Page 72 of Goblins Don't Count
Sashimi brushed his nose across my cheek, my sensitive skin burning at that touch. “Turn the helicopter. Slower. Lower.”
The chopper turned back so I could see her again, and then it lowered until we were hovering over a building with the demon’s host far below behind a garbage can.
I opened my eyes and would have fallen over if Sashimi wasn’t wrapped around me.
“Easy,” he murmured in my ear.
“I think I’m dying,” I whispered.
“That’s not overly dramatic,” Trata sniffed, then leaned forward to look past me down at the alley. “So we will get to fight? What’s the plan, Sashimi? Can I jump her, literally, or do you want some of the fun?”
He rumbled a warning to her. “She’s a Corratta demon’s host. The last time we saw her, she summoned infernal flames. Feel free to jump.”
She wrinkled her green nose at him. “You and your reverse psychology.”
“That’s the only psychology you have. I propose a plan.”
We all looked at Sashimi.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t have a plan. I just propose that we make one. I’m open to ideas. I’ve never destroyed a demon’s host before. I’m not incorruptible.”
“No one’s incorruptible,” my mother said, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked down at the host. “Can she see us, or is this one of those invisible goblin war choppers that are entirely unethical?”
“The latter,” Sashimi said with a slight smile.
Another wave of dizzy nausea rushed over me and I slumped against his chest. “Why was that so hard?” I whispered.
“It wasn’t hard,” my mother corrected. “It was impossible. You should know by now that when you do impossible things, there are unpleasant repercussions. Such as making friends with goblins, even if they are excellent customers.”
A fireball came out of the alley and struck the helicopter, enveloping us in flames and sending us spinning. I expected at least my lungs to be singed, but I couldn’t feel any changes in the temperature. My mother screeched while my grandfather started humming under his breath.
“Put it down on the rooftop,” Sashimi said, as calm as if that had been a gentle breeze. Oh. The helicopter must be very well-warded. Of course it was. So we weren’t going to die. Right. Good.
My head pounded while I blinked out the afterimage from the infernal flames, and the helicopter came down with a rough thud on the roof of the building, flickers of fire still coming off the blades.
“Nice! We’re in the right place,” Tarn said, hopping out of the cockpit, the first on the roof.
“Or there’s a random fire mage playing baseball,” Trata said, following him out, irritated that he was the first to race into danger again.
Sashimi released our straps and then carried me carefully out, dropping gracefully to the roof while he kept me close to his heart.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“Of course. And that’s why your raccoon just vomited.”
“Did he?” I squinted at the ball of fur flopped face-down on the roof. “Of course he did. You know, if my familiar throws up so I don’t have to, that makes him a valuable asset.” Just then, my stomach lurched, and I scrambled away from him, landing next to Mr. Raccoon while I threw up what little I’d managed to eat for dinner. The gravel on the roof embedded in my palms, reminding me exactly how soft and human I was.
My trembling arms threatened to dump me in a pile of my own stomach acid, but Sashimi pulled me back against him with his arms around me. “Easy, love. I can feel how much energy you used. I’m afraid you’re going to have to let the others kill the host.”
Love? He shouldn’t use words like that. What did goblins know about love? Other than how to manipulate it? Also… “Wait. Can’t we capture her without killing her?”
Everyone turned to stare at me.
“What?” my grandfather said, frowning intently at me. I still wasn’t sure why he was here.
I cleared my throat. “She’s a human. She should be tried for her crimes, not executed. She may have sacrificed cats, but…” It wasn’t right to kill her. I wasn’t a vigilante, I was Lieutenant Sato of Singsong City, and I wasn’t going to let corruption have a toehold in my soul. No executions without a trial.
“Cats?” Trata looked appalled. “What’s wrong with her? She needs to be put down.”
