“Grika.” Ollie set the pygmy goblin on top of the boulder. “What do you smell?”

The pygmy sniffed the air with its bulbous nose, taking a scent in each cardinal direction. Ollie had set up a small LED lamp that gave off only enough light to see the immediate area, casting a faint blue glow on each of their faces. Beyond was a wall of darkness. After a moment of consideration, Grika pointed to the southeast, over the ledge. “That way. Really faint.”

“Go check it out, will you? I’m gonna go over the basics with our new partner.”

Grika scurried over the ledge and disappeared into the night.

“What’s he looking for?”

Ollie unzipped his bag. “He’s tracking the goblin’s scent.”

Kimmie raised her eyebrows. “Like a bloodhound?”

Ollie nodded. “He can smell magic. Goblins are borne from it, so pygmies make good trackers. Of course, you have to bribe him with about four times his weight in food to get any worthwhile work out of him.”

She gave him a quiet, thoughtful stare, and he could almost hear the onslaught of unasked questions about Grika, and magic, and who knows what else. He decided not to give her the chance.

“Let’s get to it, then.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled out some toys and kitchen utensils, watching Kimmie’s confused visage with satisfaction. “You wanna hunt? Here’s your crash course.”

He motioned her to sit and she settled on the ground nearby.

“Rule number one, goblins are dangerous. I can’t stress that enough. They may look gangly and disproportionate, but they’re faster and stronger than you’d expect, kinda like those chimps that go crazy and rip people’s arms off.”

“Wait,” Kimmie held up a hand. “I thought rule number one was you don’t take amateurs hunting with you?”

Ollie gave her a harsh glare.

“Sorry,” she said, suppressing a grin. “Continue.”

Ollie took a second to let his annoyance with her sink in before continuing.

“Like I was saying, goblins can maul you if you give them half a chance, which leads to part two of rule number one – they’re also unpredictable. Just because that goblin let you go, doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous when properly motivated. Anything can set it off. It’s like people. You don’t know what annoys me, and I don’t know what annoys you. The difference is if we annoy each other, we don’t immediately launch into a temper tantrum where we bash each other’s face in with rocks.”

Kimmie gave a slow, somewhat sickened nod. Ollie crouched down next to his bag and the scattered utensils.

“Now, rule number two – goblins are easily distracted. A toy store is probably your best weapon against them. But you can find plenty of stuff around the house that works just fine, too. Like this.”

He picked up a colander.

“Throw a colander or a strainer at them, and they can’t resist picking it up and counting all the holes.” He shrugged. “No idea why. Best part is they usually can’t count past eight so it takes them a while. Same with a Rubik’s cube.” He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a handful of mini versions of the toy. “They have to try and solve it, but they’re too dumb to do it. They’ll spend hours twisting this thing around. I know hunters who tell a story about this one goblin who died of hunger trying to figure it out. It’s probably not true,” he tossed the toys back in the bag, “but it makes for a good urban legend.”

“Weird.”

“Distractions don’t always work, though, especially once they get worked up into a rage. When that happens, you need something with a little more kick than puzzles. Guns and knives are a partial solution for that.” He pulled out a large hunting knife and a machete, followed by a pistol and a shotgun. Kimmie’s eyes went wide. “The problem with goblins is that they’re magic at their core. A bullet only stops them temporarily because they heal fast. You can take an arm, or a leg, you can make them bleed, you can gut them, but in the end the only thing that will kill a goblin, for good, is fire. You have to burn them to ashes.”

He pulled out a plastic squeeze bottle with a light brown liquid in it. A sticker wrapped around one side had the word FLAMMABLE written in bright red marker.

“Why bring guns, then? Why not a flamethrower?”

“Flamethrowers are a little hard to carry around. And besides,” he hefted the shotgun in both hands, “this baby may not kill them right away, but it’ll sure as hell knock them senseless enough for me to light ‘em up.”

Kimmie gave him a condescending smile. “Let me guess. You name your guns.”

“No,” he said, trying to cover up that he did, in fact, name his guns. “Just the shotgun.”

“Well?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “What is it?”

Ollie lips formed a thin line. “Remi.”

“Remi?”

He held it up, showing it off a little bit. “It’s a Remington 870, with some customizations. Since I spent some time in New Orleans, some friends thought Remi would be appropriate.”

“Awww, no name for the little one?”

“When it earns one, it gets one.”

Her smile threatened to turn into a laugh. Ollie shot her a look and she got herself under control. After a chuckle or two. “I have a gun, too. At the house. For protection, mostly. I’ve never used it, though. And I haven’t named it. Although, I am partial to Tommy.”

Ollie threw everything except for Remi back into the bag. “What I have here should be more than enough for one goblin.”

“So,” Kimmie counted off the lessons, “toys to distract them, guns to stun them, fire to kill them.”

Ollie nodded. “It ain’t rocket science.” He sat down next to the boulder, the show-and-tell session done. “There’s some variety in what we do. Each hunter has his, or her, own style. Some use traps. Others use poisons or drugs.”

Kimmie leaned forward. “Drugs work on goblins?”

“Some do. Horse tranquilizers knock them right out. Vicodin makes them loopy. Any variation of hydrocodone, really. Or morphine, I think. Only catch is that it needs to be about two or three times more potent than what you’d give a human, otherwise it only makes them dizzy. There’s a few other variations on human drugs that will make goblins do some crazy stuff, but I don’t mess with that unless I have to. I know a few hunters who like to experiment, but that’s not my style.”

“You’re a brute force kind of guy?”

“When I need to be.” He leaned back against the boulder and crossed his legs. “Lots of hunters end up trying all these new tricks, so they can stand out from the crowd. Something that gets them a reputation, or a name. Some of them think they’re superheroes. Others just get bored of the tried-and-true. In the end, though, they’re outsmarting themselves. We’re glorified pest control. That’s it. Some of us don’t want to accept that.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, mimicking his casual demeanor. A mischievous smile crossed her face. “If it’s so easy, then why do I need you?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Because,” Ollie patted the shotgun lying on the ground next to him, “we’re not out here killing roaches, are we?”

Kimmie looked around, taking in the darkened forest around them, and Ollie did the same. The moonlight was weak, making it hard to see anything other than the dark blue sky between a maze of black branches and leaves silhouetted against it.

“So where do goblins live? Caves?”

He nodded slowly. “Caves, mines, hollowed-out tree trunks, old tunnels, abandoned cars. They aren’t too picky about their accommodations. They want someplace dark, and far away from people.”

Kimmie’s pocket buzzed.

“Is that your phone?” Ollie asked.

Kimmie reached into her pack and pulled out a smartphone. “Yep.” She checked her notifications, not seeing Ollie’s scowl.

“Turn it off,” he said.

The light from the screen lit up the clearing, making the LED lamp look silly in comparison. She looked up and saw his disapproval. She held down the power button until the phone signaled that it was powering off. “Why?”

“Just a precaution.”

“Okay,” she said as she slipped the phone back into her pack. “Weird, but okay.”

He ignored her. He leaned his head back and let his eyes wander across the treetops, looking for nothing in particular. Several minutes passed, and the quiet quickly gave way to the buzz of crickets.

He glanced over at Kimmie, who stared off in the distance, lost in thought, and he wondered why he’d so easily given in and let her hunt with him. Not only that, why he’d let her see Grika. To be fair, she already knew about him, but he didn’t have to confirm it. He didn’t even wait five minutes before introducing the two of them. In fact, he’d been acting out of character ever since meeting her.

She was attractive, and she had an energy that he felt drawn to. He was certainly drawn to her, and in a different world he would be tempted to see if the feeling was mutual. He was only human. But something about her personality kept him continually off balance.

“I’m guessing this is the boring part?” Kimmie asked, breaking the silence.

He blinked, and realized she was looking back at him. He looked away.

“Get used to it. Lotta waiting around in this biz.”

She made a noise that showed what she thought of that. They had time before Grika came back, so Ollie closed his eyes and let his mind wander, thinking back to his first few days with Roy and Gemma in New Orleans. They’d had some friction at first, but that was to be expected. Three different backgrounds, three different skillsets, pushed together by a paranoid, doddering old woman who, despite her eccentricities, meant well. He and Gemma eventually found some common ground, and that had turned out pretty good for a while. Maybe that was why he allowed Kimmie to come with him tonight. Something more than simple attraction, or even the money.

He was lonely.

He liked working alone, and he liked being alone, but every once in a while he missed interacting with people, especially those who delved into the dark as much as he did. He knew spending too much time by himself, or with Grika, would eventually drive him insane. He’d seen it happen to people he thought were far stronger than him. Maybe Kimmie could be a partner for him. Maybe he could do the mentor thing right this time.

Don’t be an idiot. This kind of work kills idiots.

Ollie sighed at his dad’s version of a pep talk. Unfortunately, he was right. This job wasn’t meant for people with loved ones. His own life had made that painfully clear.

“So, where’s your dad?”

Ollie looked at her then closed his eyes again.

“You tell me. You went looking for him.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

He settled in a little more against the tree. “I know he’s probably out hunting something.”

Kimmie didn’t say anything for a long moment. He waited for the inevitable follow-up questions.

“Do you and your dad not get along?” she asked, right on cue. “Sorry, is that kind of personal?”

He opened his eyes and gave her a warning look. She nodded in recognition.

“Gotcha. No talking about parents.” She nodded vigorously. “I can definitely do that.”

Ollie closed his eyes again, trying not to picture his dad barking at him while skulking about in the middle of the night in a forest just like this. He failed, so he opened his eyes. “If we’re not talking about our parents, then what about last names?”

Kimmie furrowed her brow. “What about them?”

“What kind of name is Blanco? Spanish?”

“Yep. My grandfather on my dad’s side was from Spain, by way of Chicago, which is where you’ll find most of the Blancos these days. My grandfather owned a haberdashery out there and one of my four uncles got the space next door and turned it into a bar. The South Side Cigar Bar. He’s probably there right now, getting ready to close up for the night. My mom is half Japanese, though, in case you’re wondering where I get my Harajuku Girl looks from. So was my aunt, who owned all of this before me. They were twins.”

He nodded. “So, where’s mom?”

She waved her finger back and forth. “Nope. That’s breaking the ‘no talking about parents’ pact.”

He bowed his head deferentially. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay. You don’t like to talk about your dad. I don’t like to talk about my mom. Should be easy enough for both of us to remember what not to bring up.” She looked away, though not without stealing a glance at him. “And Hauk?” she asked a moment later.

“Northern European mutt, as far as I know.”

She nodded absently. “Do you ever dream of places in Europe? Places you haven’t been to?”

He gave her a quizzical look. “No.”

“I have these really vivid dreams of places in Japan that I’ve never been to, or even seen pictures of, but when I dream about them, it’s like I’m in a real place. In fact, it’s kind of creepy how real they feel.”

He leaned his head back again. “Some people remember their dreams better than others.”

“I guess. I’ve never even been to Japan. I’d like to go one of these days. My mom and my aunt were born there – my grandfather was stationed there in the sixties – but they moved here when they were little and never went back. I get this feeling sometimes like I need to visit the homeland and pay my respects or something. Go visit some temples and pray to the old gods.” She paused. “It’s a little creepy, now that I’m saying it out loud.”

“Do you have dreams like that about Spain?”

Kimmie thought about that for a moment. “No. Not really. Weird, huh?”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “It makes sense. You fantasize about going to Japan, so you dream about exotic Japanese locales.” Ollie adjusted his position, getting comfortable. “You don’t do the same for Spain, so you don’t dream about Barcelona or Madrid.”

“Hmmm.” Kimmie tapped her chin in thought. “I’ve spent a lot of time with my dad’s family, but not as much with my mom or her family, outside of my aunt, of course. Maybe I have these dreams about Japan because I’m missing some kind of connection with my extended family?”

“Sure. Go with that.”

Kimmie stared up at the stars for a long moment. Just when Ollie thought the conversation was over she looked at him and winked.

“And you said this was boring. It’s like a campout, only with scary stories that can kill you.”

As if on cue, hurried footsteps trampled through the brush on the far side of the ledge. Ollie and Kimmie both jumped to their feet, and Ollie snatched Remi from the ground. A moment later, Grika’s head peered over the edge. The pygmy jumped back, startled at the sight of Ollie holding his shotgun.

“Whoa. Careful with that!”

Ollie lowered the weapon. “Well?”

Grika shimmied over the ledge and onto the boulder. “Found a few whiffs here and there, but none of it was strong. Or recent. It was here at one time but I’d guess it’s moved on.”

Ollie scrunched his forehead. “It’s not even in the area anymore?”

Grika stood at the edge of the boulder, looking down at the two humans. “Maybe. Like I said, he was here, but he hasn’t been here in a while.”

“He has to be,” Kimmie said. “I’ve seen him near the house. I’m sure it’s him.”

Grika shrugged his tiny shoulders. “By the house and here are two different places, lassie. My nose isn’t that big.”

Ollie winked at Kimmie while stowing his shotgun back in the bag. “Sounds like there’s more than one stalker out here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means it was living out here until it discovered you. Now it’s relocated closer to home.”

“My home?”

Ollie nodded. “You said you’ve seen signs of him around your house. Goblins are most active in the hours right after sunset. By the time we get back there and get everything set up, we’ll have missed a good chunk of prime hunting time.” He hefted the bag over his shoulder. “Looks like we’re doing this again tomorrow, only this time in the daylight. It’s time to show you some more tricks of the trade.”

*

Shortly after Ollie’s Jeep disappeared down the road from the house, Kimmie went to her room and grabbed a box from her closet. She opened it and pulled out a digital high-speed camera, setting it on the table next to her. She opened the instructions and skimmed through, ignoring the long blocks of text and focusing on the pictures. She loaded an SD card into the camera and slung the strap around her neck as she made her way to the kitchen, camera box still in hand.

She rounded up a handful of cookies and treats, and put them into the box, poking holes in the top and sides to let the smell escape. She didn’t want every little raccoon and squirrel in her backyard to get a hold of the food inside. She left the house and walked around the back pen, finding a tree stump a few paces behind. She slowly waved her flashlight across the tree line that wrapped almost completely around her, wondering if those big eyes were somewhere in there, staring back. Watching her every move. She should be scared by that thought, but she wasn’t. Normal people would be scared, right?

She left the box on the tree stump and jogged back to the house. Once inside, she set the camera up on the sill of her bedroom window, which overlooked the back pen, and the tree stump behind it. She plugged the camera into the motion detector system she’d bought several months back, hooking it into the rear zone detector, which she’d set behind the pen so it wouldn’t be triggered by the cows and pigs. Once she was done, she settled into a cozy reading chair next to the window and turned off the lights so she could see outside.

An hour later, despite her best efforts to stay awake, she fell asleep in the chair, snoring softly as something moved behind the back pen. It shuffled from tree to tree, triggering the motion detector as it reached the treats on the stump. The camera flashed several times in succession, but she didn’t notice. She was busy dreaming of a rural snowstorm somewhere in Japan.