by Shona Husk
“I’m not moving out.” He loosened his tie.
Eliza pulled the folded piece of paper from her pocket. She smoothed it out slowly, making him wait for a change. He watched her hands but kept himself in check.
“If you don’t leave, I will ring Alistair and have every cent, every property, every share owned by the trust turned over to Amanda and Brigit.” She handed him the piece of paper—a copy of the instructions she had lodged with her lawyer after the dress fitting.
His gaze flicked over the page. His face paled, but his features were carefully schooled. Would he allow this piece of new evidence to be admitted into the argument?
Steve folded the paper back up and placed it into his jacket pocket. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You want marriage. You want the partnership. It’s yours. But it is a marriage in name only. We will not live together. You don’t get access to any of the trust. No more suits, cars, holidays unless you pay for them.”
“It’s too late to negotiate.”
Eliza stood straight. “No, it’s not. You see, I got to thinking. I am of more value to you as a wife than I am in jail.”
Spots of pink flushed his cheeks. His lips pulled back in a grimace that was like a smile wrapped around the mouth of a dried out corpse. “Has that bitch been in your ear? Ever since you’ve been back—”
“I woke up.”
“You can’t throw me out. People will talk.”
“Let them.” For the first time she didn’t care what people thought. She’d spent so long living up to the Coulter name. Now she wanted to be just Eliza.
Steve raised his hand. “In one week you’re my wife. You’re mine.”
“In one week I own you,” Eliza corrected. She stood just out of reach. She didn’t drop her gaze or back down. She’d found the crack in his armor and was prepared to deliver the lethal blow. She would rather go to jail and hand over the trust fund than live life as man and wife with Steve. And he knew it.
“You can’t do this. I’ll call the police, I’ll tell them everything.”
Eliza pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Good idea.” She dialed emergency services. Not Detective Griffin’s number. She wasn’t desperate enough to tell all. She would only do that when she had the documents that proved it was Steve doing the stealing.
He watched, daring her to stop. She put the phone to her ear. The line connected.
“What are you doing?” He reached out to snatch the phone away.
Eliza spun away and the vase of silk flowers hit the floor.
“Hello, police.”
“Give me the phone.” Steve caught her hand.
“Coulter, Bay View Terrace, Peppermint—”
He wrenched the phone out of her hand and hung up. He glared at her. She returned the stare, refusing to cave or bend to his will. Not this time. It may only be a small part of her life to regain, but it was a start.
“You can explain to the police, if they arrive, that you were making a scene.”
“What I tell them depends on where you are.” She opened the cloakroom door and pulled out the raincoat he kept there. He might need it tonight; the weather was getting wild.
Steve took hold of the fabric and pulled her close. “You can’t win.”
“I lose either way. The difference is I don’t care.” She tugged on the coat, pulling him toward the door.
She used her elbow to turn the handle and her foot to kick open the door. She pulled Steve out the door with the raincoat.
“You’re crazy.” He jerked, trying to snatch it back.
“I should’ve done it years ago.” She tightened her hold, her muscles burning from the effort. “You get what you want, but I get the house. I get my life.”
He pulled again and she let go. Steve went sprawling onto the veranda. Too late, he realized what she’d planned. He scrambled to get up while she slipped inside and closed the door. The lock snapped into place.
Steve pounded on the door. The wood sung beneath his fist and reverberated through her body. She sobbed without tears. She’d wounded the beast but not killed him. Steve was more dangerous than ever.
The night went silent.
Eliza peeked out the glass pane at the side. A white car had pulled into the driveway. Her heart constricted, preventing her from swallowing. Two uniformed police walked up the driveway, then up the path, their serious blueness a sign she’d gone too far. They stepped around the orange bags. “Good evening, sir. Got a call about a disturbance. Is there a problem?”
“I seem to have locked my keys inside.”
One of the officers looked at Eliza. She held her breath not wanting to miss a word of the conversation.
“Your partner won’t let you in?”
“She’s PMSing.”
The female office nodded. “Mind if I chat with her?”
Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Not at all.”
Eliza wanted to be sick. It was never supposed to come to this. Steve was supposed to leave knowing the wedding would go ahead. He wasn’t supposed to challenge her to a game of chicken with the cops. Her fingers wouldn’t work properly. She fumbled the lock twice before getting it open.
“Good evening, miss.” The cop walked in, and her gaze left Eliza as she took in the broken vase and scattered flowers.
“Coulter,” Eliza filled in.
The woman’s eyes flashed in recognition. “Was it you who called?”
Eliza nodded. Steve was talking, but they had moved away from the door so all she heard was the rhythm of speech with no definite words. The handcuffs at the woman’s side beckoned. Eliza rubbed her wrists.
“I asked him to move out.” More like demanded, but she wasn’t ready to divulge their under-the-table deals.
“He didn’t like that.” The woman glanced at her partner.
“No.”
“What started the argument?”
“Wedding plans, my missing days.” If she’d known it would get this far, she wouldn’t have started. It was easier to toe the line than make a new one.
The other officer signaled his partner. The policewoman went outside. They both spoke to Steve. Eliza kept her back straight, but inside she was wilting. He’d spilled. She was sure of it, and she was going to jail. Steve turned and gave a look so bitter it should’ve been accompanied with a slicing gesture across the neck.
The man pulled out some paperwork. He filled it in and then approached her. Her eyes widened.
“Evening, Ms. Coulter. Can you please get Mr. Slade’s car keys?”
“His keys?” The simple request gave her hope…Steve hadn’t told them. Maybe his fraud wasn’t as well hidden as he claimed.
The policeman nodded.
Eliza bit back a nervous smile as she walked through the house and retrieved the keys. She placed them in the cop’s hand not sure what to expect. In exchange he gave her a piece of paper.
“This is a twenty-four-hour police order. Mr. Slade must stay away from the house. If he breaches the order, ring and he will be arrested.”
It was a magical lifeline. Her fingers crushed the paper, making sure it was real. Steve was leaving. “Thank you.”
The officer remained standing on her veranda. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“Good night, ma’am. Make sure you lock up.” The cop walked away.
Eliza locked the door. The house breathed a sigh of relief that echoed around her. She was truly alone for the first time in years. She wanted to cry, but if she started she’d never stop. She blinked and drew in lungfuls of air. She’d done it. Only one thing remained.
She picked up the phone and dialed, then spoke to the computer operator.
“Locksmith.”
She was going to lock up so Steve never got back in to her house. Removing him from her life was going to be harder.
It was midnight by the time the locksmith left. Every door lock had
been changed. The house didn’t move around her. The silence waited to be filled by music or voices or footsteps. Instead, every light burned to push back the emptiness.
Outside a storm was in the making. The clouds had erased the stars from the sky. Wind coiled around the trees and shook them. Inside the house remained untouched. The stains of Steve’s life here remained, but they could be wiped clear. The house would be hers. She double-checked all the locks again. The reality of spending the night alone had her jumping at her own heartbeat.
Eliza set the alarm and ran up to the guest room. The room was lit only by the bedside light because she hadn’t replaced the main bulb. She dropped her new keys into her handbag and surveyed the room.
The bed still held the imprints of the goblin’s knees. She shuddered. With a tug she wrenched the sheets off the bed. They resettled smooth and unmarked. The memory of the goblin’s face wasn’t as easy to remove. She couldn’t sleep in this room. How could she not call him in her sleep when he was all she thought about?
From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of cream paper poking out from beneath the bed. She dropped to her knees to retrieve it. She picked it up, knowing what it was but holding it like a treasure. The gold words bored into her heart. She wiped her face and her hand came away wet. Why had he proved what a monster he was? Why couldn’t he let her believe he was a man?
Her cell phone rang. Private number. Thinking it was the police she answered.
“Hello, Eliza.” Steve’s voice was razor sharp.
She stood, dropping the paper, and rushed to the window expecting to see Steve out in the front yard. The driveway was empty except for the shivering shadows of trees.
“Very clever. I saw what you did. Tut tut. I’m going to need new keys in twenty-four hours.”
“Never. The house will be Amanda’s before I let you back inside.” Her heart hammered in her chest. Thunder churned the clouds, clotting the sky. Were there goblins out there already? Eliza drew the curtain. She couldn’t see Steve, but he might be able to see her.
“You’ve won this battle, but it’s not over, Eliza.”
“It’ll never be over. Would you have let me go in five years? Ten years? How many until you destroyed the evidence and let me go?”
“Never. You’re mine, Eliza. Just like your father wanted.”
“If he’d known what you were like—”
“He was a politician. I worked for him and his mates. You think his hands were clean?”
Eliza covered her eyes and shook her head. “Stop. He’s dead.” Her father had faults, but she couldn’t believe he was corrupt.
“They all are. I’m all you have left.”
Eliza stared at her feet. “Then I still have nothing.” She hung up. No matter what she did or how much space she carved around herself, she would always be known as Steve’s wife. A title no woman deserved.
Roan’s invitation lay on the floor. Would he become human again if she accepted? Is that what he was hoping for? So far the book had mentioned nothing about curses or queens. Accepting was a risk. If nothing changed, she would be stuck in the Shadowlands. A goblin queen. She licked her lip. If she accepted she could be with him, maybe save him. She closed her eyes and imagined Roan in her house, by her side. Human.
Her phone beeped twice. She opened her eyes and read the text message.
Lights out.
She heard the electricity die milliseconds before the lights went out. Alone in the dark. Eliza screamed. She dropped the phone. It bounced on the carpet. She lunged for it before its blue light faded.
The house was silent, but outside trees creaked and groaned. She waited for the cackle of goblins and the patter of feet as they ran through the house. Nothing. They would see the gold in the yard and ignore the house.
The light on the phone died. She pressed a button to get the light back. Her hands began to shake. She’d always feared the dark. Steve knew that. He was just trying to scare her. And it was working. Her heart beat hard, trying to break out of her chest. Roan’s name lingered on the tip of her tongue. All she had to do was call and he’d come.
She could find candles. She would be fine. She could call the police.
No she couldn’t. Steve wouldn’t hang around, waiting to get caught. The fuse box was outside. All she had to do was flick the switch and the lights would come back on. Her legs refused to move. What if he’d taken the fuse out? What if he was waiting for her to go out?
A knock on the front door echoed through the silent house. Her breath caught. He was downstairs waiting to be let in.
In her hand her phone rang. She answered knowing it would be Steve.
“Go away or I’ll call the police.”
“You haven’t yet.”
No, she hadn’t because she didn’t really want them involved. Steve’s threats about her going to jail while he lived the high life still had power.
“Turn the lights back on.”
“Let me in.”
“Steve.” She wanted to sound strong but her voice came out as if she was pleading.
“It doesn’t matter what you do, or where you go. You can’t get away, we are bound together.”
He was right…but she didn’t have to stay here. In the Shadowlands Roan was waiting for her. She hung up on Steve and picked up the invitation. Then she closed her eyes and whispered the word that would make her queen.
“Yes.”
Chapter 9
Roan glanced at the Shadowlands’ sky alive with the golden lights of a thousand human cities. Tonight was the night of cold and darkness, the magical border between the worlds was thin, and the two could bleed together. Tonight all goblins were free to wander the Fixed Realm. To run the streets and wilds of earth as they had done through all time.
From the dust Roan called his horse. She was as black as his mood with more bones than muscle and eyes that burned with the devil’s own fire. A mount worthy of a Goblin King. Roan dropped the appearance of a man. In the Shadowlands he could be either. It was more habit than anything else that made him keep the form he had worn as a man. Now it was little more than an illusion—a memory of what he had been.
He ran his hand over the horse’s molting side. Breath didn’t trouble her flanks. A black and gold saddle formed. The leatherwork was as immaculate as it was unnatural. The mare stamped and her razor-edged hooves cut the ground, but the dust didn’t stir. Through the Shadowlands a horn sounded, calling to the goblins. His flesh prickled already anticipating the storm and the race across the sky with the Hoard. He wasn’t the only king, just one of many. Tonight there would be no fighting between the different troops of Hoard goblin. All hostilities would be on hold until after the ride.
Dai appeared at the cave entrance, still a man and horseless. He leaned on the rock, his lips tight.
Roan swung himself onto the twisted mare’s back. “You will not heed the call to ride?”
“I hear no call.” Dai touched the pendant that lay against his skin. Black diamond and platinum made by Roan’s hand.
“As your king I command you to ride with me.” This year the call was strong and as unavoidable as a direct summons.
The mare tossed her head. Her ears flattened in anger at the disturbance to her rightful slumber. Roan gripped her with his knees.
“As your brother I ask that you stay.” From his pocket Dai drew out a ring.
A plain platinum band marred by a chip of black. It would slide onto Roan’s finger and fit perfectly. He’d made it at Dai’s insistence but refused to wear the ring. Not until the last thread of his soul was about to snap would he wear a black diamond. He’d rather die than admit defeat. The magic of the Shadowlands was part of him. Without it he was nothing but a man trapped in a world without dreams or hope.
He would shatter out of grief if he were a man and not with Eliza.
The horse pawed the ground. Steam rose from her nostrils as if she breathed and lived. Her agitation boiled through his blood, pounded at the meta
l of his heart. Roan tightened his fist around the reins. The sky was opening. Heaven was theirs if only for a night. The horn sounded again. The sour note promised sweet reward.
Roan gritted his teeth and growled. “Allow me one last look upon the world at solstice. We both know I won’t get another.”
“Very well.” Dai nodded, his face grim. “Greet Meryn for me. I pray you don’t join him tonight. I don’t want to test the strength of a gem.”
“Have no fear. I will return.”
Dai drew his sword and raised it in salute. “Ride for the living. But remember the dead.”
Roan returned the salute. He was one of the dead. He pulled on the reins and the horse galloped over the Shadowlands to join the amassing army of goblins. At least Dai would be in no danger from the Hoard tonight. And it had been a long time since the druid had tried to tempt Dai into doing something stupid. Roan allowed himself a tight smile…maybe because Dai’s knives were a little too threatening.
He approached the Hoard army and was greeted with hisses and nods from the other kings. Weapons and gold and lopsided stolen crowns. More metal than meat on the horses. Compared to them Roan was barely identifiable as a king. But they all knew of him. All feared him. All would kill him on any other night. He could cross between worlds at will, a power true goblins lacked, because he had the remains of a soul.
Roan glanced behind him. An army pounded, rolling in the storm clouds, waiting to descend on the sleeping, night-cloaked earth. Were they all true goblins? He’d never bothered to ask during the solstice truce. The rest of the time he stayed clear of the goblins in the Shadowlands. A battle over gold wasn’t worth the risk if they could break the curse and be free.
If Meryn was alive, he would be there. Did he remember anything of his life? His wife and daughters? Or was he as empty as Gob? He hoped he’d found freedom in death along with the others who’d been cursed with him. His final ride as king was for them.
The kings raised their weapons to start the ride. Roan raised his sword.
“For the dead,” he said under his breath.
The Hoard descended into the Fixed Realm. The howling of goblins echoed off streets and entered buildings. People would remember nothing but a storm and a fear of the dark as the magic of the Shadowlands followed the army.