Kate drove her motorcycle smoothly through the evening traffic. With the ease of long practice, she wove her path to avoid cars, trucks, and...other things. As always, she was careful not to be too obvious about it. People would be unlikely to notice her swerving to dodge “nothing”, and the “nothings” were used to assuming they were unseen.

It was a hot summer night, and her leathers were uncomfortably warm by the time she arrived back home from the concert. She'd left early after Brad had gotten too handsy and he wouldn't take no for an answer until she made an express delivery of footwear to his scrotum. She hadn't been in the mood to hang around after that, so she pulled into her parking space just before midnight.

It was a good thing she had, because at the stroke of twelve, a goblin appeared in front of her.

Immediately Kate flicked her gaze off to the side, pretending she couldn't see him. It was harder than usual not to react, because she didn't often see one literally appear out of...wherever goblins came from, and they usually weren't smirking at her.

“Heya toots.”

What.

“Invisible” things almost never talked to her. Kate focused on securing her bike and then heading for her apartment. She considered going for a walk instead, rather than showing the goblin where she lived, but it probably wouldn't make any difference. It wasn't as if they respected walls or anything, and if it was still hanging out in the same spot when she got back it might suspect that she could see it and was trying to avoid it.

The goblin cleared its throat, and spoke with a very different diction. “Hey, baby.” It sounded as if it was going for suave and missed by several decades. Also a few feet of height, she thought uncharitably. Kate pulled out her keys and unlocked her door.

The goblin grumbled, audibly took a deep breath and tried again, trying to sound tough. “Yo, 'sup bitch?”

What is this, 'Bad Come-Ons Through the Ages'? she wondered. And why is it still trying? She opened the door and stepped inside.

“Kathleen Dana O'Leary, don't you dare close that door!” the goblin snapped in a more normal tone.

It knows my name.

This had never happened before. Kate's breathing quickened as she frantically tried to decide what to do. She started to shut the door in the goblin's face.

“You owe a debt!”

Kate stopped, the door mostly but not quite shut.

“Do not make it fell. Invite me in so that we may speak of this.”

It...he... needs an invitation. ...But he already is claiming a debt.

She opened the door just wide enough that the goblin could get by, but kept the door between them. “Promise no harm to me and that you'll leave the premises in under a day. If you do that, I invite you in.”

“As another deal, separate from the first, I accept.” The goblin walked into her apartment.

Kate waited until he was well inside, then shut the door. She turned on the lights and watched him walk up to one of her chairs and climb up on it, standing and turning around. They looked at each other for a few moments.

The goblin, clearly male, was a bit over three feet tall. Standing on the chair, his eyes were on a level with her chest. He was green, of course, and had those enormous pointy ears. He wore strange clothing that almost hurt to look at; one moment it seemed to be leather, the next wool, the next shimmering silk. He had a bit of an odor to him, of sweat and grime and wood smoke, and Kate resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose.

“I offer a mistake, in exchange for the hospitality of drink.”

“A mistake?”

“Humans make mistakes when closing deals. I offer you one free chance to back out of a deal you make with me.”

“What'll you have? I have water, tea, beer, and some wine of doubtful condition.”

“Two beers I will have.”

“For my escaping one mistake, I accept.” Kate had to struggle not to let her voice fall into a similar cadence to the rhythm of the goblin's speech. To be fair, he seemed to be having the same problem, adapting his speech patterns to her. The result was a bit of a muddle, as if the flow of Fate had gotten a little tangled in the room.

She brought him the beers and one for herself. She watched him puzzle over the cap for a moment, then popped her own and passed him the opener. The goblin flinched for barely a moment, then whipped a kerchief out of a pocket and used it to take the tool. He was careful to have the caps fall away from him, and set down the opener, shaking out his kerchief before it folded itself back up neatly and returned to his pocket.

“Oh, the iron?” Kate stifled the impulse to apologize. Taking on debts by implication was not something you wanted to do around any of the Fair Folk. Even Kate knew that much. Without saying anything further she picked up all the caps and dropped them in the recycle bin, then put the bottle opener on the counter. As she sat down across from the goblin, she asked, “is that more hospitable for you now?”

“Yes, and thank you. Your people use far too much iron these days.” The goblin lifted a beer, but didn't drink until she took a sip of her own.

“If you give us something stronger and cleaner than iron, we'll probably switch to it. Love of money is strong in the human world.”

He smacked his lips at the taste and frowned at her. “Queen Titania already gave you her metal.”

Kate blinked. “But that's...” she trailed off, not sure where to start. An online search or three, she thought. Then she realized that he knew her name but she didn't know his. “What's—?” she stopped herself before asking his Name. “What shall I call you?” she asked instead. The goblin grinned.

“Call me Ishmael.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Why?” The goblin looked mildly puzzled.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment. “Never mind.” She shook her head. “All right, Ishmael, could you please explain what has brought you to my door? What is this debt I am supposed to owe? I've never promised anything to the Fey that I know of...beyond this conversation.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Oh it wasn't you. It was your grandmother.”

He has to mean Gramma Erin. Oh Gramma, what have you done?

The old woman had “tested” Kate when she was young, but Kate had been scared and pretended not to be able to See. Somehow she had fooled her. Regardless, her maternal grandmother had told her a lot of stories of the fey. Kate had found them very interesting and somewhat informative, as it gave her names for the visions she had that almost no one else did. Again and again, Gramma Erin had warned Kate never to make deals with the Fair Folk. And now here she was, making multiple small deals with a goblin.

Did she warn me because she didn't want me repeating her mistake?

Ishmael opened his vest and pulled out a scroll that was much larger than the space it had come from. He offered it to her. “See for yourself.”

Warily, she took the scroll and unrolled the paper, stiff with age but unbroken. One look at the runes all over it and Kate was sporting a mild headache. Quickly she looked to the bottom, and recognized Gramma Erin's signature, a bit firmer and neater than Kate was used to seeing, but definitely her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and put one hand to her brow.

“Is the glamour supposed to give me a headache?”

“You can't—? Huh.”

“Don't get any ideas, I can read it if I have to. Give me the TLDR.”

“The what?”

“The short version, the gist, please.”

“Ah. TLDR. I'll have to remember that,” Ismael muttered cheerfully. “And it's the twenty twenties. I have to remember that too. I won't do to my kids what Dad and Grandpa did to me.”

“The deal on the scroll?” Kate asked, her patience starting to wear thin.

“Ah, yes. The TLDR is that in exchange for protecting your grandfather, David Michael O'Leary, throughout the war, Erin Lily Duncan O'Leary promised a female child of her line.”

* *

Kate sat there, stunned.

Gramma Erin, what have you done?

The war. He meant World War II. Grandda David had died when she was little, but he was a war hero and had lived to a ripe old age. Gramma Erin had showed her his medals more than once. She often talked about the lives he had saved, the good he had done. Thinking back, Kate wondered whether her Gramma had had an edge to her tone when she spoke like that, whether perhaps she was trying to assuage a secret guilty feeling.

Still, Gramma, your own granddaughter? How could you?

As Kate's mind raced, she reminded herself that her mother had not been born until well after the war. Her grandparents had married young and had children late. If Grandda had died, Ma would never even have been born, let alone me.

It's...not the worst deal in the world...but I don't think I could have done it.

“Her own granddaughter?” she asked aloud, still stunned.

“Ah.” Kate's eyes shot to Ishmael, who looked about to equivocate somehow. “She, ah, may have misinterpreted the deal a little. Not a lot!” the goblin protested quickly as Kate's temper threatened to explode. “It's just...the deal specified after ten generations. She probably thought it would be your great great great great great great granddaughter. Honestly, it was tricky of her, since her line could easily have died out by then, leaving us goblins with nothing.”

“So why is it me then?” Kate demanded.

“Well...the deal didn't exactly specify whose generations they were talking about. It's been ten goblin generations since the deal was signed, as of midnight.”

Kate frowned. “August second...today is Midsummer's Day, isn't it?” She thought some more. “Shouldn't it have waited until sunrise, though?”

The goblin sighed. “Time zones. You people move so far so fast now, we've had to adapt.”

“Huh.” She took a sip of her beer—not a big one, since she needed all her wits about her. “So...what does your family want with a female human?”

“Your mother should have taught you the ways of nature long since. Are you a virgin then?”

Kate flushed a bit. “Depends on how you count it, I suppose.”

The goblin rolled his eyes. “Have you taken the seed of a male and absorbed it in your womb? Attempted a child?”

Defined that strictly... “No.”

“Good. That gives you another path to fulfill the pact.”

“What other path?” she asked warily.

“We could start a child tonight, and if it be female, I could wait and take the child instead of you, for my grandson.”

Kate would have sprayed her beer if she hadn't already been braced for something outlandish. “No. That is not happening.”

“I need a female or at least the Fate of one.”

Kate briefly ran through a mental list of her sisters and cousins, double-checking that she didn't hate any of them enough to dump this on them instead if possible. Stalling for time, she asked a question even though she already knew the answer. “Why me?”

“You're the only one with the Sight, so you're my preferred choice.”

“Why did Gramma Erin make a deal with a goblin?”

“True love I suppose.”

“No, I mean, why didn't she deal with a leprechaun or a high fairy?”

“Oh, that. Numbers.”

“Numbers?”

“How many leprechauns do you think there are, anyway? We goblins are the most numerous of the Hidden by far because we have short generations and as many children as possible.”

“Meaning...?”

Ishmael gave her a toothy grin. “Lots and lots of sex.”

Kate hid her reaction to that as best she could. “As to that...I don't know how to put this delicately, but...you're about three feet tall—”

“Three feet seven inches!” Ishmael interrupted indignantly. “And I'm plenty big to mate with you, Kathleen. You won't be disappointed.”

“That's what they all say.”

“Do they have shapeshifting magic?”

“Shape...?” Kate froze for a moment, thinking about potential uses of shapeshifting, then shook her head to clear the distraction. She cast about mentally for something else to ask to delay things. “If—if we were to...breed...what would our children be? Goblin? Human? Half and half?”

“Usually one or the other, but not always. Sometimes the child is another race entirely. A lot depends on the wishes of the parents.”

“You mean if we both wished for goblin children I would bear goblin children?”

“Exactly. And you could carry goblin triplets more easily than a single human.”

“Or...or vampires or ogress or...?”

“Those would be harder, and why on Earth or in Elf Lands would you want a baby vampire?” Ishmael demanded.

“I wouldn't. I'm just trying to learn what's possible.”

“You haven't talked to many of the Fair Folk before, have you?”

“This is my first real conversation with one. I got some bad scares when I was little.”

Ishmael's mouth curled in a sneer of disgust. “Scaring a little one? Some folk are monsters.”

Kate didn't know what to say to that. Monster is relative, apparently.

Ishmael regarded her a moment. “It must have been lonely for you. The only one who could See in your family. No one to talk to about it. Do you even know anything about goblins?”

Kate sighed. “Hardly anything,” she admitted.

Ishmael's face shifted to an expression she wasn't expecting: concern. “Hey. How about we make a deal that we don't make any deals for a couple of hours, and just talk?”

Kate stared at the goblin for several moments. “What's the exact wording on that deal?”