Traveler

by Melanie Jackson

  “And then what happened?”

  Zayn looked about nervously. There were no shrubs to speak of, and all the trees were bare. There wasn’t any place for a goblin to be hiding, even if they were so bold as to be out during the day, but his eyes kept moving fretfully from trees to shrubbery and back again.

  “All but one of the ticks were expelled. I couldn’t figure out at first which signal to follow…” His voice trailed off, and Io had a flash of him stumbling into gargoyle poop while he followed each tracker.

  She managed not to smile. It was hard because somehow, in spite of what she and Jack were facing, she found it difficult not to feel wonderful. Bits of the new magic they had built between them still lingered in her body, reminding her of Jack and how spectacular she could feel when her magic was charged with his.

  “But the other tick kept moving, so I followed it instead,” Zayn continued.

  “That was the one Ferris put on my back, I bet. That wasn’t just a goblin tick. I think that sucker could bore into anything.”

  “Probably.” It cost Zayn something to admit the next statement. “Ferris is a little fanatical and sometimes oversteps the bounds a bit.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. So where’d the gargoyle go after it snacked on the tourists?”

  “Back to Hille. She finally went down into the basement and started for the lake, so I followed her down below and tracked her—all the way to Horroban,” Zayn whispered. His face was white and he kept licking his lips, but his mouth was so parched that there was nothing to moisten them with. He tried a second sip of coffee, being more cautious this time. “I don’t know how you stood it down there. I was only under for a couple of hours and thought I’d die from the heat while I hid in the tunnel and watched the two of them make it.”

  Io sat up, ignoring Zayn’s complaining about the heat or watching goblin sex, and she asked urgently. “You saw Horroban? Well, who is he?”

  Zayn turned his head to face her. His eyes were huge and looked like broken glass. He was terrified.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper as she asked again, “Zayn, who is Horroban? What does he look like?”

  Zayn inhaled deeply and then exhaled as though preparing for a deep dive. He inhaled once more, and then said the name of the man expected to win the presidential election that next Tuesday.

  Io went white too. Goblins had tried for the White House before, but fortunately for humankind they had never been able to mask their underlying oddity and therefore hadn’t had any real chance of succeeding. This time, humanity’s luck had seemingly run out.

  “Have you told Xanthe yet?” she asked.

  Zayn shook his head, the motion jerky and completely lacking his usual grace.

  “Don’t tell her, Zayn. You can’t.”

  “Why not?” he asked, frustrated. Then “Something is wrong, isn’t it? I can sense it. I almost told her, but at the last minute I…I stopped.”

  Io did some deep breathing of her own. She had to make a decision. Did she confide in Zayn, or try to blank his mind? She might be able to bend the truth spell enough to do it.

  Or she might not. Zayn carried his own magic, and it was a completely hostile act, a form of rape, to use magic on one another without permission. He would probably fight back.

  “Yeah, Zayn. Something is very wrong,” she finally answered. “Xanthe is working with Horroban.”

  Zayn looked stricken, as though someone had taken a knife of cold iron and plunged it into his gut, but he didn’t deny her contention.

  “Why?” he whispered. “How could she?”

  “It’s Chloe,” Io answered, knowing this would upset Zayn even more. He was fond of Xanthe’s little sister. Very fond. “Horroban has her, in the underground probably. He’s turned her into a goblin-fruit junkie and is holding her hostage to Xanthe’s good behavior. As long as we go chasing after the jewel, no problem. But if we get near his crop of goblin fruit or Lutin’s factory, Chloe gets the chop and Xanthe’s reputation gets smeared. Or at least that’s what we believe.”

  “That son of a diseased water moccasin!” Red rage bloomed in Zayn’s pale cheeks. He looked at Io with hot eyes that glittered angrily. She had never seen him so passionate about anything. “What are you and Jack going to do?”

  Io looked at Zayn and thought some more about how much she should tell him.

  Jack headed back for Goblin Town, pleased with the day’s work. He had two new pistols, both made of a light polymer, compact and silenced, and fitted with laser sights. They made him feel a bit more on top of things.

  Trolls could batter a man to death, given even half a chance, and goblins liked to strangle. Those were their traditional methods of killing. However, even tradition had to bow before practicality. Guns were a great equalizer when you were smaller than the people you hated, and the goblins had apparently learned that through the years. Jack had seen so firsthand.

  He would have worried about bombs from the bugs, too, but he knew they had discovered that technology and magic didn’t go real well together. Goblins got the whole point-bang concept, but were less comfortable with finicky timing devices that tended to blow up when brushed by careless magic.

  Guns weren’t traditionally fey, either, but bullets could outrun most magic, so Jack too had to be practical.

  He patted his bag. The goblins had guns; now he and Io did too. It kept things more even. Murder wasn’t the most elegant solution to their problem, but it seemed the only effective one.

  If he pulled it off.

  The ammunition in the clips he’d packed was staggered—cold iron and then hunting rounds, designed to blow big messy holes in the body. Not knowing what he and Io would be up against, and some beasties not responding well to certain types of ammo, it seemed prudent to be packing both. Gargoyles, goblins, trolls—who knew what the night might bring?

  It also felt damn good to know that Cisco had his back covered and would take out Lutin’s factory while he and Io ruined the underground and its main bad guy. Demolishing the factory was secondary to eradicating the crops, but it would help foil the goblins’ plan. Jack would take the help either way, especially since nothing else was being offered in the way of official assistance.

  He shifted his duffle bag into his left fist as he neared the iron gates of Goblin Town. He wanted his right hand free in case he needed to do a quick draw with his new pistol. He was ambidextrous, but slightly faster with his right hand. It was just a precaution, but one he took because the stakes they were gambling were astronomically high, and he had every intention of getting back to Io alive.

  The thought of her attempting to destroy Horroban’s empire on her own made his blood frost. Her fate, if she was caught, didn’t bear thinking of. Horroban would probably turn her into a humanskin lampshade and a new belt. And the goblin warlord wouldn’t be so kind as to stop her heart before he started working either.

  The troll on duty that afternoon hung back deep in the shadows of the toll booth, and didn’t question Jack as he paid his admission fee and stuck his hand into the basin to draw an entry spell.

  Jack fished about carefully until he found what he wanted: an enlarging charm. With this new magic—modified, of course—and the hair spray in his duffle, Io would be able to make one hell of a firebomb. She’d be able to go through the hive with a flamethrower and take out everything standing more than an inch above the ground. The spell would work on his canister of salt, too. Io could multiply the little grains until there was enough to sterilize every field down there.

  At least it would sterilize every field they could find. Jack didn’t kid himself that he knew where they all were. He and Io would keep looking as long as they could, but the hive was vast and something would escape them. That was Murphy’s Law as applied to goblins.

  Of course, he didn’t like sending Io down alone to deal with the crop, but she’d proven herself resourceful and there was something even more important and dangerous that he had to do that night. It wasn’t somethin
g that Io would like, and not what Cisco could ever officially acknowledge was good policy, but everyone understood that Horroban had to die. The goblin warlord had too many powerful friends in too many powerful places. Jack and Io might wipe out this crop of goblin fruit, but there would be others again and soon, because no one in authority would ever put Horroban away. As long as the goblin warlord lived, humankind would be in peril.

  That was what Jack had really meant when he said he was choosing the “final solution.” It wasn’t just the hive that was going to be taken out.

  The acknowledgment of what needed doing was unspoken, but it was a cause that Cisco had been ready to risk his badge and life for. He had a wife and two kids to think about after all, so he’d been willing to help Jack in whatever way he could.

  And it didn’t hurt Jack’s cause that Cisco was a bit of a pyro and just plain liked blowing things up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jack had the frightening capacity to stand in utter stillness when he was either angered or assessing. He paused inside the door, inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of Io’s fear and perhaps seeing some of Zayn’s magic clinging to the edge of her aura, and then froze. An eternity later he said “You told Zayn about Chloe, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Io admitted, looking him in the eye, though it was difficult because his expression was remote. The new coldness after their morning together made her heart twist. “It was the lesser of two evils. Either I gave him a reason not to go to Xanthe or else I had to blank his mind.”

  “And telling him everything seemed the lesser evil?”

  “I didn’t tell him everything. But, yes.” Io swallowed. “Jack, things are worse than we thought. Worse than we even imagined. We will probably need Zayn.”

  “I don’t doubt that things are worse than we imagined,” Jack said calmly, putting down his duffle. His expression was annoyed. “This has been a pain from the start, but we haven’t had nearly enough trouble.”

  Apparently their brush with gargoyles didn’t count. Jack’s nonchalance about that helped Io stay calm.

  “Zayn found out who Horroban is.”

  Jack looked up from his bag, his expression momentarily arrested. “How did Zayn manage this?” His voice was cool.

  “He followed Hille’s gargoyle. It ate my ticks.” Io pulled her hair back from her face and exhaled. “Look, I know you don’t trust Zayn—”

  “With cause.”

  “But you don’t understand something about this situation.”

  “Quite probably. So why don’t you stop fussing with the small stuff and explain what I don’t get?” Jack asked politely, trying hard not to let his exasperation show but failing.

  “Zayn is in love with Chloe,” Io blurted out. She regretted her words almost as soon as she uttered them.

  “What?” Jack looked revolted.

  “You heard me. They were lovers once upon a time, but Xanthe intervened. She asked him not to see Chloe until she was older and through with school.”

  “And this helps us how?” Jack was obviously unimpressed with her logic in regard to Zayn’s motivations, or perhaps didn’t believe the truth of them. “Assuming you’re right and he does actually love her, you don’t think his first loyalty is to Chloe’s sister, his boss?”

  “No, I don’t. Jack, listen to me. I was there when his brother died. Zayn hates the goblins—and he knows exactly what happens with goblin-fruit junkies. He might not have listened to our theories about Lutin’s perfume being an addictive agent as long as Xanthe wasn’t interested, but he damn sure listened to the fact that Chloe is being turned into a junkie—and that Xanthe isn’t doing anything to stop Horroban because she would rather have a drug-addicted sister than a dead one.”

  “I see.” Jack’s voice was still neutral, but he was listening.

  “He also knows that after next Tuesday, it won’t matter anymore. None of it will. Horroban will probably cut his losses and kill Chloe.” Io tried to fight down her returning agitation, but it was difficult with Jack’s annoyance and magic crawling all over her. He had obviously picked up some strong spell on his way back into town and been tweaking it.

  “I see. So you haven’t got to the crux of the matter yet, have you? What’s the punch line?”

  “What?” Io blinked.

  “Who the hell is Horroban, and why will he kill Chloe after Tuesday. Nothing is going on in the next week except—” Jack stopped cold. “Are you saying that Horroban is one of the candidates for the senate?”

  Io shook her head.

  “Governor?”

  “No.”

  “Not the presidency. It can’t be.”

  “Jack, Horroban is William Hamilton!” Io pulled back her hair again. “William Hamilton. The polls say he’ll take it in a landslide.”

  Jack muttered something really bad in troll.

  “I hadn’t heard that one before,” Io said, trying for a note of lightness. “I’ll remember for the next time I find myself in an appropriate situation. So, any constructive thoughts about what we should do with this new problem? Zayn wants to help, but I haven’t told him anything definite.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, I have thoughts. We do exactly what we always planned to do—and we do it very, very well. And you let me talk to Zayn from here on out. I don’t trust him not to sacrifice you if you get between him and Chloe.”

  “Fine. But you will have to talk to him or he’ll go in after Chloe alone. Soon.”

  “Moronic hothead,” Jack muttered. “Nothing like a fey in love with a human to make bad things even more difficult. There is no stupider animal in the annals of history than a love-struck faerie.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  “I’ll talk to him before he screws us up. Don’t worry about it. Actually, I suppose the news could have been worse.”

  Io stared at Jack, unhappy with what his words implied but not arguing. Fey-human romances rarely worked out well in the long term. And Zayn was talking wildly. He might very well do something stupid that would endanger everyone. The fact that Io sympathized wouldn’t interest Jack. It would probably make him further question her judgment.

  Jack lifted his duffle onto the table and unzipped the central compartment. His movements were easy and his magic had folded back in on itself.

  “Come here, little fey.” Jack’s eyes had lost their cold cast and he smiled as he looked over at her. Relieved that he was through being annoyed, Io stepped closer.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Oh the usual—salt, hair spray, handguns. That isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.”

  “No?”

  “No. I brought you a present.” Jack slid off his long coat and threw it down on the table. He began unbuttoning his cuffs.

  “Yeah?” Io looked up at him, wondering if he was flirting with her. With Jack, it was sometimes hard to tell. “And what might that be? Candy? Flowers?”

  “Come here and kiss me and you’ll find out.”

  “How about a hint?” Io suggested, running a finger down Jack’s shirt. She stopped at his belt buckle. “I can feel the spell sparking all over the place. It isn’t standard issue. You’ve been playing with it.”

  “I’ve been supercharging it,” Jack admitted. “But I’ll let you do the final customizing.”

  “Uh-huh. And what kind of spell is it?”

  “An enlarging spell.”

  “An enlarging spell! Now that sounds interesting—not that you need to be any larger.” She let her fingers drift lower. Her heart turned over and her nerves trilled, but this time it wasn’t with alarm. “Or maybe you want me to be a little more gifted.”

  Jack’s thin lips twisted in a smile. “We’ll play that way later if you really want to,” he promised. “Right now, I want to show you how to make a flamethrower.”

  She gave him a coy look. “Is that what you call it? Well, everyone should have a pet name for it, I guess.”

  “Pay attention, Io. I mean it.” He tried for
properly stern, but somehow fell short.

  Io looked up. “I’m all ears.”

  “You’re all hands.” Jack stepped back from her. “I’m not joking, honey. With this spell and a can of hair spray, you have something better than napalm. But you’ll need to practice so you don’t hurt yourself.”

  “If it’s that dangerous, why don’t you handle it?” Io asked. “This is more your speed anyway. I’m kind of a slug-’em-and-run sort of girl.”

  “I can’t handle it.” Jack paused, then added, “I won’t be there.”

  “What? Why not?” All urge to tease fell away. Io stared at him, trying to read his face and failing to, as she so often did. “Where exactly will you be?”

  Jack met her gaze squarely and said precisely what she had been fearing to hear ever since Zayn had revealed Horroban’s identity.

  “I’m going after Horroban.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not alone.”

  “Someone’s got to take him out, Io. We both know it,” Jack explained gently. “But we have to get those fields, too, or it’s a Pyrrhic victory even if Horroban dies.”

  “No,” she repeated. But she knew Jack was right. Someone had to get rid of Horroban—permanently. And before next Tuesday.

  And after tomorrow night they would have burned their bridges; Horroban would have warning after the attack on the fruit fields that someone was onto his plans, and would disappear behind a wall of Secret Service men until it was too late to stop him. Once in the White House, killing him would be next to impossible—supposing he actually allowed any humans the opportunity to live long enough to attempt assassination.

  He would also loose his dogs upon her and Jack in retaliation. Between the goblins and the resources of the U.S. government, there wasn’t anywhere on earth that she and Jack would be safe from his retribution.

  Horroban had to die, or they would. They all would.