“I think you had better find some more friends,” Oliver said, walking away to serve some more customers.
Chapter 9
When we returned to the Dancing Swan, the Howler, Jova, and I met in the captain’s cabin to plan our assault on the Gallows Club. We decided quickly that Jova and I would enter the House of Angels using Trouble’s gold coin and see how far it would take us. That would leave Garlic, the Howler, and the crew positioned around the House of Angels to back us up. The Howler was not completely convinced, however.
“I don’t like this plan.” She grimaced. “Once Sullivan sees you, the element of surprise will be gone, and you will be outnumbered and facing the goblin horde. Then what? We come in to retrieve your bodies?”
“Well,” I said, trying to sound confident, “that is a possibility.” I ignored a panic-stricken Jova. “But we are not going to lose the element of surprise before Garlic blows in the side of the House of Angels, and you, she, and the crew come in.” I thought for a moment, then snapped my fingers. “Got it,” I said. “We will go up to the House of Angels at quarter past the six o’clock hour. When the church bell of St. Peter’s peals across the street at the bottom of the hour, Garlic will start the assault.” Garlic barked happily. She liked the plan and the prospect of destroying the House of Angels one wall at a time.
The Howler nodded. “That only gives you a quarter of an hour.”
“That is all the time we will need to breach the inner sanctum,” I replied. I looked to Jova, who I hoped was ready to play the part that I had in mind for him. He had panicked at Death’s Door, and we had a long and detailed discussion about fear and goblins on the way back from the tavern, but I neglected to mention that to the Howler just then.
Jova cleared his throat. “If there is one thing goblins fear, it’s losing their hoard of gold,” he said. He pulled a length of sailcloth from the deck and stuffed it in his rucksack, along with some gold ingots, and the pièce de résistance—a dragon’s tooth. “Right around the time we walk up to the doorman of the House of Angels and present the Trouble coin, a golden dragon is going to bust through the doors. Those goblins will be so busy running to protect their riches from Goldie the Dragon here that finding and saving your sister should be child’s play.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked more confident than I had ever seen him before.
The Howler did not share my sentiment. “That is, if you don’t lose your focus like you did on deck,” she scowled. “Don’t fail us, Bogeyman! Or our souls will be the ones haunting you!”
I reached out to place a hand on both of them. “We can do this,” I said. I looked the Howler straight in her beautiful eyes. “Now,” I said, “let’s go rescue your sister.”
At shortly before six o’clock, Jova and I had made our way to the House of Angels. I scoured the area for signs of the Trouble brothers or other peril. Oddly, I did not sense any danger. My assassin’s brain started working—had the Trouble brothers set us up? Maybe the real Gallows Club was elsewhere, and when Goldie the Dragon and our crew crashed the walls of the House of Angels, we would find nothing but a deadly trap.
I looked over at a focused Jova who was spreading out the sailcloth and positioning the gold ingots and dragon tooth. He did not look fearful, in fact his eyes had a distant look in them—the Bogeyman was here! I left him to his own devices and crept closer to the House of Angels. The street in front of the building was oddly deserted for a lively town like Port Royal. Then, it hit me—the overwhelming stench of those gold-hoarding, bloodthirsty monsters of merchantdom. Goblins. “Do a deal or die trying” was their motto. At six o’clock on the nose, a burly pirate came down the street and perched himself in front of the House of Angels. I took a deep breath and returned to Jova’s side. He nodded that he was ready, and we strode confidently around the corner and walked right up the doorman.
Jova extended his hand and showed the doorman the coin he had gotten from Andrew Trouble. The doorman did not even look twice at it. “Hurry up and get to the chapel,” he said. “You are going to be late for the ceremony!”
“Uh, sorry,” I muttered as we brushed past him. Ceremony? What horrific goblin embodiment of evil were we going to see? If the Howler only knew her sister was apparently to be tortured in some ancient goblin spectacle of sadism. Half past the hour could not come soon enough for us to rescue the poor crippled werewolf from unthinkable harm.
We began running down a narrow hall that dead-ended at a set of double doors that were suddenly thrust open from inside. Speechless, we found ourselves face-to-face with a bevy of unattractive female goblins with their faces powdered and lips slathered in rouge, and wearing full-length formal gowns and high heels, which incidentally did not improve their appearance whatsoever. You can put a hog in a ball gown but it is still a hog, after all.
“Come on, it’s about to start.” One of the goblins grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door into the chapel. “Take your seats, quickly,” she hissed. “Confounded pirates,” she said to her friends. “And I bet they are not even going to dance tonight.”
Jova and I slunk down the side of the chapel and squeezed into some empty seats in a pew filled with a goblin family all dressed in their finest livery. Instead of raising the alarm and trying to kill us, they nodded and smiled. I looked around the chapel and marveled as sitting together in rows and rows of seats were finely dressed goblins, mortals, and immortals of all kinds. For a moment, I felt Jova and I were a bit underdressed, until my eyes fell upon the altar at the end of the aisle and the hooded figure standing there. It had to be the evil priest-king! I looked at the goblin mother who was reapplying rouge to her lips. I shook my head sadly. What kind of mother brought her children to a sacrifice? I estimated we still had ten minutes or so before Garlic and the Howler would make their grand entry, and we were no closer to finding Cornelia.
Jova looked at me, now clearly quite unsure whether he should summon Goldie to bust down the front doors. Quite honestly, I was not sure if he should do that either. If only I could get a signal to the Howler to hold their assault until Jova and I could figure out just what in the world was going on. Suddenly, everyone stood, and Jova and I followed the gaze of the crowd, and we heard the unmistakable sound of—a fiddle?
Down the aisle the fiddler came, followed by the bevy of goblin “beauties.” Following them was a veiled woman dressed in white, holding flowers, the long train of her gown flowing behind her. She limped noticeably and paused once for a few moments as if in great pain. The Moon of Madrid hung around her neck, its iridescent beauty reflecting the many candles in the chapel. She reached the end of the aisle with some difficulty, and the hooded man came up to her and bowed. So nice to be polite before he killed her, I thought. A man wearing all black with a white collar had come out to stand with the hooded man while we were looking at the poor girl—was it even Cornelia?
The crowd grew silent, and I readied myself for action. I looked at Jova, and he was trembling nervously, and Goldie was nowhere to be seen. The hooded man reached up and pulled back the woman’s veil to reveal a face similar to the Howler’s, although a whole lot less attractive.
“Cornelia?” Jova said out loud, causing the goblin family in our row to look at us.
Cornelia reached up and pulled back the hood of the mystery man, revealing an immortal who was clearly part goblin. He smiled at Cornelia, who rolled her eyes in obvious disgust.
“Murfield,” Jova yelled. “Andrew Murfield, you bastard!”
Murfield and Cornelia and the entire congregation now turned to look at us. “Jova! You came for me,” Cornelia exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly.
I turned to Jova. “You know Cornelia and that fellow?” I exclaimed.
Jova stepped out into the aisle. “You are darn right I do!” He began walking down the aisle toward the altar, and a great hush fell over the crowd. “Andrew Murfield,” he said. “I have told you si
nce the first day of class at Hedley Edrick’s College of Immortals that Cornelia is my betrothed. You will marry her over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged, Jova,” Murfield sneered, motioning to the wings of the chapel for his groomsmen to assemble. They were a mix of goblins and warlocks, and soon Murfield was backed by a host of wand-carrying warlocks and, to my chagrin, elite goblin warriors who had shapeshifted into a lion, a tiger, and a bear.
“Oh my,” I said from my seat. But Jova did not stop walking down the aisle and reached the end, where he held out his hand for Cornelia, who rushed to his side. “You don’t scare me, Murfield,” he said. “Unlike school, I have lots of friends now. Meet my sweet pet, Goldie.”
Bursting through the sidewall of the chapel strode the biggest, fiercest dragon I had ever seen. Venom dripped from Goldie’s long fangs, and her angry roar drowned out the screams of panic as the chapel guests pushed to escape this malevolent menace. I looked once, looked twice, and as I calmed my nerves, I could see Goldie was nothing but sailcloth. But to the congregation, she was pure terror. I made my way to the altar through the throng of terrified wedding guests and saw Murfield turn to urge his groomsmen to attack. The warlocks were having none of this conflict, pocketing their wands and sprinting for the exit with the reverend in tow, leaving the goblins alone with Murfield. Jova was whispering in Cornelia’s ear, and quickly the look of fear on her face abated and turned to a wry smile.
“You call yourselves goblins,” Murfield implored his groomsmen. “It’s a dragon. What of it? Kill it.” Goldie turned in his direction and roared deeply, swinging a mighty claw at his face. Murfield stumbled backward in terror, tripping over his robes and falling headlong into Jova and Cornelia, sending them all to the floor in a heap.
“Jova!” I called, reaching for him too late. I hoped he would keep his concentration, and thus, Goldie stalemating the goblins, but the back of Jova’s head had struck the floor, and Goldie instantly collapsed in a pile of sailcloth, gold, and dragon tooth. The three remaining goblins turned to face me, their faces contorted in angry scowls. Apparently, they did not like uninvited guests.
Murfield rose to his feet and kicked an inert Jova in the ribs, causing Cornelia to scream. “You have learned a few tricks,” he said to Jova with a sneer. “But they are not going to help you now.” Cornelia lunged at him and spit in his face. “That is no way to treat your future husband,” he said, sweeping her injured leg out from under her, sending her to the ground once again. He plucked the Moon of Madrid from her breast and drew his hand back to strike her.
“Murfield, that is no way to treat a lady, now is it?” I said, sword in hand. The goblin groomsmen had not moved to attack me, waiting for a signal from their leader. “No wonder you have to kidnap them to get them to marry you. Maybe you should simply try being nice. It might suit you.”
Murfield stopped his hand in midair, and his eyes found me. With his sword drawn, he fell in with his groomsmen. “A vampire pirate?” he said. “That is about as likely as Jova having friends.”
I smiled. “Jova has plenty of friends,” I said, wondering if I was experiencing the longest quarter of an hour in recorded history. All of a sudden, I heard the distant peal of the bell of St. Peter’s. “And I think you are about to make their acquaintance.”
Murfield and his goblin cohorts made a big production of looking around the now empty chapel and then laughed heartily. “I think you are mistaken,” he said, pulling Cornelia to her feet and shoving her violently forward. “Kill the vampire, and after you beat this miserable wretch, pathetically knocked-out cold on the floor within an inch of his so-called life, bring him with you so he can watch me marry the love of his life.”
From the back of the chapel, the Trouble brothers had walked in while Murfield was talking. “Sir,” Andrew Trouble said. “Your carriage is ready.”
“Excellent,” Murfield said. “You can stay and help kill the vampire.”
“With pleasure,” Andrew Trouble said, motioning his brothers into position. “I remember you from Death’s Door. You are no friend of James Sullivan. And you are no friend of mine.” His brothers nodded in agreement and cracked their knuckles in anticipation of putting their fists in my face repeatedly. They would not get that chance, I mused. The goblins on the other hand . . .
“No, he certainly is not,” said a familiar voice from the eaves. In walked James Sullivan aka Big Belly Bart with his two assassin friends in tow. He looked at Murfield. “Sir,” he said, “I owe this wretched vampire some payback for what his mangy mutt did to me leg. I beg of you, let me be the one to deliver the killing blow.”
“No need to beg, my good James,” Murfield sneered. “You can all have a turn with him, or shall I say what is left of him after my groomsmen have a go.”
I had a whole lot of trouble at my back and angry goblins in front of me. “Don’t you blokes know it is rude to talk about someone in front of their face like they are not even there?” I exclaimed, quickly surveying the scene and my odds. I was severely outnumbered. My best chance was to take out as many of the goblins as I could before the mortals even drew their blades. That was no easy task.
I exhaled slowly and readied for the battle of my life, and for my life. Then, a tremendous explosion rocked the back of the chapel, blowing a huge hole in the wall. Garlic leaped through the smoke and debris, the Howler and the crew trailing her. I took advantage of the distraction to deliver a mighty blow on the bear goblin, who fell back, blood running from a deep killing wound to his chest. There were only two goblins left, I thought, before I watched in amazement as the bear goblin healed from that massive death blow right before my eyes. What strange magic was this? Goblins were incredibly tough and resilient, but this was something entirely different. I knew that the goblin should have been dead, but he stood up and unsheathed a long, wicked blade, shook his head, roared in rage, and charged me. I decided that warlock magic and elite goblin warriors that could take animal form were a really unfortunate combination.
The battle was joined. I sidestepped his rush, and cleaved his ankle nearly clean off his foot, but he only paused momentarily to let his foot reattach before he came at me once again. I was faster than him, but eventually I would tire, and this the goblin knew. I jumped to the altar and surveyed the scene, grinning for just a second as I saw Big Belly Bart on the ground, blood spurting from his other, formerly healthy, leg courtesy of Garlic. The Howler was a whirling blur of steel, her hair streaming like silk, and green eyes flashing in anger as she sliced clean through the lion goblin’s leg, en route to her sister. Just as she reached Murfield and Cornelia, the lion goblin stretched out and grabbed her ankle, pulling her to the ground. She reached back with her blade and chopped the goblin’s hand off, then pried the hand from her leg and threw it in rage toward the exit. “Get your hand off me,” she said. Her gorgeous eyes went wide as the hand crawled down the aisle on its fingertips to rejoin its owner. “Sirius,” she called, kicking the hand back into the main chapel with a grunt. “You have to do something here!”
“Why, you seem to have things well in hand,” I answered. On came the bear goblin to the altar. I somersaulted off and sliced his hamstrings to buy myself some time. “I am thinking,” I said, returning atop the altar. How could we break this spell? “I am open to suggestions, however, Madam Captain.”
Murfield took advantage of the chaos and frantically pushed Cornelia toward the exit. But Jova barred his path. “No illusions, no magic, just you and me, Murfield,” Jova said. He rolled up his sleeves, and all I saw was Jova throwing the most awkward punch in the history of fisticuffs before the bear goblin’s next charge forced me to vacate my perch.
The crew was battling admirably, stalemating the Trouble brothers and Big Belly Bart’s two assassins. Where was Garlic, I wondered. Then I saw her and the tiger goblin squaring off. Clearly, the tiger goblin did not know what to make of Garlic, because every lunge it m
ade at the Maltese resulted in opening the many now-healing gashes on its legs. Garlic had enough of playing tag with the goblin and let out a tremendous bark, but the tiger goblin was already in midair in an attempt to crush Garlic. The bark clipped the goblin, sending it head over heels into a pillar, its head ending up in the rather unnatural position of facing backward. What seemed like mere seconds later, it rose to its feet, and grabbing its head, pulled it around to face us.
The three goblins broke off their assault and huddled together, and the Howler, Garlic, and I did the same. I surveyed the scene. The assassins had apparently limped off, carrying Big Belly Bart once again, but half of the crew was dead at their hands. The Trouble brothers had indeed run at the first sign of trouble, choosing not to face the other half of our crew, who had set out after them in pursuit.
That left Jova and Murfield still trading blows—if you could call it that. Cornelia had crawled behind Murfield, and Jova took the opportunity to push him over her, and they both clapped with glee as he toppled to the ground. “Now,” Jova said, getting on top of Murfield, “remember what I said to you? I told you Cornelia is mine!” He reared back to hopefully smear Murfield’s nose across his bloody face, but Cornelia was an angry bride and smashed Murfield over the head with a Bible before Jova could finish him off. Cornelia tossed her bouquet at Murfield’s chest and smiled as his eyes rolled back in his head. “Hey,” Jova said. “I was going to do that . . .” But Cornelia’s lips on his own soon drowned out his protest. That just left us and the goblins.
I rallied my troops, which consisted of Garlic and the Howler. “If Garlic uses her bark too much, she will probably bring down this whole building on our heads,” I said.
“And we would not want to kill the lovebirds over there,” the Howler sneered. “If I live through this, I am going to have a few short angry words with your friend Jova.”
My Ex-Wife Said Go to Hell Page 14
