaeologists and get to the site. We don't have time for a street market," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. He's acting like a giddy tourist.

"Please? Give me ten minutes! I want to see a real street market!" Marco begged. I could see Layla smiling in the rear view mirror. She likes Marco. I can tell. He is a likable person. Outgoing and charismatic. Unlike me in every way.

"Fine. If it's okay with Layla," I consented.

"Of course. I am always thrilled to see such enthusiasm for my wonderful country," she said quickly. Seems like she was already poised to agree with Marco regardless of my opinion. I'm going to get ganged up on, aren't I?

She drove us the short distance to the market, and Marco burst out the van doors after collecting a few pounds from me. I wonder how he'll do considering these people will not know Spanish and a good many of them don't speak English? I need to work with Marco on learning Egyptian Arabic so he can communicate with people here. Luckily the other archaeologists all speak English as a common language, but that does us no good if we never get to them.

Layla ran after Marco, leaving me to guard the running van with the back doors still hanging wide open. I sighed and grabbed the suitcase. At least I can put Marco's new clothes away. I opened the suitcase and was immediately assailed with the smell of blood. I looked at the suitcase in horror, but I saw nothing. Why do I smell fresh blood so strongly yet see nothing?

I patted the lining of the suitcase, searching for anything that felt off. Finally I felt something that didn't feel like it belonged to the suitcase. Using my cell phone light to better see, I spotted some stitches in the cloth lining that were clearly not original. I easily pulled them loose and opened the lining a bit. The smell of blood was definitely stronger. I reached in gingerly, not sure what I was going to find. My hand hit the abnormality I felt, and I removed a small, crumpled piece of paper.

I opened it up and narrowed my eyes. The writing was in blood. Magical blood. And it smelled pretty fresh.

Dangers await if the truth you still seek.

You might be strong, but your friends are weak.

Consider yourself warned.

I glared at the short note. It had the same style as the note I received when I got the puzzle ball. It's too late to ask Ahmed about the person who donated this suitcase. It might put his life at risk to involve him anyway. I'm not willing to put anyone in danger if I can help it.

Marco ran over then with a little statue of an Anubis and handed it to me. "Can I get this, Teddy? Can I? Doesn't it look old? Doesn't it look like a special treasure? The man says I don't have enough money!"

Okay, well, maybe I'll sacrifice Marco.

"How many pounds did he say it was?" I asked, annoyed.

"I don't even know!" Marco whined.

"Ugh. Fine. Where is Layla? Shouldn't she know?" I asked, feeling agitated that he left her alone when I'm obviously being followed.

"She was arguing with the man selling the statue. What did she call it? Haggarding?" Marco mused.

"HAGGLING," I yelled, suddenly angry. The street market was no place for a lone woman, especially one as beautiful as Layla. "Take me to her IMMEDIATELY."

I grabbed the keys out of the ignition so no one steals the van and slammed the back doors shut. Marco cowered away from me as I loomed over him like an angry giant.

He scurried away, and I thundered after him, fury and fear rising in me simultaneously. The note was clearly meant as a threat for me. Somehow the person also knew I'd be able to smell the fresh blood and find the note. How did he know so much about me? How long has he been stalking me? He knows where I live since he sent me the puzzle ball to my home. He knows I'm both a wizard and a vampire. Somehow he knew I'd need a suitcase when I went into Ahmed's shop, so that means he knew I'd have to buy double the amount of clothes since I now have Marco with me. I don't feel good about this. Not at all. Now where is Layla?!

I only felt slightly relieved when I spotted Layla in the distance talking passionately to a street vendor who looked at her like she was a dead fish stinking up his selling area. I wanted to punch him in his pretentious face. She is a genius. She is the whole pacakage, brains and beauty, and that is lost on men like him. At least she has a husband who treasures her.