The Goblins of Bellwater

by Molly Ringle

  No one did. Just the wind, rustling and moaning. Unless the moaning was something else.

  She shuddered, picturing ghosts now and actually believing in them in a setting like this. She drew her back up against the car, her gaze darting around the dark forest.

  Still nothing.

  Her fear ebbed, and frustration surged in. Skye’s sanity, maybe her existence as a human, hinged on finding out what was going on in these woods. This explanation, absurd though it was, seemed to have absolutely convinced Skye and Kit, so Livy would unearth the truth behind it, whatever it took.

  “Hey!” she shouted, her own voice shocking her in the stillness. “Goblins! Show yourselves! You out there? Huh?”

  She was alone. It was dark. She had whistled the tune and shouted out their name in invitation. These creatures ought to be opening up glowing pathways to her about now.

  Nothing happened.

  “Hey!” The rage ignited her voice. “What did you do to my sister? How do I fix it? Show your faces and tell me!”

  No one answered.

  Livy stood there a few more minutes, shivering, stamping her feet to keep them from going numb. Even after her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough for her to watch individual branches moving in silhouette above, nothing glowed, and nothing unearthly showed up.

  Screw this. Tomorrow she was going to call Morgan Tran and set up a psychotherapy appointment for herself; in fact, maybe for Kit too; she’d drag him along whether he wanted to come or not, and she’d bring Skye and Grady as well, have a nice, big group session.

  She turned to the car. As she laid her fingers on the door handle, something fell from the trees, bounced off the VW’s roof with a clink, and hit her in the eye.

  “Ow!” She scrunched up her eye, rubbing at it, and looked down at the ground to see what had hit her. It had felt and sounded like metal rather than a fir cone or twig.

  After switching on the flashlight bulb on the back of her phone, she found it, and picked it up: a ring. Gold and heavy, with rounded edges, smooth and slightly tarnished as if it had been handled by many owners for many years. It had designs engraved into it, which she examined as she turned it around in the flashlight beam: a mushroom, a feather, a sun or maybe a flower, a cockle shell.

  She looked back up, as if she might be able to see where it had come from, which was unlikely given all the darkness.

  Except suddenly it wasn’t dark up there.

  Fear and wonder splashed over her in a cold wave. She sucked in her breath and reached out to steady herself against the car—then stumbled, because the car wasn’t there. Neither was the road; bushes and trees stood all around her, as if she had walked out into the middle of the forest without noticing.

  That would have been alarming enough. But none of it astonished her as much as the little lights, the figures, flitting and crawling in the trees, some of them descending toward her.

  “No,” she said. “Oh, no. I did not take any path. This shouldn’t happen unless I take your path!” She shouted it up at them, as if defiance might change reality.

  Something floated down to the level of her nose. The thing was about the size of her hand, and looked like a frog with wings, its whole body glowing in a nimbus of pale gold light. “You picked up our token,” it told her, in a voice like a tree-frog’s chirp. “That is the same as a path.”

  She opened her palm to glare down at the ring. “Well, he didn’t tell me about that.”

  The frog thing laughed, as did the others, in a ripple of chittering sounds. The creatures weren’t beautiful, or at least not in a human way, like the faeries in children’s books. Instead they took forms from the natural environment: a clump of lichen ambling down a tree trunk, a foot-long dragonfly with a quasi-human face, a gnome whose hat you could easily mistake for a pointy brown mushroom, a bushy flying twig of spruce needles with a green smile.

  They didn’t particularly look like the spooky creature Skye had drawn, but then, apparently goblins could shape-shift.

  “What did you do to Skye, and how do I reverse it?” she demanded.

  “The goblins enchanted her,” the frog said. “Not we.”

  “You aren’t goblins?”

  They all reacted again, this time in what sounded like offended grumbles.

  “Of course not.” The frog continued hovering in front of her, glowing gold, its wings not even moving, as if they were just decoration rather than a means of levitation. The air wafting off the creature smelled oddly warm and pleasant, like beeswax. “The goblins are invaders. Weeds. They followed the liaison and took over much of the forest. We are the proper fae of this land.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I’ve never…well, I never knew any of you were here, exactly.”

  “Most humans do not. But you, Olivia Darwen, respect our forests and our waters, and therefore we wish to assist you. You called out, so we are answering.”

  Livy drew in a breath. “Good. Are you…well, if I can ask, I know the goblins used to be humans…”

  “Yes, most of them.”

  “Is that what you are too? Humans who were changed?”

  “Only a few of us. For the most part we are merely fae, and always have been.”

  She glanced around at the glow-spangled nighttime forest. “And where are we now, exactly?”

  “You are in the forest as before, but you have stepped into the fae realm. It is always here, overlaid upon your world, but humans usually cannot see it or enter it.”

  “But they can get stuck in it, if someone like a goblin gets hold of them?”

  “Yes. That is always a danger. That is why such paths are treacherous.”

  “How can I save my sister?” Livy asked again.

  “Her enchantment was within magical law. Unfortunately she asked the fae to appear, and the goblins, common weeds that they are, answered her. They showed her a path and she took it. This makes it fair, even if some of us do not like it. They have been taking more than they should, and pushing the boundaries of the rules too far.”

  “So what can I do? Is there any way to stop the spell? Or is she just doomed to become one of them?” Livy’s heart wrung itself tight at the thought.

  “When the time comes for her to leave you and go to them, then you may act. For then you are the one wronged, to lose your sister, and you never accepted such a deal.”

  “No, I didn’t. So when does that happen? When does she go to them?”

  “We do not know. Only that it would surely be at night, and probably soon.”

  Livy swallowed, fear sweeping over her. “What do I do then?”

  “Come to the woods, any woods, and summon us. Keep that ring.” The frog-faery nodded at her clutched hand. “Possessing it enables you to see and hear us.”

  “Then what happens?”

  “Then you will have to be brave, Olivia Darwen.” The frog looked grave—Livy was beginning to read expressions better on its stretched, wide-lipped face. “We will help you overcome their magic, but it must be you who approaches and infiltrates them.”

  “Why me? You’re the ones with magic. I don’t have any.”

  “We would like to defeat the goblins. Since coming here they’ve been pests to us. But magic has rules that we cannot break, and the goblins are always out of our reach unless they overstep rules themselves. They do so sometimes, and we do retaliate, but it has only taken their numbers down a little. They build them back up with new victims. They are strong. Weeds always are.”

  “Yes.” Livy thought of her battles against Himalayan blackberry, Japanese knotweed, and English ivy. “They are.”

  “But you, a human from the tribe who was wronged—you, with our backing, may be able not only to save your sister, but to open a way for us to eradicate the goblins. Are you ready to be so brave, young human?”

  It sounded scary. Maybe the kind of thing a person never returned from, like all those people who disappeared into the woods or the water and were never seen again. But she thought of Skye—the Skye
who used to laugh, tease, gesture enthusiastically, spend a whole weekend perfecting the colors of a painting while listening to loud hip-hop. The Skye who was already almost lost to her and would never come back unless Livy stepped up.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KIT SUCCUMBED TO HIS EDGINESS A LITTLE BIT SHY OF THIRTY MINUTES IN, AND TEXTED LIVY. DOING OK?

  While he waited he drummed his fingers on the cover of a fifty-year-old notebook, absently watching Skye and Grady as they stood by the front window, leaning against one another. The water was an expanse of black outside, with a streak of light rippling across it from one passing boat. Wonderful, Kit thought. On top of everything else, his goblin problem was breaking his favorite cousin’s heart. He should never have let Grady stay in this town.

  His phone buzzed.

  Yeah, Livy texted back, and Kit breathed freely again. Met them, or at least some like them. Will come explain.

  That was mystifying, but it sounded like he’d get the story soon. He responded, ok then, see you, and set the phone down. “She’s all right,” he told Skye and Grady. “She’s on her way back.”

  Skye nodded to him, relief relaxing her features for a moment. But no smile. God damn it, why hadn’t he realized she never smiled? Livy had even said so.

  Not like he could have done anything if he had added up the clues, though. Except beat himself up for being useless, and for being the unwilling reason the goblins were here at all.

  In a few minutes, the sound of Skye’s car rumbled up to the cabin. Kit met Livy at the back door and let her in. She looked shaken, her lips set, cheeks flushed from the cold air. Grady and Skye came into the kitchen as well.

  “Okay, so,” Livy said, “I didn’t see or hear the goblins, but I met the other fae. The ones who aren’t weeds.” She set her keys on the island counter.

  “Weeds?” Kit said.

  “You know. Invaders. That’s—the others kept calling the goblins weeds. I don’t know, it stuck with me.” She took a thick gold ring from her jeans pocket and rolled it between her finger and thumb. “This, too. I need to keep this.”

  The other three exchanged glances. “What’s with the ring, there, Frodo?” Kit joked, examining her carefully.

  Livy gave him an annoyed glance. That reassured him; she looked decidedly un-enchanted. “This was weird, all right? I’m still processing it.” She set down the ring in the middle of the counter, where they all stared at it. “They gave me this. It makes it so I can see and hear them, if I summon them and if they answer.”

  “So the locals do exist. Damn.” Kit scowled at the ring. “I’ve never seen them.”

  “Kind of surprising, for someone who meets with goblins every month,” she said.

  “Not really. It’s because I’m meeting with the goblins. Makes the good ones stay away from me. Anyway. What did they say?”

  “Well. They said there’s hope.” Livy looked across at Skye, who listened, silent but attentive. “I…apparently can’t act until the goblins make their move, though. That is, when they actually take you. When you…go to them.”

  Skye’s chest lifted and fell in a tremulous breath, and she looked toward the window at the back of the house that faced the woods. Rather than seeming scared or angry, she wore a look of what Kit would have called longing, like she was already distant from the human world. Then she snapped out of it, pulled her gaze back to Livy, and nodded. But that look had worried Kit, and surely Livy too.

  “I’ll go after you when that happens,” Livy went on, her voice unsteady. “They’ll help me, they said. I guess I find out the details at that point. They did say that, whatever it is I have to do, it might even take down the goblins for good.”

  “Then I want to help,” Kit said. “I don’t know how much the liaison spell will let me. The rules are weird. Whatever I can do, I will. You know I want to be free of this.”

  Livy nodded. “I know. But they only mentioned me. They said it had to be me.”

  “Still, there ought to be something we can do. Me and Grady. Right?” Kit looked over at his cousin, who stood with his arm entwined in Skye’s. The bottom dropped out of Kit’s stomach. Grady was gazing out toward the woods with the exact same expression that Skye had worn a minute ago. “Right, Grady?” Kit said, louder.

  Grady drew his attention back to Kit. He didn’t nod. He didn’t say anything. He just breathed in and out, shallowly, nostrils flaring with each breath. Kit and Livy stared at him in silent dread, but Skye only watched him sorrowfully. Finally Grady stepped away, picked up Skye’s sketchbook from the side table, and brought it to them. He set it on the counter, opened to the drawing of Redring. He looked straight at Kit.

  “No,” Kit said hoarsely. “Not you too.”

  Grady swallowed. A shimmer of reflected light in his eyes suggested tears.

  Kit curled up his fists, wheeled away, sought something to punch, and, finding nothing suitable, settled for shoving the box of notebooks off the counter. It crashed and spilled on the kitchen floor. “How?” he shouted. “You were protected! I set it up, goddammit!”

  Skye and Grady looked at each other in sadness, then looked silently at Livy and Kit again.

  “I…” Livy blinked rapidly, distressed. “I could try summoning the other fae again. I could ask them. Maybe they know.”

  “Oh, I am going to ask the goblins myself.” Kit stormed back and forth, kicking a notebook out of the way. “This is—no. How did they…” He pushed his hair off his face with both hands, and blew out a long breath. “God, man. I’m sorry.”

  Grady gave a nod. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “No, don’t you be sorry—argh.” Kit went back to pacing. “I see. You’re echoing. Fucking great.”

  No one said anything. Misery settled on the room, thick as snow.

  “Well,” Livy said at last, her voice hushed, “tonight there may not be a lot we can do. It’s kind of late. We haven’t even had dinner. Have you guys eaten?”

  Kit shook his head, still prowling the room, and Grady murmured, “No. We have leftovers.”

  “Yeah.” Kit did an about-face and headed for the nail by the door where his keys hung. “Start heating those up. My turn to go out.” He grabbed the keys and slammed out of the cabin.

  It was almost nine p.m. now, though it felt to Livy like she’d already been up all night. It had been around five when she came home and told Skye the crazy thing Kit had said. Just four hours ago, and her world had been completely changed.

  Livy and Grady pulled food out of the fridge, creating a buffet on the counters. Lining it up, she realized what she should have noticed at home: over the past two weeks, his cooking had gotten less and less ambitious. Plain cooked pasta, pre-packaged shredded parmesan, unadorned green salad, bottled dressing, carrot sticks, rotisserie chicken cooked by the store, hard-boiled eggs—none of that, now that she thought about it, compared in the slightest to coconut curry soup or tandoori steak wraps with mint or any of the other wonders Grady used to make. God, how had she neglected to pick up on that? Or on the fact that she hadn’t seen him smile recently?

  They were eating in near-silence when Kit returned. Livy gasped when she saw him, and leaped off her barstool.

  “Jesus,” Grady said, staring at his cousin.

  Kit pulled the bloodstained towel from his nose, leaving red smears all over the lower half of his face. “Looks worse than it is. It’s not broken.” He limped to the sink and started cupping water in his hands to rinse his face.

  Livy darted to his side. “What did they do?”

  “My fault. I have a habit of trying to attack them when they piss me off.” Kit squeezed the towel under the tap, sending rivulets of bloodstained water down the drain.

  “Oh my God. Why are you limping?”

  “One of them smacked me against a log. Nothing broken there either. Just a bad bruise.”

  Skye and Grady came around the kitchen island to him.<
br />
  Kit pulled a fresh paper towel off the roll, wiped his nose and mouth, and turned to face them, leaning against the counter. “So,” he told Grady, “what they claim is, they didn’t enchant you. She did.” He nodded toward Skye. “I gather it was because she kissed you. Chose you as her ‘mate’ somehow.”

  Skye dropped her gaze as if she couldn’t bear to meet anyone’s eyes. She looked so ashamed Livy couldn’t take it. Grady didn’t seem surprised at all; he only glanced down solemnly at her, and brushed her hand with his fingers as if to forgive her.

  “But it was their spell she was under,” Livy protested. “Their magic that—that spread to him, or whatever.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s what I told them, that they were full of cheating shit.” Kit examined the now faint streaks of blood on the paper towel. A bruise was forming on the bridge of his nose. “They laughed. I grabbed Redring and tried to strangle her.”

  Livy was trembling with anger. “Okay. No. This is—they can’t do this!”

  “So you would think. Yet they have been, for years and years. Probably centuries; it’s just my records only go back as far as our great-grandma, when our bloodline got involved.” Kit stuffed the paper towel into the trash, and limped over to pick up a plate.

  Livy watched him spoon out pasta and salad, then looked in dismay at Grady and Skye. They leaned against the island counter, Skye’s arms around his waist, her head on his collarbone. Grady rested his cheek on her hair, while his tired blue eyes followed his cousin. So Skye had kissed Grady at some point in the past month, and infected him with the spell? Livy still didn’t get it, couldn’t make sense of these weird magical procedures, then decided it didn’t really matter how it had happened.

  “I just have to get you both out of it, then,” she said.

  Skye and Grady glanced at her, but didn’t speak. It was unnerving how they both clammed up when this topic arose. She wanted to shake them, shout at them to say something. But she could see in their eyes that they longed to speak, probably had a hundred things to say; it was just that their voices were shackled. The silence wasn’t their choice.