My Ex-Wife Said Go to Hell

by Zurosky, Kirk

I glanced at the positioning of the couple, seeing Cornelia astride Jova. “Well,” I said. “You are going to have to remove your sister’s tongue from his throat first so he can answer you. Must run in the family . . .”

  The Howler opened her mouth to retort, but the goblins had now turned with swords drawn. “Your master is defeated,” she said. “Leave this place, and you will not be harmed.”

  Her words drew laughs of derision. “It was worth a shot,” I said, patting her arm. “They look very intimidated. Scared, even.” Actually, they kept looking at Garlic, and it was clear to me that they viewed her as the biggest threat of the three of us. Their meeting was not about the Howler and me, but about how to navigate the bark of the vampire Maltese. Garlic barked, and the goblins jumped slightly. Garlic looked to me, wanting to attack, as standing idly did not suit her one bit.

  The goblins separated and surrounded us as the Howler and I stood back-to-back with Garlic by our feet. Good strategy on their part, I mused. Garlic could get one, maybe two with her bark, if she didn’t take the Howler or me out in the process. One of the three would get us, if not this time, when we tired and made that one fatal mistake.

  “Sirius,” the Howler exclaimed. “We need a plan!”

  “Try this,” said Oliver, walking down the aisle with wine bottles in hand. He sidestepped the oblivious Jova and Cornelia and came up to the altar. In such time of peril, those two were in their own little world! It was not like either one of them could be any use against the goblins anyway.

  “Now is really not the time for a drink, Oliver,” I said. “Perhaps after we get out of this little predicament?” The Howler looked quite exasperated, shifting her weight from side to side, ready for the goblins’ attack. Garlic licked her lips, wondering if Oliver had that oh so tasty beer, and seeing and smelling none, turned her attention back to the goblins.

  The goblins paused, unsure if the mighty troll was friend or foe. They knew him to be the barkeep at Death’s Door, the Trouble brothers’ favorite drinking establishment. But no matter, they would find a different place to slake their thirst, and they raised their swords for the attack. They had killed trolls before, and they would kill this one and take his wine to celebrate.

  But this was no ordinary troll, as this one had a plan. I watched in amazement as Oliver leaped forward and broke a bottle of wine over the lion goblin’s head, dousing him with the vintage. The other two goblins retreated suddenly, looking scared. “We have to get the other two,” Oliver said, tossing me some bottles.

  I threw the bottles in the air over the goblins. “Garlic,” I called, “make it rain!”

  Garlic jumped in the air and barked, shattering the bottles and drenching the other two goblins. “What kind of wine is that?” I called to Oliver.

  “It is the wine made from the Apple of Cain,” Oliver replied. “Now the goblins can’t heal from their wounds. The wine breaks that spell! Hell, the wine breaks all spells! Attack them now and save yourselves, because the wine’s effect only lasts a short time!”

  The Howler and I did not waste a second and dispatched the lion goblin and bear goblin with what I thought was amazing teamwork. That girl could certainly handle herself in a fight, I realized quite impressed, wanting to discuss some more intimate strategies with her when the first chance arose. The tiger goblin saw the blood slowly seeping out of its two comrades and turned to flee, but Garlic had other ideas, barking the evil creature into tiny bits.

  I turned to Oliver. “Why did you help us?” I asked, curious why a notoriously neutral troll would take a side in any conflict.

  Oliver shrugged. “Andrew Trouble has been promising to pay his and his brothers’ tabs for months,” he said. “I came here to collect.”

  I exchanged a delighted glance with the Howler. “And you did so carrying enchanted wine that can stop a goblin in its tracks?”

  “Yes,” said Oliver. “Yes, I did.”

  I reached for the last bottle of wine, which Oliver handed to me. The bottle was very old, and the label was in Spanish and inscribed in gold. “Perdición del Monstruo,” I said. “Bane of the Monster.” I looked closer at the name inscribed in the very tiniest of print at the bottom of the bottle—“Don Indigo.” “It can’t be,” I said. “I knew a man named Don Indigo, years and years ago.”

  Oliver nodded, “Don Indigo was one of the most famous winemakers in all of Europe,” he said. “Though he was a great vintner, he was an even better man.”

  I thought back to my act of mercy so many years ago in Segovia. I had let Don Indigo live that day, and centuries later his work had saved my life. “I could live to be a thousand years old,” I said, “and I will never understand how this world works.”

  Oliver smiled at me. “Those might be the most intelligent words you have ever uttered.”

  Something caught my eye over his beefy shoulder. When Garlic had blasted the last goblin into oblivion, her bark had also sheared off the lock of the goblins’ vault behind the altar. I pushed by Oliver and pulled the heavy door off its hinges, and had to squint to protect my eyes from the sheer brilliance of the chests and chests of gold, jewels, and other assorted baubles that filled the room. I turned back to the group. “To the victors,” I said, “go the spoils.”

  The Howler had run to Cornelia, interrupting her reunion with Jova. The two sisters embraced tightly, and whatever words Jova whispered to the Howler appeared to work, for soon he was brought into the sisterly hug. The riches of family were many, but paled to me in light of the contents of the goblins’ treasure.

  “Hey,” I called, “come see this vault. We are all rich beyond our wildest dreams.”

  But the Howler had stood and was looking at Murfield. “First, Sirius,” she said, “there is some unfinished business with this one.” She kicked him in the crotch with her boot, and he moaned in pain though unconscious. “This cretin is not a corpse—yet . . .”

  I shrugged my shoulders, looking again at the wonders of the vault. “So kill him already. Come on, we have more gold here than I have ever seen.”

  The Howler measured Murfield’s throat with her blade, and her face hardened in anger. “You killed my spy by taking his head,” she said to a stirring Murfield. “So now I am going to take yours. See how your people like that when they find it on the altar!” The blade came down, rushing for Murfield’s throat, but there was a clang as her blade was deflected by another.

  “No,” Jova commanded, holding a sword with surprising firmness and resolve. “There has been enough bloodshed this day.”

  The Howler glared at him, but backed down, seeing Cornelia had clutched Jova’s arm, standing with him. “Suit yourself,” the Howler spat. “But you are making a big mistake.” She looked to me to get involved, and grimaced, seeing I was content in idly flipping some gold coins in the air. Frankly, I did not care whether Murfield lived or died. The Howler growled and walked away, holding up her hands in defeat. “Doesn’t anybody kill their enemies anymore?”

  Jova searched around for something to tie up Murfield with and settled on the strips of sailcloth that had made up Goldie the Dragon. With Cornelia’s assistance, Murfield was quickly trussed up, looking rather like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Satisfied, they moved to join us, when Cornelia turned. “Wait a minute,” she said, reaching into Murfield’s breast pocket and removing the Moon of Madrid. “I nearly forgot this. That would have been bad, to say the least.”

  “Okay, then,” I called. “We really must move this along, shall we? No offense meant to you, Cornelia, but there are probably a hundred jewels in this vault that put that little bauble of yours to shame.”

  “It’s sentimental,” she said, quite ignoring me as she and Jova walked up to the vault. Jova peered in and shrugged. “That is a lot of gold,” he said. He turned and took Cornelia in his arms. “But I have what I came for. I have had enough of Port Royal, pirates, and treasure.”

/>   I rolled my eyes. “You can never have enough treasure.” The memory of seeing the shower of my hard-earned gold pouring down on Bloodsucker Number One in the courtroom entered my mind. Looking around the room, I saw there was ample gold for all of us, and in my mind, my kindness in helping the Howler and rescuing Cornelia was about to be repaid, courtesy of the goblins.

  Jova started to protest, but spied on the floor of the vault a ring that had a diamond the size of a walnut, set in an intricate setting of yellow gold. “Cornelia, dear,” he said. “Can you come over here for a second?”

  “Sure, what is it, my love?” she answered. “Do you need some more of my sweet kisses?”

  “Indeed, your lips are too far away,” he responded.

  Cornelia wandered into the vault and found Jova on one knee, holding up the ring. “And thus, I would like them to be nearby forever.” She gasped and dropped to her knees to join him. She began wiping tears from her eyes, and seeing Jova was tearing up, too, reached to caress his blubbering face. These two were going to make me ill, I mused. Did they really love each other that much? Was it possible for love to be like Jova and Cornelia’s—where you could actually see it?

  “I almost lost you once,” Jova said. “I am not going to let that happen again.” He placed the oversized ring on Cornelia’s ring finger. “I don’t care what your father says. Will you be my wife?”

  “But Papa was the one that arranged my marriage to Murfield,” Cornelia exclaimed.

  “He was?” I shouted, looking to the Howler.

  The Howler nodded. “He was,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Murfield’s family is incredibly wealthy, and they are one of the biggest landowners in all of Europe. They are politically connected in England, France, Spain, and Portugal. They have the gold to bend the ear of any king. That is the kind of power that Papa wants access to. He’ll never approve of Jova. Papa is all about appearances. All men that marry his daughters are men of means and substance and, usually, fame.”

  “And you knew this too, Jova?” I said, staring down the Bogeyman.

  “It really was not a concern,” Jova said. “Either way, we were fighting goblins, whether you knew the truth or not.”

  “True,” the Howler agreed. “I needed your help, Sirius, and breaking up a wedding is a little less enticing a pitch to a cynical vampire assassin than the kidnapping of your baby sister!”

  “But, you lied,” I said to her. “Actually, you both lied.”

  “Yes,” Jova answered. “My apologies. But, I did it for love—true love.”

  The Howler put her arms around my neck. “Me too,” she said softly. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Fine,” I said, losing myself in her eyes for a moment. Did she mean she loved me, or her sister? Women were so damned complicated. Could have used Oliver’s face-reading skills to translate here! “But you owe me.”

  I turned to Jova. “Now, you and me?” I said, grabbing his shoulders and glaring at him. He looked panicked, until he saw me smile broadly. “We are good, Jova,” I continued. “You are a good man. But what are we going to do about Cornelia’s father? Hmm, can we find a better use for all this loot? I wonder . . .”

  Jova looked around the vault and began nodding in understanding. “I changed my mind on the treasure,” he said. “I think I know where to find quite a dowry. And besides, who wouldn’t want the world-renowned Bogeyman in their family? So it is settled. Cornelia, will you be my wife?”

  “I will,” Cornelia said, tears of joy streaming down her face.

  Oliver clapped his big hands together. “I just love weddings,” he said. “It would be an honor to supply the wine. And since I am going to have to close down Death’s Door this very night, because of the goblins, I will be heading back to London anyway.”

  “That would be lovely,” Jova said, his eye catching the bottle of Don Indigo’s wine. “Oliver, is that what I think it is? Is that a Don Indigo?”

  “Yes, Master Bogeyman,” Oliver said. “Now that I know your secret, here is mine. This particular wine was crafted by Don Indigo over one hundred years ago from the fruit of the strawberry tree. Some call the fruit Cain’s Apple. Only the trolls and Don Indigo have known about its power to break enchantments. Oh, and it has no effect on us trolls, other than making us smile a whole lot more.”

  “Not that we can tell the difference,” I uttered to no one in particular.

  Jova ignored my comment. “Did you know the great Don Indigo?”

  Oliver nodded. “I met Don Indigo when he was in his later years and helped him expand his vineyard in the Tuscan region of Italy. As repayment, he gave me these bottles and many even more rare ones that I have back at Death’s Door.”

  “Don Indigo was a genius,” Jova exclaimed. “We must get your wine back to London! Cornelia and I will rendezvous with my ship down at the docks and take our share of the gold and your wine back to England.”

  “Your what?” I said, fearing my ears had deceived me.

  “My ship, boat, craft, vessel,” Jova said. “Come on, the goblins are going to come back for the hoard. We do not have a lot of time to waste.”

  “You never said you had a boat and crew!”

  Jova shrugged. “You never asked.” He could see I was getting angry. “It was for true love, Sirius, remember?”

  Garlic suddenly began yelping and whining as she pawed through a treasure chest, sending gold doubloons and jewels through the air while she dug frantically. “What are you looking for, girl?” I wondered out loud. “You are getting gold and gems everywhere.” Then, with a triumphant arf, Garlic pulled a black leather collar studded with red crystals from the chest.

  “What do you have there, Garlic?” the Howler asked, bending to examine the collar Garlic had brought over to her. “Are those the kind of crystals I think they are?”

  Jova peered at them curiously. “If so, they are probably the smallest transportation crystals I have ever seen.”

  Oliver nodded. “Probably just some sort of knockoff that the goblins took, and found useless, so it was dumped here with the rest of this stuff. I mean no offense to Garlic, but it’s not like dogs can transport like us immortals anyway.”

  “She does really seem to like it for some reason,” I said, not thinking at that moment if it was necessary to let him know that, again—one, she was no ordinary canine, and two, she actually had transported via crystal before. “No harm in letting her wear it that I can see,” I added.

  Garlic whined and tried to jump through the collar that the Howler was now holding. “Okay,” the Howler said. “I get it. You really do want to wear this.” Garlic yelped in assent, and the Howler fastened it around her neck.

  “She has claimed her part of the booty, making her a true pirate,” I said. My eyes found Jova once again. “You and I will take this up in London. Does anyone have any crystals? We could try to transport the gold that way.”

  Garlic barked loudly and ran back and forth. “Okay, girl, I know it was a good idea, but hush for a second,” I said to her. Garlic rolled her eyes and put a paw over her nose, clearly frustrated, but I had no time to decipher her canine commentary.

  “I do,” said Oliver. “But the House of Angels is protected from anybody or anything getting in or out by crystal. And unless it is a really special crystal, you can only transport so much with you. It would take time we do not have. So we are going to have to do it the old-fashioned way—we need some wagons.”

  The church bell of St. Peter’s struck midnight. “We cannot count on the goblins waiting until tomorrow to regroup,” I said, noting the moon, though not full, would give us plenty of light to work under but not betray our actions. “We have to move the treasure now.”

  We’d need to retrieve wagons from the docks, so Cornelia and Oliver set out for Jova’s ship, and the Howler set out for the Dancing Swan, leaving Jova, Garlic, and me to gua
rd the treasure. I viewed Cornelia as a liability with her leg, but Oliver was an able protector. No one messes with a troll, except an enraged goblin, but since Jova was happy to have her out of harm’s way, I chose not to mention that. The Bogeyman had clearly found peace within himself, apparently buoyed by Cornelia’s love. He looked ready and willing to levy his powers of fear on any who approached the House of Angels and the treasure that would serve as his dowry for Cornelia.

  Jova was not much use moving the treasure out of the vault, in fact Garlic pulled twice as much as he. When I set the treasure chests on sailcloth, she tugged it along easily on the smooth wood floor. Finally, Jova collapsed in exhaustion, so I took a moment and peeked outside to check the streets. They remained deserted.

  “It is a good thing the moon is not full tonight,” I said. “There is no bright light to reveal our position. Of course, the last time I had Madam Captain under the full moon, I had her in a most enjoyable position.”

  Jova looked at me in abject horror. “You did what?”

  “Oh, I get it,” I said. “You have never been with a woman. Well, no one should be a virgin on their wedding night. When you get back to London, you might want to find some strumpet to show you what to do so Cornelia won’t be disappointed. Let me tell you, if her sister is any indication, get her on a full moon, and you can really make her howl, if you know what I am saying.”

  Jova’s mouth opened and closed as he searched for words. Poor kid, I thought, he could only imagine what being with a woman was like, and the Howler was quite the impressive creature—and it was good that Cornelia was not nearly half as pretty as her, or poor Jova’s little bogeyman might be too frightened to make an appearance.

  “Did you know what you were doing, being with her on the full moon?” Jova finally sputtered.

  I put a knowing hand on his shoulder as Oliver returned with the wagons. “Jova, I always know what I am doing when women are involved, especially beautiful naked werewolves in the light of the full moon. Come on, we have wagons to load.”