Traveler

by Melanie Jackson

  “Here,” he whispered. “This is Neveling’s place—notice the early Anthill Revival style.”

  Io nodded without smiling.

  They slipped into the shadow of the uneven building and waited, listening intently for any sound that indicated goblins were working nearby. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, but…Io reached up and, for the first time since entering the hive, she removed her nose breather.

  She sniffed carefully. The lack of expected scent was stunning. She couldn’t smell anything even remotely goblinish coming from the open doorway of the building they were hiding behind. More startling, the odors that floated on the air belonged above the ground: wet earth, rotting timber, gasoline fumes, hot tires.

  Jack, seeing her arrested expression, quickly removed his own breather. He and Io took one more breath together, tasting the foreign air, then reinserted their nose filters.

  Neither spoke. Just because they didn’t smell goblin didn’t mean that there wasn’t some modified goblin goon or giant troll waiting inside to douse them with poisoned perfume. Or just to bite their heads off.

  The thought was instantly undermining. Io had a short, sharp internal struggle that pitted her will against her unhappy imagination. She could feel dread trying to invade her and make her weak. It whispered about the unseen things in the dark, slinking about, waiting to eat them, or to turn them into goblin slaves that would eventually feed the fruit fields.

  It took an act of supreme will to deny the images of her mother’s mangled body rising up from her imagination. The corpse had not been pretty once the goblin gangs were done with it.

  “Time to go,” Io whispered to herself, taking a step closer to the door and then stopping when she heard a soft, mechanical tick, tick, tick.

  Alarmed, Io pulled out her gun and held it pointed upward and tight against her chest. Jack nodded approval, pointed to his own chest and then around the corner. Io nodded back, her overactive imagination quite happy to let him go first. She knew nothing about bombs.

  After the horrors she imagined waiting for them inside the building, it was deflating to discover an ordinary garage with only a strange low-slung limo as occupant. It was the car’s cooling engine that was ticking like a clock.

  The limo was long, black, and had tinted bullet-proof windows. It had an immaculate finish that shone like polished glass. The car was somehow familiar, perhaps something Io had seen on TV and—without any logical reason—she loathed it on sight.

  She and Jack did a quick scan of the garage for hostiles, but it was empty and featureless except for some sort of electrical box and two doors. One of those doors they had used as an entrance; the second was a side door leading into the misshapen building beyond.

  Jack and Io walked softly toward the car, yet the floor beneath them still rang hollowly with every step. Puzzled, Io looked at Jack.

  He shook his head and kept moving. They positioned themselves outside the limo’s passenger door. Jack reached out a gloved hand and eased the latch up. There was no resistance, and the door opened silently.

  He and Io took shelter on either side of the car door, again listening for sounds of occupation, but other than the slow ticking of the cooling engine, all was silent.

  Jack finally leaned over and looked inside. When he didn’t pull back, Io joined him in the wide opening. They were both careful not to touch anything with bare skin—the goblins had a keen sense of smell when it came to human flesh and would know if the car had been invaded.

  The leather seats made Io’s own skin crawl. She was certain that the leather was made from human beings. There was also plush carpeting that looked suspiciously like woven human hair—dyed a uniform black—a CD player, a cabinet for liquor or whatever else the limo’s owner might be drinking, and seating for ten. It was almost a standard limo in appearance, except for the guns, neatly racked in the ceiling and between the seats. Handguns, machine guns, guns sawed off and silenced—and most likely missing their serial numbers.

  Io felt cold, but she didn’t know if it was the cooler temperature in the garage or if her nerves had taken a permanent chill.

  “It’s good to be a little afraid,” Jack said softly, guessing her mood. He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “It gives the body adrenaline and gets the muscles ready to work.”

  Io nodded. Fight or flight—fear would facilitate either. She knew that was true, but still didn’t like the feeling. She had never been one to terrify herself with scary movies just for the fun of it. Terror was a relatively new experience for her.

  “You know what these seats are made of?” she asked.

  “Yeah. They really make full use of those junkies,” Jack joked.

  Io looked back at the car, willing herself not to vomit. The interior, the guns—it all was a signal she could not ignore: Beware.

  “Why a limo?” she asked suddenly, the question popping out of her subconscious. She seized on the distraction gratefully. “There aren’t any roads down here.”

  Jack pointed up. “It’s for above. This room is an elevator, an industrial one. I think I know where we are now. This is under the old GM plant.”

  Io blinked, picturing the layout of the old auto factory.

  “Okay. But why a limo?” she asked again. “A motorcycle would work better here in the tunnels, and it would be way more in keeping with goblin machismo.”

  Jack shrugged, then said, “My best guess? It’s for Horroban, so he won’t be seen on the outside when he leaves. You may have noticed that our industrialist goblin is media shy. Perhaps he’s really, really ugly.”

  “H-he’s here?” The small hairs at the back of Io’s nape began to creep. The feeling she’d been having of ants crawling over her skin intensified.

  Jack nodded. “Probably visiting Neveling, checking up on his investments.”

  “So…we might be able to get them both, if we go in now.” It took an effort to say the words, to suggest that they actually confront the monster. Io had never been less prepared for a face-to-face challenge in her life. “W-we could kill them here—before they can do any more harm.”

  “We could. Maybe. But there will be bodyguards everywhere. If we shoot Lutin and Horroban, we’ll have the entire goblin nation after us. And anyway, we don’t necessarily need to kill them—wiping out their crop will stop them, and it gives us time to bring in the authorities. Then we can do things by the book.”

  Io was suddenly suspicious. So much reason and advocacy toward law and order didn’t go with Jack’s reputation.

  “I don’t think Chloe will be with him,” Jack added. “If we want to get her out, then we need to wait.”

  Io chewed her lower lip. Everything Jack was saying was true, but she had the feeling that he was only saying it because she was with him and he didn’t want her involved in anything dangerous. The thought both pleased and aggravated her.

  “It isn’t that I want to die. But, Jack…if we have the chance tonight—”

  He cut her off. “I thought we came to gather information. We don’t even know that Horroban is here. Maybe he sends this car down for detailing once a week. Hell, we don’t even know for sure that we are right about the goblin perfume. Remember Little Big Horn and the Alamo? Both bad judgments. Let’s not go cowboy before we have to.” He winked at her.

  Io slumped. “You’re right. I’m jumping the gun. My nerves are screaming at me to do something quick so we can get out of here, and I’m making mistakes,” she admitted.

  He grinned. “I don’t blame them. Very sensible things, those nerves. So, we’re going to take a page from their book and be sensible too. He who snoops and runs away, lives to snoop another day.” He waved a hand at the car. “We’ll look a little more and then we’ll come up with a plan. But right now, I’m thinking that it will be easier to destroy the crops than Horroban.”

  Io straightened. “And once again we are running out of time. We’ve got to be out of here before the goblins come home.”

  “
And we need incendiary supplies if we are going to blow anything up.”

  “Jack?” Io girded herself to ask a question. “These aren’t nerves talking now, okay? I want to know if you’re sorry I’m here.”

  “Of course I’m sorry you’re here. I’m sorry that I’m here.”

  “That isn’t what I mean,” she said, exasperated. “Are you sorry we met? Sorry we ended up partnered for this mission? Sorry—”

  “Sometimes you say the dumbest things,” he answered. “And this is no time to start acting like a girl. I know you’re freaked, but shake it off!”

  “I am not acting like a girl!” she snapped. Aggravation pushed her fear away; something she suspected was supposed to happen, as Jack had likely calculated his answer’s effect. Grateful for his bracing treatment, she nevertheless decided to see the conversation through. She added reasonably, “I am not the best person to have along in terms of training or natural abilities. A lot of the feys have great magical powers—I’ve only got blue eyes.”

  And a real taste for fey sex. But she pushed that thought away.

  “Blue eyes that can see in anything except pitch black. And you have immunity to most illness—a real plus here in Goblin Town—as well as the capacity to heal from wounds that would incapacitate a regular human.” Jack added the last bit impatiently as he closed the limo door. “Besides, you are willing and available. I like that in a woman. Now quit trying to pick a fight with me and look for goblins.”

  Io ignored the exasperation that welled up in her at both observations, reminding herself that Jack wasn’t necessarily indulging in double entendre. It could—just possibly—seem to him that she was trying to force an argument.

  “You could use Zayn,” she went on doggedly. “He’s good with magic.”

  “I don’t care if he’s memorized Merlin’s grimoire and has the Amazing Kreskin’s cheat book. Zayn can’t think for himself. I’d have to be on him every minute telling him when to wipe his…uh, nose.” Jack straightened to his full height. “Now, are we done? We can have the relationship talk later—like after we have a relationship.”

  “Goddess, you are arrogant! Who says there’s going to be a relationship?”

  “I do. And it’s all part of the service.” Jack smiled. He touched her chin with his finger. “You know, you are so cute when you’re angr—”

  “Don’t say it! I really, really hate it when men say that!” Io could tell that her eyes were beginning to glow.

  “If you get to act like a girl, then I should get to act like a guy. And would you mind turning down the high beams? It’s like being around Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.”

  Io fumed, but she considered the validity of his argument. It took her a minute to drain the magical buildup from her eyes.

  “Okay. I’m not saying that I’m acting like a girl,” she warned. “But we can talk about this later.”

  “Or not. It’s just your nerves making you try to pick a fight and let off some steam. You’ll get used to the adrenaline flood with time,” he reassured her. “It’s like your goblin allergies. You’ll build a tolerance with exposure.”

  “I will?”

  “Guaranteed. So…time to go?” Jack asked.

  “Time to go,” Io agreed. She exhaled, turning loose her annoyance completely so that she could pay complete attention to what lay ahead. It would be stupid to die down here because she was miffed at Jack.

  “So, what do you think? The door? Or do we elevate up and out of here?” Jack asked, watching her, waiting for her to make a decision.

  He was probably worried that her nerves were fraying faster than he could fix them, and offering her a dignified out. A part of her very much wanted to take the suggestion they depart, but she ignored the impulse. Their little spat had turned down the voice of dread until it was just more unpleasant background noise.

  “The elevator is probably too noisy. Though it would be fun to piss Horroban off by joyriding in his limo,” she added, then jerked her head at the other door. “Your ears are better than mine. Give it a listen. Make sure there aren’t any gargoyles on the other side, slobbering with anticipation of their next meal.”

  “I’m willing to bet that the gargoyles are locked up. It wouldn’t do to have them accidentally nipping the meal ticket while he’s in town.”

  “Yeah, but who’s to say they aren’t locked up behind that door?”

  “Good point. I’ll go listen.”

  “Okay.” Io looked at the limo again, something about it still bothering her. “Jack, have you ever seen a car like this?”

  “Sure, just not in Goblin Town. You usually see this kind of armoring and bullet-proof glass in Washington, DC, where the politicos go in fear for their overpaid hides.”

  “I wonder where Horroban got the thing. And who from.”

  “Where and who, I don’t know. But the why is obvious enough.”

  “Sure, he knows we’re on his trail and is quaking in all three pairs of custom-made boots,” Io joked.

  “He’s a lowlife for sure, but I doubt he goes about on his belly.” Jack chuckled at the idea, and then fell quiet as he laid his ear against the door.

  Io stayed quiet too, listening for sounds of approach from the other doorway.

  After a moment Jack tried the knob. It was locked, but not for long. He extracted a thick bent wire from his pocket and set to work on the lock.

  “Bingo.” He turned around to grin at her. His smile was nothing like the Mona Lisa Giaconda’s. It involved teeth and a wicked twinkle in his eyes, and it did vandalism to Io’s female heart and pulse points.

  “I thought you had a spell for that sort of thing.”

  “I do. I just like to keep in practice.”

  “Men! They always do it the hard way.”

  “Of course. It doesn’t work if it isn’t hard.”

  Io didn’t reprimand him. She’d walked into that one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Io found that trips into the Labyrinth involved two types of conflicting time: emotional, which said she had been stuck on the wrong side of this earthly divide for long enough; and logistical, which showed with every glance at her watch that the opposite was true. Time fled at an indecent rate, and she and Jack weren’t moving fast enough. Her nerves, strained by perpetual watchfulness, simply wanted it to all be over.

  Jack had to jimmy another lock on a metal fire door before they were in the building proper. He did it as efficiently as he did everything, but every second’s delay seemed a wasted eternity.

  The building they entered was human built; the room perhaps a basement, but quite ugly anyway. It was uniformly unpainted concrete, long expanses of gray wall and ceiling broken only by florescent lighting fixtures, a few doors, and clusters of insulated pipes that punched through from above. The hall looked a bit like that of a prison, but there were no cells or barred doors, only wooden ones.

  They paused at the first door, Jack laying an ear against it. After a moment he tried the handle, and finding it open, they stepped inside. There was no furniture, but the right wall had a window cut in it, which was paned with strange thick dark glass. On the other side of the translucent barrier was a conference room where a bizarre sort of board meeting was in progress.

  “It’s a two-way mirror,” Jack said softly. “They shouldn’t be able to see or hear us—but don’t get too close anyway.”

  Io nodded, barely able to speak because of the spooky feeling filling her throat with new alarm. She took one more step toward the glass and then stopped.

  “Is that Horroban?”

  “I think so.” They both stared hard. They couldn’t see the goblin’s face or body, but the back of his head looked chillingly familiar—so familiar and chilling that Io barely noticed the CEO of the New York Stock Exchange sitting across from him.

  Of course, there were other reasons besides Horroban’s presence not to notice the small man in his business suit and power tie. There was lots of muscle cluttering up the room,
both human and troll, and all quite large enough to be in the WWF or linebacking for the NFL. To have described them as “armed and dangerous” would have been an ironic warning, for their bulging, hairy arms were hazards in and of themselves.

  The part of Io’s brain that clung desperately to everyday details in the hope of denying where she was, thought it was a shame that the custom-made suits fit so poorly over their guns. That they were custom made she couldn’t doubt. Suits that big didn’t come off-the-rack even at the Big and Tall stores. The creatures in them were almost certainly genetically customized as well.

  She and Jack couldn’t hear the conversation in the other room, but they felt the vibration when a modified goblin in a lab coat was thrown against the door hard enough to crack its mirror-window in two places.

  “Wanna bet Xanthe just lost her mole?” Jack asked.

  “Sucker bet,” Io responded. Her words were flip, but she felt bad for the goblin who had tried to help H.U.G.

  There was more confirmation of the reality of what Io was seeing when two trolls pulled away from the wall where they slouched and opened up on the hapless snitch with AK-47s, proving that they were thorough—if not necessarily crack—shots.

  Io and Jack both fell to the floor and covered their heads, waiting for the shattered glass to tumble out of its frame and splatter them. It didn’t happen, but only because it was enforced with some kind of wire mesh.

  The benefit of the goblin’s death and their own subsequent close call with the door glass was demonstrated a moment later when someone spoke in the other room and they could finally hear the conversation.

  “Neveling,” hissed a soft voice. “Fetch your pets. We have to get rid of this traitor’s body—they may as well have a snack. Don’t look so glum,” the voice added, apparently now addressing the trolls. “This one has had some unusual gene therapy. He wouldn’t taste good—especially not filled with lead.”