She turned back to the cedar trees.
What do you know of the mask maker?
He’s a strange fellow. He’s been upset about something called his Toshi, and he’s been screaming for it all night long. The elves who planted us laughed at the mask maker, and that made him even angrier.
Hob stormed out onto the porch of his shop and paced back and forth, weaving like a drunkard, clenching his fists tightly and mumbling to himself.
No, it wasn’t going to be a good day. Keelie reached for some loose soil on the ground and placed it in her pocket before strolling up to the mask shop. “Good morrow,” she said, in a Ren-Faire-standard faux English accent.
Hob stopped, startled to see Keelie. She cocked her head fifteen degrees. Earth magic flowed through her, and she focused on Hob.
Allow me to see truly. Thick slow ripples of true sight radiated from her in all directions; bright light expanded like a sunny pond, surrounding her. Keelie closed her eyes, then opened them. A shimmer glowed around Hob’s body, and then disappeared. She was getting the hang of this spell. But what did that shimmer mean?
Startled, she suddenly realized she was seeing everything truly. The Hot Tub wenches, despite all their makeup, looked like plain little girls. In the trees, balls of energy hung suspended like holiday lights. She realized she was seeing the bhata as they really were.
The spell had unintentional side effects that Finch should have mentioned. Keelie shivered, then turned to see that Hob was staring at her.
“Is everything okay?” Keelie asked, placing a foot on the first step to the porch of the mask shop. She ran into a skin-prickling wall of magic, which quickly faded.
Knot hopped onto the porch ahead of her and rubbed up against Hob’s leg.
Hob recoiled. “A cat! I hate cats!” His eyes turned bleary and his skin blotchy, as if just saying the word “cat” made him break out in an allergic reaction.
The illumination around Hob became brighter as Keelie felt Earth magic flow through her. He bent down, and she saw shadowy tendrils of magic twisting and turning like storm clouds around his face.
She bit down on her tongue to keep from gasping.
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to open the shop today.” Hob peered about the porch, wringing his hands together. “I need to find something.”
Keelie’s heart drummed against her rib cage, but she steadied herself, focusing on the magic. “What can I do?”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Hob turned toward her. The weak muscles in Keelie’s legs almost gave way when she saw Peascod’s contorted and wrinkled goblin face underneath the glamour that masked him as Hob.
Hob was Peascod. Peascod was Hob. Keelie’s first instinct was to run, but she remained calm. She had to act like she didn’t know. She would be in danger if he discovered that she knew his real identity. Just wait until Finch found out! Imagining the dragon flaming the wayward and murderous jester steeled Keelie’s resolve to see the morning through until she could think up an excuse to report back to the dragon.
“Look, Mommy. There’s a mask store,” a little boy yelled. “I bet there’s puppets!” He grinned at Keelie as he stomped up the steps to the porch and ran right through the front door.
“I guess the show must go on,” Hob muttered. “Shall we entertain our faire guests?” He lifted his mouth in a snarl, revealing jagged teeth.
“Sure.” A cold sensation wrapped itself around Keelie.
When Keelie entered the shop, she felt another ripple of magic that set her on edge. The shop had a warped Willy-Wonka-meets-the-circus vibe, and the unique atmosphere was given a creepy twist by the puppets that hung from the walls between the hundreds of masks. It was as if eyeless faces and little men were staring at her.
Keelie walked behind the wooden counter (alder, from Colorado) and touched the brass register; cold metal, hard to the touch. It was very different from Heartwood’s wooden register. Her heart seized with sadness as she peeked through the shop window, between shelves loaded with papier-mâché carnival masks, and saw the newly planted cedars, and the corn-on-the-cob vendor talking happily with a group that had paused by her cart.
Keelie strolled over to look at the puppets and was struck by their sameness. As Finch had mentioned, each one was identical to the Toshi puppet; the only difference was that they wore different-colored versions of the jester’s costume. Hob’s special friend wasn’t so special if there were hundreds of him … why was he so upset? He could have grabbed one of these.
Their little faces leered at her. Keelie shivered.
“What do you want me to do?” Keelie asked, backing away from the disturbing Toshi display.
Before Hob could answer, families started streaming into the shop. Everyone seemed to love the creepy masks and puppets. After they had been working for two hours, Hob—or rather, Peascod—came to stand at her side. Keelie fought to act normally.
“I no longer need your services.” He eyed the door as if eager to leave.
“What about the afternoon? Your customers?” Keelie had to find out where he was headed.
“I have other plans. I’ll just close up.”
Once they were out of the shop, Hob closed the door and locked it.
“Do you want me to come back later?” Keelie asked. “Tomorrow?”
“Things have changed.” He fumbled with the keys.
At least this time, Finch wouldn’t go ballistic about Keelie tanking at a job in under a day. Of course, Keelie hadn’t messed this one up.
“I’ll leave your wages with Finch. I’ll pay you for a full day.” Hob stared at her, as if about to say something else, but instead turned the corner around Hobknocker’s and was gone.
He’d vanished.
Keelie wondered if she should try to track him through the trees, but Knot sat down on her foot.
“Meow. No. Not safe. Meow will go.”
“Fine. I’ll go and tell Finch.”
fourteen
The Admin office was empty, and Keelie let herself in and waited. The thin walls did little to mute the noise of the happy throngs outside. The dragon clock ticked loudly. What was Peascod up to? Why had he disguised himself as a shop owner? She wondered what Knot would discover by following Peascod. She hoped the fairy cat kept a low profile.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The minutes passed slowly. Tapping her foot anxiously on the floor, Keelie didn’t know if she should search for Finch or keep waiting.
Goblins. Peascod. Keelie didn’t have any magical solutions. It was like she had used up all her luck in the Northwoods.
A lump of orange fur jumped through the open office window and landed on Finch’s desk.
“Knot!” Keelie ran to him, then stopped, aghast. Blood streaked the cat’s nose and slack skin flapped over one eye, loose from a deep cut.
“What happened to you?” Keelie asked, wondering if she should bundle him up and rush him to a vet.
“Meow, bad news.”
“What is it?”
“Meow, need to come.”
A sickening wave of Something Wrong welled up within Keelie. “Tell me.”
“I tried meow to save meow Cricket.”
Keelie inhaled sharply. “Save Cricket? Where is he?”
“Meow fought against Peascod, but he was angry, meow, he threw Cricket against the wall,” Knot said. He wiped his paw across his face, and he sniffed. “Meow dead.”
Peascod! Cricket! Keelie placed her trembling hand against her mouth at the dark and horrible image of Peascod tossing Cricket aside like trash. She could almost imagine the horrible smack his little body made on impact. Tears trailed down her face and a sob escaped from her lips as she sat down in the hard plastic lawn chair.
“Meow, Cricket Under-the-Hill.” Knot hopped onto Finch’s desk and reached out with his paw and placed it on Keelie’s hand. It was a tender gesture for the fairy cat, and Keelie felt comforted by his presence.
“At least you were there, trying to save him.�
�� Keelie patted Knot on the head.
“Meow needs to get body. So goblin spirit can travel to Sylvus.”
Keelie felt sadness seep into her bones. She wouldn’t see the little goblin again. Just like she wouldn’t see Mom. If she needed to retrieve Cricket’s body so his little spirit could travel on to its next destination, she would do it.
Peascod had done many terrible things to humans and fae, but she hadn’t thought that he would turn on one of his own kind, especially a young goblin.
“Cricket was like one of Peascod’s own,” Keelie said. “I don’t understand how he could’ve done this. I mean, is this what goblins do to one another?”
“Meow, cruel heart in some goblins. Cruel heart can be in human, elf, and fairy. Doesn’t matter the fur or skin if meow evil flows in meow’s blood.” Knot licked his paw and rubbed it over his injured ear.
“Keelie, what are you doing here?” She turned around and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Dad stood in the doorway, then stepped into the office. “I knocked, but Finch didn’t answer. Then I heard your voice.”
He seemed regal in his elven robes, but Keelie detected something different about him even without using the To See Truly spell. He was definitely more elven than he was even a few days ago.
“Knot’s hurt. And he says that Cricket is dead.” She started to cry again.
Dad took two large steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. For a moment, Keelie let herself cry into his shoulder, comforted by her father’s arms around her. She sniffed. “Thanks, Dad.”
He let go of her when she pulled away a little.
“Why are you here?” She wanted to go find Cricket’s body and bury him, but she didn’t want to tell Dad about her plans.
“I had to speak to Finch. I’m sorry about your little creature, but I must say that I’m disappointed to see you here. I was hoping you’d be staying indoors with Janice, where you would be safe.” He turned to Knot. “Janice can stitch you up.” He seemed so cold.
Keelie closed her eyes and sighed. When she looked at Dad again, he was all blurry—but she caught a glimpse of something shimmering around the outline of his body. That was not normal for elves.
She was about to look again when Dad spoke. “I’m sorry for the loss of your pet. I know you were fond of him.” His green eyes gleamed hard and bright. “But Keelie, I’ve come to believe that I’ve been too indulgent with you, and as a result, your reckless decisions have endangered you and many others. Your little friend was a goblin, a dangerous creature that would have betrayed you eventually.”
“Dangerous? Cricket?” Keelie managed to choke out the words as indignation rose in her. “Cricket showed me affection, no matter what you thought about him. I cared about him.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “He would never have turned evil, or done anything to hurt me.”
“Hard-headed child. Mourn your pet, but you must prepare yourself to leave the faire. All the elves will be leaving. You must keep your focus on the Dread Forest, where you will stay and be protected.”
Keelie shook her head. “Elves leaving?”
He nodded. “It was decided at the last Council meeting.”
“Dad, I don’t want to argue. I can’t deal with elves and Council decisions right now.” Keelie stood up as Knot jumped down from the desk. The cat hissed as he strolled past Dad. “I need to go and find Cricket’s body.” Keelie reached for some tissues on Finch’s desk.
“The trees will not accept the body of a goblin buried in their soil,” Dad said. “Remember what happened with that nasty goblin tree. We can’t risk another infection.”
“Cricket wasn’t a bad goblin,” Keelie retorted. Dad’s cold-hearted attitude made her inwardly wince, but she would stand her ground.
“Doesn’t matter. Cricket”—it seemed Dad struggled just to say the name of her little companion—“was a goblin. The elves will disagree with a burial too. Leave the goblin, and allow nature to take his remains. It is the elven way.”
Lately, everything was the elven way.
“I can’t leave Cricket. I need to bury his remains according to the traditions of the dark fae.” Keelie glowered at Dad.
“Where is the body?” he asked.
She didn’t dare tell him it was in Under-the-Hill, so she altered her story. “It’s in the meadow, close to the performers’ campground.”
He studied her intently, as if trying to determine whether she was telling the truth.
“Too dangerous,” he finally said. “And we have preparations to make for our trip back to the Dread Forest.”
At that moment, Finch walked into her office, rifling through papers she carried as if Keelie and Dad weren’t standing there. She wore cat frame glasses perched on her nose, and when she saw Dad and Keelie, she blinked. “Did I miss an important meeting?”
Keelie could tell she’d overheard every word.
“No, we were just leaving.” Dad gestured, indicating he wanted Keelie to follow him.
“Zeke, Keelie has been a big help to me,” Finch said. “We need her here. The humans need her.”
Dad held Finch’s intent gaze. “You’re driving a wedge between us, Rose.”
Finch certainly didn’t look like a Rose.
The faire director scowled at Dad. “Zekeliel, you can’t blame me for the situation at the faire.”
Keelie forced her full attention on Finch and breathed deeply, summoning up her inner strength. “I came here to tell you that your suspicions were right. Hob is Peascod.”
“What? Peascod is at the faire?” Dad’s face became chalky white. He whipped around to face Keelie. “And you knew?”
“Not until this morning.” Keelie winced. She wondered what she could have done differently so that Cricket would still be alive.
Oh Cricket!
“I knew it,” Finch growled, walking over to her desk and tossing her papers onto it. She sighed in frustration, then removed her glasses and flung them onto the desk too. They clattered loudly as they landed. Smoke drifted from her ears. “If the goblins storm the faire, they could expose our world. And with Peascod in the mix, I’m sure they’re going for a full-blown attack.”
Dad glared at Finch. “That is not my problem. You will have to deal with Peascod. The elves wish for Keelie and me to return to the Dread Forest, where we will be able to protect our home forest. My daughter’s powers will aid her kind.”
Keelie stared at her father. Who was this elf? This didn’t sound like Dad. Had he been brainwashed from listening to Niriel and the other elves advise him on how to take care of his mutt daughter? She could hear them now: Reel her in, Zekeliel, before she goes totally human. Or worse, totally fae.
“Your daughter is more than an elf—she is a glorious combination of all that is good in this world,” Finch snapped. “What you’re doing to her, by expecting her to be one way, is breaking her heart, and she will follow her own path. Trailblazers always do.”
Keelie stared at Finch, who blushed under her admiring gaze. Or maybe she was turning red from anger.
“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter.” Dad’s voice rose. When had he started to yell so much?
“Zeke, I’m not telling you how to raise your daughter, I’m advising you to listen to your daughter,” Finch said. Draconic scales formed around her hairline, popping up through her skin.
Keelie decided it was time to stop this interchange before Finch became a full-on dragon and flamed her father. “Dad, we need to go.” She touched him on the shoulder, avoiding eye contact with Finch.
He nodded. “This is how a daughter listens to her father.”
Keelie recoiled. “Who are you? You sound like an old-school feudal lord who demands total obedience from his daughter. That’s not me!” Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
Dad sighed. “Keelie.”
“I need to go find Cricket,” Keelie moved toward the door.
Knot placed his paw on Keelie’s leg. “Meow.”
“Where is that little goblin? I was going to put him on garbage detail,” Finch said.
“He’s dead.” Keelie choked the words out.
“I’m sorry, Keelie.” Finch’s voice was soft. She seemed to really mean it. “He was a good little fellow, and he would’ve made a hell of a good detail worker. I’ve never seen anyone recycle trash the way he did.”
“Keelie, we must go.” Dad’s tone was insistent. He sounded more like Niriel every minute.
Keelie’s resolve to go and find Cricket deepened. “I’m going to find my little friend’s body!”
She pushed past her father and ran, Knot at her side, toward the meadow.
fifteen
She followed Knot down the West Road to the woodland area behind the privies. Along the way, she overheard bits of conversation about the fires and angry opinions about Vangar and Finch among the performers and shopkeepers. Everyone seemed to be unhappy, and more people had noticed Hob’s strange behavior. Nobody had seen him since he’d closed his shop. Keelie kept quiet about Hob’s whereabouts and what he had done—murdered one of his own kind.
Thirty minutes later Knot and Keelie were at the entrance to a small cavern, standing under a huge sandstone rock that overhung the entrance like a porch roof. “Are you sure there aren’t any bears in there?” Keelie asked. Dragons in Colorado were surprising, but black bears were native to these mountains.
“No. Meow.”
Keelie breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air. She would need it in the stale underground. The stench of goblin reeked through the small opening, and it would probably be much worse inside; hygiene wasn’t part of a goblin’s daily routine. It hadn’t smelled this bad earlier. There must be more goblins now.
She coughed. “How far in is he?”
“Meow close.” Knot wrinkled his nose, but he pushed his way into the opening and Keelie followed him down the wet slope, slippery beneath her borrowed shoes. She wished for the dry dirt stairs of the other entrance, or at least for decent boots.
Light from the opening illuminated the tunnel. Water dripped from the cave roof, part of a freshet that trickled down from the rocks above. Keelie walked cautiously toward a dark passageway that stretched to one side, careful not to alert any goblins who may have strayed this far.
The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga) Page 14
