Ollie found the V-shaped tree, and the reflective beads in the grass beyond. He waved to Kimmie, urging her to follow.
This was normally the highlight of the hunt for him, when adrenaline surged through his body as he closed in for the kill. But not tonight. He’d seen something different in this goblin, less rage and bile, more submission and sorrow. Like that Arunak he’d found with his dad, this goblin seemed to know its end was near. But he wouldn’t pity the beast.
Don’t feel sorry for it. No matter what. It won’t do the same for you.
He found the cave entrance, a narrow, darkened slit between two massive tree roots. The opening was sloped, maybe five feet tall, and only two and half or three feet at its widest point. He’d have to scrunch down to get in there.
He set down most of his equipment, keeping his shotgun handy, then stepped softly on the grass outside the entrance. He listened intently for any movement in the cave. He heard no sounds of alarm, so he took a tentative step forward, lowering one foot into the hovel. Still no response from inside. He held his hand up, signaling Kimmie to wait, then crouched down low until the blackness completely enveloped him.
He moved slowly through the narrow cave, dragging his free hand along the wall to guide him, and to feel for anything carved into the rock. Crones would protect important lairs with magic runes or symbols. Sometimes the spells made the cave less visible to human eyes. Other times, they exploded. So far, all he could feel was moist rock.
Roy and Gemma had called him a mole man back in New Orleans, always sending him to the deep, dark places they were afraid to venture into. Until he started hunting with them, he hadn’t realized that most people would run in the opposite direction from a situation like this. But he’d done it so many times by now that it didn’t bother him. In fact, he wondered if he’d become almost too casual about it.
The ground leveled out, and he focused on the soft hiss of air coming from a few yards away. It was followed by another, and then another. The goblin, breathing, maybe even asleep. He slowly reached for the small LED lantern in his pocket, clicked it on, and then tossed it to the ground.
The light, dim by most standards, was enough to blanket the dark cave, and Ollie immediately found the goblin curled up on the ground near the side, against the wall, a tattered blanket pulled over its torso. He raised his shotgun, just as the goblin stirred.
“Don’t move.” Ollie trained his weapon on the goblin, who looked bewildered at finding someone else in its cave. It ignored the warning at first, scrambling to its feet. Ollie lunged forward, making sure the goblin could see the shotgun trained on its head. It nudged itself against the wall and froze.
“Kimmie! Bring my bag!” The sound of her sneakers scuffing the ground echoed in from the entrance. She appeared, bag in hand, holding her nose. He directed her to drop the bag on the ground. “There’s a bigger lantern in there,” he said, his eyes never leaving the goblin. “Get it and turn it on.”
She fumbled through the bag, his attention suddenly drawn to their surroundings. The cave, as far as could be seen, was small, barely large enough for a few goblins to live in, maybe more if they packed in tight. Large tree roots snaked along the right side, as far back as Ollie could see. The left was mostly rock, mixed with some packed dirt and clay. Two small alcoves in the rock, both about waist high, were filled with cans, toys, trash, and other trinkets the goblin had collected over time.
Kimmie placed the lantern on the ground and turned it on. Light flooded the cave, causing all three occupants to squint. The extra light revealed that the cave continued farther back, although it narrowed and shrunk to a point that Ollie would have to squirm on his belly to get through.
“Grab the shackles in there, too,” he said. Kimmie reached into the bag and pulled out a short chain with thick shackles at either end, like the kind used for dangerous prisoners being escorted to or from a courtroom, only more medieval. She handed them to Ollie, who wrapped the chain around his off hand.
He walked over to a thick, exposed root close to the goblin, who nudged himself backward a couple steps. The root came down from the ceiling, stretched across the floor and then disappeared into the ground below. Perfect. He leaned down, keeping the shotgun pointed right at the goblin, and latched one end of the shackles around the root. He tossed the other end at the goblin’s feet, the metal clanking loudly in the small space.
“Put it on. Around your ankle.”
The goblin looked at him for a long moment before glancing over at Kimmie. Ollie debated whether or not he’d have to beat some sense into this one, but fortunately the goblin shuffled closer. Ollie backed away as the goblin fumbled with the shackle, working it around his ankle a few times before it finally snapped together.
Ollie sighed and lowered the gun. He moved next to Kimmie, who was still crouched near the bag. “I like this guy. He does what he’s told. Not always the case with Golaks.”
“We can talk to it, now?”
“Almost.”
Ollie pulled the flashlight from his bag and walked to the back of the cave, giving the goblin as wide a berth as possible in the small space. He crouched down and shined the light into the crevice, seeing more cave, only this part was jagged and twisting. His excitement at what lay beyond faded, and he walked back to the bag, dropping the light inside. He climbed out of the cave and grabbed the gas can he’d left on the ground. He lugged it in and set it on the floor. The goblin’s eyes went wide.
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“You know what’s in there?” Ollie asked.
The goblin’s eyes flicked up at him, betraying the creature’s fear.
“Yeah, you know.” He nudged the can with his foot, and the goblin tensed. “You know it creates fire. Enough to burn you to ashes in seconds and end your entire miserable existence.”
Ollie took a few steps closer to the goblin.
“This is where you start telling us everything we want to know. Starting with where your pack is.”
The goblin shot a look at Kimmie as it backed away. It tried to hide behind one of the large roots snaking across the wall. Ollie advanced, pressing his advantage.
“They have to be somewhere. Are they out by the cemetery? Farther south? Maybe in that crevice back there?”
The goblin gave a quick shake of its head.
“What does that mean?” The goblin stared at the ground, refusing to meet Ollie’s gaze. “They’re not in any of those places? Or you don’t know where they are?” He walked back over to the gas can. “I can start with something small. Like that messed up foot you have. I can burn it right off. Maybe that will get your attention.”
The goblin shivered and squeezed even more into the wall.
“Please,” Kimmie said. “Tell us anything.”
The goblin’s eyes flicked up at Kimmie, and its shoulders sagged again.
“No pack,” it whispered.
Ollie frowned. “You sure about that? I see that Golak mark on your arm.”
The goblin covered the mark with its hand. “Pack is gone.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“They’re gone!” it shouted. It immediately regretted being so bold and retreated back against the wall.
“They left you behind?” The goblin gave a quick nod. “Why?”
It looked around the cave, struggling for the words. “We fight,” it finally said. “They hurt me.” It motioned toward the scars on its chest. “They call me exile and kick me out. Then they left.”
“Where’d they go?”
The goblin made a weak gesture toward the side of the cave. “That way. Long time ago.”
Ollie pursed his lips. It probably meant east if his sense of direction wasn’t failing him. “What about the old man and woman who used to live out here? Who killed them?”
The goblin winced, then stared at the floor as if its life depended on it.
“Do you know who did it?” Ollie pushed forward, getting dangerously close. “Did your pack do it?”
The goblin made a sound like whimpering.
Ollie slid the gas can a little bit closer. “Tell me, or I’ll burn you alive.”
The goblin squeezed its eyes shut and trembled. Ollie again thought of the Arunak, about how it welcomed death as a release from some failure.
“Tell me now, or I’ll–”
“…sorry.”
Ollie almost didn’t hear the words. He leaned in. “What?”
“My fault,” the goblin whispered. It slowly crumbled to the ground, cradling its head in its hands. “All my fault.”
Ollie blinked. Had this thing just admitted to killing Kimmie’s aunt and uncle?
“You killed them?”
The goblin shook its head, though not in answer to his question. “I did it. All my fault. All my fault.” Ollie watched, speechless, as the goblin mumbled its confession. He turned to Kimmie, who looked nearly as surprised as he did. He’d have bet money a hobgoblin or a trow had done the deed. Not this wretched beast. Although as mistreated as it seemed to be, he could imagine it losing its cool and going into a rage. Goblins could do a lot of damage when properly motivated.
His gun hung limply at his side now, the interrogation, for all intents and purposes, done.
He motioned Kimmie forward. “You wanted to talk to it before the end, now’s your chance.”
He walked back to the bag, dropping the shotgun on top of it. Kimmie waited nearby, unmoving. Her expression was guarded, but there was no mistaking the desire in her eyes, a thirst to know, after all this time, why her aunt and uncle had died.
“Why did you do it?”
The goblin looked up at her, the anguish on its face unmistakable. Goblins don’t have normal tear ducts, so they can’t cry. But this one clearly wanted to. Ollie wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a goblin with a conscience.
It said nothing. Kimmie moved closer.
“Please tell me.”
The goblin turned around, facing the back of the cave. It hugged its knees silently, resigned to its fate.
“I think it’s done talking,” Ollie said. Kimmie stared at the goblin, still waiting for an answer. “You probably don’t want to be here for this next part.”
“What part?” she asked, distracted. He gave her a look, then tapped the gas can with his foot. “Now?” Her eyes went wide. “Why?”
“There’s nothing left to do. We hunted a goblin. We found it. He’s obviously alone, so now we put it out of its misery.”
She turned back to the goblin, her eyes pleading for some kind of delay. “No. Not yet. I’m not done with it.”
Ollie gave her a surprised look. “What else is there to do? Hack it up with an axe?”
“No! No, I want to talk to it. We can ask it more questions.”
“About what? His pack is probably long gone. It’s told us everything we wanted to know, and, frankly, I believe him. This case is closed.”
“We can talk about other things.” Kimmie huffed, clearly flustered. “I mean, it’s a goblin! There’s a million things I can ask it. Its history around here, other lairs, what other goblins it’s been with, where its pack came from, where they might have gone.”
Ollie sighed. “You’re stalling.”
Kimmie clenched her fists. “Yes, I’m stalling!” She paced back and forth in the small cave, then turned to Ollie. “I know what you’re going to say. Something about goblins are evil, and terrible, and they offer nothing constructive to society. And I know I agreed to do what you say out here. But I want one day. Just one.” He started to protest but she cut him off. “What’s the harm? It’s not going anywhere. It can’t hurt me if I stay out of reach. Just…” she waved him out of the cave, “give me a day and you can come back tomorrow and burn everything down.”
Ollie detected a hint of bitterness in her voice. “There’s nothing left to do here, Kimmie.”
Her chin jutted out. “You don’t get to deny me this, Ollie. I know about your mom. I know your dad is out there hunting the goblin that killed her. If he finds it, don’t you think he deserves the chance to get some kind of closure before he sends it off to oblivion?”
Ollie stiffened, and his cheeks flushed.
“My dad is not chasing–” He stopped himself, not wanting to go down this road. Not now. “Fine. You want one day? You got it. One day to get your closure, and to finally come to terms with whatever it is you need to come to terms with. And then I’m coming back here and I’m ending that thing. I don’t care how pitiful it looks. It dies tomorrow. Understood?”
Kimmie’s mouth tightened. She obviously didn’t like his tone, but she nodded.
“Fine.” He leaned over and grabbed his bag and shotgun. “I’ll be back tomorrow. At dusk. I’ll leave this,” he tapped the gas can with his foot again, “here. Right where I need it.”
He walked out of the cave in a huff, feeling the urge to shoot something else tonight.