The Goblin's Curse (21 page)

He seemed regal in his elven robes, but Keelie detected something different about him even without using the To See Truly spell. He was definitely more elven than he was even a few days ago.

“Knot’s hurt. And he says that Cricket is dead.” She started to cry again.

Dad took two large steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. For a moment, Keelie let herself cry into his shoulder, comforted by her father’s arms around her. She sniffed. “Thanks, Dad.”

He let go of her when she pulled away a little.

“Why are you here?” She wanted to go find Cricket’s body and bury him, but she didn’t want to tell Dad about her plans.

“I had to speak to Finch. I’m sorry about your little creature, but I must say that I’m disappointed to see you here. I was hoping you’d be staying indoors with Janice, where you would be safe.” He turned to Knot. “Janice can stitch you up.” He seemed so cold.

Keelie closed her eyes and sighed. When she looked at Dad again, he was all blurry—but she caught a glimpse of something shimmering around the outline of his body. That was not normal for elves.

She was about to look again when Dad spoke. “I’m sorry for the loss of your pet. I know you were fond of him.” His green eyes gleamed hard and bright. “But Keelie, I’ve come to believe that I’ve been too indulgent with you, and as a result, your reckless decisions have endangered you and many others. Your little friend was a goblin, a dangerous creature that would have betrayed you eventually.”

“Dangerous? Cricket?” Keelie managed to choke out the words as indignation rose in her. “Cricket showed me affection, no matter what you thought about him. I cared about him.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “He would never have turned evil, or done anything to hurt me.”

“Hard-headed child. Mourn your pet, but you must prepare yourself to leave the faire. All the elves will be leaving. You must keep your focus on the Dread Forest, where you will stay and be protected.”

Keelie shook her head. “Elves leaving?”

He nodded. “It was decided at the last Council meeting.”

“Dad, I don’t want to argue. I can’t deal with elves and Council decisions right now.” Keelie stood up as Knot jumped down from the desk. The cat hissed as he strolled past Dad. “I need to go and find Cricket’s body.” Keelie reached for some tissues on Finch’s desk.

“The trees will not accept the body of a goblin buried in their soil,” Dad said. “Remember what happened with that nasty goblin tree. We can’t risk another infection.”

“Cricket wasn’t a bad goblin,” Keelie retorted. Dad’s cold-hearted attitude made her inwardly wince, but she would stand her ground.

“Doesn’t matter. Cricket”—it seemed Dad struggled just to say the name of her little companion—“was a goblin. The elves will disagree with a burial too. Leave the goblin, and allow nature to take his remains. It is the elven way.”

Lately, everything was the elven way.

“I can’t leave Cricket. I need to bury his remains according to the traditions of the dark fae.” Keelie glowered at Dad.

“Where is the body?” he asked.

She didn’t dare tell him it was in Under-the-Hill, so she altered her story. “It’s in the meadow, close to the performers’ campground.”

He studied her intently, as if trying to determine whether she was telling the truth.

“Too dangerous,” he finally said. “And we have preparations to make for our trip back to the Dread Forest.”

At that moment, Finch walked into her office, rifling through papers she carried as if Keelie and Dad weren’t standing there. She wore cat frame glasses perched on her nose, and when she saw Dad and Keelie, she blinked. “Did I miss an important meeting?”

Keelie could tell she’d overheard every word.

“No, we were just leaving.” Dad gestured, indicating he wanted Keelie to follow him.

“Zeke, Keelie has been a big help to me,” Finch said. “We need her here. The humans need her.”

Dad held Finch’s intent gaze. “You’re driving a wedge between us, Rose.”

Finch certainly didn’t look like a Rose.

The faire director scowled at Dad. “Zekeliel, you can’t blame me for the situation at the faire.”

Keelie forced her full attention on Finch and breathed deeply, summoning up her inner strength. “I came here to tell you that your suspicions were right. Hob is Peascod.”

“What? Peascod is at the faire?” Dad’s face became chalky white. He whipped around to face Keelie. “And you knew?”

“Not until this morning.” Keelie winced. She wondered what she could have done differently so that Cricket would still be alive.

Oh Cricket!

“I knew it,” Finch growled, walking over to her desk and tossing her papers onto it. She sighed in frustration, then removed her glasses and flung them onto the desk too. They clattered loudly as they landed. Smoke drifted from her ears. “If the goblins storm the faire, they could expose our world. And with Peascod in the mix, I’m sure they’re going for a full-blown attack.”

Dad glared at Finch. “That is not my problem. You will have to deal with Peascod. The elves wish for Keelie and me to return to the Dread Forest, where we will be able to protect our home forest. My daughter’s powers will aid her kind.”

Keelie stared at her father. Who was this elf? This didn’t sound like Dad. Had he been brainwashed from listening to Niriel and the other elves advise him on how to take care of his mutt daughter? She could hear them now:
Reel her in, Zekeliel, before she goes totally human. Or worse, totally fae.

“Your daughter is more than an elf—she is a glorious combination of all that is good in this world,” Finch snapped. “What you’re doing to her, by expecting her to be one way, is breaking her heart, and she will follow her own path. Trailblazers always do.”

Keelie stared at Finch, who blushed under her admiring gaze. Or maybe she was turning red from anger.

“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter.” Dad’s voice rose. When had he started to yell so much?

“Zeke, I’m not telling you how to raise your daughter, I’m advising you to
listen
to your daughter,” Finch said. Draconic scales formed around her hairline, popping up through her skin.

Keelie decided it was time to stop this interchange before Finch became a full-on dragon and flamed her father. “Dad, we need to go.” She touched him on the shoulder, avoiding eye contact with Finch.

He nodded. “This is how a daughter listens to her father.”

Keelie recoiled. “Who are you? You sound like an old-school feudal lord who demands total obedience from his daughter. That’s not me!” Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Dad sighed. “Keelie.”

“I need to go find Cricket,” Keelie moved toward the door.

Knot placed his paw on Keelie’s leg. “Meow.”

“Where is that little goblin? I was going to put him on garbage detail,” Finch said.

“He’s dead.” Keelie choked the words out.

“I’m sorry, Keelie.” Finch’s voice was soft. She seemed to really mean it. “He was a good little fellow, and he would’ve made a hell of a good detail worker. I’ve never seen anyone recycle trash the way he did.”

“Keelie, we must go.” Dad’s tone was insistent. He sounded more like Niriel every minute.

Keelie’s resolve to go and find Cricket deepened. “I’m going to find my little friend’s body!”

She pushed past her father and ran, Knot at her side, toward the meadow.

fifteen

She followed Knot down the West Road to the woodland area behind the privies. Along the way, she overheard bits of conversation about the fires and angry opinions about Vangar and Finch among the performers and shopkeepers. Everyone seemed to be unhappy, and more people had noticed Hob’s strange behavior. Nobody had seen him since he’d closed his shop. Keelie kept quiet about Hob’s whereabouts and what he had done—murdered one of his own kind.

Thirty minutes later Knot and Keelie were at the entrance to a small cavern, standing under a huge sandstone rock that overhung the entrance like a porch roof. “Are you sure there aren’t any bears in there?” Keelie asked. Dragons in Colorado were surprising, but black bears were native to these mountains.

“No. Meow.”

Keelie breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air. She would need it in the stale underground. The stench of goblin reeked through the small opening, and it would probably be much worse inside; hygiene wasn’t part of a goblin’s daily routine. It hadn’t smelled this bad earlier. There must be more goblins now.

She coughed. “How far in is he?”

“Meow close.” Knot wrinkled his nose, but he pushed his way into the opening and Keelie followed him down the wet slope, slippery beneath her borrowed shoes. She wished for the dry dirt stairs of the other entrance, or at least for decent boots.

Light from the opening illuminated the tunnel. Water dripped from the cave roof, part of a freshet that trickled down from the rocks above. Keelie walked cautiously toward a dark passageway that stretched to one side, careful not to alert any goblins who may have strayed this far.

Twelve steps in, she discovered Cricket’s broken body lying against the wall. His little legs were sprawled carelessly, and his eyes were open wide, glazed with fear and frozen in death.

A sob escaped from deep within her chest. She reached out and picked him up, cradling him against her chest. “Poor little guy. You didn’t deserve this.”

“Halt.” The growled command came from behind.

Keelie’s heart boomed loudly as she slowly turned around, fearing it was a goblin. She hoped it would understand why she was here and would let her go do what she must.

“Help me. I just wanted to get his body and bury it with the respect and dignity that he deserves,” she said without looking up. She held Cricket in the palms of her hands and extended them so the goblin could see the body. The little creature’s sharp-taloned hands dangled.

“Your kindness to others always amazes me. I think it is one of your better qualities.” The voice transformed, becoming warm and smooth.

“Dad! What are you doing here?” she asked.

He didn’t acknowledge her question, looking around the cavern instead. “Interesting place. Made by dragons—can you tell?”

“Dragons, really?” What was up with her father?

Dad seemed more relaxed and less rigid, less the angry elf, here in the goblins’ lair than he’d been up in Finch’s office.

“Yes, and since Peascod has invoked the anger of two dragons, in the end he will be dispatched to the Goddess of Death. One does not make a dragon angry without facing the consequences.” Dad’s voice was calm.

“The Goddess of Death. I thought it was the Grim Reaper,” Keelie said.

“The Grim Reaper is an image, sort of like Santa Claus. The Goddess of Death has her minions dress in black robes, and she carries a scythe, the whole scary thing, but she’s the one who runs the spirit world.”

Keelie blinked and looked once more down at Cricket’s body.

“Come, Keelie. Bring your companion and let us take him where his body can rise forth and meet the Great Sylvus,” Dad said gently. “Do not worry, daughter. Your friend will be put safely to rest.”

Keelie nodded and blinked. She would not cry. “Dad, what happened to you?”

“Why?” His eyes widened as if he realized something was different about him. “I feel more my old self now. I’ve felt odd since arriving at the faire.” He touched the smooth rock wall.

And acted odd, too. Touching the dirt in her pocket, Keelie tilted her head fifteen degrees, called upon Earth magic, and focused on Dad. “
Allow me to see truly
.”

Fading green tendrils surrounded Dad. It looked like nature magic, the kind used by elves.

“I think you’ve been enchanted,” Keelie said.

Dad narrowed his eyes. He lifted his hands and looked at them as if he could see the spell. “Enchanted. That would explain why I cast my vote at the Council meeting for the elves to leave. My vote was the deciding factor. Niriel was pleased.”

“He said you’d been acting more like a proper elf,” Keelie said.

“So he did.” Dad grimaced. “Niriel enchanted me. Yet despite that, I followed you here. I remember thinking that I needed to go to the elven village, but still, my feet stayed on the path behind you.”