The Goblin's Curse (3 page)

“Sean.” Keelie detected fear emanating from him, and she wanted to reassure him she could take care of herself.

“We’ll talk later.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “What do the trees tell you now, Keelie?”

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the pine-scented air. “They’re grumbling about the parking in the campground. And someone has an open fire. Dad heard. He’s taking care of it.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Sean. “Elf girls can be normal, right?”

“Most elf girls don’t talk to trees.”

A
feithid daoine
, a fairy shaped like a black beetle, droned by and squeaked a greeting, which Keelie returned.

“Most elf girls don’t talk to bugs.”

“It was a fairy.”

“Elves can’t see fairies.” He looked serious now. “It looked like a bug.”

“But I’m part fairy.” Keelie counted off on her fingers. “And part elf. And part human. I’m a total mongrel.” She sighed.

The grim look vanished and Sean smiled his brightest. “
My
mongrel.” He leaned forward, eyes on her mouth again, and she jumped away. She didn’t need the trees to tell her that another scorching kiss and she’d be asking him upstairs for more. Bright yellow eyes were watching her from the upstairs window, another reason not to invite him up.

“I plan to get up early tomorrow,” she said, edging toward the stairs. “Want to have breakfast at Mrs. Butters’?”

“Sure. Six thirty?”

She gulped. She was thinking “early” meant eight. “Okay. Six thirty it is. Good night, Sean.”

“Good night, Keelie. And I forgot to tell you—we have a new faire administrator, and she’s supposed to be making rounds tomorrow.”

Keelie shrugged. “Dad’s got everything in order, I’m sure. I’m just anxious to get to the meadow to make sure everything’s okay.”

Keelie awoke in the dark before dawn, with the sky turning lighter to the east. She opened her eyes and took in the sleepy, early morning sounds of the faire. Murmurs and doors opening and shutting. Later would come the hammering, and voices, and laughter.

“Ah, my sleepyhead is up.” Dad, brown hair loose and curling over his shoulders, pushed aside the bedroom curtain and set a steaming mug of tea on the nightstand by her bed (cypress, from Florida).

He was in Ren Faire mode all right. Usually he had his hair in a loose ponytail that hid his pointed elven ears.

“Dad, did Knot come home with you? I haven’t seen him at all. ”

“He’s around. He was sleeping at the foot of your bed when I got home.” Dad pulled the curtain shut so that she would have privacy as she dressed.

Keelie sat up and reached for the mug, looking around the area that was her bedroom. The sun’s first rays shone against the many-paned windows, illuminating the wooden wardrobe, her battered Wellingtons, the trunk of clothes Dad had brought from the Dread Forest. The thick leather Elven Compendium of Household Charms lay on top, a dozen colorful sticky notes protruding from its pages, her massive and never-ending homework assignment.

She wondered where Knot had gone. Cricket was nowhere to be seen, either. He didn’t get along with Knot and was probably hiding somewhere, chewing on a plastic bottle. Goblins ate paper and plastic, which was why cities were infested with them. During their brief layover in the Dread Forest, Grandmother Keliatiel had compared Cricket to a cockroach and offered to stomp it.

Keelie had to scramble to keep the little guy safe, although Grandmother’s cockroach analogy had given her pause. Would she have kept a roach as a pet? Yuck.

She also didn’t understand why she was missing Knot-the-obnoxious-feline when he wasn’t around. She hoped it wasn’t backwash from the spell they’d put on the Redwood Forest sign in California. One of Knot’s bits of furry orange fluff had fallen in at the last second, and the spell-cast compulsion to love and respect the forest now included the love of cats, too.

More likely, she missed him because he was always around—as her appointed fairy guardian.

“Garb today, or jeans?” she asked loudly. “Garb” was the faire folks’ word for “costume,” and at the Ren Faire some people lived and breathed earlier times. Others donned jeans at the end of the day. The High Mountain Faire always had a pirate theme, and Keelie was looking forward to being all piratey. Last year she hadn’t known anything about faire life and missed out on a lot of fun.

“Jeans are okay,” Dad replied. “Did you see that Galadriel’s Closet moved?”

Keelie jumped out of bed and pulled the curtain aside. “Yes! I saw the mask shop and the new forge, too. I was surprised to see a forge up here.”

Dad, busy in the kitchen, frowned. “We’ve been assured the fire source is not a concern. And you’re going to like Hobknocker’s. I’ve heard Hob is quite the ladies’ man.”

“I saw him last night at the Poacher’s Inn, surrounded by ladies. Two of you in one clearing. Chick Magnet Central.”

Dad smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Where is Galadriel’s Closet now? I want to get a pirate-wench corset.” Keelie took a sip of the tea and curled her toes with pleasure.

“They’re at the front gate. You should go down and say hello to Mara. They decided to rent costumes to mundanes, like that shop at the Wildewood Faire does.” The kitchen was so small that Dad was almost at arm’s reach from her bed as he assembled the supplies for a pot of oatmeal. The man lived off the stuff, though Keelie had to admit that the way he fixed it was very tasty.

“I promised Sean I’d meet him for breakfast, so don’t make any for me,” she said.

“Knot will eat your share.” Dad eyeballed the water level in the pot and turned up the flame. “I haven’t seen him around, but he’ll enjoy it even if it’s cold.”

“You know, I never got to see all of Wildewood,” Keelie said. “Between my hideous dragon costume and the faire shutting down early when the forest went nuts and the power plant exploded, it wasn’t the best experience.” She grabbed her third-best pair of jeans from the trunk, along with a T-shirt printed with cartoon-like panda bears.

“We’ll be there in a few weeks.” Dad’s voice was a pleasant rumble. “You’ll get a better look this time.”

Keelie flipped her curtain shut and yanked on her clothes, then rummaged under the bed for her shoes. Yesterday’s socks were hanging out of them and she jammed them onto her feet. Showers and clean clothes later—first, she’d go meet Sean, and then pick up Raven to head to the meadow.

“Don’t make plans to be out late tonight,” Dad called. “You’ll have an early start tomorrow. I heard the new admin wants us to rehearse the royal parade, and then the pirate’s parade. And I may be busy because I have to meet a tow truck driver in the campground. Someone noticed a big puddle of oil under the pickup truck’s engine.”

“Oh my.” Keelie fought a grin. She knew it was serious and possibly very expensive to have car trouble, but the thought of a tow truck dragging the Swiss Miss Chalet—their tiny, gingerbread-festooned house perched on the bed of Dad’s aged pickup—down the road was hilarious.

She stepped past her curtain and pulled it closed behind her, enjoying the familiar rattle of its wooden rings. “I think I might go down to the meadow this morning,” she said casually. “I want to check out where the Red Cap died.”

Dad filled in what she hadn’t said. “Because of the blood in the ground? There’s nothing around there that could be harmed by the taint.”

Keelie knew he was worried, though, because suddenly he was stirring the oats on the stove much faster. She bit her lip and hurried to the bathroom, shielding her mind because sometimes Dad could read every thought as it scrolled through her brain.

“Why don’t you take Lord Elianard with you?” he called. “He’s anxious to get started with your lore lessons again, and he can check if the goblin taint might be threatening the elven village.”

“Maybe.” She could sense the spread of the goblin’s toxic magic herself.

She did need to see Elianard sometime, though. Keelie thought of the enormous Compendium, which was basically a magical recipe book containing the collected spells and charms of generations of Dread Forest elves (they really needed to get it online). She would study it later.

Elianard would surely give her a huge lore lesson if he knew she’d planted an aspen branch right in the center of the disturbed earth where the evil Red Cap had died. The branch had immediately put out a leaf, and Keelie hoped it would thrive, but just this spring she’d learned a lot about what goblin blood could do to trees. If the little sapling was still alive, its roots would have drunk deep of the evil goblin’s blood—blood spilled by Keelie when she’d called up the combination of tree and Earth magic that had blasted the evil creature to fragments.

She was glad Raven would be there with her. She didn’t want to return to the site of her battle alone.

two

“Okay, Dad, I’m headed to Mrs. Butters’.” Keelie kissed her father goodbye and trotted down the stairs. She started across the clearing toward the path down the hill.

A door closed nearby. “Hey, neighbor!”

She turned to see Hob walking toward her. He was even better-looking in the daylight.

He grinned at her. “Heading my way? If I don’t get a muffin in the next ten minutes, I’m going to eat a squirrel.”

Keelie laughed, and as they walked together down the hill, she couldn’t help wishing that all the mean elf girls could see her walking with this studly specimen.

“I can’t wait to see your shop,” she told him.

“Come by any time.” He shrugged. “My wares are not the caliber of your father’s, but they’re amusing.”

“Lots of people like masks and disguises.”

He looked a little startled, but then his smile broadened. “They do indeed, if they have a mischievous streak.”

“My cat should be your first customer, then.” The thought of Knot in a mask was funny. In a creepy way.

“No pets allowed. But you can buy the kitty a toy if you wish.” He bowed as they arrived at Mrs. Butters’ tea shop and held her fingers to his lips. “Milady, have a lovely day.”

“You don’t know how nice it is to meet a normal person here. Thanks for walking me down.” She curtseyed, and turned to see the women on the crowded deck of the tea shop assessing her. It made her day.

Take that
, she told them silently, and went inside to get her tea.

Mrs. Butters’ tea shop was already crowded, even though the morning was barely started. The tantalizing smell of fresh-baked goods made Keelie’s stomach growl as she hopped onto the plain wooden deck that surrounded the little bakery. Sean leaned against the railing that ran along the back and sides of the deck, separating it from the forest. He was holding a mug and laughing with his jousting friends. They were all tall and muscular, but Sean was the best looking. Every female on the deck glanced at him, secretly enjoying his presence.

Keelie entered the little shop and waited while one of the burlap-and-leather-clad mud men ordered his breakfast. Mrs. Butters’ little brown face, like a living version of the gingerbread man’s wife, split into a smile when she noticed Keelie, and she placed a utilitarian white mug of hot water on the counter. Keelie put a dollar down and edged past the mud man to choose a tea bag from the assortment in a basket at the end of the counter. Today seemed like a “Sweet Orange” day. She tore the top of the little square paper pouch and tossed it into the recycling bin, then dunked her tea bag in the hot water and went to join Sean.