Greta and the Goblin King

by Chloe Jacobs

  Was it so obvious she’d taken on a suicide mission?

  It hadn’t been her humanity that got her through the last four years, but that other part of her—the part which had taken pleasure in every hunt, rocked every kill. The part that was born here in Mylena. She hated that he knew her so well, that he could see the darkness in her.

  It had already occurred to her that this quest she was embarking on meant there was a good possibility she wasn’t going to see the real Isaac ever again. Something that would have been a blessing just a few days ago now made her heart hurt.

  She found herself wishing things were different, that she hadn’t met Wyatt and Jacob and Ray. Hadn’t learned of the human slaves, and didn’t know what horror would befall them if they were left to rot in Agramon’s dungeons. All of this would have been so much simpler, her choices easier.

  Because the only choice she had now was killing her inside.

  “Whatever path I decide to take isn’t any of your business. You don’t have the right to interfere. I’ll find a way to bar you from my dreams even if it means cutting your cursed name from my very soul,” she warned. “We’re done.”

  He flinched before his whole body went rigid and the light faded from his eyes. She blinked back the tears before he could see them.

  She took a step back. “I’m telling you now, Isaac. You had better stay out of my dreams—and don’t bother telling me I don’t mean what I say. Don’t keep trying to find me either, because you’ll only be wasting your time.”

  Suddenly, his expression narrowed. “Greta, by the Great Mother, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  Her stomach clenched. “Just get out. This has nothing to do with you. I won’t let you stand in my way.”

  “Is this about Lucius’s death? Revenge is a fool’s—”

  “This is so far beyond revenge now.” She choked on bitter laughter, realizing just how true the words were. “Revenge would be simple.”

  His jaw tightened. “Whatever it is can’t be worth your life.”

  “You know, you’re wrong about that. In fact, this might be the one thing that has made my life mean something, and if I have to give it up to get the job done, then so be it.”

  His lip curled and the fake forest background around them shimmered. Was he losing control? Had she finally pushed him close to the breaking point? “What’s between us is too strong for you to just walk away.”

  He better be wrong, or they were both in for a world of hurt. “There won’t ever be anything between us now.”

  Greta.

  “Liar,” he said with a snarl. “I’m impressed you were able to say that to me with a straight face.”

  Greta…

  Her head pounded like someone had started tapping on her temples with a pickaxe.

  Please…you have to…

  Dizzy, she closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get rid of the feeling, but it only increased until everything was spinning.

  …up…please.

  “What is going on?” she asked. “Do you hear—?”

  Someone was trying to wake her. On the other side, something was wrong.

  Please, Greta. Please wake up.

  She snapped her head back. “Isaac, get me out of here.”

  “Where are you? Who are you with?”

  “There’s no time for that. Just let me go.” Her heart in her throat, she spun around, absently looking for a way out, a tear in the fabric of the dream. Hell, a good old-fashioned door would do the trick—anything.

  The fake forest, fake trees, fake moons—all of it warped around her like waves on the surface of a deep, black lake. “Isaac! I have to wake up now. Right now!”

  He grabbed her shoulders, shaking hard. “Tell me where you are.”

  She shoved at his chest, desperation a crazed thud in her brain telling her to hurry, hurry, hurry.

  Glaring into his dark, hard eyes, she tried not to think about anything he could pluck from her mind. Nothing except for the constant thumping refrain of wake up, wake up, wake up— “I’m not playing, goblin. Get me out of this dream before I—”

  Please, Greta…scared. Please.

  Jacob.

  Oh, God. She was going to be too late. She cracked. “Isaac, please. I’m begging you. Please let me go.” Her fingers curled into his sleeves. Her voice caught on a sob. “They need me.”

  “The humans,” he spat. His gaze cooled as he stood over her, his face turning to stone before her eyes. “Is this your wish?”

  “My wish?” Her head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. “You son of a—”

  Greta!

  She nodded. “Yes, damn you. This is my wish. Just do it. Get me out of here.”

  Her vision blurred, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach sucking her down farther and farther into the darkness.

  “Fine. Go,” he said. “Awake.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Greta surged upward with a harsh gasp for air, shaking off the tormenting cobwebs of the dream as quickly as she could.

  Jacob was on his knees beside her. He jumped back with a breathless shout. She clasped his shoulders and pulled him into her arms. He was shaking badly and she tried to soothe him with a few awkward pats on his narrow back. She felt the warmth of his tears on her neck. “Shh, Jacob. Hey, it’s okay.”

  He shook his head and hiccupped, keeping his nose wedged tight in the crook of her neck. What must he have felt when he tried to wake her and she didn’t move?

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  He swallowed hard, but before he could speak, a sharp cry sliced through the silence outside. Jacob jerked, his fingernails digging into her arms.

  “Jacob, I want you to stay here while I’m gone, okay?” It hurt to pull his little arms from around her and set him aside. She reached for her sword and stood to belt it in place around her waist. Since she’d only planned to lie down long enough for Jacob to fall asleep, and then take patrol duty with Wyatt, she hadn’t bothered to unstrap her daggers earlier, but quickly checked to make sure they were still secure.

  “Greta, I’m scared,” the boy whispered. He’d curled up into a tight ball in the center of the pelts. “Are you going to come back?”

  She knelt before him and took his hand. Placing a kiss in his palm, she closed his tiny fingers over it. “Of course I’m coming back, magpie. You keep this safe, because I’ll want it back, do you hear me?”

  He nodded and cradled his hand close to his chest, ducking his head. Another shout, followed by a crack of something loud splintering and breaking made him screech and cry out.

  “Shh. Don’t be afraid,” she said. “You’ll be safe as long as you’re very quiet and you don’t come out of this tent. Not unless one of us comes to get you. I’m going to help Wyatt and Ray now. You wait right in that spot just like I said, okay? That’s an order.”

  She didn’t want to leave him, but she told herself Jacob would be the safest of anyone if he stayed inside and stayed quiet. Standing, she forced out a deep breath and willed her heart rate to slow down. She ducked out of the tent and folded the flap tightly over the opening without another look back, knowing if she gave in she wasn’t going to be able to go.

  Not sure what to expect—more crazed Mylean timber cats?—she paused instead of immediately rushing headlong toward the source of the racket. But the sounds of clashing steel spurred her forward. No timber cat would strike back with a sword.

  Sloane was running out of his shelter with a dagger in his hand just as she raced past. Greta pointed behind her. “Go and get Jacob in my tent. Then do what you can to gather the boys together and keep everyone safe.”

  She couldn’t stop to make sure he would listen, but even though he was young, Sloane was smart, strong, and capable. They all were. She had to trust that they had a plan in place for this type of emergency.

  As she closed in on the disturbance, she squinted through the darkness, trying to get a bead on the threat. She could make ou
t a pattern of heavy shadows swirling back and forth, with the odd reflection of moonlight off the blade of a sword slashing through the air. An icy block of dread settled in her throat. She had a terrible feeling she knew what was attacking them.

  “Wyatt! Ray!”

  Please don’t let me be too late.

  She jumped over the fire pit. It had been stomped out hours ago, but a few embers continued to glow weakly and its heat warmed the backs of her thighs as she landed on the other side between the two engaged figures.

  One of them was Wyatt—on her left. The other…

  Lazarus.

  He had found her again…and from the looks of those dark eyes and long claws, the moons were riding him even harder now than last time. He hadn’t turned completely, but the arrival of the eclipse would be just a formality for this guy.

  Unnerved by the wave of relief that at least their attacker wasn’t Isaac, Greta turned her back to Wyatt and faced the deadly faerie. She blocked his quick thrust with her blade, but the hits didn’t stop there. She took a hard shot to the nose when he countered with his fist, snapping Greta’s head back so hard she bit her tongue and lost her balance.

  “Ah, crap.” She winced. The blood started to well in her nasal cavity and she sniffed it back with impatience and a shudder of disgust. Damn it. Why did they always have to go for the face?

  She forced herself to stay on her feet, keep her body between Wyatt and Lazarus.

  Wyatt tried pulling her behind him. “Greta, what are you doing? Get back!”

  She shrugged him off. Lazarus snarled, his sword lifting in a deadly arch over their heads. “Get out of here, Wyatt. Go get the others to safety.”

  Wyatt jumped forward to stand at her side. “Ray’s got it. You need my help.”

  “Those kids need you more,” she cried, kicking out to knock Lazarus back a few steps with a high shot to the chest. “You think if you die here tonight Ray will be able to take care of them on his own?”

  “If I die tonight, hopefully it means you’ll live,” he retorted, his face a mask of ruthless determination. “And I trust you to take care of Ray and the kids.”

  The guy was delusional if he believed they could manage without him, or that she was an acceptable substitute for his compassion and leadership. Greta may have been designated the muscle of this operation, and Ray was most definitely the guts, but Wyatt was its heart and soul, and every boy back there would fall apart without him. The whole group would crumble.

  But Greta didn’t have time to argue. She kicked out again as Lazarus moved on her, catching him hard in the kneecap. He stumbled and she stayed on the offensive, moving forward right away with a slash of her blade, but he dropped and rolled before coming back on his feet a few steps away.

  His roar was filled with such hate and venom she wondered when this hunt had turned personal for him. That’s all she needed was to have the most ruthless bounty hunter in Mylena after her blood instead of the money he’d be paid for taking her alive.

  Lazarus sprang at her so fast she didn’t even get her sword back up. Both his hands closed around her throat. Tightened.

  Her mouth opened, but there was no air to scream. She couldn’t gasp, couldn’t choke, her windpipe collapsing under his iron grip.

  “Greta!” Wyatt’s cry sounded muffled and far away.

  The sword fell from her fingers and she lifted her hands, tearing desperately at the faerie’s wrists. She kicked every part of his body her boots would reach, and it did absolutely nothing.

  Her strength was failing quickly and every move was slower, like trudging through thick sludge that only pulled her down deeper the harder she fought.

  Her vision blurred and darkened. She was going to lose consciousness.

  She felt rather than saw Wyatt launching himself at Lazarus with a knife aimed at the faerie’s back. She was jerked roughly to the side as Lazarus swung around in an attempt to throw Wyatt off without letting go of her throat. The pain that jolted through her was so extreme, she was afraid her neck had just separated from her spine.

  Certain she was done for, she closed her eyes. But the faerie suddenly howled and dropped her into the snow.

  Gasping for air, she pulled it into her lungs quickly and deeply even though it hurt like knives tearing at her throat. She dug in her heels and scrambled backward to put space between her and the two combatants. Forcing her fists to unclench, she leaned over her knee and lifted her pant-leg, pulling the long-handled dagger from her boot.

  She battled dizziness while the fight continued in front of her.

  Lazarus growled.

  “Come on then, you monster. Let’s dance,” Wyatt taunted.

  Stupid, stupid boy.

  She blinked, trying to find him among the shifting shadows. Her vision was still spotty. She got to her feet and managed to stay upright, but couldn’t move her neck. Oh yeah, that’s going to be fun tomorrow.

  Lazarus swung his long, sharply-clawed arm at Wyatt with a growl. He ducked to the right and barely missed having his head separated from his body.

  “Wyatt, get back!” Her voice came out as a pained, soundless whisper that neither of them heard. Better not to bother. The stubborn idiot wouldn’t listen anyway.

  She forced her way back into the fight with dagger in hand and a buttload of strength of will—if not strength of body—but even two humans against one massively aggressive faerie was like a couple of bees buzzing annoyingly around a T-Rex. They were just pissing him off. She could feel it in the air, that same gathering of energy, of cold, of power, as the last time.

  “We have to run,” she croaked, holding her hand out for Wyatt.

  “He’s turning!” Wyatt called to her in the same moment. He grabbed her arm and they both stumbled a few feet away as the vortex of ice began to form around Lazarus.

  Greta knew they wouldn’t get far, not if she tried to leave with Wyatt. She could probably stay and stall the faerie long enough for him to take the boys to safety, though. The bounty hunter had been tracking her after all, and might not bother with the others if she wasn’t part of the group anymore.

  She shoved Wyatt out of the way. “It won’t work. Go without me. You have a responsibility to those boys, not to me…I’ll be fine,” she lied.

  Spotting her sword in the snow, she jumped for it just as Lazarus lunged for the two of them in all his gnarly faced, fangy glory. She dodged his grasp and maneuvered behind him, grabbing his arm as she went and spinning him around until he gave Wyatt his back and the only thing he had to focus on was her.

  A bestial cry sounded in the distance. Filled with such monstrous rage everyone paused on hearing it echo toward them through the night.

  It was still far out, maybe a couple of miles, but the next thunderous howl confirmed that it was moving fast, getting closer by the second, and whatever it was, it wasn’t happy.

  Her hopes for getting out of here in one piece plummeted some more. It was also clear that no matter what she said, Wyatt wasn’t going anywhere without her. He stubbornly placed himself back at her side as they faced off with Lazarus, who seemed newly invigorated by the prospect of more guests to the party.

  Fine. She’d tried. She couldn’t be responsible for his death if he wasn’t going to let her save him from it.

  Swallowing her anger, she focused on the battle. She was doing her best to take the brunt of Lazarus’s attack, but she couldn’t last much longer. They defended themselves as best they could. She tried not to think about the other creature on its way, looking for a piece of the action, but the furious calls that came every few minutes cut her to the core.

  Suddenly, she knew who was coming. Knew what it meant. “Wyatt, you’ve got to go!”

  “Enough.” The faerie’s voice gurgled with the force of his moon phase. He straightened and glared at her with ice in his eyes.

  As she watched, his pupils clouded over and again she felt that stirring of the air. It quickened, imprisoning her suddenly within a circle of smok
e. She tried to push through, but touching it was like plunging her hand into the fiercest, coldest ice storm Mylena had ever seen. She’d never felt anything so cold. If she tried to walk through it would probably stop her heart.

  He’d just turned their fight into the equivalent of a cage match.

  In the distance, as if from miles away, Wyatt called her name. She wondered if he was locked out as much as she was locked in.

  Trapped within the maelstrom of Lazarus’s power, oxygen was thin and the fog so thick Greta couldn’t see her hands in front of her face. She sensed the faerie shifting around her—first in front and suddenly behind—but heard nothing. It was as if all her senses had been fried until she was left flailing about without any of her skills to lean on for balance. Not sight, or sound, or touch.

  She took a swipe of Lazarus’s claws across her chest and didn’t even sense it coming, but she sure as hell felt each one of his razor talons tearing through her clothes and pulling at her skin.

  She bit off the cry of pain, refusing to let it pass. He shoved her from behind, blew frigid wind in her face until she couldn’t breathe. He bit her shoulder, and his next pass left a deep gash in her thigh. This time Greta couldn’t stop the harsh groan that escaped, but she didn’t dare move. Holding absolutely motionless, she concentrated on clearing her mind of insecurity, doubt, pain, and crushed all thoughts of Wyatt, Jacob, Isaac, and anything else that could make her weak.

  She closed her eyes, which actually helped her focus. When he moved on her again, this time coming up along her left side, Greta was ready.

  Her fist shot out and she slugged him in the jaw. His sharp teeth scraped the skin of her knuckles before he jerked back, but she barely felt it, the satisfaction of having taken him off guard in his own game trumped the pain big time.

  “I see you,” she murmured. Not with her eyes, but with her other senses. She realized he wasn’t as invisible as she’d first thought. Greta just had to reach past his fog and mirrors tricks and listen for him in the spaces between the emptiness.

  He roared and lunged at her. She had a bead on him now and was able to slip to the side, but he just turned and came for her again. It became obvious that he could have slit her throat at any moment, but hadn’t.