Lunar Shadows (The Guardians Series Book 2)

by T. F. Walsh

  The flame from the single candle crowded the room with distorted figures, adding to the darkening mood. Each second ticked in slow motion, bringing her closer to Klurt’s ceremony. She couldn’t take back the events of the day before or reverse time. Helpless, she waited as her heart beat against her ribcage.

  “Take my hand,” Povian said. She did as instructed.

  Shadow’s fingers threaded through hers, his touch clammy.

  “Close your eyes.” Povian’s piercing whistle was like a nail to Zana’s temple. “Think only of Klurt.”

  Zana inhaled deeply because since arriving at the tent, Klurt had been on her mind endlessly. Rawness rushed forward. She pictured her last conversation with Klurt in the Wart Markets. Maybe she shouldn’t have left him alone even for a minute, despite the customers waiting. Her chest tightened, but she swallowed the agony, because falling apart wasn’t helping. Goddess, if you’re listening, please leave Shadow alone. Taking Klurt is enough. Don’t take another life.

  A deep guttural thrum ripped her back to the present moment, and she opened her eyes to find Povian still in a trance. Her hand slipped out of his and Shadow’s. He also dropped his hand holding on to Povian.

  Shadow cocked an eyebrow at her, and she raised a shoulder in response. She’d never seen that ritual, and had no idea what Povian was doing. But she didn’t care. Get through the night without falling apart. That was what mattered.

  “Done.” Povian’s voice made her flinch. He pulled back the flap of the tent.

  A gush of wind fluttered inside, engulfing Zana. The chill left her covered in goose bumps. She emerged from the tent and entered a meadow in the middle of the woods. Several feet away stood a podium on a dais encircled by goblins.

  Povian climbed the steps, faced the villagers, and broke into a welcoming speech. There had to be close to five hundred attendees, each wearing their ceremonial cape. The Lunar Festival was usually filled with chatting, laughter, and eating food. A huge bonfire would blaze and everyone threw in an item for burning. The act represented releasing the negativity from the previous year. Not today.

  Shadow stood next to Zana, his face rigid with tension.

  “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. Despite his major cockiness since she met him, in that moment, he’d misplaced his confidence. Was he terrified of public speaking? Beneath the evening moon, his skin glistened in a cold sweat.

  “Thanks.” He offered her a forced grin and climbed the steps to the platform.

  She wanted to say more, to help him, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she joined the watchers and waited.

  Shadow was a prime target, so instead of listening to Povian, she scanned the goblins. Most heads were covered. No one nearby seemed suspicious, but, then again, she hadn’t seen the killer’s face.

  Lanterns hung from poles at the corners of the podium. Their illumination threw splatters of lights on those in the front rows. Povian nudged Shadow forward.

  Shadow slid the hood off his head, his shoulder-length hair fluttering in the breeze. He stared out into the crowd. When his sights landed on Zana, she smiled. Despite his accusations that morning, staring at him up on the stage, she felt a sense of pity for his situation.

  With a deep breath, he began, “It is with a heavy heart that my return to Pryvale coincides with the death of a most beloved member of the community. My uncle. As a child, I was fortunate that Klurt took me into his home and offered me the family I never had.”

  Hushed whispers rose.

  “That’s Shadow? Thought he abandoned us,” someone nearby said.

  Another goblin wasn’t keeping his voice low. “He’s an orphan.”

  “Returned from the kingdom, where he’s supposed to our ambassador, but spends his days training to be a Guardian. Must think he’s better than us.”

  “Shhh,” Zana said, not that anyone paid attention when gossip spread like mosquitoes in breeding season.

  “Yes. I’m visiting from the realm for a few days.” Shadow’s words carried across the masses. “Today isn’t about me, but about a fellow goblin who had been a lifeline for many in Pryvale. Klurt…” Shadow’s words wavered, but he cleared his throat. “Klurt was a father to me, and he refused to judge a soul based on race. To me, that is the legacy he leaves behind. To stop judging each other and accept our differences.”

  The whole time, Zana assumed Shadow was full of himself; that nothing touched him. Yet, as he stood there, he was clearly not afraid to declare his thoughts on the unjust treatment some goblins perpetrated. She couldn’t help but admire him. Seemed they had more in common than she had thought.

  The chatter continued, but Shadow didn’t stop. “Everyone should remember the great moments Klurt brought to our community. He would have wanted that.”

  Grief pressed through Zana and split open a chasm of emptiness. She let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred her vision. Her gaze fell to her feet as she blinked fast to stop the crying. Her fingers clasped her cloak, and she was convinced she’d never fill the hole in her heart. After her parents’ death, Klurt had slowly patched her loss. Now, it consumed her entirely.

  A loud clap resonated from the goblins. Someone shouted, “Who are you to stand there and preach when you don’t even belong to our community? Go back to your kingdom.”

  Shadow wiped his mouth with a hand while he squared his shoulders. But Povian’s voice streamed out. “Drun, was it not Klurt who offered you a home when your hut burned down? And to the rest of you—who did you turn to when you needed help? What would your lives be like without the Wart Markets? Klurt believed in the goodness of goblins, so let’s be kind to our neighbors.”

  Silence shrouded the meadow. Shadow then spoke again. “Tonight is filled with sadness for many of us. I urge you to share a story about Klurt with a fellow neighbor you don’t normally talk to.”

  A loud horn blared in the distance, and the crowd parted, creating a path to the podium.

  On the wind, a hum floated, and, soon, everyone joined in. Zana slinked forward for a better view, wiping the fat tears that refused to stop falling. Two goblins walked up the pathway, each holding a glowing lantern. Behind, eight volunteers carried a giant wooden rabbit on their shoulders. As the ritual dictated, Klurt’s body lay inside. The lullaby song on everyone’s throat fluctuated like cicadas on a hot summer’s night.

  Waves of hollowness engulfed Zana as she hummed louder, driving the grief into her tune.

  The pallbearers hung their heads low as they carried the ceremonial casket. Once they passed the platform, they laid the coffin on a nest of prepared wood.

  Goblins circled the area. Zana rode the wave of bodies, the hypnotic beat drowning out her thoughts.

  Just yesterday she had laughed with Klurt then had gotten mad at him for not believing her vision. Today, he was being cremated.

  Goodbye, Klurt.

  Povian approached with a fire stick and set alight the rabbit. As always, the timber had been pre-soaked in alcohol. The flames took fast and ferocious. Heavy smells infiltrated Zana’s senses, burning her nostrils. Unfettered light illuminated the circle of goblins.

  “Goddess, guide Klurt,” Povian called out. “Free the soul from his physical body. Let Klurt be liberated to remain by your side or inhabit a new form.”

  Golden licks of flames lapped at the casket, swaying in a dance from the breeze. The air tugged on the smoke upward in a spiral. Sparks and crackling erupted; dirty flakes floating to the ground.

  Zana turned her back to the blaze along with the throng of goblins, and in slow motion, they moved away. The humming faded against the screeching snap of the fire. Staring at a soul ascending was considered ill luck.

  When someone nudged her arm, she looked up to find Shadow beside her, despair crammed behind his vivid, green eyes. Without a word, they walked together, lost in the continuing melody.

  Life was short and unpredictable, but no one deserved to die before their time. Zana glanced at Shadow. Maybe craving his
company wasn’t so bad, because being alone sucked. And who was she fooling in believing she really belonged in that community? As much as she strived to, she’d always be an outcast. With Klurt gone, she would become invisible. Unwanted. Her throat choked against the growing boulder in her throat.

  Shadow slipped his hand in hers, their fingers intertwined. She didn’t pull away. His touch was the only element keeping her grounded before she broke down, unable to stop the hole tearing through her.

  As goblin folk fanned out in every direction, vanishing into the woods, Zana made contact with familiar but sinister eyes. “No fucking way.”

  “What’s wrong?” Shadow’s hand tightened around hers.

  Several feet away stood the same goblin she’d fought years earlier to get out of her mating arrangement—Carver—approaching with a buddy. Bara was there too, whispering something in his ear, then he took off into the woods. Bastard. Carver’s mouth twisted into a snarl as his attention locked on her hand in Shadow’s.

  Tall and tanned, Carver was nowhere near as solid as Shadow. Carver’s movements were fluid and silent, like a serpent seeking prey. Shadows hung under sunken eyes and set in a round face beaming with a suddenly friendly smile. Every inch of him was deceiving.

  His lower lip was an uneven line, and looked as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. She had sliced it with her blade during their battle, and his mouth refused to properly close. But the dickhead deserved a whole lot worse because, last she heard, he’d claimed two girls as his mates. He had his fun, then they mysteriously vanished.

  But Carver lived on the outer edge of Pryvale with Sivath, and rarely visited the Wart Markets. He held no allegiance to Klurt.

  So what the hell was he doing there?

  8

  A strange warmth spread through Shadow as he strolled hand-in-hand with Zana. He wasn’t sure he could walk away from her. Returning to the kingdom was a world away, perhaps another life. In the present, he felt more at home than he had in the realm for the past four years. He may have lost Klurt, but he’d found Zana. Maybe he’d been too harsh in his judgment of her that morning. Wasn’t that what he railed against? She’d been stressed over Klurt’s death.

  When she plucked her hand free from his, he studied her thinning lips, then followed her path of sight. Two goblins approached. Both had pitch-black hair and could pass for brothers—assuming they weren’t actually brothers. But the taller one sported a weird kink in his lower lip. His grin was wide, and all for show—and it targeted Zana.

  The pair stood in his way. Goblins leaving the funeral wove around them, entering the woods, not paying them any heed.

  “What the fuck do you want, Carver?” Zana demanded.

  If the newcomers elicited such rage from Zana, then something was wrong. Her arms remained locked by her side. “We had an agreement. You don’t come within a hundred feet of me.”

  Twisted Lips, or ‘Carver’ as Zana had called him, stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his tailored pants. The sides of his head were shaved while the mohawk on top ruffled in the wind. He bore a healed scar running from an eyebrow to just above his temple. With his pristine white button-down shirt and shiny shoes, the goblin had gone all out in the clothes department. Shadow had taken off his cloak earlier, and was dressed in jeans and a checkered top. It wasn’t like he had packed for a funeral.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again so soon, Z.” Carver’s gravelly voice reminded Shadow of a drae he’d once met who had smoked his entire life. Carver studied Zana as if she were prey. It bothered Shadow. Bothered to the point where he resisted the urge to shove his fist into Carver’s face.

  Carver’s attention shifted to Shadow, and he tilted his head. Pale irises, like a wolf’s, studied him. Eyes revealed insight into the soul. Zana’s showed an innocent girl behind her tough exterior. Klurt always offered the softest gaze. But Carver was something else. Menace swirled in his eyes, just like those sadistic sons of bitches who enjoyed seeing others suffer.

  “And who’s your friend?” Carver’s demeaning emphasis on the last word slammed into Shadow as realization hit. Zana’s ex.

  Shadow stuck a hand out. “Shadow. And you are?”

  Carver didn’t shake, but glared. If they weren’t at Klurt’s farewell, Shadow wouldn’t hold back. A decent fight always made him feel alive. Shadow dropped his outstretched arm.

  Zana broke the stilted silence. “This is Carver, the prick I was telling you about.”

  The second goblin laughed, high pitched and strained. “Do you know who you’re talking to, bitch?”

  Shadow’s insides ignited. He stepped closer to the duo. “I’ll tell you both this only once. The lady told you to get lost, so you’d better listen or you’ll be limping for a month straight.” Shadow prayed they made a move. Please.

  A nerve twitched in the cords of Carver’s neck as he spoke. “Zana is my mate, so you can fuck off. She might not be the most attractive girl in town, but she’s mine, even as a half-goblin. Yeah. I seen you two together in the woods and heard you were together, but that ends now.”

  Carver had been watching them?

  His hyena friend slammed a hand against Shadow’s chest, hyped for a fight. “Two against one, so step aside, dickhead, and let the love birds chat.”

  “There’s nothing between me and Carver,” Zana hissed, pulling at Shadow’s arm to leave. “We’re through. I kicked your ass. It’s over.”

  Carver groaned. “Z, my love. You hurt me with your words. Once a male claims a female, he always has a right to her. Or are you waiting for me to court you again?”

  “Screw you!”

  Under old goblin customs, Carver was correct. Except, in modern times, matings were mutual. Gone were the days of dragging a mate kicking and screaming before claiming her.

  “Get out of my way,” Carver growled, breathing his stink all over Shadow’s face. The hyena chuckled mockingly.

  But retreating didn’t belong in Shadow’s vocabulary. Considering he’d been unable to stop thinking about holding Zana all day, leaving her at the mercy of those two wouldn’t do. A quick glance around revealed the field was empty of goblins. Only the crackle of fire sounded in the distance from the cremation.

  “Let’s go,” Zana said, nudging at his elbow.

  When Hyena smirked, rage sped through Shadow’s veins. Enough of this bullshit. He took a deep breath, curled his fingers, and punched him in the face. The goblin crumbled, wincing. Shadow head-butted Carver, sending him reeling. Despite the dizziness taking hold of Shadow’s vision, the damage was worth the pain. Shadow marched forward and grabbed a fistful of Carver’s shirt, tightening the fabric around his neck.

  “Look what you made me do… start a fight at my uncle’s farewell. Listen very carefully, because I think you’re having trouble hearing me.”

  Blood dribbled from Carver’s nose. The bastard hurled a blow into Shadow’s temple. It barely registered.

  “When I trained in the queen’s army, I got beat up by drae three times a day and survived. A nobody like you doesn’t worry me. But you should be afraid, because I’ll rip your throat out if you ever so much as glance at Zana.”

  “Y… you don’t scare me. You’re full of words, just like Klurt. Piss off and return to the realm. No one wants you here.”

  “The Wart Markets are mine, and I might decide to stay so I can continue kicking your butt.”

  Carver swallowed loudly. “When Sivath hears about this, you won’t be spared.”

  “Sivath?” Shadow’s grip loosened, and Carver ripped free, stumbling sideways. Since when did the goblin chief associate with shitheads? How much had changed in the past four years?

  Hyena joined Carver. They retreated, but not before Carver called out, “Zana will be mine. And no matter where you go, Shadow, I’ll hunt you down like the dog that you are. Heck. I’ll start today.” He unleashed a piercing whistle, then, with his buddy, they both darted into the forest.

  “What a fucking jerk,” Zan
a blurted out.

  Shadow paid no attention to their cowardly threats. His mind swam with confusion. Had he been wrong the whole time? Carver was capable of killing Klurt, but those idiots took orders from someone. Besides, Zana would have recognized her ex entering Klurt’s office. They probably needed instructions on how to tie their own shoelaces. Tomorrow, he’d visit Sivath. If he weren’t worried about Zana’s safety, he’d leave right away.

  “I should have left town ages ago. Should have known that prick would return.” She chewed on a hangnail. “Let’s go to my place. Carver is up to something.”

  Shadow curled an arm around hers, nudging her closer. Her gaze remained focused on the part of the woods where her ex had left minutes ago. “I’ll keep you safe,” Shadow said.

  “I don’t need protection.” Her words shook, as did her shoulders.

  Shadow brushed aside loose hair strands caught in her eyelashes. “We’ll be okay.”

  She pulled back. “Don’t you get it? You’re the one in danger. He works for Sivath, and that’s why I know they’re all corrupt. Bumping into Carver was what my dream was probably warning me about. We need to leave.”

  He studied Zana, refusing to believe Sivath could be associated with Carver. But what if Shadow had been wrong? And why wasn’t Sivath at Klurt’s funeral? They used to be close buddies.

  Zana gnawed on her lower lip.

  A faint growl rippled through the air. They both jerked toward the fire pit, where Klurt’s remains still burned. Povian was there, raising his palms in front of him in a defensive show of peace. He backed away from the biggest mother of a troll Shadow had ever seen. Eight foot in height, twice as wide as Shadow, with tree trunk legs. He wore overalls that only added to the horrendous hillbilly appearance. Was he the threat Carver had hinted at? Wouldn’t be the first time trolls carried out work for goblins in exchange for payment.