The Goblin King (17 page)

A knock on the front door echoed through the silent house. Her breath caught. He was downstairs waiting to be let in.

In her hand her phone rang. She answered knowing it would be Steve.

“Go away or I’ll call the police.”

“You haven’t yet.”

No, she hadn’t because she didn’t really want them involved. Steve’s threats about her going to jail while he lived the high life still had power.

“Turn the lights back on.”

“Let me in.”

“Steve.” She wanted to sound strong but her voice came out as if she was pleading.

“It doesn’t matter what you do, or where you go. You can’t get away, we are bound together.”

He was right…but she didn’t have to stay here. In the Shadowlands Roan was waiting for her. She hung up on Steve and picked up the invitation. Then she closed her eyes and whispered the word that would make her queen.

“Yes.”

Chapter 9

Roan glanced at the Shadowlands’ sky alive with the golden lights of a thousand human cities. Tonight was the night of cold and darkness, the magical border between the worlds was thin, and the two could bleed together. Tonight all goblins were free to wander the Fixed Realm. To run the streets and wilds of earth as they had done through all time.

From the dust Roan called his horse. She was as black as his mood with more bones than muscle and eyes that burned with the devil’s own fire. A mount worthy of a Goblin King. Roan dropped the appearance of a man. In the Shadowlands he could be either. It was more habit than anything else that made him keep the form he had worn as a man. Now it was little more than an illusion—a memory of what he had been.

He ran his hand over the horse’s molting side. Breath didn’t trouble her flanks. A black and gold saddle formed. The leatherwork was as immaculate as it was unnatural. The mare stamped and her razor-edged hooves cut the ground, but the dust didn’t stir. Through the Shadowlands a horn sounded, calling to the goblins. His flesh prickled already anticipating the storm and the race across the sky with the Hoard. He wasn’t the only king, just one of many. Tonight there would be no fighting between the different troops of Hoard goblin. All hostilities would be on hold until after the ride.

Dai appeared at the cave entrance, still a man and horseless. He leaned on the rock, his lips tight.

Roan swung himself onto the twisted mare’s back. “You will not heed the call to ride?”

“I hear no call.” Dai touched the pendant that lay against his skin. Black diamond and platinum made by Roan’s hand.

“As your king I command you to ride with me.” This year the call was strong and as unavoidable as a direct summons.

The mare tossed her head. Her ears flattened in anger at the disturbance to her rightful slumber. Roan gripped her with his knees.

“As your brother I ask that you stay.” From his pocket Dai drew out a ring.

A plain platinum band marred by a chip of black. It would slide onto Roan’s finger and fit perfectly. He’d made it at Dai’s insistence but refused to wear the ring. Not until the last thread of his soul was about to snap would he wear a black diamond. He’d rather die than admit defeat. The magic of the Shadowlands was part of him. Without it he was nothing but a man trapped in a world without dreams or hope.

He would shatter out of grief if he were a man and not with Eliza.

The horse pawed the ground. Steam rose from her nostrils as if she breathed and lived. Her agitation boiled through his blood, pounded at the metal of his heart. Roan tightened his fist around the reins. The sky was opening. Heaven was theirs if only for a night. The horn sounded again. The sour note promised sweet reward.

Roan gritted his teeth and growled. “Allow me one last look upon the world at solstice. We both know I won’t get another.”

“Very well.” Dai nodded, his face grim. “Greet Meryn for me. I pray you don’t join him tonight. I don’t want to test the strength of a gem.”

“Have no fear. I will return.”

Dai drew his sword and raised it in salute. “Ride for the living. But remember the dead.”

Roan returned the salute. He was one of the dead. He pulled on the reins and the horse galloped over the Shadowlands to join the amassing army of goblins. At least Dai would be in no danger from the Hoard tonight. And it had been a long time since the druid had tried to tempt Dai into doing something stupid. Roan allowed himself a tight smile…maybe because Dai’s knives were a little too threatening.

He approached the Hoard army and was greeted with hisses and nods from the other kings. Weapons and gold and lopsided stolen crowns. More metal than meat on the horses. Compared to them Roan was barely identifiable as a king. But they all knew of him. All feared him. All would kill him on any other night. He could cross between worlds at will, a power true goblins lacked, because he had the remains of a soul.

Roan glanced behind him. An army pounded, rolling in the storm clouds, waiting to descend on the sleeping, night-cloaked earth. Were they all true goblins? He’d never bothered to ask during the solstice truce. The rest of the time he stayed clear of the goblins in the Shadowlands. A battle over gold wasn’t worth the risk if they could break the curse and be free.

If Meryn was alive, he would be there. Did he remember anything of his life? His wife and daughters? Or was he as empty as Gob? He hoped he’d found freedom in death along with the others who’d been cursed with him. His final ride as king was for them.

The kings raised their weapons to start the ride. Roan raised his sword.

“For the dead,” he said under his breath.

The Hoard descended into the Fixed Realm. The howling of goblins echoed off streets and entered buildings. People would remember nothing but a storm and a fear of the dark as the magic of the Shadowlands followed the army.

The Hoard spread out, dispersing the mayhem. Any woman unfortunate enough to be caught out was likely to wake up in the Shadowlands as a queen to any goblin willing to fight and kill to keep her and become king. A job Roan would hand over without a second thought. He’d done it for too long.

He broke away from the group, riding the solstice alone with the storm at his back and the world at his feet. It was strangely empty and held no allure. He was taking his last ride alone. Was a king without men really a king? His lips twisted in a goblin’s grimace. He didn’t care.

Roan let his mount lead, grateful he was still able to enjoy the easy pleasure of riding. The surly beast chased down streets, past cars that swerved and found nothing to hit, yet left the driver blinking and swearing.

His dead horse chewed up miles of road, hooves sparking on the asphalt. She cleared rivers and raced over rooftops. The earth turned under the blanket of the storm. So much had changed in the Fixed Realm that even if he found his way back he would have no place. Cities sprawled, roads snaked the surface of the earth. The world he had fought for was gone, replaced by the one he watched from the Shadowlands but would never get the chance to experience.

What would it be like to sit in a movie theatre and not skulk in the shadows? To go out with Eliza on his arm? To sit in a restaurant instead of stealing plates of food?

He kicked the horse on, knowing she wouldn’t tire. He wanted to catch the edge of the sunset half a world away. Roan’s skin tightened and cracked. His head snapped up. He jerked the reins. The horse reared, but he held her with a firm hand. His knuckles whitened around the leather. She pranced in a tight circle in the middle of a freeway. Cars raced past. Roan’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

She wouldn’t dare. Dare to test his vow.

Tonight of all nights. The solstice most treasured by goblins. He listened again, but the voice was in his head. She called. She summoned not Roan, but the Goblin King to her side.

He threw down the reins and released the horse of her duty. The glow of her red eyes lingered as she dissolved like mist and then was gone, returned to the dead.

His skin peeled at the edges, dragging his body to answer the summons. It was a fight he couldn’t win and a promise he couldn’t break. With a cry of anguish Roan threw himself into the night to claim his queen.

***

The air tasted like ozone and rippled with power. Eliza’s hair crackled with static. It was too late to take back the summons. She pressed another button on her mobile, the faint blue light all she had to keep the darkness away. Her heart pulsed in her throat. Shadows chased each other over the walls and under the bed. She refused to watch their macabre dance.

The jangling of beads broke the silence. Eliza looked up from her phone, her hands clenched around the plastic. Her heart slid down her spine and slowed to one beat that seemed to last for hours.

Before her stood the Goblin King in black camo, armed with an ancient sword and a modern military handgun. The gold torque gleamed in the pale light, but his face was hidden in the shadows. His dreadlocks looked alive in the unnatural battle between light and dark.

“Why do you call the Goblin King?” His voice rasped out and slithered over her skin cold and rough. “You know my nature.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted, so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Or do you test me?”

The light from her phone died. She swallowed. He was more fearsome than she remembered. Had he already lost? No. She had to believe that beneath the power that crawled around this goblin was Roan. The alternative was…unthinkable. That she had called the Goblin King and surrendered herself to a monster. She licked her lip but words wouldn’t come.

“My patience grows thin, Eliza.” The air in the room snapped and sparked, lighting the bulbs. They burned bright and hopeful.

“Prove you are Roan.”

He laughed. The sound cooled her blood so it thickened, coagulating in her gut.

“If I had faded, I would have the peace of not being summoned by a woman not sure if she can stomach what she has agreed to.” He released her chin and leaned close—so close their noses almost touched. “You haven’t forgotten the arrangement?”

Eliza inhaled the stale air. No, not forgotten—she’d been counting on it. It was better to be queen to a cursed man than wife to a man who made living a nightmare. This was her chance to be free of Steve forever and to rescue Roan from the druid’s curse. She glanced at the yellow eyes that seemed so alien yet held the hurt of the man they hid. This had to work—for both of them.

“I’ll be your queen. But first I need your help.” She could push Steve away, but he would always be part of her life while he held the papers. Where she had failed to find them, she was sure Roan would succeed.

The goblin spun away dragging a cape of shadows with him. He faced her again. “You make demands?”

She wouldn’t fold now. Eliza straightened her back, acting brave to convince herself she was.

“If I am to truly be with you, I need to free myself from Steve first.” Eliza dipped her head a fraction but kept her gaze on the goblin. Roan didn’t respond to orders well. And he was in there, behind the yellow eyes and gray skin.

He took her hand and slid her engagement ring off. It fell silently on the floor. “Is it so hard for you to be free?”

“It’s not just the ring.” How could she make him understand when even she was hard-pressed to explain how her life had become so tangled—how much power Steve held over her? Power she intended to sever, permanently.

He tilted his head and froze. His bulging eyes watched her, weighing her. “You want me to kill him?”

“No!” she gasped. “But there are documents that bind my life to his. I need to find them so he can’t use them against me. So I can be free.”

Before Roan, she’d forgotten what it felt like to breathe without fear.

He spread his arms. “You think this is freedom. You accepted my offer. You can’t walk away from me the way you can Steve. We play this to the end.” He placed both hands around hers.

The cold of his flesh hurt her hands. “When does this end?”

“When I say so.” The air hummed, alive with the pounding of her heart and the magic of the goblin. Eliza’s eyebrows pinched together, her voice was a whisper. “What if the curse doesn’t break?”

A look of pain twisted the goblin’s face as if the thought caused such agony that hearing it spoken wounded not only flesh but also his soul.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The air was pressed out of her lungs. Her vision went black as the shadows invaded her body and ripped her out of her world and into the Shadowlands. She gagged and gasped, drowning in the blackness. Pins and needles in every limb. This is what it felt like to die.

Her feet hit the floor of the cave chamber in the Shadowlands. She stumbled but was caught by the man who lived in her dreams. Roan held her to his chest. Raw desperation burned in his desert blue eyes. Aching for something the way the sand cries for rain, and she was the first to try to quench his thirst.

She touched his skin, fair but tanned like he’d spent all his time under the sun. Her fingers traced the lines of his face. Strong like a king should be, but not arrogant. With his dark, almost black, hair and clear blue eyes, he was the perfect Celt. A scar ran under his jaw, almost hidden by stubble. She raised an eyebrow in question.