I had hidden my bike down at the quay when I blew into town the day before. There’s nothing like keeping a few secrets and plotting your escape, something I learned the hard way. If people saw me on the bike the bike would be what they told the monsters I was on and I knew the moment would come when I needed to do some serious fleeing and eluding and a big-ass motorcycle cannot be beat for running from monsters on crowded city streets, trust me.
The wind pushed me along the parking lot where I knew the monster was lurking. I loitered around the lot, walking nonchalantly among the cars, looking up at the curtained squares interrupted by glowing yellow outlines and wondering what would be the best thing to do besides deciding to say fuck it and run.
She came out of nowhere. Long black hair whipped across porcelain skin and wind reddened cheeks. Her face was so beautiful it hurt to look at it; her mouth a small crimson berry that said it wanted to be plucked—and she was with the monster. It fucking figured.
The scant dress and fake fur coat said she was serious; she had every intention of walking the stroll before the night was over. The Sunday best pumps with the scuffed heels said she didn’t have a clue how serious the life she was heading for was. I knew looking at her that she had weighed her options and hunger had won because hunger always does. I didn’t want to do it but I had no choice, I had to tackle the monster right there in the open and either she would make it or she wouldn’t.
The thing about goblins is that they are fucking ugly and they stink. They know it too, and hate themselves for it. There is nothing worse than capturing a goblin in goblin form and then being forced to listen to their grievances all damn night. They clean up well though and when in human shape they are usually hard to see. It’s the teeth that give them away and something in the eyes, a sort of odd little slant or maybe a self-satisfied gleam. I have met perfectly normal humans who could see goblins, but they usually wind up locked up in nut-wards because they were too silly to know not to tell. I do not know if those people ever fought the goblins that they saw but I do know to survive goblins you have to know that they are ugly, you have to really get inside it and grasp it or when they come bursting out of that people-skin it will shock you and you will not be able to move. And then they will eat you while you are still screaming…
“Hey there gobbie, gobbie, gobbie…” I pitched my voice just low enough and sent it over his shoulder on a gust of cold and salty wind. His shoulders went stiff under the expensive suit and his neatly trimmed hair stood up. Goblins are vain and prone to crave luxuries; they love good wine and food and high dollar clothes and toys. They thrive on it and while the caves filled with gold are a thing of the past, they learn quickly to adapt and now they deal dope, sell girls, guns or anything else that is both lucrative and dangerous. It’s their way.
I wouldn’t want to say I’m famous, but in the goblin community I am a known quantity. I am hard to miss, too—a wide and solid genderqueer with a shorn head and a set of moody brown eyes that goblins hate because they see themselves reflected truly in them. I walk with a sort of cocky strut and am never without my leather jacket as it works equally well for keeping my skin on when my bike gets knocked out from under me as it does keeping me warm and impressing sweet girls. Looking at me you would never guess I am five centuries old. Deals with Hell do have their perks…
Years of fighting goblins have resulted in muscle as solid as the cuff on my left wrist and a set of lightning quick reflexes. The goblin said my name like he was uttering a prayer and maybe he was, he said, “Sir OB,” and then I flipped the compact open.
The change happens fast. There is that instant when they see themselves and the horror of it crosses their faces. In that moment I almost pity them. They are uglier than sin, and if you ever want to know if you are dating a goblin notice the lengths to which they will go to avoid their reflection. Unlike vampires, they do have one. Unlike humans, ugly is not just skin deep—it is under their skins and it will come out when you force them to see it. It isn’t pretty. I shoved that mirror dead into his bland, executive’s face and he took one look and changed.
His body shot three foot taller and a considerable amount of inches wider. Hair sprouted tuft like from his heavy brows and his eyes became pig-like in saggy pockets of greenish yellow tinted flesh. His mouth opened because his jaw was too heavy for him to close— that is why goblins are mouth breathers—and his clothes fell away to reveal a belly that hung like an unlovely apron to his scab encrusted knees. Warts grew from every inch of his bruised colored skin and the smell of goblin rose rank and thick into the air.
“Fuck this!”
So, she was a born survivor. She was so scared her lips were not just compressed but flattened. Her eyes held terror but her words held total ruthlessness as she turned and fled into the damp night. Then it was just me facing the goblin as the wisps of fog crept past the amber colored sodium lamp, carrying the smell of that damn dead sea. Shivers raced down my spine, my neck prickled and itched with battle fear and my hands did not shake but I could feel them wanting to as I slammed the mirror shut and put it back in the pocket of my jacket.
He came in low and with a grunt that sent the smell of his breath into my face. Goblins stink and their breath smells like maggoty meat. You get used to it or die, so I ignored it and skipped nimbly to one side of him with one hand already at my belt and on the knives. Iron will kill a goblin and keep bad magic at bay. It works better than silver unless you are having one of those days where you find yourself face to face with a werewolf. It happens and when it does you will wish you had silver instead of iron, promise.
He came back in, his arms swinging and his piggy eyes glowing in the half-light. I took one step closer than I had been to him and shoved the first blade in, sliding neatly between his ribs and he gave a yell of surprise that shook his entire frame. The funny thing is, no matter how public the killing, nobody ever notices it. Once a man walked right past me and I had looked up from where I was lying on the sidewalk, bent and mostly broken, and could see the tread on the bottom of his shoes. But he had walked past without any acknowledgement and this night was no different. The fog hid some of it and the whispering rush of the sea muffled a scream or two. But still, we fought for a long time.
My arms ached with exertion. People do not understand how hard it is to kill a fucking goblin. To be honest most people are so in love with werewolf and vampire legends that they never look past them to the monsters that walk among them—sometimes it makes me want to sic a goblin on a few of them, and maybe I should…
This one kept coming, no matter how many times I sliced him, he just kept coming. I knew he was hurting but he wasn’t giving up, determined to shed my blood. I feinted right then left, weaving in and out of the shadows in order to dazzle his eyes. Goblins have amazing night vision, but lousy sight in the light, so I kept forcing the battle back to the puddled glow beneath the lights hoping to gain an advantage.
The wind howled around a corner, blood splattered against the wall of the motel and a car choked to life somewhere down the block. Headlights cut through the fog, momentarily outlining the two of us but the driver simply drove on past us without registering a thing. The goblin was tiring but not enough to slow down, his eyes still filled with rage. His breath chuffed against my face as he slammed me onto the hood of a car and beat one ham-sized fist into my right cheek. Pain exploded into a sunny burst of light that spread across my vision. I felt like I was going to die and he knew it; that one, solid hit had almost knocked me unconscious.
I got the gun off my belt just as his hair matted fingers closed around my throat. The light blurred around the edges, my fingers became limp and nerveless and the gun clattered to the concrete. I went still trying to conserve my rapidly dwindling air supply, I have seen Hell first hand and I am in no hurry to return to it, so even as everything went dark I was still trying to think of a way to save myself.
The report of the gun was very loud but oddly hushed at the same time. The g
oblin fell against me in a sick parody of sex and sent the rest of my breath flying out in a huge rattling gasp. For some reason I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation but the goblin was sliding to one side and a sweet feminine voice was yelling something into my ear. The rain was shocking the blackness from my vision and I slowly came to.
Up close she was even more gorgeous. Her ebony hair flew around that pale oval shaped face and her thick fringe of lashes around her grey eyes held fat drops of rain that made her look like she was crying.
“Get up, dammit! Before the others look out the windows!”
I staggered a few inches forward and she grabbed my arm and yanked me the rest of the way. The rain picked up, became a howling lash of cold and wet and we said nothing else, we just ran. The other motel was no good, the lights were switching on all over the place behind us and there was a sick feeling in my guts as I figured out I had stepped into a nest of goblins by accident. We skidded around a corner and ran past a tall red-bricked building that hummed with witch energy and then we fell into a stairway and through a heavy iron door set far back under a blazing several-hundred watt security light.
We went through the door, down a hallway so brightly lit I had to keep my eyes half-closed and then we were in a large open room that held two mattresses stacked together covered with blankets of every hue and shape and size. There were no other furnishings. A single saucepan sat on the rusted stove and the door to the bathroom hung open in a frame-splintered yawn, beyond which I could see a dingy sink and a brown tiled wall.
“I have tea and sugar but no milk.” She said and I dropped onto the mattresses without a word. I was exhausted and confused—being choked by the big-assed hand of a goblin will do that to you. But more than that, I was wondering why someone who was obviously aware and afraid of goblins, would be hanging out with one?
Her back was to me as she boiled the water for the tea so I studied the sweet curve of her long neck, admired the bell like flare of her hips under the cheap dress. “What were you doing with him?”
“I was trying to kill it,” she said sarcastically.
“So you are a witch, but your only power is the gift of true vision.”
“Some gift.” She said bitterly. “I hear some really do fly and others can change the color of their hair or eyes. I get this, lucky me.”
There was no need to answer that. She handed me a steaming cup filled with tea that had been liberally spiked with cinnamon and honey. We sat crowded together on the mattress, drinking our tea and I wanted to tumble her backwards and bury my face in her skin. To stop that thought I spoke again. “You seem too sweet to be a hunter.”
Her eyes were as cold as the air outside, “I’m sorry, was that you I saved from death back there, or did I drag someone else back here by mistake?”
“You got me there.” I couldn’t help grinning and she glared at me to let me know she didn’t appreciate it.
“So you are Sir OB huh? You’re shorter than I thought you would be.”
“Not where it counts.” I couldn’t help the quip but she did not appreciate it either, she gave me a look that was totally filthy and let me know in no uncertain terms she was rethinking that saving of my life. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Annalyce. Were you really a knight back in the old days?”
I laughed at that one. It’s a common misconception, “No, even back then I looked masculine but I wore dresses. It was fit in or die you know. I got that title in the dungeons in Amsterdam. I’m a bit kinky as well as queer, if you are wondering.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Are you hitting back?”
The wind rattled through the roof of the building and we both automatically looked up. Goblins are creatures of habit; they like the night and they like to kill. We had killed one of them and they would want their revenge. We both knew we had better get rested up and ready but we couldn’t help it…
Her skin was the same pearly color all over, the black hair on her head repeated itself and the red of her mouth was shades softer in her secret folds. We wrapped ourselves in each other; tasting, playing, exploring while the shock wore off and so did the crazy adrenaline. Afterwards we slept locked together like two kids stranded on a playground after dark, her arms around my waist, her knees pressing into my thighs from behind.
I woke up hours later rested, refreshed and healed. The thing is, as long as I wear the bracelet I will live. I can be killed but only in three ways, but I will never tell those—no telling if goblins are reading this right now you know… I can be killed but as long as the strokes and blows dealt me are not fatal I can also heal and live virtually forever. I say virtually because everything dies eventually, it’s the price you pay for the ride you see. I can prolong my life but not keep it forever. One day not even the bracelet will keep me from stepping back across that line, but until that time comes, I’m going to fight and kill as much of the darkness in the world as I can.
I wasn’t a knight in my once-upon-a-time life. I was a woman who lived inside the gates of a castle that was constantly under siege by everything from marauders to the bands of outlaws that roamed the wilderness beyond the rolling hills to the traitors within its own walls. I was always a thick and heavy woman, one never able to bend my back to the lash just to survive. Serfdom bored me and what was more, it pissed me off. I would have been killed for my insolence one afternoon after I told the lord of the manor to go diddle himself except a band of marauders broke through the walls at that moment and carried off the lord’s decades younger wife. I went after her despite the fact that I was a woman and unarmed, and I brought her back by accident and fate—but the lord decided I was too good to waste in skirts and put me to work in the blood-soaked yards. I am sure his intention was to have me killed off, but he could hardly kill me after I brought his wife safely home. I went to battle after battle and fought with the men. I learned to handle every weapon there was, sat at the table and ate from the trenchers the knights ate from, but I never really was one. Think prejudice exists now? You should have seen it back then—they burned Joan of Arc at the stake just for wearing men’s clothes. I got by with it because I was so masculine in appearance and I learned quickly to make myself look even more so, most never realized I was a woman.
A visiting lord gave me the title sir after I bested him in a duel and let him live. It was the best moment of my life and while the humans I fought with and for never gave me the respect that title deserved, the monsters damn sure do.
Of course I fell in madly in love with the younger wife. She loved me back until she tossed herself from the battlements one snowy evening. It’s in the past, but lying there it still cut like a well-honed blade. Annalyce snuggled closer and I put one hand on her back, feeling the thin slats of her ribs, the highly ridged knobs of her spine. Her breath blew in and out in soft gusts that made me think again how precious life is and how fleeting for most. That made me wonder how many women I had loved over the years, but never with a whole heart. It’s hard to love when the world is riddled with monsters, demons and various other nefarious beings. It’s hard to love knowing that while you stay young they grow old and one day you will have to give them over to the long night.
I could simply take off the bracelet—that is what you are wondering, I know. Ever seen five hundred years creep up on someone in a matter of seconds? I am sure it isn’t pretty. I guess it would work out well if I wanted to follow yet another woman into death but there is never any guarantee you will end up on the same side of the gates, is there?
A heavy thud from the roof interrupted those thoughts. Annalyce was awake instantly. Her body went from sleep soft to nerved up and rigid in two seconds flat. It was a large tell, one that said she hadn’t been sleeping or that she was used to battle. She had the reflexes to bear out the latter. She rolled off the mattress and came up with a blade in her left hand just as the ceiling gave way and goblin stench pervaded the room. I rolled right and one of my ow
n blades was in my left hand. It was automatic and we looked at each other across the mattress and both grinned. It was just funny, two naked women facing down a gigantic and pissed off goblin.
“You killed my brother!” The words came to me on a stream of puke scented breath. Annalyce made a face and then we attacked.
Annalyce was indeed used to killing and she knew every weak spot: the soft tissue of a goblins nose, soft places behind their ears, and the back of their knees. Warty hands knocked us flat, slime dripped from its mouth and nose and fell on our skins, leaving burned places where it feel. Rain fell in through the hole in the roof, soaking the old wiring. Sparks flew with a crackle and the lights went out in the main room.
I heard more than saw Annalyce running to the right and knew she was making for the hallway where the light was still on and bright. It was a good idea and I followed. The goblin stopped at the edge where the light and the shadows met. In that second I took my shot, I went in quickly, arm swinging out in an unstoppable arc and put the blade into his oversized heart.
People think stabbing is easy. It isn’t. It’s not a shoving thrust that does the job. You get the blade against the skin, right where you want it, and then you slide it in. That way you don’t meet bone and don’t waste a cut that isn’t fatal. The goblin went from being a massive seven and a half foot tall ball of slime shooting murderous minded fun to being a cooling chunk of meat within half a second.
Use Enough Gun (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 3) Page 25
