Lunar Shadows (The Guardians Series Book 2)

by T. F. Walsh

  “Fuck.”

  If Cruz was outside, he could stop the murderer. Zana darted back to Klurt’s office. She collected the walkie-talkie from the desk. Clicking the unit, she yelled, “Cruz, are you there? Stop the goblin coming out of the elevator.” No response. Her body buzzed with urgency. “Cruz, you shithead, pick up!”

  She careened around Klurt’s desk and ripped open the top drawer, grabbing the alarm device; the one that Klurt had used whenever anyone caused trouble at the markets. That was what she needed to get Cruz’s attention. Sure, it would cause mass panic, but time was running out. She hit the red button.

  A stringent siren pealed overhead, and a cacophony of voices exploded outside; shuffling feet, screams.

  She clicked the button on the walkie-talkie. “Cruz, where are you?”

  Zana moved closer to Klurt, her knees buckled, and she sank beside him.

  “Klurt, this is my mistake.” The hole in his chest looked like a knife stab, and she touched the edge of the wound, his blood still warm. “I should have stayed with you.” She shook her head and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Should have made Cruz trail you right away. Should have done more. This can’t be happening.”

  Tears fell unchecked, and raw emptiness swallowed her heart as she trembled. Sheer nothingness threatened to kill her. He’d been her father figure, kind and giving; sure, grouchy to others, but loveable to her. Now she’d never hear his deep belly laugh or his teasing words again.

  A shadow loomed overhead, but Zana couldn’t move. She hadn’t even heard anyone approach. Not that she cared at that moment.

  “What the fuck?” A male’s voice broke through the assaulting siren. His arm nudged her aside as he dove forward, hunching over Klurt, checking for his pulse.

  Unable to stop the tears, the agony broke through Zana. “He was…” Her words came out in sobbing cries.

  The guy grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. He drove her back against the wall. The blade dropped from her grip, drawing the stranger’s attention. A dark-haired goblin stood inches from her face. His body vibrated with anger, and his jaw clenched.

  “What did you do to my uncle?”

  2

  Shadow’s hands shook as he clenched the goblin’s shoulders and pinned her to the wall. He glanced at the knife she’d dropped at his feet. Not a speck of blood stained the weapon. Or had she wiped it before he’d arrived? The girl didn’t behave like a killer. He’d encountered enough in his lifetime to recognize one. But why had she been crouching over Klurt with a blade? Evil did come in all guises.

  “I’ll ask only one more time,” he demanded, his voice climbing. “Did you murder my uncle?”

  Her eyes were watery pools, and the healed scratch from brow to cheek told him she’d seen her share of fights. When she spoke, she growled. “Get off me. I found him like this. I work at the markets.”

  Shadow loosened his hold, and she pulled free, dropping to her feet. She reached his chin in height.

  “Who are you?” he asked, blocking her way out of the office in case she bolted.

  His gaze swept to his uncle. The goblin who had given him, an orphan, a roof as a child, fed him—had offered Shadow hope. The image in front of him undid him completely. Klurt had taken in every stray goblin, taught them respect and discipline, pushed them to get an education. Someone with a heart as huge as Klurt’s should have never met such a vile ending.

  Numbness threaded through Shadow, though, in his mind, he shoved away the emotions, the pain, just as he’d been trained to do in the queen’s army. Feelings made him weak, and that moment was about him taking charge.

  The female in front of him with amber locks leaned over and picked up her blade. He backed up in case she swung the weapon.

  “See? It’s clean.” Her voice held more power than her small frame would suggest. “I was chasing the killer, but he escaped.”

  Okay. She wasn’t going to attack, though it was no real surprise she had a knife. With no law existing in Tapestry, everyone did what he or she had to. Sivath, the goblin chief, had been setting up an enforcement group to aid goblins, but that was four years ago. Maybe things had changed since Shadow was home last.

  “What’s your name?” he demanded.

  “Zana.” She tucked the blade into her boot.

  The girl had a strong, angular face with golden irises and ruby lips. No blood on her clothes. But a trail of crimson splattered across the vinyl flooring in front of Klurt. Shadow studied Zana’s boots. Pristine. Blood stained her cheek as if she’d wiped it with the back of her hand, yet her natural beauty intrigued him—urged him to lower his guard—which was ridiculous. If it weren’t for her long ears, she’d pass for a human, and he didn’t recall there being a half-blood in town when he was last in Pryvale.

  “You’re a half-goblin,” he stated.

  She ignored him and knelt near Klurt again. Her body curled forward, and the softness of her cries tightened his chest.

  What the shit was going on? The macabre scene wasn’t sinking in, yet the metallic smell clawed at his nostrils. It wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. Weeks ago, he’d sent Klurt a message saying he was visiting for a few days, and, ever since, he’d been picturing the embraces, the laughter, and the food. He still had Klurt’s house key, so he had left his gifts there, found the Wart Markets location pinned to the pantry door, and then came to see his uncle at his work. Now the plans to create new memories and see Klurt chuckle again were stolen.

  It was Shadow’s mistake; he should have gone to the office first, but none of that mattered. Only tracking down the culprit and making them pay mattered.

  Around him was the same storage room Klurt set up at the Wart Market as his office. Complete with the rabbit coat of arms on the back wall. The hares chased each other in a circle—symbolic of the lunar cycle and fertility. Large families were encouraged, though when he was last in town, goblins had taken to misinterpreting the coat of arms to symbolize parties and drunkenness.

  He knelt next to Zana.

  She cut him a mournful expression, her eyes red and chin quivering. “Did you see a goblin running out of the mine when you came in?” she asked.

  He shook his head because he’d been wandering through the markets. “When the sirens went off, I headed straight to my uncle’s office.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “We have to give Klurt a proper farewell. Everyone will want to attend. But tomorrow’s the first day of the Lunar Festival.”

  “I was looking forward to attending the two-day party.” At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d said them out loud.

  Zana’s gaze speared him. “You might be his nephew, but you can’t cancel the festival! Klurt had spent too much time on the event for it not to happen.”

  “Didn’t say it wouldn’t. Just…” He swallowed back the uncomfortable silence, then blurted the next thing that came to mind. “The first day celebrates our past, death, and releasing evil spirits from our lives. The whole community will be there. Saying farewell to my uncle tomorrow seems fitting.” The more he toiled with the idea, the more it made sense.

  Where would he hold the body in the meantime? In goblin tradition, the dead were burned within hours of death. It was said it helped them ascend to the goddess and avoid dark spirits from finding them. No funeral homes or graveyards existed in Tapestry.

  Zana stared at him, her shoulders drooped, and her mouth turned downward. He expected a backlash, because she seemed the type to fight until she got her way. Instead, a tear slid along her cheek. “That would be nice.”

  He reached over and wiped his thumb over the bead, staring into pupils so deep he was sure he’d get lost in them. For those few seconds, neither of them said a word. Her heat radiated into his hand, which cupped the side of her face. She didn’t back away. Maybe it was grief, but the urgency to take her into his arms pressed against his insides.

  When someone cleared their throat behind them, Shadow leaped to his feet. Sta
nding in the doorway was a goblin with long ears sticking out of straw-like hair. He wore a fluorescent vest, filthy cargo pants, and army boots.

  “Son of a bitch!” The newcomer stood frozen, his disc-eyes pinned on Klurt, his mouth a grim line.

  Zana pushed past Shadow and charged at the guy. She shoved her hands into his chest, sending him reeling backward. “Where the hell were you, Cruz? I called you on the walkie-talkie!”

  She pushed him again, then her fists pounded into him. The guy cradled his head with his arms to protect himself from her attack.

  Shadow closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm across Zana’s waist. He drew her against his chest, his attention on Cruz. “Who are you?”

  “What happened to Klurt?” Cruz screamed, pointing at Klurt’s body.

  Shadow stepped in front of Zana, eyeing the newcomer. Everyone was a potential suspect. “Someone killed him, and we’re trying to work—”

  “Who the fuck are you?” The goblin jammed a finger against Shadow’s shoulder.

  Shadow snatched his digit and bent it sideways. “Where exactly were you when Klurt died?”

  Cruz wailed, dropping to his knees.

  Zana nudged an elbow into Shadow’s side, and he cringed from the jab to the ribs. Damn. She had sharp bones. He released Cruz, who stumbled a few steps away, massaging his finger.

  “This is Klurt’s nephew,” said Zana. “Cruz, where were you when I called?”

  “The nephew who abandoned Pryvale to help the kingdom? That’s you?” Cruz scrunched his nose as he glared at Shadow.

  Great. Apparently, deciding to pursue a life not dictated by goblin expectations made Shadow the worst kind of being in the world. Fuck that. Born an orphan, his life options had included a food gatherer or gardener. Not in his lifetime. When the opportunity came to work in the realm, he jumped at the chance, much to the dismay of most in Pryvale.

  “Do you have a problem with my life choices?”

  Cruz cracked his neck and licked his lips. “You deserted your people to help another race, so, yeah, I have an issue with you.”

  Shadow’s pulse raced, and he stepped closer, ready to show the goblin what a burden felt like right across his bent nose.

  “Stop with this shit!” Zana yelled. “Klurt is dead.”

  Cruz ran a hand through his messy hair, his brow pinching into a dozen lines, and turned to Zana. “My walkie-talkie is busted. Told Klurt ’bout it, but he said not to worry and that he’d get it fixed.” He moved closer to Klurt’s body, then cursed beneath his breath. “Who would do this?” He faced Shadow. “By the way, you might be his nephew, but I’m in charge. Not you!” Cruz squared his shoulders and smoothed his hair down.

  “Stand down,” Shadow said.

  “Shut up, Cruz,” Zana interrupted. “Of course he’s in charge. Klurt had told the minister of Pryvale that the Wart Markets would go to Shadow should anything happen to him.”

  “Look,” Shadow said. “I need to know everything that’s been going on here. Who came and went from Klurt’s office today? Anyone that might have wanted to hurt him.”

  Zana’s hands pressed against her stomach. Her ashen cheeks indicated she might throw up. “The markets had barely started. I’d been in Klurt’s office earlier. After I left, I spotted a big guy rushing inside and shutting the door.”

  “Did you recognize him? Or remember anything particular—anything we could use to track him down?”

  She shook her head. “He had his back to me. He was about your size, but with light-colored, cropped hair. Oh, and he had a kind of limp when he walked. Like one leg was shorter than the other.”

  Shadow nodded. Zana stepped heavily toward Klurt’s body and crouched next to him. She was clearly close to Klurt, much more than Shadow had been. He had no one to blame for that but himself, especially since it took him four years to return home.

  “Cruz, follow me.” Seeing his uncle in that state sliced Shadow’s insides. Except, he’d deal with the situation the only way he knew how; focus on tracking down the murderer.

  Cruz slapped the door shut behind them. The salt mines appeared to have been hit by a storm. Must have been because of the bustle of everyone trying to escape when the alarm went off. Tables lay overturned, there were baskets everywhere, and fruit was scattered, along with clothes and foods. Even the purple tent in the back lay on its side.

  “Why are you back? And why now?” Cruz demanded.

  “I was meeting up with Klurt.” He didn’t need to go into the whole backstory of Sivath asking Shadow to visit Pryvale and to convince Klurt to sell the Wart Markets. Until Shadow uncovered what the hell had happened, he’d keep his mouth shut. “Anyway, Zana said she saw the suspect. She might know more when she’s ready to speak. You may not like me, but I’ll need your help for Klurt and Zana’s sakes.”

  Shadow stopped walking and studied Cruz, who stood there, legs apart, arms dangling, the animalistic expression on his face darkening.

  “Let’s get this straight. Klurt was my friend. I’m doing this for him; not a sellout like you.” He snarled the words.

  It took every ounce of strength for Shadow to hold back the desperation to charge and knock sense into Cruz; to make him realize that leaving Pryvale didn’t make Shadow an outsider, but someone who wanted more than a mundane existence.

  Instead, Shadow asked, “Do you know a ceremonial minister for Klurt’s farewell tomorrow? We also need to tell everyone attending, so it’s not a shock, and—”

  “You’re going to hold his final rites during the Lunar Festival?” Cruz blurted, his lips twisted.

  “Can’t think of a better time. The first day of the festival is about releasing pain and troubles. So it makes perfect sense to use the day as a memorial for Klurt.”

  Cruz stiffened and lifted his chin. “Fuck. You really want to piss off the community, don’t you?” He lowered his head and cleared his throat. “I’ll get it organized and let everyone know it was your idea. I have a friend who will help transport Klurt’s body to a holding place. Tomorrow, you’ll be making the opening speech at the ceremony, if it’s not too much for you.”

  “Sure.”

  Shadow didn’t shy away from public speaking. He’d spoken in front of the queen plenty of times, so that wouldn’t present a problem. Keeping his emotions in check was a different matter. However, it wasn’t about him. Klurt loved the markets. He’d dedicated his life to running them for goblins to enjoy.

  Age crept up on Klurt. He should have spent his retirement years relaxing, taking vacations. That was one of the reasons Shadow had returned home—to suggest his uncle sell the Wart Markets to Sivath, the goblin chief, and take it easy.

  So much for starting the two-day event with merriments. Shadow was about to give the opening speech to a group of goblins who saw him as nothing more than a traitor.

  3

  Zana tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack. Night engulfed the dense forest around her. With each step, the coins on her dress rattled. Her chest knotted so tight, she could barely take a breath as her mind remained in the salt mines with Klurt; his dead eyes and so much blood. Emptiness grew inside her. She already missed him—her friend, confidant, and savior when no one else had wanted to extend a helping hand.

  Loose pebbles crunched underfoot. Yep, what everyone needed to kick off a party; a funeral on the first day of the Lunar Festival!

  If Zana’s heart weren’t broken into ten million pieces, she might have found that funny. At least Cruz had helped with the upcoming cremation. She wasn’t sure she could have planned the event, but she had to remain strong for Klurt. The festival was his baby. He had once said that when he died, he didn’t want anyone to mourn or cry. Everyone was to celebrate his life with cheer and dance. Zana’s throat thickened.

  Jar-shaped lanterns filled with glowworms and hooked on branches illuminated the worn path that curved ahead. Usually, she’d walk home with customers and vendors carrying merchandise from the Wart Markets
. Not tonight. The place was abandoned.

  The majority of goblins lived in Pryvale, which was located deep in the Transylvanian woods and far from the nearest city of Cluj in Romania. While Tapestry was a parallel world to Earth, geographies and landscapes were almost identical. Because of the magical connection between Earth and Tapestry, Earth had started drawing energy from their world. Locations in Tapestry depleted of resources became bare and nothing grew there. Add to that, replicas of human buildings had started showing up in the dead zones like ghosts of places. On Earth, the abandoned salt mine had been transformed into a theme park, while here, it was an empty hole in the ground.

  Those born in Tapestry had an innate ability to cross the thin veil between the worlds, but humans couldn’t and had zero idea that Tapestry existed.

  Zana quickened her pace. Losing Klurt brought back the anguish from her parents’ death. She had visited Klurt weekly, and he even made her a potato and leek pie once. For the first time since moving to Pryvale, she’d felt as if she belonged. Klurt was her link to the community that treated her as an outsider. She and Klurt would chat for hours on how to improve the Wart Market and keep goblins safe from anyone starting trouble.

  She chewed on her inner cheek, remembering the killer rushing into Klurt’s office. In Tapestry, all sorts of gangs existed, and many had visited the Wart Markets or had run-ins with Klurt—from the big players like the goblin chief to bug-munching backward goblins living deep in the mountains. Those creatures sold anything they got their hands on, including drae. Nasty, and, for some reason, most of the backward goblins had missing teeth.

  What about Shadow? Was it too much of a coincidence Klurt had died the day Shadow returned home?

  Zana kicked a rock, sending the stone into a tree. A recent storm had stripped back the bark and outer layers of beech and oak trees. Leaves rustled overhead from the breeze, and insects sang like they did most days. That night was anything but normal. The world would never be the same again.