Golem in My Glovebox

by R. L. Naquin

  We walked together down the hall and into the office. The moment we stepped through the doorway, three golem heads popped up from their paperwork.

  “That prisoner should not be out,” one said.

  “Please return the prisoner to its cell,” said another.

  The third rose from his desk. “I will be happy to escort you in the return of the prisoner.”

  Crink’s small hand squeezed mine, and I held it firmly. “I’ve taken this prisoner into my custody. Please sit down. He’ll be coming with me.”

  All three automatons shook their heads and frowned in confusion, and the one standing took a step toward us. “This is unscheduled. Paperwork has not been filed.”

  Art came to my rescue, putting himself between us and the golem. “Return to your work. You’ll receive the proper paperwork soon.”

  They looked at him, then back at us. “We will return the prisoner to his cell. Please file the correct paperwork before proceeding.”

  The three golems, now agitated, attempted to surround us and cut off access to the front door. Riley maneuvered himself in their way so we had a gap, and Crink and I made a break for it.

  “I hate those things,” I said under my breath.

  We ran for the car and jumped in. All my stuff was upstairs, but the car seemed the safest place to go. Of course, I didn’t have keys with me, but if necessary we could at least lock all the doors. Once Riley came outside, we could get out of here—as long as he had keys.

  A moment later, Riley and Art both backed out of the building and down the front steps. They stood in the courtyard watching the door for another minute or two before turning and walking to car.

  The puzzled looks on their faces were almost comical.

  Riley tapped on the window and motioned for me to come out. I patted Crink on the shoulder, unlocked the door and climbed out.

  “Well? What happened?” I peered over his shoulder at the door to the prison, but it didn’t open, and no golems flew out shaking their fists and yelling at me to come back.

  Riley and Art glanced at each other and shrugged.

  “Nothing,” Riley said. “The minute you closed the door behind you, they looked all confused, then went back to their desks to do paperwork again.”

  “What paperwork could they be doing?” Art scratched his chin in thought. “The place is empty.”

  I tilted my head and looked at the main building where Bernice was probably eating breakfast. “Now what do we do? If we go in there, will we be attacked by her golems because we know the truth?”

  Art shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m convinced Bernice has no memory of what she did.”

  “What she’s doing, you mean,” Riley said.

  I frowned. “What else is there? Kathleen is gone.”

  Riley shifted his feet. “Katy’s known where we were every step of the way. The last two murders occurred conveniently close to where we were already working on a Board-related problem.”

  I leaned against the car and thought about that. “But which came first? Did we get sent to that location because that’s where the next murder would be, or did the murder occur there because that’s where we were located?”

  Art shook his head. “The last one came directly from Randall in the call center. I think it’s more likely that Bernice is keeping Kathleen updated on your whereabouts, not that you’re being sent to where Kathleen is.”

  All three of us stood in the circle of dirt, eyeing the main building and wondering what to do.

  “What if Gris is a plant?” Riley asked. “Maybe he’s feeding information to Bernice, who then sends it on to Katy?”

  “I can’t believe that. Gris wanted to get away from here. And Bernice hasn’t treated him very well. I’ve read his emotions—and yes, he now has those. His loyalties lie with us, I guarantee it.” I folded my arms and stared at my rhinestone-studded Keds. They were filthy. “We can’t stand out here all day. I’m going inside.” I took a step forward, and a small hand tugged the hem of my cutoff shorts.

  “Crink is going home now.”

  I’d forgotten all about the little guy. “Where do you live?” Even with me squatting, he was below my eye level, but it was better than making him crane his neck to talk to me.

  He made a vague gesture with one hand. “Outside.”

  That was no help. “How far away is it?”

  “Far.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  He nodded. “The lady is kind to Crink.” He stroked the smooth side of his pressed penny.

  “If you’ll get inside my car and lock the doors, I’ll be back later to help you get home. I want to keep you safe, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to walk out of here on your own just yet. Will that be okay?”

  The gremlin smiled and nodded, then moved in front of the open car door. His color changed to match the interior as he climbed inside. By the time I shut the door behind him, he was nearly impossible to see. A click told me he’d done as I asked and locked himself in.

  A small handprint appeared on the darkened window, and I pressed my hand against it. “We’ll be back soon.”

  The three of us strode up the steps and into the house. We agreed not to make any assumptions and to make an attempt to act like we didn’t know anything. If Bernice wasn’t aware of her own actions, tipping her off wasn’t the best idea. If she did know, she had a golem army in there she could bring down on us, so we had to be prepared to run if necessary.

  Bernice was, in fact, eating breakfast. We found her in the dining room, sopping up egg yolks with her toast. “There you are. I thought everyone was still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. I saw your car outside through the window.” She licked her fingers. “When did you get in? I didn’t even know you were coming.” Bernice waved her hand at a female-looking golem attendant in the corner and it went off to the kitchen to get us some breakfast.

  My stomach gurgled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.

  I slipped into a seat across from Bernice and smiled. “We came in early this morning and didn’t want to wake you.”

  “That’s sweet, but unnecessary. Although, I have to admit, I haven’t been sleeping well. I feel absolutely wretched when I wake up in the morning. I think the stress of all this is taking its toll.” She drained her coffee and set the cup down. “Did you just come in from outside?”

  If I told her where we’d been, would she react with guilt? Alarm? I decided a half-truth was the best way to go. “We went to the prison to check Kathleen’s cell for clues.” I threw open my filters so I wouldn’t miss her reaction.

  Curiosity.

  Worry.

  Hope.

  “Did you find anything we can use?”

  “Nothing, really.” I waited. Her emotions didn’t flicker. She truly wanted this solved. She wasn’t hiding anything.

  Not that she knew of, anyway.

  I chose not to bring Crink into the conversation, not because I thought it would make a difference to Bernice, but because I was sure that whatever Bernice knew, somehow Kathleen would know it, too.

  I was trying to avoid one of those terrible “I know that you know that I know that you know” situations.

  Kathleen needed to remain ignorant that we’d figured out who her mole was, partly so we might later feed her misinformation if we needed to.

  The golem servant came back with a fresh pot of coffee and clean cups.

  “What brought you back so early?” Bernice asked, adding three spoons of sugar into her cup.

  “This,” Riley said. He passed the crayon picture across the table. “We found it in our room when we got back.”

  Bernice’s face went pale. “She was in your room?”

  I nodded. “We left as soon as we could pack.
”

  Fear.

  Worry.

  Bernice wasn’t faking. She truly had no idea what was going on.

  “That settles it,” she said, dragging a cloth napkin across her mouth. “You’re not going back out there. She’s going to kill you.”

  Another servant came through the door carrying a tray laden with eggs, potatoes, sausage and pancakes. Knowing I was probably getting back in the car again in a short while, I dug in and ate as much as I could hold. The food wasn’t up to Maurice’s standards, but it filled the gaping hole in my stomach. Really, nothing was up to Maurice’s standards. I was spoiled.

  We chatted about inconsequential things while we ate, avoiding the subjects of murder, dead bodies and psychopathic empaths.

  “Where do the goblins sleep?” I asked, shoveling hash browns into my mouth. “There’s so many of them. It seems like it would be dangerous to let them come and go on the compound.”

  “Oh, they go home,” Bernice said. “They’ve got bracelets to let them pass through the security spells.”

  “Why don’t we need bracelets?” I asked.

  Riley drained his glass of juice. “We came in through the front gate.”

  “And the goblins don’t?”

  “They live north of here. There’s no gate, just a gap in the fence.”

  “What if someone tries to come in without a bracelet?” The idea that Kathleen, in the guise of a goblin-sized girl, could come and go as she pleased gave me chills.

  Art pushed away from the table so a servant could clear his dirty dishes. “Zapped and detained until security gets there.” His voice was soft and reassuring. “Don’t worry, Zoey. Even if she stole a bracelet or tried to come in with somebody else, it wouldn’t work. She could leave, but she can’t get back in.”

  I nodded. “Okay.” I paused, frowning. “Maurice never got zapped and detained.”

  Art snorted. “No one ever thought about closet and under-the-bed portals before. The security breach has been mended.”

  “He was here the last time.”

  “He has clearance to come through, now.”

  “Ah.” The servant took my plate away, and I finished my coffee. My phone rang, and I answered without thinking. The number was unfamiliar.

  “Zoey, it’s Mina. Rob got a message to me on the wind, but it was faint. He’s in Michigan, and he’s in big trouble.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I debated lying to Bernice about where we were going, but it might have tipped our hand to Kathleen that we were on to her. So, I told her the truth and hoped like hell we’d be able to use her connection to Kathleen later. We still had no idea what that connection was. If Kathleen couldn’t get into the compound, did she have a direct mental connection to Bernice? Smoke signals? A crystal ball or a scrying pool? Without knowing how Kathleen was getting information from an unwitting Bernice, we had to tread lightly.

  At the very least, we didn’t want to trigger some sort of emergency programming Katy might’ve put in Bernice’s head that would send golems after us. And Art had to stay behind, so we didn’t want him in danger, either.

  She fought like hell to keep me from going anywhere, which further solidified her complete ignorance of her role in all this. Kathleen wanted me in Michigan, not safely stuffed away at headquarters.

  The question of whether Katy was leading us or following us didn’t matter anymore. She had changed the rules. This time we were definitely following.

  We grabbed our bags and got the hell out of Dodge. Art promised to do more research on Kathleen’s origins, and Bernice stood in the dirt, wringing her hands as she got smaller in our rearview mirror.

  Two hours out, we stopped in Lincoln, Nebraska and got a room. Having already driven through the night without stopping, we’d never make it to Michigan, even if we continued to take turns napping. Besides, we had a passenger who needed to be dealt with.

  We brought Crink into the room with us, and I called home. I didn’t get a chance to disconnect before Maurice came through the makeshift closet.

  “What happened?” he asked, clutching his phone to a pointy ear.

  We sat him down and told him everything, ending with Crink, who sat in a chair in the corner looking nearly invisible.

  “So,” I said, “I know humans can’t comfortably move through your closet portals, but what about gremlins?”

  Maurice grinned and knelt next to Crink’s chair. “Can you describe where you live, my friend? I can take you there right now if you’re ready.”

  Crink’s green eyes sparkled through the beige and blue fabric colors he’d mimicked. “Crink can go home right now?”

  Maurice held out his hand, and Crink took it. They moved toward the closet alcove, and the gremlin let go and ran to my side. “Crink will tell everyone of the kind lady.” He touched my leg. “Thank you, kind lady.” He returned to Maurice and, when the closet monster bent over, whispered into his ear. In a blink, they were gone.

  Riley took me in his arms and kissed me without warning, making my toes curl and warmth spread through my entire body.

  “What was that for?” I asked, breathless.

  “Just because. Your whole world is crashing around you, we’re on a cross-country manhunt, and you stop to help one gremlin who didn’t even know he needed help.”

  I shrugged. “Was I supposed to leave him there?”

  He laughed, his gray eyes smiling. “Most people would have sent him off to find his own way home.”

  “I didn’t think that would be a good idea.” I yawned. “I’m supposed to keep the Hidden safe. It’s my job.”

  I kicked off my shoes and crawled under the covers, not bothering to get undressed. Shorts and a T-shirt were comfortable enough, especially after driving all night. Riley climbed in next to me, and I cuddled up against him.

  “Mmmph mm,” I said.

  I felt his breath brush my cheek. “Mmmph you, too.”

  * * *

  When I woke, Riley was gone, the television was on with the volume on low, and Maurice sat at the foot of the bed watching a rerun of Three’s Company.

  I stretched and nudged him with my foot. “Is this the episode where there’s a big misunderstanding, hijinks ensue, and it all turns out okay in the end?”

  “No. This is the episode where Crissy sleeps with the senator. Jack goes into a jealous rage and accidentally kills Janet with a sharpened spatula.”

  “Classic. Where’s Riley?”

  “Getting breakfast.”

  I scrubbed my face with my hands and sat up, folding my legs under me. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “Fine.”

  “Since when are you just ‘fine’? What’s wrong?”

  The dramatic sigh told me I was right. He flopped backward on the bed, sprawled across the space my legs had vacated seconds earlier. “Why did you have to bring Stacy back to the house? You could have given her a warning and sent her on her way. But noooooo. You had to make me work with her.”

  I stroked the sparse hairs on the top of his head, trying not to giggle at his dramatics. Maurice was a showman. Sometimes he needed to burn off a little diva energy before getting to the root of a problem. “Sweetie, you can yell at me all you want, but you need to work this out with Stacy.”

  His yellow, upside-down eyes grew wide. “But why? I was perfectly fine. I didn’t need closure.”

  “No?”

  “No!” He scowled. “I’d made my peace.”

  “Had she?”

  “Well, no. I suppose not.”

  “Because she was the injured party, wasn’t she? You haven’t told me what happened because you’re ashamed. Am I right?”

  He pressed his lips together, the perfect picture of a petulant child—if the child in question had ash
-gray skin, pointy ears and large eyes the color of daffodils.

  I rubbed the frown lines in his forehead with my fingertips, trying to coax them smooth. “Sweetheart, everybody makes mistakes. We all hurt each other from time to time without meaning to. And when love is involved, especially young love, we’re not always in control of ourselves.”

  His chin quivered. “But I was such an ass. Zoey, you don’t know.”

  “Did you break up with her to be with Pansy?”

  He nodded, paused, then shook his head. “I never bothered to break up with her. I was just...mean. I guess I thought maybe she’d break up with me. And it wasn’t only Stacy. I ignored all our friends. Started dressing to look tough. Listening to different music. Pansy’s friends were different from mine. Cooler. I tried to be like them.”

  “And Stacy got left behind.”

  He nodded, miserable. “The last time we saw each other wasn’t pretty. We had a big fight. I said some nasty things.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “It’s not too late to tell her you’re sorry.”

  Maurice sat up. “I don’t blame her for hating me.”

  “I doubt she hates you.”

  “She should.”

  “Well, then, talking to her can’t make it worse, can it?”

  “True.” He scooched up the bed to sit against the headboard next to me, and we watched Jack trip and fall, and Crissy and Janet help him up, with nothing but the faint sounds of the laugh track accompanying them in our quiet room.

  A dog food commercial came on, and I unfolded my legs, crossing one foot over the other. “I should go take a shower. I stink.”

  He didn’t look at me. “Yes. You do.”

  I hauled myself from the bed and looked in my bag. “My clothes are missing.”

  “They’re in the washing machine back home. I’ll get you some clean clothes while you’re in the shower.”

  I would never get comfortable with Maurice doing my laundry or digging around in my underwear drawer. Uncomfortable didn’t mean ungrateful, though. “Thank you. Fresh clothes would be nice. I’d expected to wash them at the compound, but we bugged out pretty fast.”