by Sam Cheever
In that moment I knew I could never hurt it. “Thanks for your help, Theo. I’ll return the trap after…” I made a motion with my hands that I hoped he would assume meant I’d deal with the creature as he’d recommended.
“No worries, Naida Keeper. It’s spent now. You can just order me a new one on UMOR.”
“I’ll do that.”
I waited until he’d left to sit down on the ground in front of the hobgoblin. Mr. Wicked plodded silently into the room and rubbed against the bubble holding the little creature. I was shocked to see the critter’s blue gaze soften as it looked at my cat.
“Have you two already met?”
I realized as I asked the question that they most certainly had. Wicked had no doubt been hanging out with the hobgoblin wherever it lived. Bringing it half-eaten bagels and goddess knew what else.
In fact, I was guessing it was his influence that had halted the pranks that had caused so much stress and work.
I looked into the creature’s beautiful, terrified gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
It shuddered violently, clearly not believing me.
“I promise.”
The hobgoblin tilted its head, the tiny hands reaching out to rest against the bubble holding it there.
“What’s your name?”
The creature looked at Wicked.
My cat meowed softly, climbing onto my lap.
The hobgoblin sighed, a whisper of sound that made its bubble prison shiver. “I am Hobs.”
Of course he was.
I smiled. “I’m Naida. And apparently, you’ve met Mr. Wicked.”
The hobgoblin’s lips curved upward in a slight smile. “He is my friend.”
I hugged Wicked close, earning myself a lick on the nose and a smack on my cheek with a paw.
“Ribbit!” Mr. Slimy objected.
I nodded in his direction. “That’s Slimy. He says hello.”
I can speak for myself, young woman, Slimy said in a snotty voice. I was just reminding you not to be rude about introducing me.
I rolled my eyes. “Is there a reason you sound like my grandmother?”
The frog ignored me, speaking to the hobgoblin. I’m happy to meet you, young man.
Hobs turned around and gave Slimy a little bow. “Mr. Slimy, it is my pleasure.”
Such nice manners. Maybe Theo was wrong about hobgoblins. “Hobs, can you tell me how you came to be here, at Croakies?”
The hobgoblin turned back to me, his spidery fingers twisting together with sudden nerves. “I’d rather not, Miss.”
“You can call me Naida.”
The blue eyes went wide. “Oh no, you shouldn’t, Miss.”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t what?”
“I could never call you by your true name. Names have power. Never give that power away, Miss.”
“But you gave me your name,” I reasoned, frowning.
Hobs bowed his head. “I have no power, Miss.”
Sadness filled my chest. “That isn’t true.”
He sighed, his chin resting against his chest. “But it is true, Miss.”
I looked at Wicked. “How do we break the trap?”
Wicked stared back at me for so long, I started to think he hadn’t understood me. But I couldn’t be wrong about his intelligence. He’d proven to me over and over again that he was intuitive and skilled with magic. Alone, and in conjunction with my meager stores of energy. Just as he’d been bred to be.
There’s meaning in releasing him, Naida. Slimy said. Wicked wants you to be sure you understand that you’re giving him freedom and a certain level of autonomy by letting Hobs out of the trap.
I shoved irritation and not a little jealousy away. It wasn’t fair that the frog could understand my cat and I couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe if I worked at it, I could open that channel of communication like I had with the frog.
But that was a problem for another day.
I nodded. “I understand what releasing him means, little man.”
“Meow,” Wicked put his paws on my chest and rubbed his head under my chin, purring loudly. Apparently, he approved of my decision.
Wicked jumped off my lap and ran toward the magic trap, poking it with his nose and sneezing. He walked around it a couple of times, tail snapping as he assessed the magic involved. Then he lifted a paw and unsheathed his claws, smacking it hard.
The glossy column of magic disappeared with a soft pop and a wisp of grape-scented air.
Hobs dropped to the floor, landing on his oversized feet like a cat.
He slowly pushed to his feet, his blue eyes wide with uncertainty. “Miss?”
“You’re free, Hobs. You don’t work for me or anybody else.”
The enormous eyes blinked slowly as he seemed to consider that. “But I’ve never been free, Miss. Where will I go? What will I do?”
Oops. I hadn’t thought about that. “Um…”
Wicked rubbed against the little creature, nearly toppling him sideways with his exuberance.
Stumbling a couple of steps away, Hobs giggled, sounding like a happy toddler. I found my own smile forming.
“I’d be happy to give you a place to stay here at Croakies,” I held up a finger as the hobgoblin’s face lighted with pleasure. “With one very important caveat.”
The light left his little face. I regretted his apparent misunderstanding. He clearly thought I was going to make him work for me or something equally restrictive.
“I only want your promise that you won’t mess with the artifacts. We have some really dangerous ones in the shop and you could endanger all of us if you set the wrong one free.”
Hobs nodded eagerly. “Yes, Miss. You have my word.”
“Good,” I said, offering him my hand. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Hobs. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
He looked at my hand as if it were a nest of snakes. When his eyes lifted to mine, I gave him a slight nod. “It’s okay. I want us to be friends.”
“Friends, Miss?”
He spoke in a tone of awe and disbelief. “Friends. Like Wicked and Slimy. They’re your friends. And…” I slammed my lips together. I’d almost said Sebille would be his friend too, but there was no way to predict that. It would be best if she didn’t know about our little deal for a while. Until I could prove to her that it would be okay. “And if you decide you want to leave, you’re free to go.”
The long-fingered hands plucked at the smock and Hobs’ huge eyes turned glossy with unshed tears. “You’re a goddess, Miss.”
“Oh, heavens, no.” I snorted out a laugh. “I believe everyone should have a chance to make their own decisions and create their own perfect life. That’s all.”
Hobs stepped forward and slowly, with great uncertainty, offered me his little hand. I took it, feeling the solemnity of the moment in the tightness of my chest. His skin was warm and soft and the backs of his fingers were covered with course hairs that matched the strands on his head. “If it suits, Miss, I’ll be pleased to help where needed.”
I thought about all the dusting I never had a chance to get to and nodded. “I appreciate that.”
I shoved to my feet, glancing from Wicked to the frog. “Until I have time to tell Sebille about this new arrangement, mum’s the word. Capish?”
“Meow,” Wicked said in agreement.
Is that another question? Slimy asked coyly. Because, if it is, I have a question of my own that I need an answer to.
Holy Banshee tears. The frog was going to be the death of me.
“She was blonde, Miss.”
I looked down at Hobs, frowning. “Excuse me?”
“The woman who brought me here. She was blonde and smelled like flowers. But she was really more like a prickle plant.”
Kat! I knew it. “The woman from Hebe Industries?” I asked, just to make sure we were talking about the same prickly blonde woman.
Hobs’s, forehead wrinkled. If he’d had eyebrows, it would have be
en a frown. “She has goblins.” For just a beat, the little face darkened with anger. “Horrible creatures, goblins.”
Well, that was good enough for me. I had my killer.
All that was left to do was figuring out how to capture her without Grym.
Which reminded me. We needed to heal Grym.
And we needed to force Kat to give me the artifact.
Then I needed to lock it safely away.
And finally, I needed to make sure there was no more tainted cream out in the world to poison more unsuspecting humans.
Sigh…
18
Eureka!
I sent Wicked and Hobs off to play in the artifact library, after warning them to stay out of Sebille’s way. Before Wicked would leave, he ran over and put his paws up on Slimy’s enclosure.
I sighed. “Okay, but don’t get the fat squish into trouble back there, you two.”
I scooped Slimy out of the glass tank. His nasty tongue snapped out, barely missing my face. I jerked backward. “Argh! Ew!”
I don’t appreciate being called fat, he told me with a blank, bug-eyed look. It hurts my feelings.
“Okay, sorry.” I settled him next to Wicked. “I didn’t know you had feelings.”
Why wouldn’t I have feelings? he groused as he hopped after the other two. Besides, I’ve seen your backside when you bend over. It’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle metal.
“Well…” I jammed my hands on my hips, knowing he was right and even more irritated about it. “So that just happened.”
Sebille clomped through the door, a large paper sack in her hand. “It’s been a tough day. I needed tacos.”
I felt my eyes glaze over at the delicious scent. “Please tell me you brought me one?”
She snorted. “As if.”
My shoulders sagged and my lower lip tried to poke out. To my credit, I did bite down on it to keep myself from looking like a petulant five-year-old.
“I brought you three. You need to keep the cals rolling if you expect to maintain that door stopper you call a backside.”
Zeeeeeppppp! “I can’t believe you just said that.”
She cackled meanly. “Have you met me?”
She had a point. But I was starting to get a complex.
Shoving pride aside, I accepted the three hard-shelled chicken tacos she pressed into my hand and sat down at the round table near the stacks. “I found out who’s responsible for the cream. We just need to figure out how to trap and force her to give up the artifact.” I took a big bite, sighing happily.
“Who is it?” Sebille tossed a short stack of napkins in my direction and sat down across from me.
“Kat Geras. Daughter of the owner to Hebe Industries.” And possibly a genuine goddess, I couldn’t help adding inside my head.
Sebille swallowed. “Any idea what kind of artifact we’re looking for?”
“No.” I frowned. There was a way to find out what kinds of artifacts stole a person’s youth, but Osvald had told me not to call him again. No, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d told me not to open the Hobgoblins and other Pesky Vermin book. He hadn’t said anything about opening another book of his. “It was a lot easier to do my job when I received orders for the artifacts I needed to round up.”
“Yeah, what’s going on with that, anyway? I thought Madeline Quilleran was working on finding out what’s wrong with the system?”
I shrugged, stuffing the last bite of my second taco into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully. When I’d swallowed, I said, “She’s been called away on PTB business. I have a feeling it might have something to do with that.”
Sebille nodded. “At least she gave Lea what she needed before she left. I’m a little surprised she stooped to working with another witch.”
“Yeah. Me too. It concerns me a little bit. Lea seems almost…smitten with Madeline. I still don’t trust her, and I don’t want Lea to get hurt.”
We ate in silence for a moment before I glanced up. “Any word on how Grym’s doing?”
“Nothing specific,” Sebille responded. “Our healers are monitoring him, and his vital signs are strong. I think he’s safe where he is until Lea can finish the cure.”
“I’m worried somebody else will succumb to this cream,” I told Sebille.
“Have there been any more attacks?”
“Not that I know of. Which is strange. It’s almost like the killer preselected the book club and never planned to go beyond them.” I shrugged. “It’s something to think about.”
A frigid touch of air wafted over my shoulder. I looked up to see a misty spot morph into a tall, handsome ghost witch. Rustin peered at us in disgust. “Do you two ever do anything other than eat?”
Sebille and I shared a look, shrugging. “Sometimes we sleep,” I offered, grinning around my last bite of taco.
“You’re just jealous,” Sebille taunted him. “You wish you could eat tacos.”
Rustin grimaced. “It would definitely be better than crickets and those other disgusting things you feed the frog. Can’t you feed him a burger once in a while?”
Fighting a grin, I shook my head. “What can we help you with, witch?”
Rustin sighed. “I wanted to let you know that Madeline just sent the last piece of the puzzle to Lea. We now have the cure for the youth artifact.”
“Sweet Caroline!” I exclaimed, surging to my feet. “I’ll go see her now.”
Lea was staring down into a small jar filled with a green mash when I came through the door into her shop, Herbal Remedies with Mystical Properties. The sweet scent of fresh green herbs hit me as I came through the door. I inhaled deeply, pulling the soothing scents in and letting them perform their magic on me. I had a smile on my face as I headed for Lea. “Rustin just gave me the good news.”
But the expression she turned my way wasn’t a happy one. I felt hope crashing and reached out to grab hold of the counter, bracing for the news. “What’s wrong?”
Lea shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Naida.”
Stars burst before my eyes. I swallowed hard as I fought my instinct to cover my ears and run from the room rather than hear what my friend was about to tell me. “Wh…” The word caught in my throat. I cleared it and tried again. “What is it?”
“This won’t work on Grym. I tested it against a sample I took from him before we put him into stasis.”
“The cure doesn’t work?”
She took a deep breath and let it out, long and slow. “It works. But not for him.”
I frowned. “Explain.”
“We created the cure with plant magic. Earth magic. But Grym’s basic make-up isn’t of the soil or the plant. It’s…”
“Mineral…” I said, feeling hope crash around my feet. “He’s aligned to rock, not plant.”
Lea nodded. “It didn’t occur to us that there would be a difference. But this cure had no effect at all on the youth magic in his system.”
My legs gave out and I leaned heavily on the counter, my world wobbling as I felt my friend slipping away. “Can’t it be adapted?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Probably. But I’m not sure he has that much time.”
I shook my head, desperate to deny the truth of what she was saying. “There has to be a way.”
“I’ll keep working on it, Naida. You know I will. But it will take time…” Her voice fell away as if she didn’t have the will to finish the thought.
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I heard the words she didn’t say in my mind.
Time we don’t have.
Then I remembered what I’d learned. I looked up. “I know who created the youth magic. We just need to catch her and get the artifact.”
“If you have the artifact, can you reverse this?”
I nodded with more certainty than I felt. I wasn’t sure how the artifact we were looking for worked. But I would find a way. I didn’t have a choice. Grym’s life depended on it.
I shoved to my feet. “I need to gather th
e troops. We have to figure out how to lure this piece of troll dung in and capture her.”
Lea nodded, reaching out to clasp my arm. “I wish I could help.”
Cold realization hit me. Lea wouldn’t be able to help. I couldn’t draw her away from trying to find a cure for Grym. If we couldn’t get the artifact and reverse its effects, her efforts might be the only thing that saved him.
I nodded. “I know you need to stay here and keep working. We’ll figure this out.”
But as I strode quickly from her shop, I couldn’t help thinking that I was really up against a wall. I didn’t have Lea. I didn’t have Grym. I couldn’t count on Madeline Quilleran to help.
And we were going up against a creature of enormous power.
How on earth were we going to win the battle we had to fight?
In the end, I was terrified that Grym wouldn’t be the only one who lost his life.
“Sebille!” I slammed the door behind me and started pacing the carpet in front of it, thinking. I could ask Sindra for help. Her Fae army would be a formidable ally against Kat. I could ask Theo. He’d be good for brute strength. I wondered how I could find out about the other cops in Enchanted who were supernormal friendly? That would take a bit of thought. Of course, Grym would know. And Madeline…
I sighed. I kept crashing up against the same wall.
“Sebille!!!”
“Hold your panties!” my assistant growled as she slouched into the bookstore, her arms filled with books. “I heard you the first time you bellowed.”
“What took you so long?” I asked, peering suspiciously at the three large volumes nestled in her bony arms. “What are you doing?”
She peered toward the stacks, holding a finger over her lips. “Mrs. F, are you finding what you’re looking for?”
I felt my eyes go wide. I made an “oops” face and went in search of my favorite customer, finding her sitting in one of two upholstered chairs I’d placed in a small open space among the shelves. She sat with her head back and her eyes closed. For one terrifying moment, I thought she’d passed out. Or worse.
“Mrs. Foxladle?” I hurried over and touched her arm, relieved to feel that it was pliant and warm. I gave her a little shake. “Mrs. Foxladle? Are you all right?”
