Page 9 of Goblins Don't Count
“No, of course it isn’t, except that you’re my sushi dealer, and I’d prefer if you stay human.”
“I’m a witch.”
“You’re partly witch on your mother’s side. All human on your dad’s. Mostly human. But not for long if the Magga’s actually decided to turn you into a goblin.”
I stopped walking so I could stare at the insane goblin who had broken into my precinct. “You can’t turn people into goblins.”
“No, personally, I can’t, and I never would if I could, but Magga has this collection of humans, and she also has this group of acolytes, many of whom were humans, but are now goblins, born of her magic.”
I snorted. “Acolyte? So she’s a priestess? Her magic was incredibly unstable. That’s why I talked to her. She was ready to blow up the entire station.”
“You read her aura? She’s always ready to blow up an entire station. City. World. It’s very irritating. Rynne, have you noticed any changes? For example, can you see in the dark?”
I jabbed the taser into his neck, but he didn’t even flinch. “I’m not turning into a goblin. No. I can’t see in the dark.” I’d been able to hear him two rooms away, and I’d been able to smell the corpse’s fear, but that was just a weird, temporary thing that had nothing to do with turning into a goblin. People didn’t turn into goblins. It was ridiculous.
“That’s a relief. Because if the Magga did turn you into a goblin, she’d also own you, you’d be her slave, and I wouldn’t get any more sushi.” His golden eyes twinkled cheerfully. “So glad we got that straightened out. How did you make these cuffs? They feel like your soul.”
“We needed something that we could use on infernal creatures that couldn’t be held by metal, so I used some…Don’t change the subject.” I glared at him.
He smiled at me. “You’d like to talk about turning into a goblin some more? First, your senses will expand, like becoming a werewolf without the craving for blood. What you will crave is sushi. Your muscles will become more dense, stronger, and your eyes will change color until you can see in the dark.”
“I’d like to talk about what you were doing in my police station in the middle of the night.”
“I was asked to break in to check security. I already told you that. It’s something a lot of people pay me for. I’m very good at it. I was also going to browse all the files and see if there was anything interesting about anyone I knew. I was also going to check your office and see if you have plants that need to be watered. For a human with any amount of witch blood, you’re terrible with plants.”
I tasered him. Right in the neck. He spasmed, and I shoved him into the cell, shutting the door behind him with a clang of doom while he stumbled onto the bench, looking surprised, but still amused, even with the black mark on his skin.
I bared my teeth at him. “As fun as this has been, I need to get home and sleep in my bed. Enjoy your rest on that nice, comfy bench.”
He reclined, cuffed arms behind his head as he relaxed. “Thank you. I will enjoy my rest in this secure facility. And I will see you tomorrow.” His eyes glimmered, but I didn’t stick around to figure out why he was so comfortable and confident. Maybe he could get out of the cell that had been crafted to hold the most vicious and brutal creatures. Maybe he could pick locks with his teeth. Maybe he could spell his way out of my cuffs, too. Either way, I was done with him.
I never should have tasered someone who wasn’t a threat. I’d reacted emotionally, been reacting emotionally ever since I realized who it was. I still felt betrayed, and every word out of his mouth only served to deepen my hurt and anger.
It was a long walk home, and when I finally reached the alley, I was feeling guilty for letting the goblin get to me. I was feeling like that time Tarn took my bike without permission and didn’t lock it up, so it got stolen. Betrayed by someone I trusted. Why would I trust a goblin? Goblins were the creatures who had bullied my brother so badly that I’d painstakingly written out a letter to the Goblin Authority. Of course, I’d addressed it to the Goblin King, but he’d written me back and clarified that there was no king in this enlightened age, and that my grammar was atrocious, so please fix it. Then he’d given me sheets of goblin words and their English equivalents, my first lesson in goblin from an actual goblin. Anyway. There was no reason for me to trust any goblin, much less some random client. But Sashimi had been so helpful at fixing my accent, and would let me talk to him about my stupid problems, as long as it was in Goblin. He’d actually given me some useful advice, from relationships with friends, family, and work. Ten years was a long time to think you knew someone.
I jerked to a stop when the raccoon rolled out in front of me, landing on his back and staring up at me with beady, black eyes. It was two feet away from me, and it hadn’t been acting stable the last time I’d seen it.
It made this chirping sound and kicked its legs rapidly. Was it possessed? What in the world was it doing? I leaned over it and then got a whiff of its stench. It wasn’t just raccoon, it was alcohol. I pulled back, grimacing from the horrible smell. It was drunk as a skunk. No, drunk as a raccoon. I peered behind the garbage can where he’d come out, and there was an overturned bottle of vodka.
Now what? I was a neutral witch and should have an affinity with plants and animals. It really hurt when Sashimi told me that I was terrible with plants. It was true, but when did the truth not hurt more than blatant lies? I still shouldn’t have tasered him, even if I felt like he was provoking me.
I shook my head and refocused on the now snoring raccoon in front of me. I could just leave it there, or put it behind the garbage can, but what if a larger predator found it like this? I crouched down to peer at it and noticed a part of its fur that was matted and red. I smelled blood in that awful raccoon mix. Blood? A wounded, drunk racoon? Was it hurt earlier when it had snarled at me?
I sighed heavily, took off my jacket and picked it up, aware of its stench seeping into my shirt. It snuffled and lolled its head against my shoulder, curling up kind of adorably. Was I actually doing this? Well, I should do something nice to make up for tasering Sashimi. The second time. It would have knocked a human unconscious, but he’d only looked amused.
Yep. I was so amusing, but I’d still caught a goblin with my spelled cuffs. Even if Brannigan made fun of how they looked, with layers of fabric stitched over them, they could hold a goblin assassin. Sashimi had really nice hair, and it smelled much better than a drunk raccoon. Our fight hadn’t lasted very long, but I could still feel the silky hair as it slid over my face, particularly my lips. So silky. So much better than my own hair. Maybe after he got out of jail for breaking and entering, he’d tell me what kind of shampoo he used.
It didn’t seem like he took my jailing him personally, but I wanted him to. I wanted him to feel betrayed and hurt like I felt. When had I gotten so petty?
I carried the raccoon up the steps, careful not to knock over any of the pots on my porch, and then inside. I took him to the bathroom and put him on a towel. I really needed to give him a bath, but would he be passed out through complete immersion?
No. The raccoon came awake with a squeal of horror and bared teeth, but I was wearing thick gloves, and had a good grip under his chin, so he couldn’t bite me. I held him down in the bottom of the shower, plugged up so the water could rise enough to wash the furry beast. After a slight struggle, it whimpered and relaxed, letting me torture it.
I washed it down until the matted fur loosened up enough for the blood to come out. There was a lot of blood. Poor thing. Sometimes it helped to talk to animals. Some witches swore that they talked back.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Raccoon. We’re going to get you all clean and then I’ll stitch you up. I’ll make a nice compress for your wound and weave some spells into it so you heal extra fast. Okay?” My voice was bright and cheery, like it was when I talked to children.
He eyed me suspiciously, before his head rolled back, and his tongue came out, lolling to the side. Okay then. I worked over him with both hands since he wasn’t struggling. I needed to keep talking.
