Tales from the Magitech Lounge

by Saje Williams

  It struck me that I’d never tried “Rain”. “Thanks,” I said, and popped off the lid.

  “Happy Birthday, Rio.”

  As I took my first swallow I turned to look at the goblin perched on the bar stool. I was a bit surprised by her appearance. She wasn’t homely, like most goblins. In fact, one might call her cute, even pixie-ish. She had a sharp, vulpine face, a well-proportioned nose, and big round blue eyes. Her ears were large and upswept, more like an elf’s than the bat-wing things many goblins had. She wore her hair in a thin blue mohawk about four inches tall that rode the center of her skull from the top of her forehead to the base of her neck.

  She was slender to the point of looking fragile, though that’s one thing no goblin could be. They tend to be as sturdy as any immortal, from what I’ve been told. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi yourself,” she answered. I noticed she had what looked like a screwdriver in front of her. She took a drink and met my gaze. “You’re the birthday gal, aren’t you?”

  “Unfortunately,” I muttered. “I didn’t know goblins could do magic,” I said. No, tact isn’t one of my strong suits.

  “Most of us can’t,” she answered back with a shrug. “I’m a freak even among my own kind.”

  I smiled understandingly. “That must be hard.” I wasn’t sure why, but I was very curious about this creature. I was hoping to get a genetic sample, but it wasn’t as though I was about to walk up and ask her for one. A tempting thought, though. Even I have some boundaries I won’t cross, believe it or not. “Got a name?”

  “No. Most people just call me, ‘hey, you!’” She gave me a disgusted look.

  “Sorry. I’m Rio.”

  “People call me Kate,” the goblin said. “Sorry about the snark.”

  “It’s okay. It was a stupid question.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  I sighed, figuring I deserved that. “You should drop by the Lounge sometime,” I told her, sliding off the stool. “Freaks are always welcome. Take my word for it. You’re no more a freak than any of us.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. I had no way of knowing whether she meant it or not and, frankly, I didn’t much care. If she showed up, great. If not, it wasn’t going to cause me any heartache.

  I spent the rest of the evening making the rounds and being toasted. It was embarrassing but they were my friends. Or as close to friends as I’ll probably ever have. They were a step above nearly anyone else I’d ever known. At least they knew where I lived.

  I knew that the next night they’d all be back at the Lounge, telling stories about their trip to the Rock. Storm and I wouldn’t be there. We spent about two weeks out of the month in Europe, then a week back home recuperating before returning to the Lounge.

  Why Europe? Because, believe it or not, Storm has a kid there. Yep. Before he and I hooked up, he had an affair with a parahuman who happened to get pregnant. Storm has a daughter and a real firebrand she is, too. He and the mother retained a peaceable relationship throughout the kid’s childhood and now that she was an adult, he insisted on “watching” out for her as much as possible. Personally I think he’s worried about nothing, but he’s the father.

  Me? I spend the time visiting such historic sites as the Louvre, Buckingham Palace, the Eiffel Tower, and other interesting locales. I like Europe. It has such a visible history.

  Storm’s daughter’s name is Nemesis. I don’t know why, especially considering that’s the name of the parahuman woman who’d given birth to Deryk Shea’s son—the one who’d died in the war. When I ask him about it, he changes the subject.

  Think he’s hiding something?

  I do. And one day I’m going to find out what it is.

  Episode VII: Goblin Moon

  I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. I stumbled into the street, throwing myself backward just in time to avoid becoming a smear on the pavement as a ground car swept past without slowing. I threw a finger up at the retreating bumper and shot a hasty glance over my shoulder.

  Had I been seen? I had no way of knowing, but I was terrified by the possibility. Death stalked the park, and I had witnessed something so horrible my tiny heart had almost burst with the effort of restraining my cries of shock and terror.

  The only things that moved at the edge of the park behind me were shadows of trees cast by the streetlights, but my imagination painted them as monstrous figures emerging from the depths to devour me whole.

  My name is Vex, and I’m a goblin. Oh, I know someone might think, reading that, but goblins are stupid and illiterate. There’s no way the narrator of this tale could be one of those reviled creatures.

  That’s where they’d be wrong. Not all of us are either of those things. A few of us, the elite among us, are as intelligent as a human being, and Kali, our Queen, made sure that those of us who could make use of it sought some sort of education.

  Who knows where we’d be if not for Kali?

  I sprinted across the street, jumping onto the sidewalk and glancing around again. Haight Street was vacant. Not a single ground car cruised down its length, not a single human being walked its sidewalks.

  San Francisco never sleeps, but sometimes this neighborhood got in a few winks. All the big touristy places had their off times. One o-clock in the morning on a Sunday just happened to be Haight-Asbury’s time to drowse.

  I padded down the sidewalk, watching for any sign of pursuit. Still nothing. Maybe the monster hadn’t seen me after all. Maybe I’d escaped its notice. I was, after all, only a goblin. Not large enough to pose a threat, and hardly someone or something the authorities were likely to believe.

  I needed to get off the street.

  Hadn’t I heard of a watering hole in this area with a reputation of being a sort of sanctuary? I seemed to remember…

  The sound was my only warning—a muffled boom from overhead—and I dove into a doorway, feeling a great gust of wind rush past me. Shivering more from fear than from the cold, I peered around the building’s façade, trying to see something, anything, that may have caused that effect.

  Whatever it was seemed to be gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, but didn’t feel safe venturing out of my hole just yet. Something that flew had just tried to snatch me up like a hawk might a field mouse, and I wasn’t about to step blithely back into danger.

  But I’d suddenly acquired the feeling of being watched, and that was in its way more frightening than dodging large winged predators stooping out of the darkness at me. I shivered once again and, grabbing my nerve by the throat, crept out of the doorway, edging down the sidewalk scant inches from the front of the building.

  Now where was that bar? I knew it was around here somewhere. If I could only find it, I would be safe for a little while. A brief respite might give me the chance to come up with some sort of plan. To escape, of course. It looked as though my residency in San Francisco had come to an abrupt end. I couldn’t live somewhere that harbored that sort of monster, particularly one that decided I’d make worthy prey.

  I’d be no more than a bite-sized morsel to the creature I’d seen in the park, but its interest in me was obviously not that of a discriminating diner. I was a witness to something I didn’t quite understand, but I was a witness nonetheless. The creature had to know that there was at least a small chance someone in authority would listen to me.

  Maybe it was afraid I’d tell Kali. Which I would, had she still been on Earth. She’d been gone for months now and we were alone for the second time in our existence, able to rely on no one but ourselves. And even that had limits. There were very few of my own kind I trusted, for example. Most goblins weren’t exactly the kind of people who inspired confidence.

  Not that I blame them for being selfish, conniving, treacherous and deceitful. When you’re less than three feet tall in a world made for people twice your size and instantly recognizable as something inferior, you had to come up with some way to survive. For most of us, that meant either begging or stealing, or doing
the jobs no human would deign to do.

  “Goblins are wonderful. Everyone should own one or two.” As long as they keep them locked in the basement when they’re not working, that is.

  Don’t mind my cynicism. It’s been hard-won. People tolerate goblins if we make ourselves useful, but they don’t have to like us.

  I darted down the side of the building, racing for the next corner. My breath was coming in harsh pants and ice water ran through my veins. At any moment I expected to feel the claws of something large pierce my back and carry me into the sky. Winged death pursued me, and I knew escape was nearly impossible.

  I felt the wind like a cold harbinger on my back and stumbled forward, a shrill scream rising in my throat. Out of the darkness ahead of me emerged a tall figure which stopped and glanced skyward. “By the Maker!” it cried in a deep male voice.

  It rushed forward and snatched me up like a child, then spun, clearing the street in a single prodigious bound. Long legs ate distance like an Olympic speed-eater hunched over a plate of hot-dogs. He held me cradled against him and ran for all he was worth.

  I couldn’t see anything but the leaden gray sky and glimpses of the man’s face and long hair blowing in the wind. Then I cried out as a huge saurian beast soared silently over us, its great whirling eyes staring down at us, shining with a pure dark malevolence.

  My rescuer dodged sideways, underneath a large overhang, and I heard a shriek of anger as we broke through a door and into a room filled with smoke, the scent of alcohol, and the soft murmur of voices. I was carried up a ramp and deposited back on my feet. I stared up at my rescuer and felt my knees turn to liquid.

  I staggered back, stumbling over someone’s foot, and sprawled unceremoniously on my back under a table that rose like a huge canopy above me. I scrambled into a sitting position with my back against the table’s center post.

  One might wonder what had panicked me this time, considering the dragon was still somewhere outside, probably irritated and aggravated that I’d managed to escape. No, my problem this time was with my rescuer.

  He was also my creator.

  The immortal Hades, the mad scientist and mage who’d stolen human children and turned them into an inhuman army of short, squat, not particularly bright creatures he’d expected to use as shock troops against the invading Cen. Our Father. Our Destroyer.

  Goblins make terrible soldiers. The majority are too stupid to remember what to do when combat’s necessary, and the rest of us are too smart not to run at the first sign of danger.

  Yeah, we’re cowardly. At least the bright ones are. And that’s a good thing when you’re less than three feet tall. We’re tough for our size, but we’re completely outmatched by some of the monsters roaming around these days. Like dragons.

  Of course, I’d never heard of dragons trolling the parks of San Francisco hoping to chomp down innocent tourists and goblins for dessert.

  At the moment I actually feared the man crouching down to peer under the table at me more than I did the dragon. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  Sure, I thought. Like you could do anything worse to me than you already have. This wasn’t strictly true, of course, but it wasn’t all that far off the mark. Sometime long ago I was a human child, and Hades’s mad ambition had changed me into this…thing…that I am now.

  I recognized him, and remembered him from the lab and afterward, as he inspected his new army. I was one of those he intended to serve as an officer—smart enough to know the difference between an “attack” and a “retreat”.

  “What the hell is going on here?” asked a booming voice, and my shelter was abruptly yanked away from above me. I scuttled across the floor, only to be snatched up by a second dark figure, even larger and more imposing than Hades himself.

  This man was also dark of complexion. Not the unearthly ebon color of Hades, but the dusky tone of what they used to refer to as “Black” or “African-American”. He was a veritable giant, and as soon as he touched me, I knew he wasn’t completely human himself. He lifted me up by the back of my jacket and inspected me disdainfully. “Now you’re bringing goblins into the Lounge, Hades? It ain’t enough that you brought them into existence in the first place?”

  “Funny, Boneyard. Real funny.”

  “Little bugger looks scared to death. Of course, looking at your mug, he would be, wouldn’t he?”

  I caught a cold glare fired from Hades’s eyes that bounced off my captor without apparent effect. Personally it made me want to shrink into the tiniest ball and cease to exist.

  That wasn’t going to happen. So I squirmed. “Let me go!” I shrieked.

  In my twisting and turning I caught sight of the big man’s face, which was bent into an annoyed grimace. He gave me a quick shake. “Knock it off,” he growled like he meant it.

  I knocked it off, hanging limply in his grasp. He made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “As if this place isn’t freaky enough,” he said irritably, “you had to bring a goblin?”

  “He was being chased by a dragon,” Hades explained casually, as if that sort of thing happened all the time.

  “A dragon? I thought they were all extinct.”

  “Mostly,” Hades replied. “I only know of one living—in Oregon. This wasn’t him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Believe me. I know. Actually, I’m wondering if we’re not getting immigrants.”

  “Immigrant dragons from other Earths?” Another voice chimed in. “I suppose it’s possible.” This one was male as well and I turned my head to see a young, wraithlike human with pale skin and rusty blond hair approaching from somewhere out of view. He smelled like a mage. “Possible, unlikely and extremely unsettling.”

  “Glad you think so, Kevin,” Hades told him tersely. “Freaks the shit out of me.”

  “Could you please put me down,” I squeaked to the big lycanthrope. That’s what he was, of course. Some type of shapeshifter. Feline, if I had to guess.

  Don’t ask how I know this stuff. It’s a talent. I can feel anything out of the ordinary in other creatures. Like I already knew the pale man, Kevin, was a mage. It’s an odd talent, perhaps, and one that seems generally useless for a creature as small and ineffectual as I am, but I’ve always found it worth having.

  He peered at me curiously, gave a curt nod, and set me gently on the floor. I eyed Hades warily and edged my way around the big guy. “There was a dragon chasing me,” I said, unnecessarily. Hades had already told them that. Then again, I wasn’t sure how likely they were to believe him. The Sidhe had learned first-hand how deceptive he could be, and what he’d done to the goblins was nothing short of scandalous.

  The evil bastard made me want to puke. Well, run and hide and puke. All at the same time.

  I nearly shrieked as the front door exploded inward. I spun, rushing toward the horseshoe-shaped bar, and flung myself up one of the stools and across the polished wood. I was caught mid-flight by an average-sized human man who peered down at me in clear annoyance.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked in gruff tones.

  “Hiding?” I squeaked. He looked down at me and let out a booming laugh.

  “It’s not the dragon,” he told me, turning me to face the door. I spotted a couple of large humanoids—I hesitate to call them humans—standing at the bottom of the long ramp from the door to the main floor.

  They were huge. Giants even in comparison to Hades and the lycanthrope. Their skin was as black as night and one of them seemed to furl great bat wings that were formed as much out of shadow as out of skin, bone and flesh.

  Fear gripped me like a hand fisted around my throat. They were going to kill me…I just knew it.

  “Are all goblins such lily-livered cowards?” the man behind the bar asked, as he lifted me up and set me on the bar without even a word of apology.

  Hades shrugged. “The smart ones are,” he said. “One of the reasons I abandoned the idea of using them as soldiers.
The smart ones want no part of battle, and the dumb ones can’t be trusted not to do something remarkably stupid when the chips are down.”

  This earned him dark looks from nearly every patron in the place, including the newcomers. “That’s cold, Hades,” the lycanthrope muttered, shaking his head. “You owe this creature.”

  “I just saved his life,” the immortal objected.

  “Which wouldn’t have even been an issue if he’d been left to pursue his own life as nature intended,” the other replied smartly.

  Hades heaved a sigh as the bartender chuckled low close to my ear. He leaned forward and caught my gaze. “Are you hungry?” he asked me.

  I blinked at him in astonishment. He was being remarkably nice for a human. And that’s all he was—a normal human. Nothing paranormal or preternatural about him at all. Most of his kind had as little to do with my kind as they could manage. We were good for domestic and janitorial work and little more. Or so they assumed.

  For some reason, this guy was different. He was actually offering me food. “I don’t have any money.”

  “That’s okay. You look like you could use a good meal and that’s payment enough for me.”

  “Won’t your boss get upset?”

  “I rather doubt it,” he answered with a quick grin. “This is my place and I’ll give free food to whoever I want.”

  “Has he ever gotten free food?” I asked, stabbing a finger at Hades, who was engaged in a low, muttered conversation with the two huge newcomers.

  “He can afford to pay. You can’t. Wait here.”

  I did, and fifteen minutes later I was chomping into one of the best chicken sandwiches I’d ever had, along with a huge fizzy drink he identified as his own creation. It was a complex mix of tastes, including cranberry, lemonade, and some tingly sensations I just couldn’t quite identify.