Yule Be Sorry--A Christmas Cozy Mystery (With Dragons)

by Kim M Watt

  “Alice? Alice – hic – are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, forcing a smile into her voice. “Nice shot, Miriam.”

  “Oh, I only finished him off. You got him first.”

  With the goblin’s weight lifted, the pain in her hip was just about bearable, but there was something sharp about it that she didn’t like. She climbed slowly to her feet and retrieved her cane in the white light of the phone torch. She wondered if she might actually have to use it in the manner for which it was designed. That would be most disagreeable.

  “Which one is it? Is it Goblin Sam?” one of the captives asked eagerly.

  “Stop calling him that,” the Royal Mail man said. “That’s my name.”

  “Well, it’s a handy way to know which one we’re talking about,” Alice said, picking up the phone and using the light to examine the goblin. “No, I think it’s the other one. George.”

  “That’s my name,” another disembodied voice in the dark said, sounding aggrieved.

  “Really?” Miriam said. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

  Alice handed her the phone. “Here. Try and light the stairs for me.”

  “Be – hic – careful.” Miriam shone the light up into the dark as Alice shouldered her cane again and started up the steps cautiously. The light from the phone was pale and uneven, her shadow a huge block of darkness in front of her. The gaps under the stairs were impenetrable wells, and the kitchen light was nothing more than the thin outline of a door shape above. She couldn’t even really tell if there was anyone between her and it. But if it had been her who had sneaked in when the light went out, she wouldn’t have lingered on the stairs. No, she’d have waited under them and grabbed the ankles of anyone going up. Quick way to a broken neck. The skin on her back crawled, but she kept going, braced for teeth or claws or just a shove down the stairs, which she was pretty sure would do for her hip entirely. Staying put wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

  Nothing stopped her, nothing grabbed her, and she jogged the last few steps as quietly as she could, flicking the light back on. It hardly qualified as flooding the cellar with brightness, but after the solid dark of before it still seemed fairly impressive.

  There was a chorus of relieved oohs from below and she waved them all to silence, then leaned against the door, listening. She couldn’t hear anything. But if one had come back, others might have, too. She surprised herself by hoping Thompson was safe. Damn cat. She wouldn’t be here, with her hip sending out little distress flares of pain, if it wasn’t for him.

  She was still listening when the door was pulled open away from her, and she stared at the two goblins outside with almost as much astonishment as she could see on their faces. For a confused moment no one moved, then she recovered herself, dropped her cane, grabbed the door handle with both hands and jerked it shut again. She braced herself against the door frame, hearing her cane clattering down the stairs, and strained against the goblins tugging on the other side of the door and shouting at her.

  “Where Goblin George? Bad human! Goblin George! Goblin George!”

  Someone was crying down in the cellar again, and someone else was shouting, then there were quick feet on the stairs and Miriam was at Alice’s elbow. She was panting, her cheeks flushed, and she had both the cricket bat and Alice’s dropped cane in her hands.

  Alice smiled at her. “Ready, Miriam?”

  “Not – hic – really.”

  “Me neither.”

  They smiled at each other, then Alice let go of the handle and grabbed her cane. The goblins, still tugging from the outside, went stumbling backward with howls of surprise, and Alice charged toward them, swinging the cane and shouting like she was scolding puppies that had wet the floor.

  “Bad goblins! Bad goblins!”

  Miriam was right behind her, laying about with the cricket bat and doing a banshee impression that would have put Thompson to shame.

  Alice thought it was rather fortunate that there were only two goblins. Not only were they large beasts, they seemed to have very hard heads, making them difficult to put down and even more troublesome to keep there. Plus Miriam was all enthusiasm, very little accuracy, and Alice counted herself lucky that she hadn’t been brained by the cricket bat in the middle of it all.

  They came through the door running, and Alice smacked the first goblin, the one calling itself Goblin Sam, right between the eyes with her cane. It was a blow that would have put a grown man on the ground, but Goblin Sam just growled at her, and made a grab for the cane. She jumped back, ignoring the complaints of her hip, and swung again, this time going for the kneecaps. That brought the monster down to her level with a howl, and before she could swing again Miriam gave him four rapid blows to the head, like a tradesman hammering a nail, and Goblin Sam keeled over, his eyes glazing. Alice was already moving, because Goblin Hazel, her sun dress only hanging on by one strap, was getting up off the floor, looking more furious than hurt. Alice hit her on the head with the cane, and she fell back down.

  The two women stood perfectly still for a moment, listening. There was no movement in the house, but they could still hear Thompson yowling outside. He was sounding a little hoarse now, but the fact that he was yowling at all suggested that he was still distracting someone. Who, and how many, was the question. Goblin Sam groaned, and Miriam squeaked, then hit him again. He fell silent.

  “Right,” Alice said. “Keys.” She pointed at Goblin Sam.

  “Ugh, do I have to?”

  “Please, Miriam.” Alice watched her crouch down and start digging through Goblin Sam’s pocket with little mutters of disgust. She would have done it herself, but she had a feeling that she wouldn’t have got back up again. Goblin Hazel lifted a hand, and Alice rapped her smartly on the forehead with the cane, setting up a hollow ringing sound. No point taking chances.

  “Got them!” Miriam held up an old-fashioned ring of iron keys, grinning.

  “What is that on your hands?” Alice asked, her stomach rolling over in protest. Miriam looked like she’d been making mud pies.

  “Smells like chocolate,” Miriam said. “Look, he had chocolate Santas all through his pockets.” She pointed at some filthy scraps of foil that might have been wrappers, and Alice shuddered.

  “Well, I guess we know why your note was in the state it was, then. And the wonderful writing and spelling.” The goblins’ hands were cruel and calloused, and ended in nails that were more like claws. It couldn’t have been easy writing with them. “Can you go get everyone out of the cellar?”

  Miriam bit her lip. “Just me?”

  “I’ll keep watch up here, in case anyone comes in. Now hurry!” The distress flares in her hip were developing into a bonfire, and there was a thin sweat starting on her forehead.

  Miriam picked up her cricket bat without much enthusiasm, and hurried back down into the basement, keys jingling. Alice let her breath out in a series of pained pants, half bent over on her cane, and when Goblin Sam moaned she straightened up and hit him probably a little harder than was entirely necessary. It felt good, though.

  There was a shout and a thud from downstairs, and she called, “Miriam? Are you okay?”

  “Yes! He was waking up.”

  “Alright. Hurry up.” She could hear clattering chains from downstairs, like a ghost conference getting under way, and before long the captives started appearing on the stairs, looking around blearily and stretching.

  “Come on, come on,” Alice said, and hit Goblin Hazel again as she opened her bright eyes a sliver. Honestly, it was like playing whack-a-goblin.

  “Come on what?” the black polo shirt man grumbled. “We’ve been chained up here for ages. We need a moment to get our bearings.”

  “You’ve only been here a day,” Sam the Royal Mail man said. “I was the first one they took. I’ve been here forever.”

  “Five days,” Miriam said, and the Royal Mail woman glared at her. Miriam shrugged, and Alice smiled. Apparently battering not on
e, but two goblins into unconsciousness with a cricket bat was very good for Miriam’s confidence. And also an excellent cure for nervous hiccoughs.

  “Now, then,” Alice said, trying to lean on the cane without looking like she was leaning on it. “We need to drag these two goblins down there and chain them all up.”

  “I’m not touching them,” the woman said at once. Alice supposed, given the goblins’ affection for stealing names, that her name was Hazel. “They’re nasty.”

  “Yeah. We should just get out of here,” the DHL man agreed. He sounded like the one that had said Goblin George had taken his name.

  “No one’s getting out of here until they’re chained up,” Alice snapped. “I’m not having them coming after us when they wake up.”

  “Listen, lady,” Polo Shirt said, “I don’t know who put you in charge—”

  “Just drag the damn things down there!” Miriam hissed at him, the cricket bat brandished over her shoulder. “Don’t make us regret everything we’ve just gone through to get you sorry lot out of here.”

  Polo Shirt looked at her in alarm, then crouched down and grabbed one of Goblin Sam’s legs. The DHL man hurried to grab the other one.

  Alice gave Miriam a thumbs up, and Miriam smiled. It was quite a new and interesting smile.

  Punctuated by the occasional thud of Miriam’s cricket bat, the two goblins were dragged down the stairs to join Goblin George and locked firmly in the chains. Miriam pulled the cellar door to on faint moans as the creatures started to come around, and Alice looked at the little group as brightly as she could manage.

  “Arm yourselves,” she said, and they looked at her blankly.

  “What with?” the man in the black polo asked, and Alice thought she could end up quite disliking him.

  “Saucepans,” she said, nodding at the stove. “Brooms. Anything. Use your brains, for heaven’s sake.” She had a feeling that the pain was making her a little sharper than was necessary, but this was a combat situation, not a school trip.

  George found a butcher’s knife on the table, and Hazel snatched an egg-encrusted frying pan up before Polo Shirt could grab it. He scowled, but took the smaller saucepan next to it, grimacing at the contents. Sam had the kettle in one hand and a dustpan in the other.

  “What on earth are you going to do with that?” Alice asked him.

  “They got all the good stuff,” he said. His grey hair was sticking up around his head in a matted halo.

  Alice sighed. “Take the broom,” she said. “The long-handled one there, in the corner. Honestly.”

  Sam went pink and put the kettle down. He kept the dustpan, though.

  With everyone as prepared as they could be, Alice led the little party out the kitchen door into the cold night. Miriam brought up the rear with the cricket bat on her shoulder and a determined look on her face, and they made their way single file along the back of the house and around the corner. Thompson was still yowling somewhere out there in the dark, but it had become more of a harsh squawk than a banshee scream. Alice brought them to a stop before anyone could wander around the corner to the front and be spotted by whatever creatures were running about out there. She leaned against the wall, trying to keep her breathing under control and wondering what the best thing to do was. The delivery drivers stared at her with anxious faces, brandishing their makeshift weapons, and she gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

  “Miriam, do you have phone signal?” she asked, palming that irritating sweat off her forehead.

  “No,” Miriam said with a sigh. “Still nothing.”

  “Have any of you ever heard cars here? Anything coming or going?”

  The delivery drivers looked at each other and shrugged. Alice sighed. If there had been a van in a shed they could have reached, they’d have had a much better chance. But she didn’t want to linger here checking the broken-down outbuildings if no one had even heard a car. It was far too risky. They were going to have to attempt a cross-country sprint back to the poor Prius, then some sort of clown car debacle trying to get everyone in, and hope the goblins couldn’t run quicker than first gear. If they made it as far as the car, that was. She wasn’t at all sure that she could.

  She eased herself to the corner and peered around, the nightscape rendered in deep greys and shades of indigo. Thompson appeared on the road beyond the gate, set up a yowl, then loped away as half a dozen goblins ran down the hill after him. He wasn’t rushing, and the goblins were gaining fast. He let the nearest almost touch his tail, then vanished. Alice blinked as the goblins shouted and cursed, wondering if he’d jumped down a rabbit hole or something. Then his raspy yowl rose from a hummock a little further up the hill, on the other side of the house, and the goblins all turned and ran that way. Before they reached it, the yowl stopped, then restarted again just a bit further away. The goblins regrouped and sprinted off.

  “Well,” Alice said. “That explains a lot.” She pushed off the wall and tightened her grip on her cane. “Come on. The cat can only keep them occupied for so long. We need to try and get to the car before they get bored. It’s a bit of a hike, and we can’t hang around. Everyone ready?”

  There were some nervous mutters, then Polo Shirt said, “Why can’t we just go down the road? We’ll get signal at some point, and we can call the police.”

  “And if we don’t? Or when the goblins realise you’re missing? We’ll be on foot all the way to the next village, and there’s no chance we’ll hold them off that long.” Alice shook her head. “No, we go to the car.”

  “I don’t like the idea of running off. What if they see us?” Sam said.

  “It’s true,” Hazel said. “They’ll catch us.”

  “If they see us. But if you stay here, they’ll definitely catch you.” Alice tried to sound patient. She didn’t feel very patient.

  “We could hide,” George suggested. “Then you could go get help and come back.”

  “We are all going,” Alice said. “Now shut up, the lot of you.” She glared at them, fairly surprised that they had actually subsided into silence, then Miriam said in a small voice, “Oh dear.”

  Alice spun around and straight into a large and very human chest. She looked up and saw the man from the market stall, the one called Bill, and said, “Dammit.” She jumped back, but her hip betrayed her and made her stumble. He grabbed her wrists, squeezing her hand painfully until she cried out and dropped the cane.

  “The police are on their way!” Miriam shouted behind her. “Let me go!”

  “The police?” the man who had hold of Miriam said. There were four of them, all tall and broad and young, and Alice glared up at Bill.

  “Yes, the police. And do you think they’ll arrest goblins? Of course not. This is all going to be on you.”

  He scowled at her. “You’re lying.”

  “Not for a second.”

  “She’s got a point,” one of the other men said, the one who had led Bill away from the market. “This is way out of control. What are we meant to do with them all?”

  “We’re not going to do anything, Stu,” Bill said. “The goblins are.”

  “You trust them?” Miriam demanded. “They’ll probably eat the lot of you.”

  “They do drool a lot when they look at us,” Hazel said. “It’s disturbing.”

  “One licked my ear,” George said. “And not in a nice way.”

  “I think we should all get out of here,” the fourth man said. He was peering around nervously. “You know, we could say we’d rescued you. You’d do that, right?”

  “Of course,” Alice said quickly, because she could tell without looking at her that Miriam wasn’t in the mood to agree to anything. “Have you got a car?”

  “Goblin Sam’s got the keys,” Stu said.

  “This is stupid,” Bill snapped. “Let’s just deal with this lot and carry on as we said we would. We’re not going to see a cent if we run.” He released Alice’s wrists and bent to pick up the dropped cane.

&n
bsp; Alice didn’t exactly think. She just knew that her knee and his head were occupying very similar spaces. She grabbed the back of his neck and put them into the same space with as much force as she could muster, feeling a satisfying crunch as Bill cried out and dropped to all fours.

  “My dose!”

  How about that, she thought. It really does sound like ‘dose’. Then she snatched up her cane and lunged toward Stu, trying to ignore the pain in her hip. He yelped and threw his arms up to protect his head, and the nervous man rushed at her, shouting for her to stop.

  Hazel gave a whoop and smacked Miriam’s captor with the frying pan, and George shouted something incoherent, waving the butcher’s knife wildly as the man released Miriam and staggered away with his hands clasped to his head. Sam and Polo Shirt appeared to be trying to burrow into the wall, and Bill was still on his knees wailing about his dose.

  “Let go,” Alice told the nervous man, who had managed to wrap his arms around her in some misguided bear hug, making the cane useless. He stared at her with enormous eyes, then Thompson appeared on his shoulder. The cat launched himself at the man’s face, hissing and spitting and clawing, and the man let her go, staggering about and yelping in panic. Thompson seemed to have more pointy ends than not.

  Miriam had somehow managed to get her captor in a headlock of sorts, and they were both on the ground, rolling wildly about the place with arms and feet going everywhere. Alice turned to Stu. “Now,” she said, and he shook his head, looking with wide eyes at the back garden. She turned to follow his gaze, and saw a group of at least a dozen goblins watching the fracas with broad grins. Broad, toothy, slobbery grins.

  She looked back at Stu. “Bad choice of associates.”