A Tale of Two Goblins

chapter Five



Sam was in a coma.

Now I was taking things personally.

I glanced down at the unmoving body of my best friend and felt a sob choke my throat. Sam’s face was pale—almost as pale as the unnatural white of the pillow beneath her head, the same stark, bleached non-color that characterized the entirety of the hospital room. There was an unattended chair beside Sam’s cot but I didn’t take it. Instead, I stood staring down at her, cringing at the sound of a beeping monitor, endless in its monotony.

Knight had delivered the news this morning—almost immediately after I’d snuck out, leaving him sleeping in his bed and driven to my house, completely confused as to where things stood with him. But, I had no time to come to a realization because the second I stepped through my door, I was accosted by the shrill ring of the phone.

I’d come as quickly as I could.

Apparently, Sam had succumbed to the Dreamstalker the previous evening…when I’d been at Knight’s. Guilt had been my constant companion since I’d learned the news this morning. I kept replaying the “what ifs” through my mind, over and over again. What if I’d stayed home and hadn’t gone to Knight’s—would Sam still be in a coma? Had Sam tried to call me while I was at Knight’s? I’d checked my machine and I didn’t have any messages or missed calls. Even so, I couldn’t shake the guilt. And more than the guilt, anger and humiliation coursed through me. The Dreamstalker had set me up—and I’d fallen for his bait like a dumbass. The bastard had to be laughing now—at the fact that he’d orchestrated his plan so well—he’d duped me with the nightmare about Knight and knowing I’d rush to Knight’s side, Sam was his for the taking. He’d easily influenced her dreams and landed her in the hospital. Piece of cake.

Another sob strangled me, and I reached for Sam’s hand. It felt cold and lifeless in mine. Even with the incessant beeping of the life support machine that had now wedged itself into my head like a pulsating electric wire, I checked the monitor above her head to ensure her heartbeat was still strong. White lines traveled across the black display in perfect uniformity which meant Sam was still holding on.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” I whispered. “If you can hear me, I want you to know I’m going to get you out of this, I promise.”

“Hey, Dulce.”

My breath caught in my throat even as I realized it wasn’t Sam’s voice. I glanced up at the intruder, feeling my hand instinctively covering my heart, trying to calm the sporadic beating. I was met with the concerned person of Trey, my old coworker.

I smiled but didn’t feel it. “Hi, Trey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He took a few hesitant steps, forcing his hands into his pants pockets as he skulked forward. Trey and I had a long history of working together, and he used to be the perpetual thorn in my side. After our last case, though, he’d really proven himself to be a useful member of our team, and I guess I had to admit I liked him.

“How are you doing?” he asked and from his swollen eyes, I could see he hadn’t taken Sam’s dire predicament well. He ran a grubby hand across his forehead and pushed a piece of oily hair back into place. Trey was not a good looking person—he was overweight, short, and for all intents and purposes, resembled a tree stump.

“I’m doing,” I answered in a small voice and turned my face so he wouldn’t see the tears trailing down my cheeks.

“Knight called and said he’s on his way down,” he replied while handing me a wadded up piece of tissue from his pants pocket. It felt warm and wet but I accepted it anyway, hoping to Hades it was wet with tears and not something more…gross.

I wiped my eyes. “Thanks.”

“How long have you been here?”

I glanced at the clock. “Maybe forty minutes.” It felt incredibly longer, like I’d been staring down at my unmoving friend for an eternity.

He nodded. “And you think it’s the Dreamstalker?”

At the mention of the vile creature’s name, my jaw tightened. “I don’t think, Trey—I’m sure it is.”

Trey nodded again and I wasn’t sure what was going through his mind. He, himself, was a goblin though not of the same family as a somnogobelinus, or sleep goblin. Trey was a hobgoblin. Many hobgoblins possessed the ability to see glimpses of the future and the past and in Trey’s case, his ability was profound which is why he’d made it into the ANC. His gift was definitely an asset for law enforcement.

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated down the hall, and I turned my attention to the doorway just as Knight’s large body filled it. I couldn’t keep my heartbeat from skipping and returned my attention to Sam. A pang of guilt stabbed my gut, guilt over being at Knight’s, yes, but also guilt over the fact that I’d bailed on him this morning without so much as a goodbye.

“How’s she doing?” Knight asked in his deep baritone and strode up until he was right beside me, the warmth of his breath fanning the back of my neck. I glanced up at him, and he smiled in greeting, but it was sad and once his attention found Sam again, he dropped his eyes and sighed.

I shrugged. “Last time I saw the nurse, she said Sam was stable…that she was basically just asleep—a deep sleep.”

He nodded, and his smell wafted around me—something spicy and entirely male. I decided to breathe through my mouth.

“I requested ANC staff to tend to Sam. Was that seen to?” Knight asked, in a stern voice. By ANC staff, he meant creatures of the Netherworld as opposed to humans. As otherworldly creatures, we’d been out of the proverbial closet for over fifty years, and in that time we’d managed to assimilate with humans. While this was good for everyday purposes such as voting rights, marriage rights and non-segregated schools, it wasn’t great when it came to life and death situations, such as emergency room visits. Supposing you were a fairy or a warlock who ended up in a human-run emergency room? Yeah, you might as well be dead. Luckily for Sam, she had us looking after her.

“Yes, the last nurse to visit was a Hydra,” I answered.

Hydras were water serpents and they were known for their foul tempers, as well as their multiple heads. Luckily, this nurse just had one—I’d never been comfortable making conversation with more than one head—I never knew which one to focus on. And Hydras with two or more heads—they could argue with themselves for hours. Trying to interview one about a case wasn’t easy, much less, fun.

“Good, good,” Knight mumbled as his eyes settled on mine. The room was dead silent for a second or two, aside from the infernal beeping of the monitor.

I cleared my throat. “So, I think it’s fair to say I’m now considering this case a personal one.” My voice was sharp, as if daring Knight to argue with me. “The Dreamstalker is doing this to toy with me, to let me know I’m next.”

He was quiet for a second or two and then nodded, as if in agreement. “I think that’s safe to assume.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Trey demanded and took a step closer to me, anger flexing his voice. “We can’t let the freakazoid get anywhere near Dulcie, Knight.”

“Astute,” Knight answered him with the façade of a smile.

“I’m not gonna wait around and watch my friends get picked off one by one,” Trey finished, and I patted him on the back as if to say I wasn’t about to be picked off—that this Dreamstalker was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands.

“I’ve arranged a visit to Moon,” Knight started and cracked his knuckles. “We need to find out what the Regulators there know about this business.” One more crack of his knuckles and then he glanced at me. “Didn’t you say there was one victim’s name you didn’t recognize?”

“Yeah, the old woman.”

“Mrs. Mickelson,” Trey finished.

“Shirley, wasn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Knight finished. “She lives in Moon so it’s only fair that we contact Moon’s ANC force and get them involved.”

I smiled. “I didn’t know teamwork was part of your vocab.”

Knight returned the smile. “Then I guess I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“Oh, barf!” Trey interrupted, shaking his head. “You both are going to make me spew up my lunch. There should be a new rule for Regulators—no flirting.”

I didn’t correct him by saying I wasn’t really considered a Regulator anymore. No, I was too mortified that I’d been caught flirting with Knight. Flirting—it wasn’t even a word that should have been part of my vocab. Ergh.

#

It took us two and a half hours to reach Moon, thanks to the unrelenting traffic. Knight drove us in his souped-up BMW and after Trey’s comment about us flirting, I’d willingly offered him the front seat to which Knight had arched his brow but said nothing. There was definitely an elephant in the room where Knight and I were concerned, but we had bigger fish to fry so the elephant would remain.

The ANC headquarters in Moon wasn’t quite as large as our ANC headquarters but the building seemed to be newer and in much better condition. Rather than being stark white with only two windows looming out of the whiteness like a pair of angry eyes, Moon’s ANC was built entirely of bricks, warm brown in color. There were multiple windows and nothing that reminded me of the Amityville House—something that always came to mind whenever I visited our Headquarters.

Knight approached the front desk attendant while Trey and I took a seat in the waiting room—a large space with green and blue carpeting, matching upholstered chairs and an Ikea looking coffee table, overflowing with a cornucopia of magazines. Trey hobbled up to the table and inspected each magazine as if he were a pulp connoisseur. He reached out a pudgy hand, selecting his reading material and upon further inspection, I had to swallow the laugh in my throat.

“Glamour? Trey, really?”

“Don’t hate, Dulce, there are some hot ass women in these mags.” He didn’t wait for my response but opened the magazine and started shaking his head in silent appreciation, pursing his lips like he was about to whistle.

“Dulce, Trey,” Knight called to us and tilted his head toward the hallway, giving us the charade of “follow me.” I stood up, and Trey trailed me, rolling the magazine and tucking it into the back of his pants. I just shook my head and followed Knight down a long corridor, which ended in an office. I couldn’t see past Knight’s broad shoulders so I stood behind him, waiting for introductions.

“Well, hello to you, tall, dark and handsome…”

Knight laughed, and I felt like kicking him right in the ass. Or maybe I should have delivered the kicking blow to the woman. Course, she had no idea how big Knight’s ego already was…

“Today isn’t my birthday so what can I do for you?” she continued.

Knight entered the woman’s office and offered his hand. “I’m Knight Vander, acting chief of the ANC Headquarters in Splendor. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”

“Ah, I thought you looked important,” the woman answered with a bell-like laugh. “And I do like important men.”

Knight stepped aside and allowed Trey and me to enter. The woman turned her attention to us and looked a little surprised; probably not having realized Knight had brought his entourage. She sat behind a large oak desk, the brilliant red of her blouse in contrast with the rich caramel of the wood.

“Dia Robinson, I presume?” Knight asked with a flirtatious smile.

“Honey, I’ll answer to anything as long as it’s coming from you,” she gushed at him prettily with the slightest inkling of a southern drawl. She motioned to the seat directly opposite her desk, and Knight took it, nodding his head in thanks.

The woman faced me next, and I took a step forward, offering my hand. “I’m Dulcie O’Neil.”

She shook my hand, and I was immediately taken by the feeling of energy coming off her. It was as if an army of ants was charging its way down her hand and into my arm, forcing their way into my chest. I swore my heart sped up a beat or two. It was all I could do not to pull my hand away because at that moment, I realized what type of creature Dia was. She was a goblin. Of the sleep variety, a somnogobelinus.

After a few seconds, I yanked my hand away and eyed her warily, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she looked me up and down, a warm smile on her kind and pretty face before she turned back to Knight.

“Well, you two look like the dream team,” she said, facing me again. “I’m Dia but my friends call me Diva.” She paused a second or two, eyeing me as if she were studying a bug she was about to dissect. “And seeing as how you’re a fairy, you must have deduced what type of creature I am.” There was nothing accusatory or defensive in her tone.

“Yes,” I answered between stiff lips. Even as I answered her, I knew it was wrong to judge her merely by the fact that she happened to be a sleep goblin. All that meant was that she could influence people through their dreams. It didn’t mean she had anything in common with the Dreamstalker, and it also didn’t mean there was anything at all sinister about her. Plus, in working for the ANC, I had to imagine she was on our side.

“And what type of creature would that be, Dulce?” Knight asked curiously, as if he were a teacher quizzing me.

“A somnogobelinus,” I answered in a constricted tone.

“Shit balls,” Trey whispered, shaking his head like he definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

Knight frowned, glancing at Trey, then me and his expression wasn’t encouraging. He shook his head, pasting on a smile as he turned to regard Dia again. “You’ll have to excuse my partners. We’re working on a somnogobelinus case at the moment and it’s becoming a bit personal for Dulcie.”

I wanted to snort at his understatement. “A bit personal” didn’t even begin to sum it up.

Dia didn’t take her eyes off mine and smiled warmly. “Ah, the Dreamstalker case.”

I glanced up at her, surprised. I’m not sure why it hadn’t crossed my mind that Moon Regulators might have reached the same conclusion about the nature of their perpetrator but it was a surprise all the same.

“We’re working on that one ourselves,” Dia finished, tapping her manicured nails against the top of her desk.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Yes, and it just so happens that I can offer a great deal of help to you, being of the same species. I know how they act, think, talk.” She paused a moment and pulled out a nail file, polishing her nails as she continued. “Are you aware, Ms. O’Neil, how a perfectly law abiding sleep goblin even becomes a Dreamstalker in the first place?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t say I was.

She continued buffing her nails, taking her sweet ass time to respond. “On the eve of our twentieth birthday, the somnogobelinus goes through what we refer to as Transcendence. This is basically our entry into adulthood. The somnogobelinus is, by nature, a strong creature—we are headstrong as well as soul strong and for most, this Transcendence is not a big deal. But, for some, it is a big deal. For those somnogobelinae who are missing something in their genetic makeup, the Transcendence poses a huge risk—some have died and others have become mentally unstable.”

“The Dreamstalkers are those who couldn’t fully stomach the Transcendence?” Knight asked.

Dia nodded and buffed her index finger nail for three seconds. “Exactly.”

“So, this new Dreamstalker could have been a sleep goblin who couldn’t handle the change?” I asked.

Dia stopped buffing and glanced at me, then she shook her head. “We would have felt it. All somnogobelinae are linked deep down in their DNA. We can sense one another, feel one another, and when one of us turns into something dark, we all know it.”

“How many of you are there?” Knight asked.

Dia shrugged. “Not many. Twenty two across the United States.”

“And in the Netherworld?” I prodded.

“Even fewer,” Dia answered.

“So, how is that possible then?” I asked. “I mean, if it looks like a Dreamstalker, sounds like a Dreamstalker.”

“It’s not a Dreamstalker,” Dia finished, looking up at me as if to further emphasize her point.

“So, what is it?” I insisted.

“I don’t know,” she answered, and there was fear in the dark depths of her eyes. “What I can tell you, though, is that this particular creature, we’ll call him the Dreamstalker for lack of a better title, has really ticked me off.”

“Why’s that?” Knight demanded.

Dia dropped the nail file back into her top desk drawer and glanced up at him. There was no emotion on her face. “Bastard’s responsible for putting sweet ol’ Mrs. Mickelson into a coma.”

“So we’ve heard,” Knight finished and glanced at me, why I wasn’t sure.

Dia turned to face Trey with confusion in her eyes. “So, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is Knight, and the fairy with the personal vendetta is Dulcie. The only words I’ve heard you say are “shit balls” and I hope that isn’t your name?”

Trey shook his head, a laugh rippling through his stomach like an earthquake. “No, Ma’am,” he started.

“This is Trey, a Regulator from ANC Splendor,” Knight said, offering Trey an apologetic smile for omitting his introduction.

Dia faced Trey and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She motioned to the empty seats in the corner of the room, and Trey and I sat down.

I didn’t know what it was but there was something about Dia that made me relax and feel comfortable around her, something intangible but likeable all the same. She was maybe five foot six and her skin was the color of midnight. With her curly, short haircut, you couldn’t help but focus on her dancing eyes and laughing mouth. She was probably in her mid to late twenties if I had to guess and was one of those people who attracted others like magnets—they had this certain je ne sais quoi about them—something that appealed to others. Yep, Dia Robinson had that je ne sais quoi by the boatloads.

“So, what can I help y’all with?” Dia asked like she was getting down to business.

I nodded. “Just tell us everything you know about your Dreamstalker.”

Dia picked up a pencil lying atop her desk and tapped it against her mouth. “When you said this case was personal?”

“I meant I think the Dreamstalker is targeting me personally. I’ve been somehow linked to all the victims so far with the exception of the librarian, Shirley Mickelson.”

“That you know of,” Knight added. “There could be a connection of which you aren’t aware.”

“Yeah, there could be,” I said and then faced Dia again. “Now he’s targeted my best friend and I’ve had enough. We need to crack this case and nail this guy’s ass today.”

Dia laughed—it was a high pitched and pretty sound. “I appreciate your zest, Honey, but it’s not as easy as you think.”

I frowned. “I don’t care about easy. My best friend’s in a coma, and time is a luxury I can’t afford.”

She turned to a bookshelf behind her that was filled with binders. She trailed her index finger along the binding of three then, apparently finding what she was looking for, pulled out one of the binders and opened it. The room was silent as Dia continued perusing whatever was in the binder. Finally, she glanced up at me. “There are only two known Dreamstalkers…”

“Druiva and Trafu are locked up in Banshee prison,” I finished for her. “You didn’t need your binder—I could have told you that.”

Dia smiled and leaned back into her seat. “Can you tell me if there are any junior Dreamstalkers?”

I guessed she meant had either of the somnogobelinae in Banshee Prison spawned offspring. “No, neither has any children—we were pretty thorough with the investigation when Druiva was locked up the first time.”

And it wasn’t like either Dreamstalker was getting any funny business at Banshee—conjugal visits were prohibited.

“So, that’s a dead end?” Dia asked. “Scary thing, then.”

“Why do you say that?” Knight asked.

“It means we’re dealing with something that’s either imitating a Dreamstalker, or there’s more to this story than meets the eye.”

“Imitating a Dreamstalker?” I started, “how would that even be possible?”

Dia shrugged. “Maybe someone is purposely misleading us. How do you know it’s a Dreamstalker we’re dealing with? How rigorously did you test your victims?”

“It can’t be an imitation,” Knight said. “We ran blood tests, brain scans, the whole she-bang. There were no narcotics in the victims’ bloodstreams that might point to this being anything other than a Dreamstalker.”

“Well, then we should continue forward with the assumption that we’re dealing with a Dreamstalker,” Dia said but she clearly wasn’t convinced.

After an impending silence, Knight leaned forward. “What can you tell us, Dia?”

She leaned back into her chair and rocked back and forth a few times. “I can tell you we’re going to need to work together on this case—four heads are better than one. And because of the fact that one of the victims was a citizen of Moon, I need to be involved.”

“We never said we didn’t want your help,” Knight answered.

“Just wanted to make it crystal clear,” Dia said in a serious tone. “Sometimes ANC people come here and ask their questions and try to take over. That won’t fly on my watch.”

“Understood,” I said. “We’ll share freely with you if you do the same with us, and hopefully we can crack this case that much faster.”

Dia faced Knight with a smile. “I like the way she thinks.”

#

It was two a.m. and I’d been awake for twenty four hours now, hyped up on caffeine in fear of going to sleep and possibly witnessing another nightmare concocted by the Dreamstalker. Instead, I planted myself at my desk and forced myself to type the notes on the case so far.

Victims:

Anna Murphy: in my second grade class, located in Splendor

Heather Green: in my second grade class, located in Splendor

Jenny Garrity: my nanny as a child, located in Splendor

Travis Decker: my high school boyfriend, located in Estuary

Shirley Mickelson: librarian, Rio Mesa High School in Moon, is there a connection to me? (Note to self—ask Trey to find out everything there is to know about Shirley Mickelson)

My heart grew heavy as I typed the last name.

Samantha White, witch, employee of the ANC, located in Splendor

I heaved a sigh and glanced at the cursor blinking at me. There was so much going through my head—images of Sam on the hospital cot fought with images of Knight’s still body, beaten to a pulp in his bed. At least that last vision hadn’t been real, I reminded myself—it was just a decoy, a ploy. Knight was safe…at least for now. I walked my empty coffee mug back to the kitchen and refilled it, the beginnings of a caffeine headache already pounding through my temples.

I felt another sob choke my throat and had to swallow it down. Sam was my closest friend. As I’d mentioned earlier, I wasn’t a social person—I didn’t have a legion of friends. I really only had two people I considered at all close to me—Sam and Quillan, my old boss. And due to recent events, I’d had to scratch Quillan off my friend list. The pain was still there and sometimes late at night, I found myself repeatedly wondering how Quillan had become one of the bad guys. How had he deceived everyone, and why had he done it? I couldn’t help but take the betrayal personally—I’d let Quillan get close to me, and the only thing that had encouraged was disappointment and pain.

I took a sip of the coffee but never tasted it. My thoughts were wholly encompassed by the fact that every time I allowed a man to get close to me, somehow I got screwed. And Jack, my ex-boyfriend, had really done a bang up job of it—he was the poster a*shole for cheaters. And then Quill…I couldn’t finish the thought. An image of Knight blossomed in my mind’s eye, and I sighed. I had to build up my defensive wall until it was impossibly high and thick, impenetrable in its dimensions. I wouldn’t allow myself to be disappointed again by a man—I couldn’t allow myself to hurt again, to succumb to that weakness.

I marched back over to my computer and glanced at the word document: my list of victims’ information. I downscreened it, needing another outlet, something else to occupy my thoughts for a moment. I opened up my Yahoo inbox and sorted through the spam emails. The mention of my book, A Vampire and A Gentleman, in one of the subject lines grasped my attention, and I opened the email. It was from Barbara Mandley, a literary agent with Great Fiction Agency—the same agency that had recently asked to review my book.

I read through the email without any emotion and couldn’t even bring myself to get excited by the fact that Barbara said she hadn’t been able to put my book down. She finished the email by stating that she thought my book was “amazing” and she’d be in touch shortly. I closed out of my Yahoo inbox, pondering the fact that I hadn’t written a word since this whole Dreamstalker business had started. I definitely wasn’t going to make my self-imposed deadline of one month or less. But, I couldn’t bring myself to think about it; couldn’t focus on anything but the details of the somnogobelinus case.

I pulled my notes back up on screen and started a new paragraph, trying to recall not only what I already knew about Dreamstalkers, but also what Dia Robinson had told us about the habits and characteristics of the somnogobelinus.

Dia Robinson, Somnogobelinus but not a Dreamstalker, Chief of ANC Headquarters, Moon

Is there a third Dreamstalker? If we know there were no offspring from both Dreamstalkers locked away in Banshee Prison, how are these events even possible? Could another somnogobelinus have taken a dark detour into Dreamstalker territory? Dia insists that it isn’t possible, but is it?

Dreamstalkers are:

1. Driven to feed off the dreams of both humans and Netherworld creatures alike. This is why both Dreamstalkers at Banshee Prison were separated from all other creatures. They were held in solitary confinement, isolated in their cells, the cell walls fortified with four inches of solid steel. Steel prohibits psychic communication and, therefore, could ensure the safety of the other inmates.

2. Dreamstalkers must be within one hundred feet of the creature whose dreams they are attacking. Therefore, the night the Dreamstalker targeted me with scenes of Knight being attacked, it had to have been nearby. Which means it knows where I live. And it revealed Knight’s address to me in sleep which means it also knows where Knight lives. (Dilemma—what to do? Hotel for a while?)

3. Dreamstalkers will return for their victims. They’re like Komodo Dragons who bite their prey and then track them as they die, returning days later to claim their feast. A Dreamstalker really isn’t that different. They strike, sending their victims into comas and days or weeks later, they return to finish the victims off.

1. Our plan: Sit and wait it out. Dia can sense a Dreamstalker but she has to be within one hundred feet of one. Knight, Trey and I will park ourselves next to the victims, looking for any sign of foul play. At the merest indication that something might not be right, we’ll notify Dia and she’ll scout the location, using her somnogobelinus radar to apprehend the offender.

4. Dreamstalkers’ victims appear to be in comas, but they are actually stuck between life and death—trying to defeat the Dreamstalker in their mind. If the Dreamstalker kills them in sleep, they die in life. Heather Green was the first to die—meaning she couldn’t defeat the Dreamstalker in her imagination. The only way to free all of the victims is to kill the Dreamstalker or get it locked up in a steel enforced cell where it can’t control the minds of its victims. (Note to self: my vote is to kill the bastard).