Goblins (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Willows stood alone in the middle of the woods in pitch darkness. He'd made the call to dispatch, but when the call ended, the quiet and sense of isolation rushed in at him. For a moment, he didn't understand why he felt unnerved. He wasn't afraid of the dark. Hadn't been since he'd been a boy when his brother used to hide in his closet and jump out wearing a hockey mask with red paint splashed over it. But then the reason came to him. It wasn't the gloom, but the silence that made him feel like that scared little boy again. Where were the crickets, gnats and frogs from the nearby marsh?

He stood ready, gun out, and faced the cave. He hadn't imagined it went too far back, but after shining the light around in it, he realized it wasn't so much a cave as it was a tunnel. The thing seemed to travel for quite a ways, so far that he didn't see the others' flashlight beams. There was no sound of gunfire, which meant they hadn't come across the killers, or the bastards had given up. Of course, if the tunnel went on for miles… No. Impossible. It would flood.

The types of killers they were chasing weren't going to give up either. So he figured he was bound to hear gunfire soon enough.

The sound of a dog yelping caused him to turn around and face the woods. It had only lasted a second, as if the animal had gotten ensnared in a trap and was then killed. It hadn't been too far away. He wondered if Don was all right, then remembered who he was thinking about. The man was a seasoned woodsman.

With nothing left to do but wait and make sure no unfriendlies came from the tunnel, Willows plucked a cigarette from his pack of smokes. He rarely took up the smelly activity, but whenever he was somewhere alone with nothing to do, he smoked. As long as he used the same pack within two months, he didn't think he had a problem. He never smoked at home or in his car, treating it like he did his drinking—only once in a while.

After finishing his cigarette, he stared at the clear sky overhead. The moon was nearly full and cast a soft glow over the area. He kept his flashlight off for this very reason, allowing his night vision to be at its best. But after ten minutes of staring at darkness, he grew bored and rested the shotgun on his shoulder. He moved to the left of the cave, his back to the rock, and waited.

Alone with his thoughts and able to be honest with himself, he felt a little torn. He disliked having to wait outside. He wanted to be part of the action, be with his brothers in blue. He hated waiting around and felt more like a security guard than a cop. No, a security guard working at a baby shower. Nothing was going to happen where he was. No one was getting past Hale and the others. He was as safe as a newborn in its mother's arms.

Safe was the key word. The word his wife always used before he left the house to go to work. “Stay safe,” she'd say. Without a doubt, he loved his wife and children more than anything in the world. Wanted to make it home in one piece every night. Crime was on the low end of the spectrum on Roanoke Island, but anything could happen anywhere. People from all over the country came and visited the place. Most were pleasant, friendly, if not a little snooty. But Manteo received its share of trouble too. A cop never knew who he was going to run into when pulling over a vehicle or reporting to a dispute.

Balancing the job with family had always been tricky. Earlier in his career, Willows wanted to be out there on the streets, busting lawbreakers and getting collars. He had put himself in harm's way numerous times, knowing it was part of the job. His fear level was almost non-existent.

But as he grew older, watched his family blossom, kids go to softball practice and take part in plays, he could no longer put the job first. He thought twice about pulling someone over. Not that he wouldn't if the situation called for it, but he was more careful. The brazenness of the younger cop was gone. He liked to do things procedurally. His life and quality of it mattered more than it ever had. He wanted to be there for his family. He'd grown up without a father, the man dying during a shootout with bank robbers. His wife understood what being a cop meant. She knew the dangers. But it didn't mean she liked it. And his kids didn't know, didn't really understand, what a cop went through on a daily basis.

So after his wife's attack in Raleigh, when she lost the baby, they moved to a safer place. He put in his time, finished up his twenty. He could retire whenever he saw fit.

But he loved being a cop.

His wife would've had him do it already, he knew. But she'd never ask him to retire. It needed to be his decision and not one he regretted making. She wasn't going to be the reason he was unhappy. It was true that he'd miss the job, but as long as he was with her and his kids, he could never be unhappy.

The sound of a branch snapping off to his left broke him out of his daydream. He clicked on the flashlight that was attached to his shotgun and looked in that direction. A pair of eyes stared back at him from within a thicket of bushes. He let out the breath that was caught in his chest. It was a damn animal. Raccoon maybe. “Git on out of here,” he said. “Go on, git. This is police business.”

“Git,” a voice said from the bush.

Willows went rigid and cocked the shotgun. “Come out of there now. I won't hesitate to shoot.” He wasn't sure who it was, but their eyes reflected like an animal's. Perhaps a dog was in there with its owner, or one of the killers. He was scared. More scared than he imagined he would be waiting outside the cave. “I've got buckshot for your ass. Don't make me kill you.” On second thought, if it was one of the killers, he did want to kill him. He'd never shot at anyone before, but he wouldn't hesitate to kill a cop killing kid snatcher. There was no point taking the individual in alive and wasting the court's time, unless the scumbag could lead them to the kids.

He took a step forward, coming away from the outside of the tunnel wall. Then another. The buckshot would do more damage the closer he was to the target. The crunch of fallen twigs and leaves under his feet was deafening.

The eyes remained where they were, unblinking.

“Git,” the voice said again and then the person giggled.

Goose bumps rippled across Willows' flesh. The laughter was maniacal. He took another step closer, then stopped. Shit, he had no idea if there was another killer out here with him. Willows knew tactics. The suspect in the bushes was baiting him, the distraction. It was why he hadn't moved. The eyes weren't eyes, but something else to throw him off so the other killer could sneak up behind and—

Willows spun around and saw a waist-high green humanoid figure. Seeing it brought the conversation he'd had with Hale to mind about the creature Keller and Levy had killed.

The thing started, as if surprised by his sudden about-face. Willows knew he'd surprised it. It hissed, revealing pointy teeth that looked like they could easily shred the toughest of human flesh.

The seasoned cop didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger on the shotgun. The weapon boomed and jerked in his grip. The creature's head vaporized. Fluorescent lime-green fluid spurted from the severed neck as it fell to the ground.

Willows turned back around, expecting to see its partner coming at him, but the woods were quiet, the pair of glowing eyes gone. He fired into the bush regardless, then backed up to the cave's entrance. The cover was a tactical advantage and it appeared the killers didn't have guns.

He scanned the area, moving his flashlight beam slowly. He caught a streak of something just ahead of where the light was shining. He fired, but only hit the trunk of an oak tree, sending shards of bark everywhere.

Laughter broke out from the darkness, then “Git, git, git.”

The damn thing—he didn't consider it fully human anymore—was mocking him. Playing with him as if this were a game it could walk away from. It didn't give a shit its companion was dead.

Willows tried to hone in on the laughter and panned the light around. He kept seeing blurs of movement, but didn't fire, knowing the thing wanted him to use up his ammo. Besides the shotgun, he had his Glock and three magazines. The thing was in for a lot of running around if that was the case.

Another blur, but this time he positioned the flashlight beam on the tree the creature hid behind. He stayed ready, staring down the gun's sights, waiting to see which side it popped its head out from, then BOOM!

As Willows eyed the tree, sweat tickling the sides of his face, another creature swooped down from the ledge of rock above the cave entrance and landed on him. Its weight forced his arms down. The gun went off, spitting up dirt and debris. The weapon's kick bucked the creature off as it reared back one of its clawed hands to strike.

Willows didn't think about what to do and simply let his training take over. He turned around and kicked the little green creature in the chest and sent it flying. It landed on its ass and tumbled head over heels away.

The creature that had been hiding behind the tree was charging at him, its face a snarl. Gobs of green slime leaked from its open mouth. Willows wondered if it was rabid, then figured it was just pissed that its brethren got its ass kicked, literally.

He pumped a round into the shotgun's chamber and aimed the weapon at the creature, who didn't seem to know or care that a powerful tool was pointing at it. He waited for the thing to get a bit closer. It launched into the air. He fired and sent the ugly shit flying backward into the gloom between two pine trees with a gaping hole where its stomach had been.

Knowing he'd fired the weapon's last round and not wanting to take the time to load more shells, he set the gun against the cave wall and pulled out his sidearm, a department issued Glock 19. He racked the slide, sending a bullet into the chamber. Before he reloaded the shotgun, he was going to make sure the other creature was dead and no more were out there.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Crud had been a goblin for over one hundred and twenty-seven years. He didn't remember his human life, but if he had, he would have known that he'd been a vile human being. A killer of over twenty women.

Shortly after murdering his twenty-first and twenty-second victims, he was abducted from his home in London by two goblins. He was then taken to the goblin king and turned into a goblin, but not before being made to suffer greatly. A local baker whose wife and daughter had been victim to Crud had been the one who summoned the goblin king. But unlike most humans who were made into goblins and had their minds completely wiped—their human condition erased—Crud kept his sinister human ways, the goblin king finding no reason to remove such wonderful characteristics.

During the goblin king's latest venture to the human world, Crud was given the duty of patrolling and commanding the outer guards, the goblins that stood watch over the earthbound part of the goblin cave. Crud was honored to be the outer watch commander again. He was one of the goblin king's most vile and feared goblins. He always looked forward to returning to earth where he could do battle with the humans, for there was nothing better than slaughtering them in their own world.

The goblin king had to transform one more child, making the number of turned five. This was the sacred number the ritual required, the summoning spell that the shaman had wrongly performed so many years ago, allowing the goblin king to return when its power was at its greatest. This took about one hundred years to accomplish. Once the fifth child was his and killed its former parents, the goblin king would send its entire army to the surface with little drain on its power. As it stood, opening the portal had required a great amount of energy, but each child the demon turned, and each eye the demon consumed of the goblins' former parents, supplied it with the power it would need to unleash its army. One more child turned goblin and the island of Roanoke would be the goblin king's for the taking.

Crud had seen the men enter the cave. One remained behind. He let them pass without interference. Human eyes would never spot him. He blended in with the small indentation in the wall, filling in the crevice almost seamlessly. His flesh was rough, dark and lined with scars from the numerous battles and fights he'd been a part of. Burned in places as well. Warts, tumors and growths decorated Crud's flesh from head to toe, further making him appear like part of the jagged cave wall.

The notorious goblin had planned on following the humans, and when they turned to run from the depths—for he knew they would—he would be waiting to cut them down. But then, one of them remained behind. This intrigued the goblin. Made his salivary glands ache. He knew the contingent of goblin guards below would take care of the armed men. They would never make it to the portal. And if they managed to get away, came running back, their number would be less. Better odds for Crud. The goblin certainly hoped they proved formidable enough to make it back his way, for he was eager for battle and hungry for flesh. Taking on all five while they were fully armed and at their best wasn't wise. It was better to take them later, when they were afraid, frantic and at their worst.

Once the group of five were out of the area and far enough along, Crud waited to see if the goblins patrolling the outer area of the cave would kill the man. So Crud watched with interest. He could've gone outside and disposed of the human, but didn't want to disobey the goblin king's orders. He was to never leave the cave. He was too valuable to lose. And dawn was approaching. To be caught outside when the sun rose could prove Crud's demise. While sunlight didn't kill a goblin, it did weaken it. A human, like the man outside, was no child and might win a fight against Crud in the daylight.

When the man had killed the first goblin and backed up to the cave—securing a better position—Crud grinned. Then when the man bested the other two goblins, Crud knew he was a fearsome adversary. Killing three goblin guards, even low-level disposable ones like those, wasn't easy. It was why they were allowed outside at all hours to begin with, even in daylight. But it was still dark and they were children of the goblin king, proven in battle and rather vicious. They knew how to hunt and how to kill.

Crud slinked along the wall and made his way to within striking distance of the man. The human was intent on killing more goblins, his focus on the woods. Little did he know there were no more, save for Crud.

Crud stood there, watching the man, enjoying the fact that he didn't know the goblin was there. Finally, the man's shoulders relaxed. Crud guessed that the man had thought himself safe and out of harm's way. All the monsters were dead.

Crud's mind flooded with a variety of ways in which to kill the human. Then he thought of something better he could do with him. A way to get more of what he wanted.

Seeing the shotgun leaning against the wall, he reached over and quietly took up the weapon. Gripping the barrel in both hands, he hefted it over his head. He swung, but the weapon hit the ceiling, slowed and made a loud scraping noise that clearly caught the man's attention.