The Goblin's Curse (15 page)

“Would you like to come inside?” The mask maker motioned toward the door.

Keelie wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alone with Hob. Quirky didn’t begin to describe him, and that shimmer concerned her. Was it magic? Maybe he was under a spell.

A cloud of orange cat hair drifted down onto Hob. He sneezed.

Keelie looked up at Knot, who jumped down from the roof onto the porch. Hob stepped back.

“Why is that cat here?” Another sneeze.

“He followed me. Is it okay if he comes inside the shop with us? He misses Heartwood so much. There’s nothing like having a shop kitty. People love to pet him, and it relaxes the customers.”

Hob sneezed again. Toshi the puppet covered its nose with its hands.

“He can stay, but I’m allergic to cats. Knot has to stay outside.” Hob sneezed again.

“Strange. I thought Knot had visited you before,” Keelie said.

Knot rubbed his head up and down Hob’s leg and purred happily. Lots of cat fur floated around him.

“He likes you,” Keelie said cheerily.

Hob blew his nose into a multicolored handkerchief. “Come back Saturday morning, and I’ll give you a tour before we open. Right now, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”

“What about preview day today?”

Hob’s eyes darkened. He turned toward the meadow, then whirled around to face Keelie. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he shook his head. “I must go.” He ran inside the shop and closed the door. She heard the clicks of locks as Hob barricaded himself inside with Toshi and his masks.

Keelie was relieved she didn’t have to spend time alone with Hob and his creepy puppet.

Knot pointed his tail to the south. “Meow.”

“There’s something you want me to see in the meadow?”

Knot nodded.

What now? She hadn’t had time to catch her breath since she’d arrived back at the High Mountain Faire. It had been one crisis after another. Following Knot down Wood Row and Water Sprite Lane, Keelie avoided eye contact and tuned her senses in to the trees.

Something was definitely up, but she couldn’t tell what.

ten

The meadow seemed undisturbed. Keelie glared at Knot. “You brought me all the way down here, for what?”

Knot raced up to Hrok and Keelie followed.

Well met, Hrok. Everything okay here?

Hrok’s face pushed through the bark.
Most certainly, Tree Shepherdess. How goes your faire? Have you met goblins there? We’ve seen them in their metal skin. The bhata have seen them too.

Keelie’s blood chilled at the words “goblin” and “metal skin.” Armored goblins? Finch and the elves had been right. Yet Hrok didn’t seem concerned.

Where have you seen these goblins?
she asked.

They came from Under-the-Hill. The bhata will show you.

Keelie looked around nervously. The meadow seemed like an obvious location for an entrance to Under-the-Hill, but Keelie knew that the dark fae were wily.

Several
bhata
appeared from their nearby hiding places. The dry sound of sticks rubbing together, along with the crackling whir of wings, surrounded her. She felt a tug on her hair and put her hand up carefully to feel for the creature. She’d become used to the
bhata
, but it was still strange to feel one in her hair.

Her fingers touched something long and slender, shorter than a chopstick, followed by a fuzzy softness that she knew to be moss, which the
bhata
used to bind together their stick-and-berry bodies. She lowered her hand, not surprised to see the little
bhata
riding on it as if it were a fairy elevator.

“Hello, little guy. Any chance you can show me where Under-the-Hill is?”

The
bhata
’s hands, made of grass seedheads, flew up to cover purple berry eyes. It chattered and backed away on her hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been there before, you know. Just not here at the High Mountain Faire.”

One berry eye peeked out from behind the improvised hands. The
bhata
seemed to consider her for a moment, then chirped and flew straight up. Others joined it, until the air was filled with the clicking sticks.

The little creatures hopped from branch to branch, flew, and skittered over the ground. Keelie followed them, stepping carefully to avoid crunching one underfoot. Not that it would hurt them—the sticks and moss were just what the
bhata
assembled for a physical presence, and Knot loved to chase them down and trash them. Apparently they didn’t mind, since it gave them an excuse to chase Knot down and try to disassemble
him.
So far, he was still in one piece.

The
bhata
moved faster, and Keelie and Knot hurried after them. They were heading through the woods that edged the faire and circling around to the performer’s campground.

She closed her mind to the trees so that word wouldn’t get back to Dad about where she was going. He would never let her go Under-the-Hill again, not after the goblin battle in the Northwoods.

The
bhata
whirred and clacked around her, and she realized that they were circling now, a buzzing vortex that was pushing her forward.

Ahead of her was the raw rock face of the mountain that towered over the faire. Keelie stopped. She was not going to go rock climbing. Not in her job description.

The
bhata
clung to the jagged rocks. A spindly pine grew from a patch of dirt about twenty feet up. Maybe it had some answers.

Hail, hill climber
, Keelie greeted it. Trees liked to be given names.

Well met, Tree Shepherdess,
the tree answered politely. Behind the tree’s soft words, Keelie heard a chorus of tree voices also greeting her. She considered ignoring them, but she might need their help to find Under-the-Hill and keep watch over the forests. Trees saw everything.

You honor me.

Be careful
, the
bhata
whispered to her.
Do not go in.

A large granite rock at the base of the mountain soared from the dense carpet of grass like a lone Egyptian obelisk guarding a temple.

It couldn’t be so obvious. Keelie glanced at the accumulated
bhata
and down at Knot. He ran to the edge of the rock, but the
bhata
stayed back. Why were they afraid?

Knot pressed his paw on a small depression in the side of the obelisk. A loud click and the stone levered back, revealing a dirt staircase cut into the earth.

A dark feeling of fear overpowered Keelie, but she reached for her rose quartz, tugging on a thin stream of magic to light it. Not too much—she didn’t want to alert whatever might live in this place. A slightly dank odor, like overgrown mold in a shower stall, grew stronger as she descended downward. The light grew dimmer. Keelie held the quartz aloft, and its soft pink shimmer illuminated the walls.

Mica glittered in the light. She touched the walls with her fingertips. Smooth. This area had not been carved by chisel. Knot wandered ahead.

When she’d lived at the High Mountain Faire last summer, Keelie hadn’t known about the existence of Under-the-Hill, or that she had fae blood. The elves didn’t know about Under-the-Hill at all, though they had lived above it in various locations for centuries. They either couldn’t see, or ignored, the dark fae.

She passed huge doorways as she continued down the tunnel, doorways big enough to drive a school bus through. A clink of metal on metal sounded ahead; she pulled back and flattened against the wall, trying to make herself as tiny as possible. Something or someone was nearby. Then the staggering scent of unwashed body nearly knocked her over. She’d smelled this before.

A goblin, taller than she was and wearing leather and metal armor, stomped past, never looking her way. He vanished into the darkness of a side tunnel.

Keelie’s heart was hammering in her chest. This goblin was huge—much bigger than any she’d seen in the Northwoods. Where had he come from?

She moved slowly down the tunnel again, her back to the rock wall. She kept glancing around, trying to make sure nothing was sneaking up on her. Soon a breeze tickled her face, signaling a large space ahead. Keelie moved toward it, promising the scared part of her mind that she would only look to see what was there, and then she would get out of here.

Knot rubbed reassuringly up against her leg. He meowed softly.

A boom vibrated through the rocks, followed by another one. Earthquake? Keelie knew she could get trapped down here. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster. Better to get this over with. She hurried forward, toward a muted roar that sounded like an underground waterfall.

She heard sharp clinking on rock, and knew that sound. She’d made it herself when she was at Baywood Academy, running across the parking lot in cleats. The metal striking the pavement made that exact sound just before she’d slipped and fallen. Cleats were made for firm footing on mushy ground.

This was the same sound, multiplied many times over. The roar built as she moved closer. Her lungs burning, Keelie stopped at the mouth of the dark side tunnel, then turned her head slowly and looked into the cavern beyond.

Goblins. The cavern was shiny with torchlight reflecting off slick, fungus-like skin where it wasn’t covered by armor. It looked like a war party of demons. A few of the goblins were like Cricket—glossy, black, and insect-like—but they were almost man-tall. And there was no waterfall. It was the goblins who roared, arms raised in celebration.

It suddenly occurred to Keelie that she’d done such a good job of blocking herself from the trees, so that Dad wouldn’t know where she was, that she’d also blocked her magical senses.

She felt the magic now, waves of it prickling against her skin. She had to notify Dad, but if she tried to use magic, the goblins might notice it. Or maybe her use of it would be hidden from them? Keelie suddenly craved fresh air. Her chest burned and ached as if it was being squeezed. Panic attack. She needed to get out of here now. What if they captured her and tortured her?

Knot placed his paw on her foot, and the waves of anxiety crashing in on her began to ease.

“Meow this way.”

Keelie fought the fear, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She was okay. They hadn’t sensed her yet, and if she could back out as quietly as she’d entered, they would never know she’d been here. In the cavern, the goblins were starting to bob and shuffle. Now was her chance to back out, while they were busy doing whatever they were about to do.

A familiar jangle made her freeze before she’d taken a step—the sound of a belled hat, somehow audible over the roar of the goblins. Peascod. It had to be. She edged back to the cavern opening and leaned forward to peek in.

The goblins were dancing now. Their squatting and jumping and shuffling would get them kicked out of
any L.A. club, but it was definitely dancing. Were they celebrating?

Standing on a stone ledge, on the opposite side of the cavern, was a slender figure who seemed to be leading the dance. It was definitely male, or at least Keelie thought so, given the broad shoulders and slender waist—and mask. Keelie’s breath caught. The figure was dancing maniacally, and then he started to bang a big kettle drum that stood waist-high on the floor. The goblins bounced to his beat and banged their boots on the stone floor. The figure reached down, snatched something from the floor, and jammed it on his head. A jester’s hat.

Torches blazed into light around the cavern and the goblins roared their approval. The light reflected off the shiny mask on Peascod’s face. He began to pull it off, to cheers and cries of approval.

As Keelie leaned in, not breathing as she waited to see what Peascod hid behind his mask, a steel-covered hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around. The goblin stared at her for a second, face tilted; then his lips skimmed back to reveal jagged yellow fangs.