Paper & Blood

by Kevin Hearne

  “For the kind of work ye’re doin’ there,” she said.

  Cletus looked down at his table full of explosives. “This is a hobby. I ain’t looking to go pro. That’s how ya find yourself workin’ on a chain gang all day with no chance of a beer afterward.”

  “For this job, ye wouldnae have tae worry about human authorities.”

  “Uh. What other authorities are there?”

  Holga grinned at him. “That’s a fine question there, fine indeed.”

  Cletus sat back and took a contemplative drag on his joint, then exhaled a cloud of smoke out one side of his mouth that eventually curled upward in a half-grin. “This shit I’m smoking is turning out to be better than I thought. What’s that accent y’all got there? English?”

  “Scottish.”

  “Scottish, eh? I’m s’posed to be Scottish. Pa was into it too. Had himself a tartan and all that nonsense, thought it was rad, but I never saw the big deal. If the old country was so good, why’d our ancestors move here? Whatever. Tell me why a tiny Scottish woman is in Alabama looking for a dude to blow up stuff.”

  “Well, Mr. MacCutcheon, do ye believe in the Fae?” she asked.

  Cletus shrugged. “Can’t rule ’em out,” he said. He bent down to a cooler at his feet and fished out a cold one. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure, that’s kind of ye.”

  He tossed her a Pabst Blue Ribbon and she caught it, then he pulled out another for himself. They paused to enjoy the pop and hiss of fresh cans being opened and chugged down a few swallows. Cletus swiped at his lips with a back of his hand and then pointed at her with the ember of his blunt. “I guess them stories gotta come from somewhere, don’t they? Reckon there’s plenty of odd creatures I ain’t never seen before. See new ones every time they come out with one of them nature documentaries, and I’m sure there’s more where they came from. You’re pretty odd, to be honest, if I can say that without being mean. I don’t wanna be mean.”

  “No offense taken. I look odd because I’m Fae. I’m a hobgoblin.”

  “A hobgoblin, huh?” Cletus belched softly and tried to blow the fumes discreetly away from her. “That’s cool.”

  “Ye can tell I’m a hobgoblin. My skin is light blue.”

  “It is? Sorry. I have a rare condition called tritanopia. You kinda look a bit green to me, but that’s okay. Or maybe it isn’t. Are hobgoblins ever green?”

  “No, that’s usually ogres and trolls. Goblins are blue and pink. The point is, I’m a hobgoblin, and all our names sound funny tae humans, maybe even embarrassing. My name is Thunderpoot. Holga Thunderpoot.”

  Cletus sniggered. “Thunderpoot. That’s good, though. Better than a squeaky poot.” He took another drag on his joint, down tae just a wee nubbin now. “I gotta remember to get me some more of this shit from Bobby Ray. He was like, ‘Sorry, man, all’s I got is this stuff my cousin grew in his backyard in Biloxi,’ but it is hands-down the best dime bag I’ve ever scored at this point. Makes me wonder what is up with the soil in Bobby Ray’s cousin’s backyard.”

  And that is when Holga realized that Cletus didnae think she was even real. She toyed briefly with the idea of coming back at a later time but reconsidered. Cletus might be in a more receptive frame of mind, so she should take advantage of that.

  “We hobgoblins are suffering right now, Mr. MacCutcheon. A band of trolls are killing us and compelling us tae work for them. We need yer help tae be free of it.”

  “Why would trolls want y’all to work for them? Again, not to be mean, but I bet you couldn’t lift a tire.”

  “We can steal shite for them. Because we can teleport.”

  “I beg your pardon? You said teleport?”

  “Aye. Watch me carefully now. I’m over here by the door. I’m gonnay be on top of yer table in a second. Are ye ready?”

  Cletus blinked a few times, then said, “No, wait. Lemme clear off a space. Y’all don’t wanna step in this stuff, trust me.”

  He got tae his feet, extinguished his joint, and put down his beer. In a few seconds, he had a corner of the table clear of debris, and then he sat back down and picked up his beer again.

  “All right, Miss Thunderpoot, I’m ready. You can teleport there when—holy shit! Wow! You weren’t kidding.”

  “Naw, I wasnae. Magic is real. The Fae are real. And we have a real problem with the trolls. We need yer help tae blow up a few of them and set ma people free.”

  Cletus gulped. “Why me?”

  “Do ye know what ye’re doing with all this explosive shite?”

  “Yeah. Got all my fingers and toes and everything.”

  “And have ye been caught?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are ye an arsehole tae people, like trolls are?”

  “I certainly try not to be. Mom would be so disappointed.”

  “Then that’s why we picked ye, Mr. MacCutcheon. One of ma relatives found ye and told me about ye.”

  “A relative? You mean another hobgoblin found me?”

  “Aye. Yer friend Darryl—the one ye blow shite up with sometimes—has a new kid, right? It’s no a kid. It’s a hobgoblin who’s charmed them tae think he’s a kid. He heard the two of ye plotting tae destroy a futon. So let’s get tae dickering. What’s it gonnay take tae get ye tae agree tae help us?”

  “Well, I’m not sure what we’re even talking about. You just want, what, a bomb or two? Something on a timer or a trigger or a manual detonation?”

  “We need sumhin with plenty of iron shrapnel. The iron is key because it disrupts magic, and the troll’s den is warded nine ways tae Nancy.”

  “Who’s Nancy?”

  “I don’t know, but she must be important if there are nine ways tae her.”

  “What’s this troll’s name, then, who’s causing all the trouble?”

  “He is known as Blech Karnage the Nutbane.”

  Cletus Joe Bob MacCutcheon started giggling at that point and couldnae stop. He wound up falling off his chair after a minute and continuing on the ground until he couldnae laugh anymore.

  “That can’t be real!” he howled. And it took some time tae get through tae him, but Holga explained that just as hobgoblins tend tae have silly names on purpose, because it lets us get close tae powerful people we wannay take down a few notches, trolls have naming conventions that they think are intimidating but are in fact unintentionally amusing.

  “They choose first names tae sound revolting, and Blech is as common as John or Mike. Hork and Plop are also common, and then their surnames often refer tae violence somehow, like Bloodsmear or Limbchop. Karnage with a K is sort of the equivalent of spelling Smith with an i as Smyth with a y.” And then she explained that he earned his title for literally being the bane of hobgoblins’ nuts, and that’s why we needed his help.

  That calmed Cletus down, and he apologized for laughing.

  “It’s awright, ye didnae know. So. How can we make this work?”

  “Well, if you can really steal stuff without getting caught, I want two things: First is the jukebox down at this dive bar called Swampy Dick’s. It has all the songs I like on it, but I don’t like payin’ their beer prices to listen to them. Owner doesn’t like me anyway, on account of the consensual intimate relations I had one time with his sister. You get that jukebox here and plugged in and you’re halfway there. I can build your explosives and listen to my music.”

  “What’s the second thing?”

  “A brand-new queen-sized mattress, stuffed full of cash. Fifties, please, not twenties or hundreds.”

  “Awright, but…why fifties?”

  “Because Andrew Jackson, who’s on the twenty, was pretty much a troll like Blech Karnage. And the one time in my life I tried to pay for something with a hundred-dollar bill was for groceries, and the cashier just stared at me and wouldn’t take it. Asked me i
f it was counterfeit first, and then asked who I stole it from, because I guess I didn’t look like someone who’d ever have a hundred dollars to spend. When I insisted it was real then he changed things up and asked me if I thought I was better than him because I had a hundred dollars. Said I was puttin’ on airs. And he was just way out of bounds, you know, but people were staring at me like I was some snotty rich guy or something, and I guess that embarrassment kind of scarred me, y’know? Even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I just have this negative reaction to hundreds whenever I see them, and I haven’t been back to that store since. He probably doesn’t even work there anymore but I wouldn’t know. I drive all the way up to Meridianville to get my groceries now. And don’t worry, I’m seeing someone and talking this through, because it’s ridiculous how this random encounter with a total shitbird haunts me and has changed my life. It’s been very good for me and I’m getting better. Or maybe…” His eyes darted down tae his ashtray. “Maybe I’m not. Because I’m high as fuck and talking with a hobgoblin about blowing up some trolls. I clearly have my issues too, but I’m working on them. Still want fifties, though.”

  Money is always a thing that humans want, and it’s easy enough tae get if ye can teleport intae a vault and back out again. Holga said, “I will get ye a new queen mattress and plenty of cash and ye can stuff it yerself.”

  “Fair enough.”

  And so they both got tae work. Holga had three different heists tae arrange—a jukebox, a mattress, and some cash—and that took a day or two. But she delivered everything before Cletus did. He needed tae get some supplies in—which he paid for with a good chunk of the cash Holga gave him—and could only work on the weekends. But eventually he pronounced himself ready, detailed what he’d made, what he’d bought, and how it would work, and Holga started planning the liberation of hobgoblins from Blech Karnage the Nutbane.

  Part of it was tae tell all the hobgoblin men that it was time tae sober up and get ready tae return tae Tír na nÓg. Hundreds of humans shook free of the charms we’d laid on them and realized that they hadn’t had strange babies after all. Before I left Kentucky, I told the couple who’d been taking care of me that The Facts of Life was a terrible show and didnae actually contain any facts about life.

  Another part of it was smuggling the iron weapons intae the Fae planes without killing ourselves. They had tae be wrapped and boxed in three crates and then shuttled in using a very stable Old Way, then brought over land slowly, because we couldnae teleport iron at all. That took additional weeks, and all this while, hobgoblin women were stealing fine Islay whiskies tae be crudely gulped, never savored, by mossy troll gobs; diamonds and gold for troll jewelry, which tends tae start at tacky and quickly escalates tae optical nerve damage; and a metric fuckload of cocaine, the abrupt absence of which no doubt caused the deaths of whoever was supposed tae be guarding or transporting it here on earth.

  Yet another part—a rather crucial one—was making sure that Cletus was prepared, mentally, tae pull the trigger.

  “I want tae check first,” Holga said, “because it’s no the kind of thing ye should assume: The important bit about being a troll slayer is the actual slaying. Are ye gonnay be able tae do that?”

  Cletus thought about it before answering. “Well, these are trolls who are enslaving people, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, as long as you give me an out.”

  “An out?”

  “Yeah. If you’ve misrepresented the situation, I shouldn’t be expected to follow through. Liberating folks from slavery is something I can get behind. That’s some monstrous shit and deserves a monstrous response. But if I get there, and, like, the trolls are cute and nice, or the hobgoblins still have their nuts, or I find out that anything you’ve said ain’t true—well, I should be able to hold my fire.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Holga said. “In fact, I’m pure pleased that ye said that. And ye’ll find that I’ve spoken true about every detail.”

  When all was in place, we had tae wait for the right moment tae bring Cletus over, making sure that Blech Karnage was in his den and then getting word tae all the hobgoblins tae clear out discreetly in advance of the attack. It was difficult tae figure that part out, because these were some extremely coked-up trolls we were dealing with. They were paranoid as all the hells. If the hobgoblins just all vanished, Blech would realize sumhin was up.

  And then, on a Sunday, the moment finally arrived. Holga showed up at Cletus’s house as he was washing his truck and detailing it.

  “It’s time,” she said, and presented him with a gift-wrapped box.

  “It’s time, huh? What’s this?”

  “A wee sumhin tae help ye confirm I’ve spoken true.”

  It was a brass spyglass—a telescope. “Ye can have a look at the den ahead of the attack, and if I’ve lied tae ye, ye’ll have an out.”

  “All right,” he said, and he turned his baseball cap around on his heid. “Let’s go.”

  Holga couldnae take Cletus through tae the Fae planes using a bound tree, so they had tae drive in that huge black pickup tae an Old Way in Tennessee, but once Holga got him tae Tír na nÓg, she was able tae use shortcuts tae bring him a few hundred meters away from the den of Blech Karnage the Nutbane. There were twelve hobgoblin women there, and their job was tae protect Cletus so he could get tae Karnage. One of them was ma aunt, Prissy Shitesquirt, who wanted tae avenge ma uncle, and so I have the account from her. (The hobgoblin men, including me, were out of range for the moment; we were gonnay converge on the spot after we knew for sure that we had Karnage trapped inside.)

  There was some cover there, trees and shrubs and the like, and as soon as Cletus arrived, the hobs opened the three boxes of weapons. One of them just contained four handguns with custom ammunition that Cletus had made himself: They fired iron slugs. It was one of the few things that could penetrate the natural armor of troll skin. The boxes were on wheelbarrows, and they’d be pushed alongside Cletus as they advanced, allowing him tae reach in and get whatever he needed. The rest of the hobs had shields tae protect Cletus from return fire, though it wouldnae be gunfire; it would be in the form of spears and arrows.

  The telescope got used first, and Cletus had himself a nice long look.

  The den was an arched cave entrance of grey stone set intae the side of some low hills. Above the entrance and crawling upward, a thin layer of soil allowed some grass and shrubbery tae grow, but of more importance was a guard platform nestled above the entrance. There were also two towers tae either side and set forward about fifty meters—as soon as we left cover, they’d have a clear field of fire. The trolls in them were not bored and sluggish; they were hyperalert and twitchy, in constant movement, and some telltale white powder could be seen on their upper lips. Some of them were grey-skinned sorts, and some were a light blue to Cletus’s eyes but were in fact a light green.

  Unaided, Cletus could see some textured bumps around the entrance itself; with the telescope, he could see that these were the grisly trophies Holga had told him about.

  “God damn,” Cletus breathed. “That there is some evil shit.”

  “I probably should have mentioned,” Holga said, “Blech will try tae take yer nuts too if he can. Just so ye know the stakes here.”

  Before Cletus could reply, a troll patrol discovered them. They’d been quiet in their approach, and the hobs had no been looking tae the flanks. When the trolls saw the hobs, though, they knew immediately that they were staring down a threat. And the presence of a human was a red flag. They roared, raised their spears, and attacked the nearest hobgoblins. Their spear tips pierced nothing but air, however, as the women ported out of the way; Blech Karnage’s enchanted ring wasnae in range.

  Cletus dropped the telescope and lunged for a handgun in a crate. One of the trolls realized he could represent a serious problem and charged. The hobs couldnae stop him—at least no without more t
ime tae prepare. He was eight feet tall and close tae four hundred pounds, and they were two feet tall and maybe fifty pounds on the beefy end.

  Demonstrating a coolness under pressure, Cletus snagged a gun and kept moving, flipping off the safety and jacking a round intae the chamber, then squeezing off three quick shots as the troll bore down on him, spear raised.

  The iron slugs tore intae his chest, first halting his momentum and then knocking him back off his feet, which surprised everyone, really. Trolls are used tae looking and behaving like juggernauts. Cletus fired a round intae his heid tae finish him and then took leisurely aim at the other troll, who’d frozen in surprise, and placed a round between his eyes.

  “No going back now,” Cletus said, tossing aside the gun and moving tae a second crate. “Shields up and out, y’all. We’re taking the towers first.”

  Ma Aunt Prissy was part of the shield wall with Holga, formed of nine hobs because the other three were on the wheelbarrows. The shields were fairly wee and made of wood, just enough tae stop an arrow or a spear, the hope being that we’d see relatively few of them and no a huge volley.

  The bulk of the money Cletus had spent was on a highly illegal black-market purchase of rocket-propelled grenades. There were three American-made M72s, single-use launchers that mounted on the shoulder and fired with little recoil, though Cletus warned everyone no tae stand behind him when he fired, since the blowback from the rocket was intense. As soon as they emerged from cover, the guards in the towers spotted them—they were already looking in that direction because they’d heard the gunshots. They howled and rushed tae grab their bows. The first rocket whooshed out of the tube and sent the tower on the left up in a glorious orange ball of flame, and at that point the guards in the other towers realized they were in a real scrap.