Touch of Shadow

by April Aasheim

  I lifted it to my eye and scanned the café from top to bottom. When my gaze landed on the stroller, I lowered my arm. “Well, thank you. It’s the best and only gift I’ve gotten so far.”

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, “Nick looked like he was trying to give you a present in the van. Now, I’m off to check on my cat. Baylee, let’s talk later?” He skipped out the front door.

  “What’s wrong with his cat?” Jax asked.

  “Who’s Nick?” Dave asked.

  I looked towards the front window. I could see Alex on the porch, Mr. B in his arms. I turned back, changing the subject.

  “Little P is cute,” I offered. He had a lime-green pacifier in one hand, and his set of iron keys in the other, inspecting them both in turn.

  “We think so,” Dave said, lifting the baby up as Jax rolled his eyes. “Rachel and I had a little disagreement this morning. I haven’t heard from her since. I’m starting to get a little worried.”

  That was alarming, though my reasons were different from his. He worried she was hurt, while I worried she had dumped her child and left town. A terrible thought, I knew, and I pinched my leg to silence my mind.

  “She’s been helping her friends with their mayoral campaign,” Dave continued, unbidden. “Which I think is cool. I mean, she lived here for a year when we were first married, but I didn’t realize she had developed such a love for Reed Hollow.”

  I blocked out his words about them living together for a year, and moved on to a more pressing question. “Who is she campaigning for?”

  “Certainly not Gravedigger Gus,” Jax said, looking as if he wanted to spit. “That should have been his campaign slogan. Guy’s a kook!”

  “Excuse me? What do you mean, Jax?”

  “Don’t you know about him? He hangs out in the woods and the graveyards. No one knows what he’s doing out there so late, but it ain’t holy, I tell you that! Some folks claim he practices dark magic, that he is a descendant of one of those bog witches. I just think he’s insane.”

  “I never heard any of this,” I said.

  “Me either,” Dave admitted.

  “That’s the problem with your generation. You get all your information from gadgets. You need to look further. Reach deeper. Read real books and talk to real people. Okay, I’m done preaching for now. Where’s that cute cousin of yours, Baylee? She promised me pie.”

  “Pie!? Uh, I believe we’re all out,” I said.

  “No, we’re not,” Alex chimed in, entering through the front door with Mr. B in his arms.

  “We need to get going anyway,” Dave said. “I’m going to drop you off, Grandpa, and then head to The Whispering Pines and put this little guy to bed. Rachel’s in lucky room number 13, if anyone wants to stop by and watch bad cable.”

  “Alright, then.” Jax stood up from the stool, his eyes searching the kitchen for a final sign of Kela.

  “Happy birthday,” Dave said, kissing me on the cheek.

  I closed my eyes, letting the feeling linger, before opening them and smiling cheerfully. “You all have a wonderful night and… drive carefully.”

  “See what you did, Gramps?” Dave said, putting the baby back into the stroller. “She’ll be having nightmares now about Gravedigger Gus.”

  I walked them to the door and watched as they drove away. I was about to go back inside when the porch lights flicked on at the yoga studio. Yvette emerged. I hurried over as she walked to her mailbox by the curb.

  “Hello, Yvette,” I said. “Nice night, huh?”

  “Hello,” she said, suspiciously. I suppose she had every right to be guarded. I had never gone out of my way to say hello to her before. “Do you need something?”

  “I’m uh… well, Rachel and Audrey recommended your… services.”

  “I didn’t know you were friends with them,” she said, taking her mail from the metal box and sorting it as she retreated back towards the studio.

  “Audrey and I knew each other in high school. And Rachel is dating a good friend of mine.”

  “Dating? You mean the cute newspaper guy?”

  “Yeah, that one. Well, anyway, they say you can help me.”

  Yvette made it all the way to her door. She opened it and leaned against the frame, crossing her arms. “I know what this is about.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I saw you with Garett’s brother. I know they put you up to this. Like I told Garett, I can neither start nor end the process.”

  “Process?”

  “If you’re already pregnant and want to stay healthy, now that’s a different story. I can get you set up with classes and supplements. How far along are you?”

  Her words were registering all at once. She thought I was pregnant. “I’m not!”

  She shook her head, glaring. “Then Garett did put you up to this. I have to go. Tell Audrey and Rachel they are free to come back, but not Garett. Besides, I think he’s been stealing my cannabis oil. Oh, and while you’re at it, tell that brother of yours to stop skulking around my studio. It’s creepy.”

  As the door slammed shut in my face, my hands fell to my belly, as if expecting to find it round and full. Begin and end the process? Did she mean the pregnancy process? Was Rachel or Audrey pregnant, or trying to get pregnant? And where did Garett fit into this?

  I recalled Audrey’s memory: If you loved me you’d find a way to give me a baby. And then my mind went down a different road. Was Rachel trying to get pregnant again? Was Dave about to be a real father?

  Jax was onto something. We weren’t going to solve these ancient problems with modern means. I had to go back to the source.

  I went into my office alone and closed the door. After picking up the goblin book from my desk, I twisted the wall sconce, and the bookcase opened. I slid into the secret room, switching on the light and closing the passage behind me. I sneezed as I avoided several spider webs, vowing to clean this room, top to bottom, as soon as the hobgoblin situation was resolved.

  Setting the book on the podium, I stopped a moment to admire it. The binding was cracked, and the threads holding it together were loose. The gold-embossed title was so worn it was nearly unreadable. I could even smell the book’s age; I could almost date it back to the time when those very first hands had crafted it. How had it come into my mother’s possession? Perhaps it had been handed down by our ancestors, or she might have happened upon it while antiquing. She was a savvy woman, and would have known its worth.

  I carefully flipped it open to the page on hobgoblins. My hands trembled as they hovered above the sweeping calligraphy. I felt an inexplicable connection to the ancient mystic or scholar who had dipped his pen into an inkwell, whiling away his night hours writing down these secrets. The room around him would have been quiet and empty, except for a few candles holding back the deepening darkness of a world without electricity. It was an occupation I would have found comforting, had I lived in that bygone age.

  I reread the page, now without the distraction of my mother. How did the hobgoblins get to Reed Hollow? And more importantly, how could I get rid of them? I strongly suspected they were connected to the mayor’s death, and possibly Clara’s. The sight of these creatures was surely enough to stop a weak heart. If I didn’t act soon, who might be the next victim? Especially if they were loose in the Senior Center.

  Although the author’s descriptions were lush, he offered no definitive explanation about where they had actually originated. The author was very clear, however, that despite their tricky ways, they were one of the less harmful forms of goblins.

  If ye be beset by hobgoblins, rejoice that ye have not attracted trolls! They taketh thy trinkets, yet rid ye of rats in offering.

  Perhaps this comforted the people of the Middle Ages, but it did little to ease my nerves. I looked at the drawing again. This time, I noticed the hobgoblin was toothless and its eyes were much wider than the one Mr. B caught. That creature was almost as feral as he was.

  Twenty-One

  G
ingerly closing the book, I wrapped it in a towel and left Mom’s workshop. Inside my office, I hastily grabbed a few things, tossing them into my folio bag. To match my mission, I donned a dark cap from my hat rack. While Alex was occupied cleaning the kitchen, I snuck out my office door and returned to the maple tree. The moon was out, nearly full, and I was aware of every leaf crunching beneath my feet.

  I felt a youthful giddiness as I opened the towel and laid the book at the base of the trunk. I flipped to the page on hobgoblins, bookmarking it with one of the bay leaves Nick had given me. Next, I opened my folio and laid out my flashlight, EMF reader, and a magnifying glass. I also found a day-old scone that I had neglected to eat.

  My things in order, I took the flashlight and crept to the small shed at the back edge of the garden. The little wood structure was well-organized, thanks to Alex, and I found the three humane traps he used to catch wounded animals that needed care. I quietly stacked them in the wheelbarrow and hauled the load back out to the tree. Above the squeak of the barrel wheel, I was almost certain I heard a strange chortling, carried on the wind.

  I placed the traps about, putting various shiny treasures inside. I also sprinkled long trails of scone crumbs leading towards the crates, hoping the creatures would find them more appealing than I did.

  With the traps set, I settled onto the towel with my back against the tree, the open book before me.

  With the aid of my flashlight, I delved back into the book, checking to see if I had missed something important. Mr. B had gotten one of them, but there was nothing on this page about how to stop them. According to the author, you could only appease a hobgoblin and hope your offering pleased them enough to bring your things back.

  Alex left milk and dry cat food out for Mr. Bites. Did the hobgoblins consider that an offering? If so, that explained why the jade comb had been returned. And perhaps my ring, too.

  I cast my eyes towards the nearest trap and pulled my legs into my chest, listening. There was the soft purr of a car somewhere down the road, and the caw of a raven in a distant tree. A clicking sound caught my attention, and I spun to the right in time to see a large raccoon headed for the woods, a small candy wrapper in its mouth.

  It was then that I heard a strange sound – a low guttural elongated cry, like a howler monkey. But the syllables were stunted, and overly enunciated. “Jii ho ki dann mii ooog.”

  It sounded like an attempt at communication. But with whom?

  I raised my eyes to the tree branches overhead. My knees shook and my skin flushed. I was being watched – I could feel it.

  I fought every instinct I had not to run back to the house.

  Another voice seemed to answer the first, this one slightly higher. “Ooh arggk ki hiii!”

  I traced this voice back to the woods. My lip trembled and the air seemed colder. They were planning… something.

  Shrill screeches filled the night, coming from opposite directions, and one of the hobgoblins leapt down from a nearby tree. Its spindly arms pumped as it thrashed its way to the nearest trap, scooping up the crumbs as it went. It showed no distaste for them, eating them all the way to the cage door.

  Another of the creatures emerged from the woods, like a child acrobat, flip-flopping its way along a separate line of crumbs. This one was thinner, though its head was more bulbous. I was right. There were multiples. How many traps was I going to need!?

  Seizing the flashlight, I scrambled to my feet and raced to the nearest trap. But I was too late. When I reached the cage, the hobgoblin had already retrieved his loot and was reemerging through the door. It bumped its little body against the side, and suddenly squealed in pain, as if doused in holy water. It dropped the teaspoon I had planted as its prize and scurried off towards its companion. Both immediately disappeared into the forest.

  “Alex!” I shouted, as loudly as I dared. Without waiting for my brother, I gave chase. I didn’t know what I would do if I caught them, only that I couldn’t let them escape. “Alex!” I shouted again as I ran.

  In the darkness ahead, I heard their war whoops. They were joined by several others. I didn’t make it far into the forest before I realized the chase was fruitless.

  “Ooog gii hi jah!”

  They were closing in on me! In a sliver of moonlight coming through the trees, I caught sight of something else – the flash of three iron spikes rising up like devil’s horns.

  A raised pitchfork.

  I turned, racing back to the farmhouse as I called out for my brother.

  Twenty-Two

  (Alex)

  Alex grumbled as he washed the last of the dishes, waiting for Dave and Jax to leave. It was Baylee’s birthday, but how could she concentrate on gifts and congratulations after what they had witnessed under the maple tree?

  A hobgoblin? Weren’t they an invention of roleplaying games and fantasy novels? He tried his best to doubt the creature away, but he knew what he had seen.

  Suddenly, Mr. B hissed at the kitchen door, his back arching as his hair stood on end.

  “You okay?” Alex asked, bending low. But Mr. Bites wouldn’t be soothed. He paced, snarled, and scratched at the wooden door frame.

  “Talk to me,” Alex said, twisting the cat’s face, forcing their eyes to meet. “Why are you so worked up?”

  Alex scooped up Mr. B and turned on the back porch light. He opened the door and headed out towards the garden. Mr. B’s ears pricked and his nose wriggled, reacting to the various sounds and smells. He grew jumpier with every step, forcing Alex to hold on with both hands. Eventually the cat wrested himself away, and darted towards the back gate.

  Damn it!

  Alex followed, wishing he had thought to bring a flashlight. Mr. B nimbly scrambled over the fence, just as an odd tittering sound erupted from the trees. It was almost a voice – and they were almost words – but not quite. No human or animal made that sound.

  “Stay put!” Alex ordered, vaulting the fence himself.

  He followed the cat through the trees, calling as loud as he dared. He soon found himself in pitch darkness. The ground was spongy here, thick with moss, and he was aware of the noise his boots made as they squished with every step. He didn’t like the woods at night, having listened to too many tales told around campfires as a kid – tales he only remembered when it was dark and he was alone.

  He moved further into the woods, now unsure of the direction his cat had gone. In the distance, he heard the sound of a familiar trickling stream, helping him get his bearings.

  I’m behind the yoga studio.

  “Oog li hey dii ooo!”

  What the hell?

  Alex stood frozen, one foot still in the air, for fear of making a noise by setting it down. Slowly lowering it, he grimaced as his heel crunched on a twig. What would he do if he was attacked? He slowly bent forward and picked up the nearest stick, hoping the end was sharp.

  “Did you hear that?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Alex’s eyes widened. This was an actual human, and a voice he vaguely recognized.

  “Yes.” A man answered. “Honestly, I think they’re just screwing with us any more. All this searching has netted nothing, and we’re no closer to finding the seed than we were before.”

  “Do we have a choice, Garett?”

  Garett? The woman with him definitely wasn’t Audrey. What were they doing out here?

  Their voices were now accompanied by the sounds of their footsteps. They weren’t quiet as they cut through the trees. In fact, they seemed to be in a hurry. A wide arc of white light emanated from their flashlight, nearly catching Alex in its sweep. He flattened himself against the nearest tree, just as the flashlight swung his way again. The light lingered on the spot where had Alex stood, before moving on.

  Were they tracking the hobgoblins, too? Alex could have stepped out of the shadows and merely asked, but he sensed there was more to this than he surmised. He decided to follow instead.

  “I see one!” the woman said.

 
The flashlight angled towards a fat tree, the beam snaking its way up the trunk, settling into the cradle between two branches. A pale gray face blinked against the light. It covered its face with its hands as it hissed. With surprising quickness, it pulled himself up to a higher branch, disappearing into deeper cover.

  The flashlight beam lowered, revealing the woman’s face. It was Rachel, Dave’s girlfriend. What were she and Garett doing together?

  “You let another one get away!” Rachel accused, knocking the flashlight aside with her hand. “This is our last shot, too. If we don’t find it before Audrey’s ritual tonight, the current epidemic will look like a garden party. They’ll swarm the town.”

  “That’s not what I’m concerned about at the moment,” Garett said, returning the light to the tree branches above. “I won’t let these things wreck my chance to become mayor. And I certainly don’t want what happened to...”

  “My husband?” Rachel asked.

  “What happened to your husband to happen to me.”

  “You’re all heart, Garett. Audrey’s right. You’re selfish. No wonder she won’t tell you where she buried it.”

  “I’m trying to save your ass too, you know.”

  “Look, there’s a mound over there!” Rachel yanked the light from Garett’s hand, kneeling to inspect her discovery. She peered closely at the base of a tree, squinting. “Yep. It’s been marked. I’ll dig it up,” she said.

  She took the small spade that Garett offered “What’s inside?” he asked over her shoulder.

  “Crackers. I can’t even read the expiration date on these.”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! My brother’s a freak, you know that? He really thought this would be a distraction?”

  “It worked on us.”

  “Let’s move. It’s either here or near the Senior Center. Those are the only two places that those things have been congregating, and they can sniff it out.”

  Rachel and Garett tramped off, leaving Alex free to breathe again. He had so many questions, but where to begin? Before he could wrap his mind around what he had heard, Mr. B streaked by, a whir of black fur and yellow eyes. Alex could sense the prey the cat was chasing. It was wild and… unnatural.