by Molly Ringle
Afterward, they caught their breath, her forehead against his temple. He shivered, tucked his coat back around his body, and hugged her. He looked with wonder at the evergreens swaying above. “Well,” he said, his voice a bit unsteady. “This is my new favorite place in the whole world.”
Skye could only cling to him and hide her face on his neck, in sorrow.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KIT HAD LIVY OVER AT THE CABIN AGAIN THE NEXT DAY AFTER WORK. HE ARRANGED TO HAVE GRADY BE ELSEWHERE, and Grady cleared out willingly, almost cheerfully. Probably “elsewhere” was wherever Skye was, like down at Green Fox for her shift.
It wasn’t unusual for Kit to see a woman more than once. If it got to more than four or five dates, then that would be shading into unusual. His vacationer hookups usually only stuck around town a week, if that. But being treated again to Livy’s soft curves, slick heat, enthusiasm, and laughing wit was enough to make him start formulating plans he didn’t often entertain.
To his surprise, she voiced one of them, lying comfortably beside him afterward. “So are we friends with benefits?”
“I would not object to that.” He touched the cute plump tip of her nose. “Though at the moment I may have a teeny crush on my ‘friend.’ Hope that doesn’t complicate things.”
“You need a teeny crush for these things to work.” She lifted herself up on her elbow, wheat-colored curls tumbling around her bare shoulders. “Does this mean I can booty-call you if I want?”
“Yeah. Why would I ever say no to that?”
She laughed. “Thank goodness. This winter was looking bleak otherwise.”
After she went home, Kit gathered up all the ugly gold-plated forks from the box under his bed. He drove across the bridge, parked at the edge of the vast forest, and tromped in.
He summoned the goblins with a whistled trio of notes. They sang a few other notes in response, and a path opened between trees. Luminous ferns this time, sparkling like they were coated with glow-in-the-dark frost.
“It’s not even the full moon,” Redring greeted, after morphing into her human-ish shape. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Kit darling?”
He held out the handful of forks. “I want to add another person to the list of the protected. Her name’s Livy Darwen.”
Behind Redring, among moving silhouettes and floating lights, laughter erupted. As usual.
Redring seized the forks, sniffed them, and rubbed the tines between her fingers. “You just invoked protection for your cousin last month. You cannot add anyone else until a year has passed.”
“I get one per year. I usually don’t even use it. I added Grady in December, and it’s January now, so it’s a new year and I get a new person.”
“As if we care about your calendar dates. I just told you. The agreement is, one year between the times you add each person. You added him, then a year must go by, then you add your little toy.”
“A year?” Shit, think what they could do in the space of a year. And Redring probably wasn’t lying in this particular instance, since when it came to their nonsense rules and contracts, the goblins did stick to what was agreed. He reached for the forks to take them back, but Redring scrabbled six feet up a tree, eerily fast. The move looked especially bizarre in her human form, dressed in pajamas and robe.
“We still get these!” she said, while the rest of the tribe hooted behind her like a bunch of damn monkeys.
“Well, fuck you too. Seriously?”
“Maybe they’ll convince us to be kind to this woman, whom we smell so strong upon you. Perhaps.”
Her minions kept giggling.
The razzing, the stealing, the smelling people on him, the way they’d wrecked his life and his ancestors’ lives for generations now…fury swept over Kit. He grabbed a fallen branch, thick as his arm and heavy with soaked-up rain, and swung it like a baseball bat at Redring’s legs.
He felt the crack and heard her feral screech, but he barely even got a glimpse of the damage, because goblins leaped onto him from all directions. Knobby hands covered his eyes; claws and teeth ripped at his scalp, his cheek, his hands, his legs. The creatures smacked him down on the ground, and he pummeled blindly at them. It felt like fighting a pile of stinky, moving tree branches.
Then, as if answering some call Kit couldn’t hear, they all whisked themselves off him. He sat up, looked at his scratched hands, touched his throbbing cheek and came away with blood on his fingers. He glared at Redring.
She still perched halfway up the tree, in human-like guise, looking totally uninjured. She waved the forks at him. “That hurt, you ungrateful pup. Lucky for me, we heal fast. If I were you, I’d remember that you do not.”
One of the goblins flung down the branch Kit had used against her. It whacked his shinbones, hard enough to make him grit his teeth.
Kit rubbed his shins and looked away into the darkness, refusing to answer. He felt a warm drop of blood trickle down his forehead from his scalp.
“Then we’ll see you at the full moon, Sylvain.” Redring darted upward to disappear into the treetops.
The others followed her, cackling.
“Kit. Kit.” It was a whisper; submissive, for a goblin.
He glanced toward it. The creature they called Flowerwatch crawled toward him on the ground, bending the ferns. She was a small female, and around her neck hung an ancient, tarnished pocket watch with a flower carved on its cover. She’d always been one of the meekest in the tribe, as far as Kit had seen, and sometimes she looked at him with pity, which was more than any of the others ever did. If his ancestors’ records were correct, she’d been an abducted human long ago. Then again, maybe all of them were, and they didn’t all behave like Flowerwatch did. He had no idea why she acted different, and right now he didn’t care to figure it out.
“What,” he said.
“You do not have to worry about Livy Darwen.” Flowerwatch glanced back fearfully toward the rest of the tribe before looking at Kit again. “The locals, they like her. She respects the forest and the water.”
“Yeah. She does. But what…”
“Flowerwatch!” Redring’s snarl from above sent Flowerwatch yipping and scurrying back from Kit. “Your mealy-mouthed weakness for humans is foul and disrespectful to all of us. To me!”
“Yes. Yes. I’m sorry.” Flowerwatch cowered so low her nose squashed against the mossy ground.
“You undermine me!” Redring cracked a branch against Flowerwatch’s back, making the smaller goblin yelp. Kit winced too. “I have warned you, do you hear? I will only hurt them more if I see you behave this way—and I will hurt you too!”
“Of course. Apologies. Of course.” Flowerwatch scrambled away with only one quick glance back in Kit’s direction.
Redring pranced after her, swinging the branch like a nightstick. That was how she’d held onto her dictatorial position all these centuries, he figured: tyranny and punishment, interspersed with favors and rewards. It seemed even immortal beings shied away from pain or the denial of pleasures, and they had lots of creative ways of punishing each other.
Kit watched them disappear. The rustles and whispers of the goblins faded until only the wind in the trees remained. The glowing ferns and little lights winked out. Kit heaved himself to his feet, switched on the flashlight on his phone, and limped back to his truck, not encouraged despite Flowerwatch’s enigmatic words.
Grady sat in the steamy warmth of Green Fox Espresso at a small table close to the counter. A book lay open on the table, whose pages he ignored in favor of gazing at Skye as she made drinks. It was dark out, after dinner now, and the little coffee shop was half-filled, mostly with teenagers. Not much else for the high school set to do in Bellwater on a wet winter night, he supposed. He barely gave any of them a thought except to be grateful they provided a crowd he could blend into, so he could sit here and bask in the sight of Skye without anyone thinking him strange.
If they did notice and think him strange, he didn’t even care.
He’d ordered a latte, and left it untouched for the first fifteen minutes because Skye had made a heart on top with the foam. It struck him as a declaration, a Valentine of sorts, and he didn’t want to destroy it.
He couldn’t love her yet. It wasn’t possible. But, God, it was starting to feel that way. He started drinking the latte, his lips dragging the heart all out of shape, just to prove he wasn’t being over-sentimental, and because anyway it would be a waste to let it get cold.
A while ago a woman in her twenties had come in and talked to Skye for ten minutes. (Skye only nodded or echoed a word here and there; the woman did most of the talking.) Someone else behind the counter called, “Hi, Jamie!”, and Grady recognized her as Skye’s friend from some of the photos on her phone. Jamie wore a puffy red winter coat and a green hat, and had rosy plump cheeks. Skye hadn’t mentioned her much lately. From the regretful twist to Jamie’s lips when she gave Skye a goodbye hug, Grady got the impression Jamie didn’t see her often anymore and didn’t know what to do with Skye when she did see her, and was sad about it.
He ought to ask Skye about Jamie, and about other people in her life who cared about her. It was completely the kind of thing he would ask her about, if he were behaving normally himself. But that was just the thing. He wasn’t. Though he recognized it as unhealthy and felt unnerved by it, he knew he’d choose the path of keeping Skye all to himself.
She seemed to glow in his vision like a spotlight had picked her out. The rest of the cafe, the rest of the world, fell into shadow. She kept looking at him too, between orders, when she had a moment, and he would have sworn she was promising Soon. Soon they’d steal another hour alone like this afternoon in the woods. Soon they’d do more than that. Soon he’d understand what had silenced her and erased her smiles, and how to fix it.
Soon they’d never have to be apart, could be together in the woods forever, dropping society’s rules and adopting new ones.
That thought was crazy. It was unlike him. It was frightening.
But it all came wrapped up with Skye, and somehow he knew he had signed onto it the minute he started kissing her in the forest without so much as a “What’s your name?”
A text buzzed in from Kit. Livy’s heading home. Come back whenever you like.
Cool, see you in a bit, Grady answered.
He finished the latte and brought the foam-stained mug back to the counter. Skye wandered up on the other side.
“Livy’s on her way home,” Grady said.
Skye nodded. She’d probably gotten a text from her sister saying as much, and it was likely Livy would stop here first to see her.
“I should go. Just wanted to say goodnight properly.”
Skye hadn’t told Livy about this relationship yet. Grady didn’t like the whiff of secrecy, but he agreed telling Livy or Kit would raise more questions than he currently felt like answering.
Skye glanced behind her, ascertaining her two coworkers had their backs turned. Then she leaned across the counter to meet Grady in a kiss. It lingered a few seconds, coffee-flavored and steamy, enough to amp up his already-sky-high hormones. “Goodnight,” she whispered.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“JESUS, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” LIVY TOUCHED THE BRUISES AND SCRATCHES ON KIT’S FACE.
He stepped back to let her into the cabin. “Oh, yeah. I was fixing someone’s flat alongside the road, and slipped into the ditch. Which of course was full of blackberries.”
It wasn’t even the first time he had gotten into a fight with the goblins and had to lie to people about the bruises. It had happened two or three times before, in the earliest years of his liaison position. He’d behaved since then, up until snapping last night. He didn’t entirely regret lashing out at them. They needed to know when they’d crossed a line. Nonetheless, he hated lying every bit as much as he hated stealing.
Livy seemed to buy his excuse. She winced in sympathy. “Ouch. I know the evil ways of blackberry vines. Or holly—God, that stuff’s sharp. And don’t get me started on nettles and poison oak.”
He sank onto a barstool and drew her close, hands around her hips. “That’s what you got yourself into, choosing the Forest Service.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She spread her hands along his shoulders. The soapy smell of her perfume calmed and aroused him, simultaneously. “At least I got to save a frog today.”
“Just today? Just one frog? Shoot, I was under the impression you were out there saving frogs by the hundreds every day.”
She laughed. “I am, of course, but usually I don’t see them. Today I was working with the volunteers, clearing roads and trails after the windstorms we’ve been having. And we moved a log, and this college girl looked down and said, all sad, ‘Oh, a dead frog.’ So I came and checked it out, and told her, no, he’s probably alive, just hibernating. Gave her the whole spiel: how they can look dead during winter; in fact, they can even freeze. Like, ice can form in their blood, but then in spring they thaw right out and come back to life.”
“They can freeze? Really? I never knew that.”
“Yep. They’re pretty amazing, frogs. So we made him a new bed of dead leaves in the log, and tucked him in. With any luck he’ll be hopping around and eating bugs again in spring.”
He curled his fingers under the warm hem of her sweatshirt. “Olivia Darwen, preserver of life and happiness.” In the past week they’d shared their full names. She’d seemed intrigued when he told her his first name was merely “Kit” on the birth certificate, and wasn’t short for anything.
Her smile faded, and she threaded her fingers through the ends of his hair. “Well. Some varieties of life and happiness, anyway.”
Kit spread his hands, holding her steadier. “How’s Skye?”
She shrugged, keeping her gaze on his collar. “I still think it’s good for her to have Grady around. They seem to be friends now.”
“I kind of get the impression he’s smitten. Don’t worry, though; I’m sure he’ll be honorable about it.”
“Oh, she can handle herself there. And he doesn’t seem the aggressive type. I’m not worried. Just…”
“What?”
She finally stopped fiddling with his hair, and met his eyes again, for a second. “She still isn’t herself. I don’t know how they’re getting along, since she’s talking even less than ever.”
He slid his arms further around her back, holding her in a loose hug. “These things take time. You’re doing what you can. Grady’s helping too, maybe, or at least he’s probably not doing any actual damage.”
She touched her nose to his. “Let’s hope not.”
“If he does, let me know, and I’ll do something appropriately evil to him.”
“Like what? Hide the oregano?”
“Worse. Make him cook with margarine instead of butter.”
She laughed, and wrapped her arms around him.
How have you been, hon? Skye’s mom asked in email, after a paragraph of news about exploring Portland with her boyfriend. I miss seeing your art. How are you feeling?
Skye rested her elbows on the counter at Green Fox as she read the message. Sadness overtook her as she dwelled on childhood memories of the rare times her mom was relaxing at home instead of working, and Skye would clamber into her lap with a handful of crayons and insist on drawing with her. Gone, all of that, gone. She might never see her mother again, or her father. Her parents and Livy and Jamie and the rest of the world would never k
now why she’d vanished or what had happened…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“THE MERMAIDS DIDN’T KEEP THE RAIN OFF YOU DURING YOUR PADDLE?” KIT TUCKED THE BLANKET OVER LIVY’S shoulder.
Her hair was still damp from the rain, sticking itself into ringlets. “Not their department. I think they try to get people extra wet.”
“Oh, just like me, then.” He captured her laugh in his mouth, rolling her onto her back. He lay kissing her another minute or two, still turned on even though they’d just had sex.
It was Saturday afternoon and she had pulled in to his beach on her kayak, as pre-arranged by text. Grady and Justin were manning the garage from lunch till closing today. Owner’s privilege, getting to take the afternoon off, he’d loftily told them. Of course, they knew what he’d be doing instead of working.
“This is fun,” he murmured. He’d found himself saying it during most of their dates over the past couple of weeks. It was the most fun he’d had in a while, actually. Livy surprised him. When he got her alone, she blossomed from formidable, chilly Forest Service scientist into naughty, up-for-anything friend with benefits. Even setting the sex aside, they hit it off great. They made each other laugh, and kept finding interests in common.
His “little crush” was developing into something that made him think about her at all hours. And worry about her safety at the hands of the goblins, even though Flowerwatch had said they wouldn’t touch her. He didn’t trust any goblin.
“Ever gone swimming at night in summer, when the bioluminescent plankton’s sparkling in the water?” Livy asked.
“Mmm. I love it when you say things like ‘bioluminescent plankton.’ Yeah, ’course I have. It’s awesome. Like swimming through stars.”