Chaos Tryst

by Shirin Dubbin

  “This is not normal?”

  “No. For some reason my entire family and all our friends have each found excuses to hire me in the last two weeks.” She scratched the top of her head. “The exhaustion is finally catching up with me. I’m dangerous when I’m sleepy.”

  Maks flexed and folded his fingers. “Chaos dangerous?”

  “Uh huh. You saw what happened to your window. I’m…I’m not nearly on my parents’ level but that’s part of the problem.” She looked ashamed for a moment but shook it off. “I need a nap…or a coma. A coma would be nice.” Light filled her eyes. “Hit me.”

  He considered it. Bah. He could not. “I will not strike you.”

  “You did it for the goblin.”

  “He deserved it.”

  “And I don’t?”

  There was that. She did deserve it, but he still couldn’t do it. He would have to maintain calm enough for them both. “As you have told me, vorovka, pull up your underoos and handle it like a big girl.”

  Ari groaned. “I did pull them up. They’ve got Wonder Woman on them and everything.” She clapped her hands over her eyes.

  If it were possible for Maks to do more than gruff in amusement, he would have then. The realization caught him off guard. Normally only his brothers had the ability to bring him to the brink of laughter.

  “You will be fine,” he said. “I am here with you.”

  Why had he told her this? She whirled in his direction with the glee of a child who’d had a good night trick-or-treating. Oh no. Without further warning she lunged, yelling, “Hold me.”

  Maks extended his arm, a steel beam between them, and caught her on the neck before she had moved more than an inch. “Control yourself.”

  She leaned into him. A couple of his fingers fell across her lips and smushed them. “Deres no need ta stong armee.”

  “I would not need to strong arm you if you were in control of yourself.” He relaxed his arm. She straightened and sighed. “Mean and surly. And I’m not kidding about the mean this time.”

  Maks forged ahead. A thought struck. Ari had said she couldn’t go to sleep without risking her entire night’s work. She took the job seriously. Why, then, had she asked him to knock her unconscious? He looked back. Ari followed behind him with lightness to her steps and a smile on her face. When she realized he watched, the smile dissolved and the trudging returned.

  He turned away lest he smile himself. The returner had sensed his mood and sought to take his mind from his troubles. Lovely and also kind.

  And a liar by blood, a thief by profession, he reminded himself.

  A stench saved him from examining the returner’s pros and cons further; dead plants and rot strangled his sense of smell. The closer they came to goblin territory, the worse the stink became. They had reached the Scar and would hopefully bypass the thirteen-foot width of it quickly.

  Ari scrunched up her nose. “What is that stink?”

  “I do not know.”

  They rounded the last of the wall. Ari gasped and rushed to the hodgepodge faux-iron fence sectioning off this side of the Scar. Her fingers intertwined with ones akin to desiccated twigs. Frannie. She must have sensed their approach and come to meet them.

  Maks took a place beside Ari at the fence and fisted his hands around the bars. What had once been lush bark-brown skin was rough and fallow. Hair he remembered flowing to the ground in a mane of flowering ivy had been reduced to dried and broken stems, sticking out here and there across the exposed scalp.

  This could not be Frannie standing before him, the stench of her almost overwhelming. He had often admired the half wood nymph, half wood sprite and her commitment to the hills of her birth. She’d never been as strong as an earth goddess—the combined goblin and ogre territories were the extent of her reach—but she’d cared for the land for centuries, and it had blossomed beneath her loving ministrations. So much so the district had originally been called by her name. Time and egos had changed Frannie’s Way into Fanaweigh. Still it remained hers. Her charge. Her child.

  She’d tended the hills, woods and fields until the Scar sprung up and displaced the central gardens. Nothing grew there anymore, as though the soil had been salted. And now this bastion of green growing things stood before him wasting away, as did the motherly power she exerted over Fanaweigh. Frannie could not leave the land yet she could no longer live there either. Vicious circles did not get much worse.

  Maks had known she was not well but he hadn’t anticipated this. He’d been too involved in the day-to-day workings of his own life to worry over Frannie or her namesake. Modern life worked this way. In his mind the Scar had become another part of the Faebled world. They’d always known darkness and destruction. He hadn’t thought to make an effort to change things. Knowing the magicks within him, he likely would have worsened the situation. Lame. This was no reason not to have tried.

  Did the Grand High Oni even realize he played the accomplice in the murder of his own kingdom? Maks doubted it.

  Frannie would soon be dust and nothing more. What would become of the denizens of this district then? And why hadn’t Maks’s Oracle of Order brother, Konstantin, divined this outcome?

  Another oddity.

  The returner stroked Frannie’s face and rough patches of skin disintegrated. Ari made to pull away but the earth-spirit grabbed the hand and cradled it to her cheek.

  “Is there something we can do for you?” Ari asked. Frannie shook her head sadly.

  Maks said, “I will speak with the Grand High Oni. He must be made to see reason.”

  “You think he’ll see reason when protests and human lawsuits haven’t changed his mind?”

  Maks snarled at no one in particular. To Frannie he said, “Have you appeared to the Grand High Oni? Surely he—”

  The earth-spirit shrunk back, covering her mouth with a brittle hand. The twigs on her scalp shook.

  Ari forced her body as far into goblin territory as the bars allowed and reached for Frannie. The other Faeble was slow to reach back. “She’s afraid of The Ogre,” Ari said, sadness coating her voice.

  Maks practiced his calming exercise three times over. It would not do for Ari and him to become emotional at the same time. The effects of their combined chaos could cause the Scar to grow or suck Frannie down into the earth for a final burial.

  “As I have said, the Grand High Oni and I will have words tonight.”

  Ari nodded, still focused on comforting the earth-spirit. Her care appeared to have wrought a small improvement. The patches beneath where Ari’s touch brushed the skin away looked healthier—although not quite healthy.

  “Wat are you two long and ganglies doing there?” said a voice. The border patrol had caught them. Three “officers” stood in triangle formation, doing their best imitations of menacing. Their mishmash uniforms caused them to fall far short of their goal; the leader wore a policeman’s cap she’d combined with medical scrubs and a marching band jacket. The oversized nightstick at her waist didn’t give her much of an advantage either. Not when any trespasser would likely flip themselves over laughing. Her squad mates were no less comical.

  Ari whispered assurances to Frannie before stepping away from the fence. The earth-spirit vanished.

  Turning to her ten o’clock Ari made a show of brushing off her jumpsuit and straightening her collar. When she’d finished, the glare she fixed on the three-goblin unit could’ve served as a master class in intimidation. Sparks of chaos blazed around her.

  The patrol shifted uncomfortably.

  As a spectator, Maks found himself liking the returner more and more.

  “We’re planning on eating you three in a pie,” Ari said matter-of-factly, her arms folded across her chest. “We’ve already felled Corbel and Trajan.” She shook her shoulder pack and the henchmen moaned. The patrol gasped.

  Yes, he liked her more and more—despite her shortcomings.

  Taking his cue, Maks shuddered and unleashed Bear. The goblins eased backw
ard. Ari blessed him with a sly smile.

  “Or,” she said, inclining her head, “you could save your backsides and take us to your leader.”

  If it weren’t for his snout a laugh definitely would have escaped him. Maks couldn’t tell why Ari wanted an audience with the Lady Goblin-kin but he was annoyed enough with both of Fanaweigh’s factions to play along. He also needed to stick by her for the sake of his parents’ statue. She had him locked into her roller coaster and headed straight for the loop-the-loop. Interesting how he didn’t mind, was beginning to enjoy her. The goblins didn’t find Ariana Golde as amusing as Maks did. Who could blame them? He’d seen her eat cookies off the floor. He knew she’d devour goblins.

  Chapter Five

  The border patrol drove Maks and Ari past Crimini Road, the goblins’ flea market. Heralded as the finest in North Carolina and eight surrounding states, the marketplace hummed with life louder than the patrol’s jeep. This took some doing. The jeep sounded like a woolly mammoth having its way with a saber tooth. Maks wasn’t sure who came out on top. Much the same as when common folks traded with storied ones. Often both sides benefited from the deals. Though sometimes not.

  Goblin territory had a magpie for an architect. The buildings and homes were hodgepodge, combining eras and styles in interesting compositions. Maks would not have chosen to live there. He much preferred the suburb he and his brothers resided in, even with the rambunctious Shue children living next door. Though on the verge, The Old Woman had not succumbed to a nervous breakdown—yet. Neither had the Medveds, and the Shue children were given to pranks. Despite lacking Shues, goblin territory sheltered many species of Faeble.

  Maks and Ari’s surprisingly smooth ride came to an end double-parked at the doors of a department store. He’d lost twenty percent of his hearing but at least his body hadn’t sustained any damage.

  “Come away then,” the patrol leader shouted as all three goblins jumped from the jeep and hustled through the glass doors.

  Maks held out a hand to help the wide-eyed Ari down. She blinked repeatedly; sticking a finger in her ear, she wriggled it. “Cripes, so loud.”

  He blinked this time. She may as well have blown a foghorn in his face. “You do not have to yell. I have already become deaf,” he said.

  “Oh,” she replied in slightly diminished decibels.

  The name Lucida’s was etched onto the glass doors, along with office hours where store hours should have been. Clever goblins. They’d appropriated well. Maks looked to Ari and realized he still held her hand in his. He let go and received a smile. “I was preoccupied,” he said, holding a door open for her. She didn’t reply.

  Lucida’s clearly didn’t function as a store anymore, but with the many goblins bustling around it had to be their base of operations. Maks and Ari followed the patrol down a hallway, past customer service and through a door marked BREAK ROOM. A lounge lavish enough to do a nightclub proud met them on the inside.

  The patrol leader ran over to a figure in a circular booth at the far wall. After a short exchange they were invited back to meet the lady. Halfway there, Maks got a full look at her. “Damn,” he murmured in appreciation.

  Ari nodded beside him. “Even better,” she said.

  No jealousy or pique at his response, and why was this “even better”? The returner continued to surprise him. In truth, the Lady Goblin-kin did not surpass Ari’s loveliness. She did, however, possess a bodacious figure a man could not help but appreciate. Her hair spiraled around her shoulders in long ringlets so dark a shade of garnet they appeared black unless light caught and illuminated the red. The ringlets led the eye to an ample expanse of bottle-green cleavage. Maks cleared his throat. He had not meant to ogle the lady, but one could not help it any more than one could ignore a four-tier birthday cake in the middle of the room. Her décolleté begged for attention.

  Glancing to the side he noticed Ari laughing at him. He allowed the faintest hint of humor to touch the corner of his mouth.

  “I know,” she said, “you were preoccupied.”

  The Lady Goblin-kin gestured for them to join her at the table. Ari slid into the blue velvet booth and Maks followed. The lady was quite good looking, with a full mouth and well put-together features. He glanced at Ari. The returner remained the victor.

  “You are Ariana Golde, the returner?” The lady’s voice wrapped them in fur.

  “I am. My companion is Maksim Medved.”

  “Oh yes, Maksim Medved. The surly one.”

  Ari choked on laughter.

  “I am not surly,” Maks said.

  “I wouldn’t know. I have only heard.” The queen of the goblins remained perfectly composed, as one would expect of a sovereign. “I am Lucida, the lady of the Goblin-kin. Ariana Golde, you have something I want.”

  “I do.” Ari reached into her shoulder pack, pulled out the necklace and laid it on the table—two rows of rubies varying in size set into platinum, encrusted with diamonds and emerald dust.

  Maks made a warning sound in his throat. He did not like where this was going. Ari laid a hand on his leg and glanced at him. Her look begged him to trust her. How could he? She was a vorovka and a treacherous one. Only the thought of the statue stilled his tongue. His opinion of the returner teetered to and fro in a kind of Arian-o-meter. He liked her, and then he didn’t. He’d been right from the beginning. She was not for trusting.

  Lucida ran her fingers over the necklace, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose you would like a reward.”

  This made more sense. Ariana Golde hoped for a better price than she had already received.

  The returner shook her head. “I can’t accept more money for completing the job the Grand High Oni hired me to do.”

  Maks and Lucida gave her twin looks. Both their expressions cried mischief. Ari either didn’t notice their disbelief or ignored it.

  “Lady Lucida, haven’t you wondered why the Grand High Oni goes out of his way to ruin every marriage contract you’ve ever made?”

  The lady inclined her head. She must have been searching for the trick in Ari’s question. “I know why. The red bastard hates me with all the fire in his bloated ogre belly. That’s why.”

  Shaking her head with a knowing expression, Ari answered. “My father often sings a song: ‘Thin Line Between Love & Hate’ by The Pretenders. Have you heard it?”

  Lucida nodded.

  “I believe the lyrics apply here,” Ari said. “When your feud started, wasn’t it because your father tossed the High Oni out on his impressive backside during a poker game?”

  Leaning forward the lady replied. “Yes, but rumor had it The Ogre said something unseemly about me. Something my dah refused to repeat. Dah even threatened the grapevines with a flamethrower to keep them quiet.”

  A fiendish light flickered to life around Ari, sending off rose-colored flares. The power blazed across her skin. Maks studied the lady’s lack of reaction then scanned the room. No one perceived the chaos lighting the returner’s aura but him.

  “Well, as my mother tells it, your father was…” Ari paused. “Shall we say old school? He wouldn’t have taken too kindly to a proposed match between the ogres and the goblin-kin.” Ari shook her head. Lucida’s eyes grew round. Maks cultured impassivity.

  Incredible.

  Rosy light flickered at the periphery of Maks’s vision and he swore beneath his breath. An outline of fox ears formed on either side of Ari’s head and matching whiskers adorned her face. Vorovka and vixen, each of his names for her proved true as the evening marched on. She lied with the skill of a sea serpent. Nothing she said could be countenanced. Yet what did she have to gain from the ruse?

  Lucida sat back in the booth in shock. “Why didn’t he come to me after my dah was eaten by the rabid unicorn?”

  Good for you, lady. You must challenge the lies. Maks knew Lucida had longed for a marriage contract for many years, but a match between her and The Ogre took massive balls or outright idiocy to envision. He’d like t
o see the returner talk her way out of that one.

  Ari took a beat. “I’d imagine at first he stayed away because you were in mourning and everyone thought it was his fault. Later you became so powerful his pride was at stake. What if you thought yourself above him or blamed him?”

  “Ahh,” Lucida said slowly, as if the truth of it had struck her. “Goblins tend to die badly. We don’t deal in blame. The Ogre’s ego coming into play is more reasonable.”

  “Yep, he is a male, my Lady Goblin-kin, and we both know how easily they can be ruled by ego.” Ari patted Maks’s arm in a gesture of commiseration. Against all common sense he wanted to hold on to her rather than pull away. Therefore, he removed her thieving appendage from his arm and dropped it into her lap.

  Silence followed as Lucida weighed Ari’s claims. Tapping the necklace with glossy black fingernails, she sighed. “I know who your sire is, Ariana Golde. Your tongue is gilded by very old magicks. But to my benefit there is one lie you can’t tell. Pick up the necklace and give it to me.”

  The lady was not stupid. She ran a multi-million dollar business and a larger clan. Ari gulped audibly; at least he’d heard the sound. Maks began to assess the best exit and how many goblins he’d have to kill to get them out of there.

  “Of course,” Ari said, but did nothing.

  Smug triumph curved Lucida’s mouth into a grin.

  Twenty-five. If he knocked Lucida unconscious and killed twenty-five goblins, allowing Ari to take care of five more, the rest of the kin would become cautious enough to facilitate their escape. From there he’d put the returner on his back and run like all hell for the goblin gate.

  Ari picked the necklace up from the table and held it out to the lady. She appeared calm but Maks could taste her trepidation, see the barest tremble along her left arm. As soon as her brand illuminated he would transform and—

  Lucida grasped the jewels and nothing happened. What? Ari relinquished the necklace and no returner magicks flared to prevent the exchange.

  Gobsmacked again.