Lunar Shadows (The Guardians Series Book 2)

by T. F. Walsh

  Carver’s mouth opened, but Povian’s loud voice stole whatever bullshit was about to spill. “Looks like Zana’s very popular tonight. Three goblins battling for a female is a first. Everyone else who has found an uncontested, please untie her and exit the arena. Search for a lunar flower as your confirmed blessing from the goddess, and then return to complete your ceremony. As for the rest of the participants, now is your turn to show your future partner what you’re willing to do for her. One simple rule: The first goblin to successfully release the girl claims her. Easier said than done. All contestants step to the center of the circle. When I sound the signal, start.”

  Shadow offered Zana a strong smile. One that told her he’d save her and everything would turn out fine. Even if he wasn’t so sure himself.

  Aside from him and the two dickheads, there were six other goblins. Three other girls remained tied to poles.

  Carver and Den stood not far from his left. The solution wasn’t running for Zana. It was disabling his opponents and giving himself the chance to free Zana.

  The siren wailed.

  Shadow’s heart slammed into his breastbone. Play time.

  He swung toward Carver, yelling to catch him off guard. Several other goblins jumped at his sudden assault. Shadow planned to always target the leader because Den wouldn’t take Zana as a mate. Shadow’s palm flew upward, the flat part connecting with the underside of Carver’s nose and sent him recoiling.

  Den stomped toward Shadow, slapping his own chest.

  “Is that meant to scare me?” Shadow kicked him in the groin. Never be ashamed to use any moves. The army commander’s words echoed in Shadow’s mind. Den collapsed to the ground like a sack.

  The crowd hollered its approval. For those few moments, Shadow had forgotten he was in a show with hundreds of goblins watching, wanting a spectacle. But it wasn’t about them.

  Shadow sprinted for Zana. The remaining goblins were in brawls of their own, and they were none of his business.

  Zana fought the restraints keeping her arms tied to the pole behind her. When she looked up at him, her face fell. “Watch out!”

  By the time Shadow turned, a fist smashed right across the bridge of his nose. Shadow’s world whirred around him.

  Another strike—that one to his solar plexus. Shadow lost his breath. Doubled over, he gasped for air. A piercing ache ripped through his chest like shattered glass.

  Someone booted him in the ribs.

  He fell.

  Zana’s screams called for him.

  Shadow shook his head. Carver was near, and Den stumbled closer. Drawing on his strength, Shadow lifted himself and pulled back. He’d lure both culprits away from Zana.

  “Stop fighting and we’ll make it hurt less,” Carver blabbered.

  “You offered no mercy for Sivath when you murdered him!” Shadow didn’t keep his voice low, but with the hooting and clapping, no one would have heard him.

  Den dove forward, ramming his body into Shadow. The movement sent both of them swerving toward a girl tied to a pole. She screeched, cowering.

  Shadow shoved Den off him. He thrust his fingers at the goblin, gouging his eyes.

  Den howled, clasping his face, hunching over.

  Shadow wiped his lip, staring at Carver, who tugged at Zana’s ties. She kicked him in the shin, and he slapped her across the face. Shadow’s veins were on fire. He lunged for Carver. His palms rammed into the dickhead, tossing him aside. But when a massive weight plowed into Shadow, he lurched sideways.

  Catching his balance, Shadow hurled an elbow backward, striking Den. Free from his grubby hands, he rushed to Carver. Shadow drove his foot into his gut several times to make sure he stayed down.

  “Fucker. You’ll pay for Klurt, for Sivath, and for touching Zana.”

  Her scream broke above the masses, but her words were incomprehensible. A solid strike cracked at the side of Shadow’s head. The excruciating pain was instant. The world rotated beneath him and he crumpled, but not before he saw a huge rock drop from Den’s hand.

  The crowds screamed, “Cheat!”

  Shadow fell flat onto his stomach, agony shattering him. Everything cramped, and his head throbbed as if his skull lay cracked open.

  Povian’s guards entered the arena, dragging Den away. “No weapons. You’re disqualified.”

  When Shadow glanced up, he discovered Povian was at the front of the masses. The older goblin screamed the words, “Get up,” ushering more to follow his lead.

  The repetitive chant from the audience fell in rhythm with his heartbeat—louder, faster. Zana was joining in, her eyes pleading with him to move.

  The flickering torches distorted her gorgeous face. He remembered how well she fit into his arms. How her breath tickled his skin. How incredible her kisses felt. But, more than anything, he adored her passion to never give up against adversity. She wasn’t a true-blood, yet she kept trying to make a life in Pryvale.

  Shadow staggered upright, and everything in sight was duplicated.

  Carver stood across from him.

  Shadow threw a punch, but his body spun on the spot as he completely missed. His head thumped. Warm blood trickled down his face.

  Carver vanished behind him. Shadow’s body responded too slowly to follow the bastard.

  An arm snapped across Shadow’s throat, holding him up in a tight grapple.

  Hot air washed across Shadow’s ear.

  Carver whispered, “When Den sliced Klurt’s neck, apparently, he cried like a baby. I had told the old rat to give me the Wart Markets and I’d share the profits. Saying ‘no’ to me gets you killed, just like Sivath. Bastard wanted to buy the markets for some community crap. The joke part is that he was going to get you to convince Klurt to sell by convincing him to retire. Bullshit. No begging. We’re goblins, and we take what we want. Including Zana. She’s mine.”

  A newfound energy cascaded through Shadow as he imagined his uncle panicked, terrified, before dying. Gasping for air, he stomped his heel down on Carver’s foot and ground it into the ground. He pitched his head back and bashed it into Carver’s nose. The grip around Shadow’s neck loosened, and he reeled free.

  He couldn’t catch his breath, let alone find his voice. His fists would speak for him. He slugged Carver under the chin. Shadow teetered. But Carver returned and rushed him, both of them colliding together. Then something sharp, like a needle, jabbed Shadow just below the ribs—deep and stiff.

  Shadow growled and pushed Carver away.

  The asshole laughed as he stuffed something small into his pocket.

  And within seconds, Shadow’s hands and feet prickled. Were his lips getting numb? Severe burning rose from his abdomen to his throat.

  “What did you do to me?” Swallowing grew uncomfortable. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange sensations. His mouth opened; nothing came out. His body swayed. Except he wasn’t going down.

  Shadow rubbed his eyes. He watched Carver retreat farther away, slipping out between two poles, and leaving the arena.

  Sivath lay dead. Klurt had been murdered in cold blood. Those memories sat on Shadow’s mind like a scab that refused to heal. He couldn’t wait another moment or give Carver time to escape and vanish.

  Shadow was running on wobbly legs before his brain could catch up.

  He slipped out of the circle and dove into the crowds, shoving them aside. Voices fell in the distance behind him. None of that mattered. Just capturing Carver. Up ahead, Carver tore into the forest.

  Shadow snarled. He clutched the aching wound at his side. He wouldn’t let Carver escape. Shadow ran through the woods. His vision blurred, and he kept stumbling sideways. What the hell had Carver done to him?

  The bastard was slowing down like he knew Shadow would fall soon. What he didn’t realize was that Shadow had run in a hailstorm for hours back in his army training. A bit of dizziness wouldn’t stop him. He pushed forward, sprinting. Fire scorched his veins.

  Carver glanced over his
shoulder, meeting Shadow’s gaze. The terror in his eyes was real. And he better be fucking afraid.

  Shadow was feet away from Carver.

  Rage burned through Shadow. He kept picturing Klurt and Sivath dead. Two lives destroyed for no reason other than a greedy fuckwit wanting to steal what didn’t belong to him.

  Within arms reach, Shadow kicked his foot out, tripping Carver. He yelped and flew forward, hitting the ground.

  Shadow halted, hands on his knees, taking deep inhales, but it felt as if he couldn’t breathe deep enough to fill his lungs. For a moment, the woods were spinning around him, and he stumbled into a tree. He shook himself. Pull yourself together.

  Without hesitation, Shadow marched up to Carver and kicked him in the ribs. The weasel curled in on himself, whimpering like a dying animal.

  Shadow leaned over, grabbed a fistful of shirt, and lifted the scumbag. Then introduced him to his fist. No stopping, Shadow slammed Carver’s face, his gut.

  Carver wobbled on his feet, his arms out in a show of peace. “Please, no more.”

  “You’ll pay for what you did.”

  “Don’t kill me, I beg you,” Carver pleaded, the moonlight revealing blood smeared across his face, his shirt torn and stained with red.

  Shadow could end this now. Eliminate the germ from goblin society once and for all. But for those few moments of silence, Shadow felt pity for Carver. Not because he groveled but that he would never understand how precious life and family were. How heart-wrenching it felt to lose someone special.

  During his time in the kingdom, Shadow didn’t learn just how to be a fighter. But how to be an ambassador, behave how he’d want others to act. That would be the right decision.

  Shadow gasped for air, his inhales wheezing. “What did you do to me?”

  Carver sniggered and wiped his busted lip with the back of his hand. “You’re a moron. I poisoned you and you’re dying. You probably have a few minutes left. Thank fuck.”

  That earlier fire rekindled in Shadows chest. Screw being an ambassador. He was sticking to his original plan and ripping Carver in half.

  Shadow cracked his neck and curled his fists. “You said the wrong thing.” He stepped closer.

  Carver’s face paled. He whirled on the spot and darted away so fast into the night, Shadow had barely taken a step forward.

  But Carver’s scream ended as abruptly as it started.

  Shadow’s sight blurred. He rubbed his eyes and staggered forward, swearing his body felt stiffer. Several feet forward, he found Carver impaled into a broken branch that had recently been snapped in half.

  “Fucking hell!” Either it was the worst freak accident, or the universe was paying it forward.

  His body slumped over to the side, gurgling, crying for help.

  Shadow rushed forward, but his legs gave out and he crashed face first into the ground. His vision faded. He rolled onto his side, panic clawing at his chest. This couldn’t be how he died. Not without seeing Zana one last time. Not without making up for staying away from Klurt for so long.

  Blackness closed in around his mind, and his world fell away.

  12

  “Someone release me!” Zana’s words boomed through the open field arena.

  Her gaze darted around the meadow. She pulled against the straps on her wrist still tying her to the pole. The last few goblins scattered away, and their voices floated on the breeze. Povian had chased after Shadow the moment he left the arena. Even the attendees in the circle had departed. Not a fucking soul had looked her way. She was officially invisible in this community, and she was sick and tired of being a no one.

  Desperation to escape squeezed her heart. She thrashed against her restraints, the cord cutting into her flesh. Exhaustion sank through her. She had to escape.

  “Please. I need to help Shadow.” Her vision grew fuzzy with tears at the idea of him lying dead somewhere in the woods at the hands of Carver.

  He had chased after Carver, and both vanished into the forest. Of course, most other goblins had turned a blind eye and returned to festivities, while others searched for the lunar flower to complete the ceremony. Don’t mess in another goblin’s pond was a common saying, and she loathed it.

  Shadow’s eyes had been wild, and it terrified her to think what he was capable of if he caught Carver.

  Sure, Carver was an asshole, but Shadow had gone berserk. Anger drove goblins to moments of madness. Mistakes were made in seconds; regrets stayed an eternity.

  She screamed, “Get me down!”

  “Hey,” a young female said from behind Zana, the voice sounding young. “I’ll help you.”

  “Thank the goddess.”

  Her savior fiddled with the ties. “Halt your squirming.” Even without seeing her face, Zana heard the quivering in her tone.

  “Shadow is going to kill that goblin, isn’t he?”

  “Don’t know.” Zana prayed that wasn’t case. As much as Carver deserved it, she didn’t want Shadow to live with such burden. She had once seen a goblin in town go insane after he accidentally took a life, unable to live with his actions. Then one day he vanished and no one had seen him since. The search party found nothing. And she didn’t want that heartache to eat Shadow from the inside out. Not because of a scum like Carver.

  “Anyway,” the girl said, “when I grow up, I want to be like you. You don’t care what others think. Plus, I plan to select a fighter as my mate, too.” She broke into a nervous giggle, and Zana bet her life that if she stood face to face with her rescuer, the girl would be blushing.

  Zana’s response vanished. The whole time, she’d assumed everyone barely tolerated her. She’d accepted that living on the fringes was her life. It never occurred to her that sticking it out showcased to the younger generation the strength to fight against the norm was possible. But the notion had her beaming.

  “Done,” the girl said.

  Zana pulled away, rubbing her sore wrists. She turned to the goblin who was only thirteen, maybe fourteen, years of age in human years. But in goblin years, she’d be close to eleven or twelve. But it was the same brunette she’d helped in the field against Bara who wanted to claim her as his mate. She wore jeans with a pressed shirt and her short-cropped hair suited her round, kind face. Several feet away stood her mom, holding hands with a youngster.

  “Thank you,” Zana called out, waving to the mom.

  She offered Zana a quick nod and refocused on her daughter. “Come. We have to leave now.”

  The girl smiled at Zana and gave a small wave before running away.

  If Zana’s actions had changed one goblin, she was ecstatic. It took a single person to change mindsets. She might have focused too much on trying to fit into town, but she realized now she should have put more energy into being herself and doing what she wanted. Not pleasing others. And the girl who untied her drove that home.

  But those thoughts faded, because her head was messed up, inside and out. She whirled and sprinted across the field where Shadow had gone, and then ran at full bolt. Her feet flew over the ground. Branches snagged on her hair, tugging out strands. She kept slipping over the moss-covered rocks. Nothing stopped her.

  The night’s cloak smothered Zana. She leaped over a dead log. With no sign of anyone, she halted and hunched over, hands pressed to her thighs, filling her starved lungs, and listened.

  Voices sounded—faint and from her right. About time she caught a break.

  She swung past oaks, getting closer, and, sure enough, the voices grew louder. A bobbing light stabbed into the night in that direction.

  When she burst into an open area near a gurgling stream, she paused. Three goblins stared at her with wide eyes like startled owls. Povian’s guards. A chill snaked up her spine as the night seemed to close in around her from the stillness, the terror in their faces.

  To the right, Carver was slumped over next to a tree, unmoving and sporting a massive hole in the middle of his stomach. Blood drenched his clothes and pooled around hi
m, soaking into the soil. What the hell happened? Her gaze swept the location and landed on Povian lifting himself up from Shadow’s side.

  Zana rocked on the spot, not believing what she was looking at.

  Shadow remained on his back, unmoving and still, his chest and hands stained with blood.

  Her throat choked. Images of finding Klurt dead at the markets engulfed her, the grief swallowing her… she couldn’t lose Shadow too. “No! Goddess, no.” She dashed to his side and dropped to her knees, prodding his arm. “Shadow.” Ice gripped her insides.

  Her throat thickened as she stared into a face void of life, color faded from his cheeks, and his eyes remained closed. Shadow couldn’t be dead. A strangled cry fell from her lips. She’d lost her parents, Klurt, and now the goblin she’d fallen for. Whether she had admitted it to herself or not, reality crashed into her because Shadow had crawled into her heart, and imagining a life without him stabbed at her soul. Everything she loved always got taken from her. Why did the universe hate her?

  She ran a hand down the side of his face, which was clammy to the touch.

  Shadow’s eyelids twitched. She stiffened, a beam of possibility spearing through her chest.

  “He’s alive!” she cried out, her body buzzing with urgency to shake him awake. She reached for his arms, but a hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up at Povian.

  “He’s been poisoned. We found him lying here. Carver was impaled onto a branch and is dead.” Povian lifted his hand, holding a syringe. A smidgen of green liquid sloshed about in the bottom of the barrel. “I found this in Carver’s pocket. I suspect he injected it into Shadow.”

  She’d seen needles before, terrifying things, brought into Tapestry from Earth. Though she never understood what humans used them for, they always terrified her.

  “How do we save Shadow? What do we do?” Her voice trembled, and she glanced back down at his limp body, the paleness of his lips. Memories of him kissing her floated in my mind, along with the harsh dread that she’d never feel his passion again, never hear his laughter, never fall into his arms. She wiped her eyes with the back a hand. How could this have happened?