The Goblin King

by Shona Husk

  She gazed up at him, her eyes darkened with desire. “You haven’t even told me your name. I won’t call you king.”

  He eased away, his teeth clenched, fighting for control. He wanted her and like a greedy goblin he’d do anything, give up everything, to have her. He’d made a mistake in bringing her here. The same mistake he’d made years ago by taking her to the Summerland. He couldn’t help himself around Eliza.

  “Roan,” he said as he called the shadows to take her home. At least she would know his name this time. “If you were mine, you would call me Roan.”

  The world lurched as he landed on his feet. He released Eliza and melted into the night before she could realize what he’d done. The imprint of her body against his still warmed his skin.

  The need to grasp her and take her back to the Shadowlands gouged his metal heart.

  She couldn’t see him like this. Gray and twisted. Goblin.

  Eliza turned. “Roan?” She spun the other way, and then placed her hand on the tree for support. “Roan!”

  He bit his tongue so it wouldn’t betray him and answer. When it came to Eliza, he couldn’t be trusted. He would convince himself she was willing, that she wanted to be there, until it was too late for both of them. He looked up at the stars. So few now shone, dimmed by the city lights. He was doing the right thing. She belonged here in the Fixed Realm with the living.

  He should never have taken her. The urge to possess her rattled in every unsatisfied fiber of his being. Eliza had replaced the lust for gold. Both were fatal to his soul.

  Her breath caught like she was about to cry. One hand covered her heart as if it were breaking.

  Roan hung his head unable to feel her pain, but wishing he could share it. He could remove the ache in her heart if he took her back and replaced it with something worse. The lack of hope. He fisted his gray hand. He wouldn’t do that to the woman who’d once seen him as he’d been. A warrior, not a goblin. A man worth dreaming about. He doubted she’d dream of him now.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” A man in uniform, police, swung his flashlight over her.

  She sniffed, then nodded and blinked as if noticing her surroundings. He’d brought her home, to where she would be safe. Back to the fiancé. Roan shook his head. Stealing another man’s promised. Eliza brought out the worst in him and raised the goblin to new, dangerous lows.

  “That’s my house.” She pointed to the house surrounded by yellow crime scene tape. A police van was parked out front.

  Time had passed in her absence. Roan wasn’t sure how long, minutes, weeks, years. To him it was all the same. He waited, not feeling the cold of the night settle on his gray flesh. Eliza would forget him, and once again he would become little more than a nightmare brushed aside like a cobweb in the daylight.

  “And you would be?” the policeman asked.

  “Eliza Coulter.”

  Eliza Coulter. Roan let her name form on his lips. He had never forgotten the child who had reminded him to be human. He wouldn’t forget the woman who had reminded him what it was to be a man, if only for a moment. Maybe he would’ve been a better man if he hadn’t been king.

  Chapter 6

  Eliza eased back on the flat pillow. The bed was too firm, designed to throw the hospital’s patients out sooner, rather than later. Her body refused to rest. Her eyes darted to every shadow, searching for a movement that didn’t belong or a darkness that couldn’t be explained. She could bring him here, but the words wouldn’t form on her tongue to breathe the nightmare into life.

  She’d lied to police. Claimed she had no recollection of where she’d been for three days. They’d scraped under her nails, taken her clothes, taken blood, taken photos. There was no glass in her feet. The cuts on the soles were too well healed for only three days’ absence. But she hadn’t spent even one day with Roan.

  Already her memories of him were fraying around the edges. Each time she tried to find a detail it became harder to grab the thread. She closed her eyes. Her skin remembered his touch, cool skin, palms roughened from the sword. The way his lips crushed hers and the way his body pressed hard against hers.

  She bit her lip. In those few minutes she’d been more alive than she’d been in years. Since Steve had put the ring on her finger. She gritted her teeth and tried to force sleep, staring up at the ceiling, knowing that the real nightmare would begin soon. Her stomach became heavy and her first meal in three days sat like a sunken ship, listing with the currents but going nowhere. Steve would visit and make sure she paid for every inconvenience her absence had caused. No one could save her from the trap he had made. After all, she’d filed the paperwork and she’d signed off on his embezzlement, not that she’d known it at the time. If she didn’t go through with the wedding, Steve would make sure she went to jail.

  With Roan she had tasted freedom, and the edge of excitement, sharper than a sword, had pierced her heart. She wanted to feel it again—kiss Roan again.

  Her eyes flicked open, her body rigid with fear. What if he’d become goblin? Would kissing turn him goblin? Wasn’t a kiss supposed to break the curse? Or was that a lie created by fairy tales because they’d kissed and nothing had changed? Her mouth opened to call for him so she could make sure he was okay. She stopped, the words caught in her throat. She hadn’t abandoned him. He had thrown her out of his world, out of the Shadowlands.

  A lucky escape that felt more like a farewell to a friend and an ache that wouldn’t dull as time passed. She shouldn’t care. Roan was a heartless goblin, a monster who wore the skin of a man when it suited him. So how did he burn with such intensity that she couldn’t touch him without catching alight?

  It had been so easy to get swept up and believe he was more than goblin. To her he’d always been more than goblin. He’d been the warrior who’d saved her. And for a moment she’d thought she could return the favor and set him free. She touched her lips. She was a fool. He didn’t want her. He wanted a queen.

  He’d returned her, and she should be grateful she had escaped unscathed. But the fate of the Goblin King consumed her thoughts. A breeze lifted her hair, when none should stir in the sterile room. Eliza sat up. Were the shadows a little darker in one corner? She squinted, sure something or someone moved.

  “Roan?”

  The sound of tinkling beads echoed through the room. Then the darkness lifted, leaving her alone with her heart, longing for the shadows.

  ***

  Light and color blurred with more hues than Roan remembered the world ever having. He put his boots up on the seat in front of him. The theater in Mumbai was almost empty. The few patrons he shared with stayed clear of the back row of seats without knowing why. To them the dark was best avoided.

  The actors broke into song. Love and duty. Should the girl marry the man her father approved of, or take the chance and run away with her true love? That question was older than Roan and would never be answered in a ninety-minute film. The characters danced around. The women’s brilliant saris bled across the screen. Their gold jewelry was usually an untouchable torture that didn’t bother him today.

  Today, Bollywood didn’t fill the gap left by his departing humanity. It rubbed salt on the wound and then washed it clear with bitter wine. He couldn’t find enjoyment in others’ happiness. In laughter, or song, or light. He wanted to be happy. He’d never just lived. He’d been raised to be king from his first breath. With his father’s untimely death, he had stepped up as expected. He was killing before kids these days could drive. King before they could vote. Cursed before they could drink. His twenty-first celebrated in goblin blood.

  Roan chewed on the heavily buttered popcorn. It didn’t matter, none of it did. His life was ancient history that no one knew or cared about. The world had all but forgotten his tribe. Mercifully, most of them had forgotten about goblins too. The summons and commands died out as the centuries slid past in a blood-edged, golden blur.

  He sunk farther into the seat. He should’ve stayed in Texas and wat
ched the shoot’em-up-cop-chase film. But in life, good never won. Evil was rewarded. Honor vanquished. Movies lied. Joyous chatter erupted as the young woman picked her suitor and made wedding plans. Popcorn stuck to his tongue like tasteless balls of polystyrene. The blackness that clung to him wasn’t just the normal dusting of shadows that eased his transition between realms as he slid through people’s nightmares.

  Eliza was getting married. To Steve. He shouldn’t have given a damn. She should’ve been his. His queen. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her presence like a hint of summer. A warmth he could almost touch. Her light followed him across the world not lessened by distance, as if she called to him with a constant beckon he couldn’t be free of. And one he wanted to answer. It was still night where she lived. He could watch her sleep. Watch her dream. Watch her wake to the face of a monster leaning over her bed.

  Soul be damned.

  Roan crushed the popcorn container. Exploded kernels rained onto the floor. It was easier to crave gold than a woman. Both would ruin him. But gold he could have. Gold would never leave. Gold didn’t care whether he looked goblin or man. Eliza did. He could never be the man she wanted, and she would never be the queen he needed.

  Today was a day for violence and the loss of life and hope. The only problem was what type? Beautiful-impossible-anime? Or brutal-bloody-slasher? He weighed the decision knowing the answer would be both. With his mind made up, Roan stood. First, he’d check out his favorite German art-house theatre, the one where Goths mingled with thugs looking for ideas.

  With only a thought he was leaving Mumbai for Berlin.

  ***

  “Welcome back, honey.”

  Steve’s voice cut into her sleep. Eliza kept her eyes closed, knowing he wouldn’t be put off that easily. He was too used to getting results to back down.

  The bed shifted as he sat down. “Wake up, Eliza.”

  His breath on her ear was hot like a dog sniffing out dinner. She blinked a couple of times, turned, and tried to look surprised to see her fiancé visiting. He smiled and kissed her forehead, but his eyes were cold, like rain-slicked steel. She could never find her footing with him. Never be in the right place, never be safe.

  Steve remained, leaning over her. “I’m so glad you decided to come back.”

  “I didn’t decide—”

  “Shh, I’m talking. We both know I had nothing to do with your disappearance. Regardless of what the police think.”

  “I don’t know what happened.” The words tumbled out as she apologized for living once again.

  He did this to her every time. And she bent to his will, but their relationship hadn’t always been like this. He’d rescued her when her world had collapsed. When her father, the last of her family, had died of a heart attack in parliament. He was dead before he’d hit the floor. Her degree had followed. A one-year deferral to deal with her grief had become five. In her family’s law firm she was a legal secretary, filing Steve’s paperwork.

  Steve had been her father’s protégé, a self-made man, the poor kid made good. And he played on it, manipulating everyone around him. He’d had her fooled for three years before she’d seen the truth. By then it had been too late. She was caught.

  He lowered his weight, crushing her chest. “You can’t lie to me.”

  She couldn’t breathe. The tiny half-breaths he allowed her were not enough. Eliza tried to push him off. But he held firm. To a nurse passing by he was merely attentive. There would be no help coming.

  “Keep still.” He pinched her earlobe where her earring should have hung. “Where have you been?”

  Eliza shook her head. Her lungs burned for more than a gasp of air.

  “Is this payback? Do you think anyone but you cares who I screw?” He kept the embrace tight but let her breathe.

  She gasped, sucking in the air tainted with expensive aftershave. There was nothing honest or natural about Steve.

  “We’re not married yet,” she choked out. When they married, everyone assumed he’d get the partnership she’d refused him two years ago. Two years ago this nightmare engagement had begun.

  “Is that a threat?” His nose touched hers.

  If he kissed her, she would be sick.

  He drew back and laughed, patting her hand. “It’s your name on the documents.”

  Nausea clawed the back of her throat. Those documents were the one thing between her and freedom. She’d seen them once. Perfect documents that looked the part and siphoned money into an account Steve had set up. The poor boy had become a rich, corrupt lawyer, and she would take the fall. The documents had her signature and her handwriting on them. She filled out paperwork like that all the time. She’d done the paperwork for Steve’s fraud without knowing. Her signature had locked the chain around her throat.

  “Choose carefully, Eliza. You wouldn’t last a week in jail.” He stood and smoothed his charcoal suit. A replacement for the ones she’d ruined. “I’ve ordered new suits. You’ll settle the bill, won’t you, dear?” He turned and left without waiting for her answer. His visit left no more than a depression on the sheets. Eliza smoothed them away, wishing it would be as easy to remove him from her life.

  In the afternoon, the detective assigned to investigate her disappearance stopped in to see if she could remember something she hadn’t told the uniformed police. Eliza gazed out the window. She wanted to be outside, to feel the sun and taste the fresh air. She wanted to be free of Steve and his fraud for a few moments. She’d tasted freedom for a few short seconds with Roan as their lips had met and she’d forgotten she was Eliza Coulter and should know better.

  “Just a few more questions, Ms. Coulter.” Detective Griffin brought her back to the hospital room.

  She nodded, sure that she’d answered the same ones last night, but she couldn’t be certain. Had she fainted before or after the questions? She couldn’t remember getting to the hospital. But she couldn’t forget where she’d been. She couldn’t forget Roan.

  “What time did you leave the party?”

  “I don’t know. Elevenish?” She should know that. She should remember what time she’d caught Steve with his pants down.

  “Your fiancé is a lawyer, yet there were no suits in the house. Do you know where they might be?”

  Eliza frowned. “No…” He’d cleaned up. The cheating bastard had removed the evidence of their fight, evidence that might have been important had she been actually missing. The bastard had only thought of his own ass. The weight of Steve’s lies became too heavy for her to carry. “They should’ve been in the bathtub.”

  “The bathtub?” Detective Griffin smiled, his face an invitation to spill all. He could keep a secret. Who would he tell?

  “I took them down and soaked them in hot water and wine.” She swallowed the laugh that bubbled in her throat.

  “After the argument.”

  “Yes.” There was no argument. Just her yelling and locking herself in the bedroom with a bottle of wine. Tearing down his suits, jumping on them as the water flowed, staining them with the red wine and cursing him. Cursing everyone. Cursing herself for being so stupid.

  “That’s an expensive way to fight.” Griffin nodded as if he understood her life perfectly.

  “We don’t usually fight.” I usually give in.

  There were several breaths of silence. She could take off the burden if she told the truth. She could tell Griffin everything. Her eyes flicked to his partially concealed gun. Cuffs would lurk not far behind. How would the metal feel around her wrists? Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Steve was right that she wouldn’t survive in jail, and she wouldn’t ruin her family’s good name for Steve.

  “When can I go home?” She’d inherited the Coulter family residence after her father’s death. While it was home, it had never felt like it was hers.

  “The doctor said you can leave today. Your house is still being processed. Have you got somewhere else to stay?”

  Eliza’s eyebrows pulled together. She wanted to get
out, get some real clothes, and sleep in her bed. “I’m no longer missing.”

  “You have no recollection of where you were for seventy-two hours.” Disbelief flashed in Griffin’s eyes before being hidden behind the warm mask of concern.

  She knew that look. She may never have finished her law degree, but he was keeping something from her. Something that made him doubt her amnesia. Had Roan left something behind?

  “Is there a problem, Detective?”

  “Why did you argue?”

  Steve wanted payback. Well here it was with interest. Let the police make up their own minds about him. “I caught him cheating.”

  “He said you overreacted, that you had been drinking heavily. Do you normally drink?”

  Eliza forced a breath out between her teeth. Her fingers twisted the bedsheets. “I was drinking because I caught him screwing some skank in my house.”

  Griffin nodded, his face showing nothing. “Where do you keep your handbag?”

  “Was it stolen?” Spending a day canceling cards and replacing her keys, phone, and purse was not what she wanted to do.

  “No. Where did you leave your handbag?”

  “In the bedroom.”

  “You didn’t leave it in the cloakroom by accident on Saturday night?”

  No personal belongings ever went in the cloakroom. Raincoats, umbrellas, sun hats, never her handbag. “No, that’s generally for guests.”

  “Your bag was in the cloakroom. The suits haven’t been found. Do you know why Mr. Slade would move things before the police arrived?”

  Because he didn’t want them looking into his affairs. The police might find the documents she’d signed, and maybe more. Something that she’d missed in her hunt for the paperwork and a way out.

  The words that would reveal the fraud rested on the tip of her tongue, but before she spoke they twisted and reformed. “I don’t know.”