They passed a display of potted trees. Apple trees with glistening fruit the color of pearls. Pear trees with fruit that looked like hammered gold. There was even a giant Christmas tree, sparkling with the flames of a hundred candles nestled on its branches.

Aru watched as a redheaded girl reached for the Christmas tree. The girl giggled and, right in front of Aru, stepped into the tree. The tree gave a contented little shake. But no sooner had she settled into the tree than a tall woman with long strawberry blond hair started knocking on the trunk.

“Come out of there, now!” she said. She had an accent. Irish? “I swear on the Dagda, I’ll—”

The woman yanked on one of the pine branches, pulling it like an ear, and hoisted the girl out of the tree. The girl looked very unhappy.

“Every. Time,” said the woman, who appeared to be the girl’s mother. “This is why you’re not allowed in parks. Maeve, my goodness, when your father learns that you…”

But Aru couldn’t hear the rest of the scolding, because the two of them turned and hurried away down an aisle marked LAUNDRY SUPPLIES.

“All these…Otherworldly people…come here? To a Costco?” asked Mini.

Boo winked. “Who says it looks like a Costco to them? Who says they are even in the United States? The world has many faces, children. It’s only showing you one at a time. Now hurry. Time will move even faster here, and you still need armor and the second key.”

“And a snack?” added Aru hopefully.

“Yes, fine, one snack.”

Why Are All Enchanted Things So Rude?

The three of them stopped at the wide aisle of frozen foods and started taking inventory: black bean soup, lunch rolls, pizzas, bagels, pizza bagels, tripe, codfish, catfish, I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-fish fish. Gross. Aru waited for her perception to change, for magic to prickle on the outside of her vision like television static. But she didn’t feel any different, and her hopes of seeing any magical toilet paper were quickly fading.

“So this is where every Otherworldly person does their shopping?” asked Mini.

“And weapons perusing, apparently,” said Aru.

Not to mention key-to-the-Kingdom-of-Death browsing.

In all of Aru’s previous grocery shopping, she’d never once picked up a gallon of milk and then wandered over to an aisle labeled SHARP DEADLY THINGS. (Unfortunately.)

“The Night Bazaar has had to adapt, change form, and account for things like families moving to new countries and imaginations evolving,” explained Boo.

“So what did it used to look—” Aru started.

“Just read the items,” said Boo, irritated.

Mini yawned. “Fine…more pizza rolls…why do there need to be so many different brands of pizza rolls? Peanut butter sandwiches. Frozen salmon.” She stopped. “Did you know you can get E. coli from salmon? It can kill you.”

Aru, who was shivering from all the refrigeration, scowled. “Anything and everything can kill you, Mini! You don’t need to point it out all the time.”

Mini straightened her shoulders. “My mother always says that knowledge is power. I’m just trying to make us more powerful.”

“And my mother says that ignorance is bliss,” said Aru under her breath.

Muttering the words made her pause, though. Ignorance hadn’t been bliss. Not even close. Bliss meant happiness, but here Aru was, not knowing who she was, where she was, or what she was supposed to do next. Had her mother said that because she had chosen to keep Aru in the dark?

Maybe her mom had done it to protect her. She did that a lot, even though Aru never understood until days (or even months) later. Like the time her mom had tearfully apologized when no one showed up at Aru’s birthday party during third grade. She confessed that she’d accidentally thrown away all the invitations. They spent the day at the movies and had breakfast for dinner instead (which was awesome), but Aru had been furious. It wasn’t until a year later that Aru learned the truth from a classmate. None of the invited kids had wanted to come, so her mom had lied to protect Aru’s feelings.

Aru thought back to Mini’s story about showing up to a birthday party on the wrong date. Mini had no idea how much they had in common….

Mini started to drone on again about the aisle’s offerings. “Frozen waffles, frozen pancakes, frozen stars, frozen wings, frozen—”

“Wait a sec…” started Aru.

Mini’s eyes became unfocused. “Frozen prophecies, frozen orreries, frozen gold, frozen lead—”

Aru looked around, trying to see signs of magic. Slowly, her vision changed. The supermarket faded. The cement floor transformed to packed earth. The fluorescent ceiling lights stopped flickering.

Her bones felt heavy. She grew sleepy.

And then…then it was like dozing off in class. One moment of perfect, heavy-lidded happiness.

That was ruined by the sound of a bell.

Except it wasn’t a bell; it was a loud squawking sound that came from overhead. The warehouse ceiling was gone, and a bird soared in the sky above them. Its wide wings were the color of evening turning into nighttime. Half of the sky was sunlit; half of it was moonlit.

“Whoa,” breathed Mini.

It looked as if someone had taken an ancient marketplace and squashed it together with a modern grocery store. Beyond a pane of glass, aisles stretched far ahead in every direction. From what Aru could see, they held a combination of shelves, displays, small shops, and tents. One shop sold strange bolts of silk whose patterns looked like spun moonbeams and ribbons of rushing water. Next to it was an Apple Store.