Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Mind your manners, boy.” There wasn’t even an inflection to her voice. She didn’t fear him.

  The Under Goblin rather thought she might fear nothing.

  “Coin is coin, and that’s an end of it,” she said. “Aye, I’ll aid you. But you know my fee if you fail.”

  The band around his throat lessened so that he could talk. Coughing to clear the grit from it, he nodded. “I know. But I won’t fail.”

  She laughed. “We shall see. Come. Stand before me, boy.”

  Hiding the fact that his knees shook, the Goblin walked around to the front of her, keeping a wary eye on the moss dangling like rope from the wooden beams above his head. Then he dropped to his knees and turned his gaze on her and wished he hadn’t.

  Her face looked as though it’d been dipped in wax and lit on fire. Parts of her jaw and cheek had been peeled back, showing exposed tendon and muscle beneath.

  His lip curling with disgust, he shook his head. By all that was holy and precious, she was a terrifying sight.

  She inhaled deeply, smiling broadly, as though to taunt him. “Your fear tastes sublime.”

  Swallowing thickly, he shook his head in denial. But there was no fooling the witch of darkness.

  From beneath her robe slithered the golden body of a snake, and it was all the Goblin could do not to jump to his feet and run away.

  The golden adder was deadly to any and all inhabitants of Kingdom, its magick so dark and noxious that it was said just a single flick of its tongue to flesh would stop the heart’s beat.

  He gazed on in horror as that ghastly beast wound its way up her arm before settling itself like a golden choker around her shriveled neck, its pearl-pink tongue flicking in and out in the Goblin’s direction. Those ruby-red eyes were trained solely on him, letting him know without a doubt that should he even flinch, the snake would come at him.

  “Three souls,” she said, holding up three gnarled fingers with nails tipped in black, “a brother, a sister, and a centaur male. A world within a world, built of ice and snow and demons that blow. And from the heavens, a mirror cast from the tears of a fallen angel.”

  She held out her hand, and suddenly, there was a mirror on it, and the Goblin felt the pulse of the mirror’s dark magick throb against his flesh.

  “Take it.” She thrust it out to him.

  The mirror was nothing but a sheet of silver glass, thin around the edges. He reached for it, and the moment he plucked it from her palm, he felt the slick, oily residue of its darkness cling to him.

  He curled his lips.

  “Allow no piece of it to fragment into you. Only once the world has been set, then you shatter it. Choose one from among the three to infect. The mirror will do the rest.”

  Pocketing the mirror, he shook his head, wanting to rid himself of the object of power as soon as could be.

  “Why the centaur?”

  The Goblin knew very little of the herds of Luminesa’s plains. Centaurs were generally considered to be wise and knowledgeable creatures, and difficult to enchant because they were mostly immune to the effects of magic.

  Benign magic anyway.

  Baba Yaga’s magick was as dark as it came and more powerful than even that of the fairy councils combined.

  “He is her mate in every way.”

  Thrusting out his jaw, he couldn’t understand why taking Luminesa her mate was important.

  But Baba snorted. “Think about it, you fool. With her mate around, and the magic of that bond working powerfully between them, how could she possibly focus on finding the key?”

  What she said had merit. He’d not thought of it that way. The mate bond was legendary and primitively powerful in its own right. But what exactly did she mean by the key?

  “What key?”

  A little flash of light flared across her palm, and then he saw it—an antique brass key no bigger than the length of her palm.

  “Look into my eyes, Goblin, and see the rest.”

  Leaning forward, he saw the colors roll through her eyes, which had turned an opaque white. He saw the hell Baba had created, the future Luminesa would suffer, and he smiled…

  “Oh, dear gods, that is brilliant.” He grinned when it was over, astonished by the witch’s cleverness.

  “Aren’t I always?” She rubbed a finger across the head of her contented adder.

  The Goblin made to leave then, having all he needed to put his plan into play.

  But Baba snatched him by the wrist, her grip surprisingly powerful for someone so frail looking. The golden adder, which had been practically purring with contentment just a second ago, had closed the gap between them, its tiny pink tongue flickering close to the Goblin’s nose as Baba tugged him down to her.

  “The rules are firm, Goblin. If she accepts her fate, then you must let her be, and payment will be mine,” she said, then licked her dried and cracked lips.

  “I won’t lose.”

  She released him so quickly that he stumbled backward and almost fell.

  “Even the mightiest towers fall.”

  And with those final parting words, she snatched up her pile of chicken bones and tossed them again, cackling with delight when they settled. “Oh look, Balthazar,” she crooned to her adder, “more visitors are coming soon, and such beauties they are.”

  Shaking his head at her nonsense, the Goblin ran from there, able to breathe only once he’d put at least a mile of distance between him and her royal craziness.

  “There is no way I shall lose.”

  Finally, after all those years, Luminesa’s downfall was nearly at hand…

  Chapter 1

  Luminesa

  Luminesa walked barefoot upon a thick patch of pristine snow that glittered like frozen fragments of mother-of-pearl.

  Her silvery gown—made of snowflakes and ice crystals—trailed in a sweeping undulation behind her. She felt the eyes on her; the owls and the mice hidden within the shadows of skeletal trees watched her movements with hawk-like curiosity.

  She’d not left her ice palace in years, accustomed as she was to her isolation. But a star had fallen from the sky into her snowy realm, and it was a matter that required investigation.

  Snow bees danced about her shoulders, their gentle buzzing a soothing melody to her curious mind.

  Just then, a sharp cry pierced the air—the call of her only friend, Baatha the Snow Falcon. Luminesa paused and stared up as he circled the bluish-gray sky once, twice, and a third time before he finally lowered toward her and sank his talons upon the shoulder plate of her ice armor.

  “Baatha,” she said in a voice grown rough and scratchy from long years of disuse. “What news?”

  The white falcon blinked his tawny eyes back at her before cocking his head and ruffling his beak along the inside of his foot, at the leather pouch Luminesa had attached there.

  “What have you there, friend?” She gently shoved his beak away and undid the leather thong.

  A strange silver shard winked back at her. She was just about to reach for it when a pulsing wave of dark magick breached her palm.

  Hissing, she snatched her hand back. She curled her fingers into a fist and hugged it tightly to her chest. Threads of steam rose through the air as the heat of that darkness mixed with the ice of her flesh. Her heart racing, she turned her gaze toward Baatha’s and quickly retied the thong.

  Luminesa knew that sort of darkness. She’d beheld it once before, many moons ago. That level of darkness could only come from the wicked heart of the forest witch—Baba Yaga.

  But there was a trace on the mirror, in the waves of that magic, which tasted faintly of sulfur too. It was that sulfur that led her to the true culprit behind the object of power.

  “Where did you find this? It bears the stench of the Under Goblin.”

  With an ear-splitting shriek, Baatha took to the air, his powerful wings slicing through the sky, moving slow enough that she could follow.

  Luminesa was the Queen of Ice. She could shap
e her body to be more than mere flesh. If she so chose, she could turn to a pillar of swirling snowflakes.

  But the falling star had awoken her from her slumber, and for the first time in ages, she found her curiosity piqued.

  Wishing to retain her human form a while longer, Luminesa followed Baatha’s trail, and as she did so, she looked at the landscape she’d crafted when she’d first come to the realm a hundred years past.

  Then it’d been green and lively, full of warmth and heat. She’d not set out to turn her surroundings bleak and cold. Though in truth she found none of it bleak or cold, there was beauty in the ice. In the simple flake of a snow. The uniqueness of it. How in all of creation, there would only ever be one of its type.

  All the more beautiful because of its fragility, each flake was a gift and, once gone, never to be seen again.

  But soon, another flash of silver intruded on her musings. Baatha circled the small object before landing and tucking his wings against his breast, giving her a sharp cry.

  Luminesa studied the stark landscape, looking for any signs of tracks. Anything that could give her a hint as to where the Under Goblin had gone.

  But the hills and valleys were smooth and clean. Snow drifted gently on the breeze. It would have taken at least an hour to wipe away any tracks made by an intruder.

  “Do you smell him, Baatha?”

  The falcon merely blinked at her. She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she thought of something else.

  “Was this the falling star?”

  The falcon’s stare never wavered.

  So what she’d seen hadn’t been a star at all but a fragment of mirror. She stared at the leather pouch tied to Baatha’s foot. Why had a mirror fallen from the heavens?

  “To me, Baatha.” She held out her arm.

  Her companion heeded her command, landed swiftly and heavily on her forearm, and sank his thick claws into the ice of her skin. Her form was so frozen, though, that she felt no pain.

  After untying the thong from his foot, she hefted the pouch in her palm, testing its weight. If she’d not seen the sliver for herself, or felt the waves of its power, she’d not have thought there was anything inside. The fragment felt like little more than air.

  Baatha grunted.

  “No. You cannot have it back.” With a twirl of her finger, she encased the leather in ice before tucking it into the bodice of her gown. “Have you seen the demon lately?”

  With a graceful nod, the bird took powerfully to the air. He traveled quickly, necessitating her change back to snowy mist.

  That was her home. She’d made sure of that when she’d come there a century ago to plant herself in a place isolated and separate from the rest of the world.

  If he dared, if anyone dared to try and take her home, there would be death.

  Chapter 2

  Luminesa

  The place where Baatha finally stopped was a wild jungle of overgrown vegetation. Vines dangled from sinuously curled tree limbs. The humid air was awash with the scents of hibiscus and plumeria flowers.

  Her body trembling from the violent surge of heat already beginning to drain her, Luminesa conserved her energy by stepping out of the mist and changing the ice of her body to flesh and bone.

  She loathed that form and hated the clunkiness of it, the foreignness of heated blood sweeping through her veins. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle the warmth; she could.

  She’d been human once, a long, long time ago.

  Suddenly, an image wavered in and out of focus before her, the form quickly taking shape into that of a long, tall man. His body was muscular, though not too large. His flesh was firm and youthful but tinted a shade of green that bespoke his goblin heritage. He wore a colorful array of fabric. His shirt was a brightly colored fuchsia, while his pants were a muted shade of palest blue. On his fingers, wrists, and about his neck were large pieces of golden jewelry. In some ways, he reminded her of a gilded flower in the muggy land.

  Hair as black as ebony trailed past his shoulders, framing a face that was hawkish in appearance and covered in deep scratches and grooves. Ribbons of dried blood on his cheeks caught her eyes.

  What had happened to him? The Under Goblin was never so unkempt.

  “Ah, the Ice Queen comes. And to what do I owe this honor?” Draping an arm about his waist theatrically, the Under Goblin bowed low.

  She turned her nose up, affronted by his arrogance. “Surely, you knew I’d be coming.”

  He stood straight once more, and his mercurial black eyes, filled with bursts of silver pinpricks, seemed to dance with mirth. “Why, I haven’t a clue.”

  After tucking his hands behind his back, he glided in a slow circle around her. She sensed the press of his glare raking her back. He would not intimidate her with his heavy silence, no matter how hard he tried.

  Luminesa feared no man, not even one spawned of hellfire. Holding her chin high, she never once fidgeted or turned to look at him. As if realizing how truly unaffected she was, he finally came to stand in front of her.

  “You look a bit…piqued, my frigid beauty,” he said with a sneer.

  No love was lost between them. Their rivalry went way back to almost the very beginning.

  “I am none of your concern.” But even as she said it, the heat continued to leech through her energy reserves. Tightening the power about her, she crafted flakes of snow to sift gently through the air.

  The Goblin snorted and then leaned back against the thick, twisted trunk of a tree heavy laden with vines of fruit. “Then why are you here?”

  Wanting to leave as soon as possible, Luminesa reached inside her bodice, extracted the pouch, and opened the sack to reveal the sliver of looking glass within.

  "What is this?" she asked as he peered inside.

  He shrugged, his manner insolent once more.

  "A mirror. What else? You look into it, Ice Queen." The Under Goblin's smile was lecherous and full of wickedly sharp teeth.

  Luminesa narrowed her eyes. "I'm no fool, Devil. So do not play me as one. I know you are up to something."

  The Under Goblin shifted his stance, and then he took a large, curved knife from the sheath at his belt and drew it along the inside of his thumbnail. His green skin seemed more muted and gray-toned than normal. The unusually greasy lanks of his hair were twisted into ropy knots and full of brambles and weeds.

  He really did look awful, as though he’d been on the wrong end of a scuffle. He’d never been a devastatingly handsome sort, but the Goblin had at least always taken great pride with his appearance.

  "What has happened to you, Demon? Where have you been, and what have you done?"

  The rusty squeal of his laughter grated on her nerves. “Well, you know, it’s interesting you should ask that.”

  She narrowed her eyes, not liking his insolent tone one bit. Licking his front teeth, he sighed deeply, put his knife away, and then looked back at her.

  He was deliberately taking his time about it, no doubt to irritate and annoy her, but she would not be ruffled. Luminesa had learned how to deal with the Goblin long ago, and that was to not give him the satisfaction of knowing anything he did rankled her.

  Lacing his fingers together, he bent a knee against the base of the tree and thinned his lips as he tapped his thumbs together, his claws clacking as he did so.

  “I want that land,” he finally said.

  She glared. That had been an ongoing battle between them for nearly a century.

  “It’s not yours. And never—”

  “Oh no”—he wagged a finger under her nose—“it was always mine.”

  Clenching down on her back teeth, she stared at him. Maybe, just maybe, the land had seemed his. Years and years and years ago. So long ago, in fact, that none could truly say whether it was so or not, since that’d been long before the days of owning land came with a deed.

  The Under Goblin called that land his merely because he’d lived in that muggy, rank, Jurassic-era throwback world a
lmost since the dawn of time. But there was a problem with his line of thinking. He’d let that land go. He’d never visited it, never nurtured it, never even claimed it until the day she’d stumbled into it and had changed it merely by her presence.

  “By that reasoning, then, the whole of Kingdom should belong to you, and we both know that is not so.” She lifted a brow.

  The Under Goblin was an ancient, older than many of the beings that lived and dwelled in that world, but he’d been obsessed with her for the past many years, a dark obsession she was hard-pressed to understand.

  He shrugged. “I do not care what happens in the rest of Kingdom. I only care that you’ve turned my grounds into a wasteland of pale blue ice. I cannot abide the sight of it, and I will take it back.”

  His snarl made her blood run cold. Beneath the suave exterior lay a monster more capable of evil than almost any other creature she’d ever known.

  Luminesa was no stranger to the darkness of men’s hearts; she’d nearly died by the hands of one of them. But she was no longer the weak woman she’d been then. And no man would ever again do to her what had been done to her once before.

  She smirked, her smile cold, frosty, and full of disdain. “You can do nothing to me, Demon. I do not know what you hope to accomplish by—”

  But rather than erupt in fury as she’d half expected him to, the Under Goblin gave a libidinous grin that grew wider still with each word she spoke.

  Confused by his countenance, she let the words die on her tongue as a horrible shiver of foreboding zipped down her spine like a sheet of black ice.

  “Oh no”—he flicked his fingers—“please continue to make a fool of yourself, my sweet.”

  Her nostrils flaring, she had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something foul had happened that she was as yet unaware of. She knew her adversary well, and he’d never acted like that unless he was sure he held the upper hand.