Page 5 of Goblin Candy

“Sorry to disappoint,” she chuckles, giving my knee a pat. “I’m heading back down to the lobby to greet the guests.”

I lift a hand and let it flop a few times in a lazy wave in her direction. I don’t move for several minutes and instead entertain myself first by listening to her footsteps retreat until all I hear is the Halloween haunted house soundtrack being played through the strategically placed bluetooth speakers.

It doesn’t take much before my mind drifts and my imagination kicks into high gear. In the private space of my fantasy, I’m stretched on an altar in a Haunted Library, waiting for a dark lover. I shiver, my mind inserting a certain green male with glowing eyes. I had assumed it to be some sort of costume, but there was a small influx of fae earlier this year despite a few protests that attempted to keep “dangerous” fae families and businesses out.

Idiots. Not that there aren’t dangerous fae. There are more than plenty, but to my understanding the portals from the fae realm are few and strictly guarded to keep the worse out of our world. People are just scared of them for no other reason than they are different and have different cultures and values. Personally, I would give up chocolate for a month—a month—for the opportunity to meet a fae. And the way that green one was looking at me…

A happy little sigh escapes me, but I jerk up off the altar, my fantasy forgotten, when my phone’s alarm goes off and Ozzy’s “Straight to Hell” fills the room. A grin splits my face as I ready myself for delivering the best thrills and chills as a witch.

Showtime!

CHAPTER4

GRIMSAL

Itake a long look at the library in fascination. Elven races are said to have massive libraries with every text under the sun contained within them, but I’ve never experienced it. I’ve never even seen a library until now, having tracked my mate’s scent to this place. Although I doubt it is more than an eighth of the size of the great elven libraries, it’s impressive. The humans must think so too because they are packed into the space. Like the Zombie Walk, people seem to be wearing costumes, but this time they seem to come in all manner of design. There are even a few fae families present, also wearing costumes of unfamiliar figures as they mingle among the humans with their younglings who carry little sacks.

Clearly this must be another Halloween festivity. Their eagerness and pleasure are utterly charming, and I try not to dwell on how some of the humans pull away from the fae in their presence. This is my hunt and therefore a happy occasion. I won’t have it spoiled by some humans’ ill manners. Instead, I smile at the sight of a little female, no older than four and who is obviously a troll-human hybrid, tucked between her parents. Carrying a stuffed dragon pressed tightly against her chest, she is dressed from head to toe in a bright pink costume like a human princess.

How darling!

I wiggle my fingers at her with a cheerful smile, making the little one giggle , but my mood sours at a disgruntled voice at my right.

“Look at them, acting like they’re one of us. Who would believe thatthingto be a princess? Bad enough to create monstrous hybrids, but pretending like they’re just like human children is just wrong. This is a human holiday. Not theirs.”

A growl rises in my throat, but I squelch it as it seems that neither the little female nor her very large troll father hear the slander. Or if they did, they are ignoring it. Just like the male is ignoring several admiring glances thrown his way. I snort quietly to myself, amused at how contrary humans are. Perhaps it’s for the best that he does not react. The last thing that they need is any further problems, and any poor reaction on his part will be construed in the worst of ways. People don’t react well to trolls.

Or to orcs for that matter. I pause in surprise at the sight of an orc a few feet away, wondering if he heard. An orc in a blood rage is no laughing matter. I creep closer to get a better look at his reaction. If he’s angry, I may have to abandon my current plans to locate my female quickly and remove her from this place. As I close in, however, I laugh softly with my discovery.

Not an orc at all. The male is quite large and pulls off the look well, right down to his tusks which are obviously fake but very well done. More telling, however, is the scent that can’t hide the truth, and now that I have a whiff of him there is no denying it. He’s not an orc, but he is, however, glaring at the couple and I’m not so secretly delighted when he shifts his ax—a very convincing plastic one I now note—to his other hand and pushes his way carefully toward them.

I don’t even bother pretending to not show any interest in the altercation as I follow after him. I hate to make my mate wait, but this will make for an entertaining tale to woo her with, I imagine. I’m not entirely sure about human females, but among goblins, a good story is a necessary component of any goblin courtship.

It thankfully doesn’t take the human “orc” long to get into position beside the mated pair of humans who were speaking so kindly. In fact, he doesn’t even hesitate to loom threateningly over the human male who spoke so rudely. The male soon notices the considerably larger presence behind and jumps back from the “orc” so quickly that laughter bursts from me, drawing surrounding attention to me and the spectacle all at once. Craning his head back a little, his face going deathly pale, he stares back in horror to find an “orc” glaring down at him. He looks good and afraid, too, which just tickles me.

Bright red splotches appear on his nose, neck, cheeks, and even the tips of his ears. Those red marks darken further as he glances around the room and notes the attention of so many on him. I am curious if he feels any shame at those knowing looks—perhaps from those well acquainted with his views since I doubt that any except for those closest to us heard what he said—but if he does, he covers it well with irritation.

“Do you mind? I don’t know how your kind is raised, but not observing personal space is rude.”

The false orc blinks down at him nonchalantly, and I’m forced to press my fist to my mouth to stifle my amusement so I don’t miss a word of his reply.

“You find it rude,” the false orc growls impressively as he leans in close. It really is an admirable impression. I can’t think of a single orc from any of the villages or any clan who wouldn’t be flattered by such a portrayal in defense of the small troll female. “If we are speaking of rudeness, perhaps you might repeat to me what you just said about that little girl?”

“Little girl?”

For a moment, the human looks so confused that disgust boils in me—he doesn’t even register the youngling as anything akin to the young females of his people. At the other male’s head tipping toward the troll youngling, however, his mouth tightens and his lip curls in a sneer. That is a look that I wish to see him perform in front of a genuine orc just once so that I can have the pleasure of watching his face get flattened.

That possibility of happening increases when the male troll pauses with his family at a nearby booth and looks over curiously. I mentally bid my false orc to hurry things along because, despite how satisfying it might be to see the human dealt with, there is still my mate to consider, and I really wish to collect this story for her with as little bloodshed as possible.

Not all females find bloodshed romantic, sadly.

“I’m free to have my opinions,” the human grumbles unhappily, and another bark of laughter escapes me before I’m able to control it as the “orc” inches closer.

“And I’m free to stand right here next to you,” my false orc friend says with the most unsmiling smile that would do an orc proud. “For as long as I like.”

Several people in the crowd around me laugh, and the human’s face darkens almost to a purple color until he grabs his mate’s hand to pull her along as he hurries toward the door. “Come on, Astrid. There must be something better we can be doing with our time and money in a place that welcomes this sort.”

My “orc” friend chuckles, and I cut a quick look to the troll who watches the couple leave with a broad smile on his face. He leans down to murmur something to the human female beside him before heading toward the false orc, leaving his mate staring at the door the humans left through with a perplexed and disappointed look. A satisfactory conclusion, if I do say so myself. I don’t bother to stay and watch the greeting between the males, but I hear the shared laughter between them as I hurry on my way tracking the scent of my mate.

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