The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga)

by Summers, Gillian

  Finch snapped her fingers. “Heartwood, now.” She pointed to the spot beside her.

  So much for escaping. Keelie stepped forward.

  Finch’s hair curled in tendrils as sweat dripped from her neck and forehead. Keelie wondered what that meant for dragons. She figured Vangar was sweating because of his hot work in the forge, since the day was still cool.

  Finch gestured to the motorcycle. “What were you thinking? Do you need to be taught the rules?”

  “Darling, don’t be so uptight.” The blacksmith smiled, looking her up and down appreciatively. “You’re a fiery wench.”

  Darling. Fiery Wench. Keelie wondered if Vangar had a death wish or was just dumb. She was going to have to keep Finch calm. She didn’t want the faire director transforming into a dragon in front of the human booth owners and faire workers. Some of them knew about the magical beings at the faire, but some didn’t.

  A wave of heat rolled over Keelie. It was like being on a hot asphalt parking lot in July, and it was coming from Finch. She gripped Keelie’s upper arm tightly. Keelie winced but tried to give off soothing vibes, as if Finch were a tree.

  Vangar smiled at Finch, revealing several gold teeth that matched his molten yellow eyes. “Darling, do I detect a temper?”

  Finch squeezed Keelie’s arm even tighter. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pain.

  “Mundane vehicles aren’t allowed on the faireground,” Finch said between clenched teeth. Keelie was pretty sure that whatever was going on was not about the motorcycle. She’d seen Finch swear and yell, but the woman seemed to be trying to hold herself in check this time.

  “Babe, it’s a weekday, so what’s the big friggin’ deal? There’re no mundanes around to see my motorcycle. You need to relax. Wanna go for a drink over at the Poacher’s Inn?”

  Finch turned several shades of crimson as she dug claw-like fingers into Keelie’s biceps. Time to intercede before she lost her arm. “The shop owners aren’t ever allowed to bring motorized vehicles into the fairegrounds,” Keelie gasped.

  “Hell, I’m at the back of the faire, so how am I supposed to haul my metal and other supplies to my forge? Get a mule?” Vangar turned his molten gold eyes on Finch.

  “You weren’t hauling materials on a motorcycle.” Finch leaned forward, her eyes sparking. “Didn’t you read the guidelines?”

  There were whispered conversations going on behind Finch and Keelie. She caught snippets: “you know he’s right”—“why can’t we drive our vehicles onto the faire ground?”—“where can you get a mule?”

  Finch whipped around and glared at the crowd, which immediately went silent. Her attention back on the blacksmith, Finch’s eyes flashed angrily. “I need your promise that you won’t do this again.”

  “I think you came for a ride.” Vangar glowered at her, but Keelie thought she saw a hint of smile. The man was suicidal. “You’ll need to ask nicely.”

  Finch raised her arched red eyebrows and laughed, a rusty sound. Keelie flinched. She’s never heard Finch laugh.

  Vangar stood tall, hand on his hammer. His lips curved up and he leaned forward. “You’ll have to hang onto me.”

  “Not likely. I’m going to pull your contract, and believe me, I’ll find something I can use to kick your leather-clad ass out of here.” Finch’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’ll find everything in order. There is nothing that can close down my forge,” he answered confidently.

  “I beg to differ,” a voice proclaimed from the crowd. The girls around Keelie sighed as Hob pushed his way through until he stood by Finch and Keelie. He regarded the blacksmith, who was head and shoulders taller.

  “I think if you have three or more shop owners complain about the forge, then a vote may be taken to release you from the contract.” Hob spoke as if he were a lawyer.

  “Aha!” Finch pointed at the blacksmith.

  “I have concerns about the forge being so close to me.” Hob gestured toward his shop with its flammable,

  papier-mâché masks. “What if it catches on fire? One random spark from the forge and I could lose everything.”

  Whispers erupted from the crowd.

  Vangar strode over to Hob and glowered down at him. “My forge is safe. Be reassured, I use every precaution to keep the fire contained. If you would like to look at my safety record at other faires, I can provide them, along with references. I’ve never had any trouble with my fire.” The blacksmith turned to the crowd. “Please, if you have any concerns, I can give each and every one a personal tour to calm your fears.”

  Finch relaxed her grip on Keelie, but when she attempted to pull away, the faire director tugged her back. She was stuck here, and whatever happened, she was going to be in the thick of it.

  “So, that’s two shop owners who are against you. Just one more”—Finch held up her index finger—“and you and your metal beast, and your fire, and your swords, are outta here.”

  “I know he has something against me,” the blacksmith said, motioning with his chin at Hob, “But who else has lodged a complaint against me?”

  Finch pushed Keelie in front of her. “Heartwood has.”

  Sacrifice the elf. Keelie stared at Finch, mouth open, though she shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Hey, back off.” Dad pushed through the crowd, his eyes blazing.

  The blacksmith ignored him, squinted at Keelie, and shouldered his hammer. He lowered his face until his broken nose was inches from hers. “You have a problem with my forge, kid?”

  Behind him, an oak tree shivered nervously as the hammer swung close. No one but Keelie noticed the tree raise its lower branches out of harm’s way.

  “No.” Keelie forced the word out. “I only saw your shop last night.”

  Finch erupted angrily. “You do too.”

  Dad was suddenly there, glaring at Finch. “Do not use my child as a pawn in your game.”

  To Keelie’s surprise, Finch was unable to meet Dad’s gaze. “Maybe I was mistaken.”

  A familiar loud purring motored at Keelie’s feet. Knot rubbed his head up and down her leg. Thank goodness he was here. He’d get her out of this. He’d claw the mean blacksmith.

  Instead, Knot walked away and hopped onto the motorcycle. She cut her eyes over to him as he sat on the wide leather seat and began to wash his tail.

  The jousters and elves had arrived and were gathered on the left edge of the crowd. Elianard frowned disapprovingly when his eyes made contact with hers.

  Vangar noticed Knot on his bike. “Hey, there’s my drinking buddy. You. Me. Down to the pub. I need a mead.”

  Knot meowed.

  Vangar gave him a thumbs-up in agreement and turned back to Keelie. “So, kid, why are you and Hobknock in league with the administration?”

  Hob scowled.

  The blacksmith hefted his hammer and smacked it against his giant, callused palm. “At some of the faires I attend, when a shop owner sides with management, it’s like turning against their kind—the other merchants.”

  Grumbles came from the crowd.

  Keelie’s cheeks burned red and she was beginning to understand how the French aristocrats felt during the revolution. “I didn’t side with anyone.”

  Finch stepped on Keelie’s foot. “Quit trying to incite the vendors against me. It won’t work.” Finch’s voice had gone low and dangerous.

  From the corner of her eye, Keelie saw Cricket crawling toward the elves. They frowned in disgust. A bit of paper stuck out of its mouth, probably a discarded napkin. The little goblin turned and made its way to Keelie.

  Hob bowed his head. “G’day to all. I must tend to my business.” And he wove his way back through the crowd. Some of the belly dancers squealed and jingled with delight.

  Finch forced a smile. “Vangar, get your motorcycle out of the faire, and if you dare ride inside the premises again, I’ll kick your ass through the front gate.” She had a delighted gleam in her eyes. Keelie knew that despite her complaints, Finch th
rived on conflict.

  “I like a challenge,” Vangar retorted. He leaned against a beech tree. Keelie saw the tree push its face out of the bark. It sniffed Vangar and then crinkled its barky face, as if it couldn’t quite place what it was smelling.

  “Me too,” Finch raised her chin in answer to Vangar’s declaration. She turned to the crowd. “If anyone else has a complaint about the blacksmith, then I will personally file it and you in the privies. I’ve had enough whining for one day.” Everyone stared open-mouthed at Finch. She placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t you people have things to do?” The crowd dispersed silently, hurrying back through the woods, back to their jobs, back to their shops.

  Vangar walked over to Keelie. “You kept your cool. I like that. When you work with fire, it’s an important attribute. If you need a job, I could use some help in the forge. I could train you.”

  “This is the last person that needs to be working with fire,” Finch said with a panicked look. “She doesn’t follow orders, and disaster follows her.”

  Although she felt insulted, Keelie didn’t want to pass the insult on to Vangar. It would be better to take a lets-be-nice-to-the-neighbor approach. “Thanks! But I have a job with my Dad.” She held out her hand. “I’m Keelie Heartwood, and Knot is my cat.” She motioned toward the big orange furball who needed a lesson in loyalty.

  “If you belong to Knot, then you’re good people.” A big grin broke out on Vangar’s face, transforming him from scary giant to friendly troll.

  “Meow.” Knot hopped onto the motorcycle.

  “Sorry, buddy, I can’t take you for a ride like I promised.”

  Knot shot a baleful glare at Keelie as her goblin scuttled out into the open with a plastic bottle hanging from its mouth like a huge cigar. Keelie motioned for Cricket to come to her, but it seemed to be checking out Finch. It crawled toward her, shiny eyes fixed on the woman’s boot buckles. Not good. Keelie bit her fist.

  “Take the motorcycle and the cat to the performers’ campground and leave them both there,” Finch suggested, cutting her eyes over to the goblin, who offered her the plastic bottle.

  Keelie wasn’t surprised that Finch could see Cricket, unlike the humans here. Finch was a dragon, after all.

  The goblin climbed up Finch’s legs and moved his arms back and forth as if saying “hi.”

  “If you don’t get this thing off of me, I’m going to roast it,” Finch snapped, although she’d let Cricket climb up without complaint.

  Keelie gently removed the little goblin and sat it on the ground, where it proceeded to munch on the plastic bottle, chewing busily.

  “He eats plastic. Huh.” Finch studied the goblin. “He can have a job in clean-up. Walk with me, Heartwood. We have things to discuss.” She turned to Vangar. “You get this machine monstrosity out of here.”

  Vangar winked at Finch. “If that is your desire, I shall surely comply. But babe, I’m going to need to drive my motorcycle out of here. You gonna have a cow if I do?”

  “If I have a cow, then I roast it and eat it,” Finch said under her breath. She glanced at Keelie. So the faire admin knew Keelie was onto her secret.

  Finch straightened. “You can drive it out,” she said to Vangar, “but if I see it by the forge again, then it’s going to be impounded for the duration of the faire.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I’m growing on you.” He flashed her a debonair smile.

  Finch’s face flushed red.

  If Keelie didn’t know any better, she’d think there was a thing going on between these two. She thought of her bruised arm. All that squeezing—maybe it was excitement, not anger, that Finch was feeling. She wondered what other ghastly and dangerous surprises awaited her in dragon courtship.

  Vangar was looking at Finch through hooded eyes. “You’re no longer threatening to kick me out. You’re falling for my charm. Before this faire is over, you’ll be wanting to date me.”

  Finch laughed, then wiped the tears that had squeezed from the corners of her eyes.

  Vangar didn’t seem insulted. “You’ll see. No one can resist me.”

  “Always a first time.” Finch grabbed Keelie by the arm and tugged her away.

  “What was that about? I didn’t say anything about protesting against the forge,” Keelie hissed at her.

  “You’re with me, and when you’re with me, you agree with me,” Finch said matter-of-factly.

  “This is the United States of America,” Keelie said, rubbing the circulation back into her bruised arm. “You can’t make me agree with you.”

  Finch looked over at her. “For the humans it is, but not for us.”

  Keelie rubbed her sore arm. “It’s going to be days before I have feeling again.”

  “Quit being a drama queen. I have other matters to discuss with you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s take a walkabout to the meadow. There’s something I want to teach you.”

  “Teach me? What?” Keelie frowned. The last thing she wanted was more lessons. But you didn’t say no to Finch.

  As they left the clearing, shop owners and performers cleared the way for them. They passed Hob, who inclined his head. Finch returned the acknowledgement with a slight tilt of hers.

  “How do you like your new neighbor?” she asked Keelie.

  “He seems nice.”

  “Do you sense anything different about him?” Finch asked.

  “No,” Keelie said as they headed down the hill. “He’s been friendly.”

  Finch stopped and watched Hob make his way back to his shop. Her eyebrows knitted together as if she was focusing on something.

  “Why are you so curious about Hob?” Keelie asked.

  “I can’t read him,” Finch squinted at the retreating figure of the mask shop owner.

  “Read him?” Keelie hadn’t heard that one.

  Finch lifted her face, and her eyes were dilated like big black moons. Then her pupils contracted back to normal.

  Keelie inhaled. “Are you okay?” Maybe Finch had the hots for the handsome mask maker as well as for Vangar. What fickle games the dragon heart played.

  “Yes. And you’re going to try to read him too, using the To See Truly spell.”

  “To See Truly?” Keelie hadn’t heard of that one, and she quickly rearranged her thoughts. It seemed Finch was suspicious of Hob.

  “Yes.” They had reached the bridge, and Finch stopped to gaze down at the flowing water rippling over the stones. Keelie wondered if the sprite would be splashing about, and if it would irritate the dragon.

  “To See Truly allows you to see through layers of magic, down to a person’s essence. I’ve been using the spell to see the faire folk and their true form, but with Hob—nothing. A blank.”

  “You think he’s using a glamour?” Keelie toed a loose board on the bridge (oak from New Hampshire).

  “I’m not seeing a glamour,” Finch said. “I can see straight through a glamour.”

  “What do you see if he’s just a human?” Keelie looked into the distance, where shop roofs peeked through the trees.

  “I see their intent. But with him, I see nothing.” Finch nodded. “It’s possible he’s human, but I have this feeling something isn’t quite right, and the To See Truly spell hasn’t ever failed me, which is why I want another perspective.”

  Keelie didn’t know whether to be thrilled that Finch wanted her opinion, or to be scared. What if she failed? But since it was Finch, you had to do what she said.

  “What do I do?” Keelie swallowed.

  “Look at the water and concentrate. What do you see?”

  Keelie gazed down. “Water flowing, stones, and green ferns growing on the embankment.” A gentle breeze flowed through her hair as she inhaled the loamy scent surrounding her. She held her hands toward the water. “The minerals in the water tell me that the stream’s spring isn’t far away.”

  “Good. You’re a natural. You’re feeling the Earth magic of the place, and now I’m going to te
ach you something dragons do naturally.”

  “Teach me what?”

  “Angle your head fifteen degrees to the right.”

  “Fifteen degrees?” Keelie stared at Finch. “How will I know I’ve angled my head fifteen degrees? What if I angle it seventeen degrees?”

  “It takes practice to work with light refraction and Earth magic to allow you To See Truly. When you feel the presence of the Earth, like you did with the minerals in the stream, then you’re on target. Dragons have a natural predilection for this spell.” Finch’s voice reflected pride. “Have you ever caught a quick glance of something in your peripheral vision? Then it was gone?”

  Keelie nodded. “Yes, especially with the fairies.”

  “That’s To See Truly. You’re glimpsing through layers of magic. As you become better at using it, you’ll be able to see the true form and the essence of all beings. At first, you’ll see glimmers of magic, like the ripples in a pond. Next, you’ll pick up on different kinds of magic, like when someone is under an enchantment. Then, when you least expect it, the spell will work, and when it does—kapow! An overwhelming sensation of magic flows through your body, and you’ll feel like you’re swimming in a lake of light, but you’ll see truly.”

  “That’s powerful,” Keelie said. She thought about Tavyn and Bloodroot in the Redwood Forest—if she’d been able to see through the bad elf’s magic, then she would have been able to stop him sooner. “I angle my head fifteen degrees, and then what?” She was anxious to learn more.

  Finch gestured toward the embankment. “Call upon Earth magic. If you’re not making the connection, pick up some dirt and hold it in your hands, which usually helps. Next, concentrate on the light around the person, and then repeat these words: Allow me to see truly. It doesn’t have to be out loud, but that’ll help at first.”

  “Is that all you say? Allow me to see truly?” Keelie had recited some complicated elven spells, and this seemed so simple. As far as she was concerned, it was in the bag.

  Finch arched an eyebrow and chuckled. “You think it’s easy, but it takes practice. Try, now, and tell me what you see on the embankment other than ferns.”