A Tale of Two Goblins

chapter Nine



After Bram dropped me off, I hurried up my front steps, unlocked the door and ignored Blue who was pawing at the kitchen door, wanting to be let back in.

“Sorry, Boy, but you’ve got to stay out there until I get back. Can’t have you pooping in the house,” I called as I hightailed it into my room and started unzipping my boots, pulling out the Gargoyle’s Mandrake and the comedown pills Quill had given me. I hadn’t wanted Bram to know what my little errand had been about so I’d hidden the evidence in my boots.

I peeled off my skirt and wadded it into a ball, throwing it in front of the door so I’d remember to put it in the trash on my way out. Grabbing a pair of jeans from my chest of drawers, I pulled them up and over my red thong underwear and snatched a sweatshirt, yanking it over my head, not bothering with a shirt. I finished my outfit with my blue and white tennies.

Dulcie O’Neil—from tart to bum in less than sixty seconds.

I eyed the vial of Gargoyle’s Mandrake which I’d placed on the top of my dresser and took a deep breath. Now was the time of reckoning. I’d done a lot to obtain that tiny vial of Mandrake—I couldn’t back down now although it would take everything in my will to go through with this—to break the ANC rules I put so much stock in. Before my brain started to buck at the idea, I reminded myself that this was necessary to save Sam and Jenny.

I held the clear vial up to my nose and shook it a few times, watching the opalescent liquid within slosh against the sides of the vial. Even though the cork cap seemed easy enough to open, that wasn’t the case. Looks were almost always deceiving where Netherworld potions were concerned.

I shook my palm until a mound of fairy dust emerged. Then I blew the particles at the vial, imagining each sparkling prism digging like an earthworm beneath the cork, freeing the wards which were keeping the cork clamped tight. The cork began to spin to the left, the liquid within the vial bubbling up in anticipation. I grasped the cork and pulled it off.

The liquid inside turned to a deep emerald green as soon as it met the air and bubbles began forming along the sides of the vial, popping and hissing as more joined in the fray. The effervescence continued, little green bubbles rising up from the now gelatinous green goo, making their way out of the vial. As the bubbles sailed up from the vial and into the air, they began to bend and warp this way and that, expanding in size as they did so. Their dark green hue became lighter and lighter green as they enlarged, until they were the color of sea foam. Once there were maybe twenty of them swirling around the room, I put the cap back on the vial and opened my mouth, inhaling deeply.

The bubbles seemed to recognize their cue and floated toward me, entering my mouth as they fizzed and burst against my tongue and teeth. Once the last one had migrated into my mouth, I clamped my lips together and swallowed. The taste was like cinnamon gum.

Gargoyle’s Mandrake worked quickly. I’d never taken it before but I’d dealt with enough of it to know how to take it and what to expect. After a few seconds, it started to kick in and felt like a fizzing deep down in my stomach, like I’d taken a few too many Alka-Seltzers. Little by little that bubbling feeling began to work its way into my blood stream and I could feel the tingle carrying itself into my extremities. My fingers and toes began going numb and I stretched and clenched them, trying to counteract the bizarre feeling.

The intense exhaustion which had lately become my constant companion receded into the background of my body, a blissful energy taking its place. Pretty soon the exhaustion was only a memory and my body was acting like I’d just given it high octane; energy and pleasure coursing through me. I had to remind myself that I still had the weight of the Netherworld on my shoulders and I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in this blissful euphoria. I felt young, like today was the beginning of my life and I felt alive…more alive than I’d ever felt before. I wanted to shout, dance and sing all at the same time and trying to restrain that energy was next to impossible.

I grabbed my leather jacket and threw it over my sweatshirt, wedging my helmet underneath my arm. Luckily, there weren’t any reported issues of driving while under the influence of Mandrake which was a damned good thing because I was needed at the hospital and glancing at the clock in my bedroom, realized I was already thirty minutes late. I had to keep myself from whistling, trying to continuously block the rampant feelings of happiness that encouraged me to evade my responsibilities. I couldn’t afford to screw off, not when Jenny and Sam’s lives were still in jeopardy. I locked the front door behind me and approached my bike, keys in hand.

I started the bike and had to suppress a ray of excitement as the engine purred beneath me. The stray thought that I could skip the hospital and take the bike for a joy ride struck me and I had to tear the thought apart. This fighting with myself was beginning to prove tiresome. Maybe it would have been better to be groggy and tired, after all…

Nah, better to be alert.

I gunned the bike and made it to the end of the street in record time. I silently said a prayer of thanks as I swung a right and made for the hospital, afraid my body might try to play the role of hijacker and head for that joyride.

En route to the hospital, I was struck by how verdantly green the lawns were. The song of a swallow echoed through the sky and it was the most melodious and wonderful sound I’d ever heard. The azure blue of the sky was in perfect harmony with the royal purple of the Morning Glories covering Old Man Jonas’ chain link fence and together, they were the epitome of beauty. I felt an indescribable sense of contentment—that I was one of Nature’s children and I was in seamless balance with my surroundings.

Upon reaching the hospital, I could say that the drive over had been the most enjoyable I’d ever taken. Nature was so perfect in her imperfections and the world was such a wondrously magical and special place. It almost made me want to cry.

“Get a grip, Dulce,” I chided myself as I pulled into the Splendor Hospital parking lot. I noticed Knight’s silver BMW M3 Coupe parked just outside the receiving doors so I parked alongside it and killed my engine. Taking off my helmet, I watched Knight step out from behind the driver’s seat. It seemed to take him a second or two to actually recognize me and once he did, his gaze flickered between my hair and the Suzuki, as if he wasn’t quite sure which one should get the privilege of being first discussed.

But, I couldn’t really say I was that interested—instead, I had to keep myself from running up to Knight and throwing my arms around him in reckless abandon while forcing my mouth on his. The sudden desire to kiss him was overwhelming and I had to mentally scream at my feet to stay rooted in place.

Knight was just so…incredibly beautiful. He’d always been gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but this was different. He was absolute perfection and his body radiated a whitish glow, gleaming like a prism when the light hit him at a certain angle. His features were still the same—sun-kissed golden complexion, hair as dark as oil, face chiseled as if by Michaelangelo. I had to wonder if I was actually seeing him in his natural state or if this was merely a side effect of the Mandrake. Guess I’d never find out because it wasn’t like I was actually going to ask him—talk about blowing my cover!

“I was wondering where the hell you were,” he began in an annoyed tone. He pulled his attention from the Suzuki and focused it on my hair. “What the hell happened to you?”

I laughed and the sound was like bells ringing through my ears. “I’ve been doing research,” I answered, figuring I could tell Knight everything minus the part about Quill and the part about the Mandrake. Everything else was fair game.

“Research?” he repeated skeptically. “And that research required you to color your hair?”

I approached him with a cheery grin. He seemed taken aback—an eyebrow raised in question. “Yep, I had to. I got a lead that took me to downtown Sanctity—you know, the bad parts.”

“Go on,” he said, crossing his arms against his chest.

I didn’t even realize I was staring at his chest until he cleared his throat. I offered an embarrassed smile before turning back to my story. “The only problem with the location was that there were wards in place which meant I couldn’t use magic and I wasn’t about to go into a situation like that as Dulcie O’Neil, prior Regulator who has enemies up the wazoo.” I smiled again, finding the word “wazoo” especially funny.

“So, you had to dye your hair?” Knight finished for me.

“What, don’t you like it?” I asked, running a hand through it, which got caught in a curl.

Knight eyed me suspiciously before shaking his head. “No, I like the way you looked before.”

One good thing about Dulcie on Mandrake was that criticisms bounced off me as if I’d magicked myself a “sticks and stones” barrier.

“And what the hell is with the bike?” Knight asked, his voice rising again in anger.

“Suzuki DL 650,” I answered proudly and patted the seat. “She’s pretty freaking fast.”

Knight shook his head before bringing his incredibly perturbed expression back to me. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked. “You barely survived the accident in the Wrangler…”

“Hey, I had little time and even less money,” I snapped, suddenly pleased that the cantankerous (as Bram would say) Dulcie was still in there somewhere. “And I’m not worried about the Dreamstalker coming after me. I’m not planning on sleeping.”

Knight eyed me but said nothing else, instead turning and starting for the hospital. I jogged up to him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop.

“I thought I was on duty tonight?” I asked. Knight had been on all day and into the evening—I was supposedly there to relieve him, or at least I’d thought that was the plan.

Knight glanced down at my hand that was still gripping his bicep and I dropped it. “I figured you might want company,” he said and eyed me as if to reiterate the question before he started forward again.

“Sure, “I began, secretly very pleased to have his company. I’d been wondering what I was going to do all night and day. While there was no other place I’d rather be, other than keeping a watchful eye on Sam and Jenny, victim-sitting wasn’t exactly thrilling. “I’d love some.”

Knight stopped walking, turning around to eye me suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” I answered, suddenly worried that I was being too uncharacteristically nice. The Mandrake needed to remain my little secret, with no one the wiser. I’d have to play my cards more strategically.

Knight shook his head. “You just seem too energetic, too happy.”

I laughed and it was a tinny, fake sound. “I’m probably losing my mind from the lack of sleep.” Then I eyed him just as warily, suddenly realizing that he looked freshly charged, as if he’d been sleeping for a millennia. “What’s your secret? Why do you look so well rested?”

He shrugged and started for the hospital entrance again, me right beside him. “Sleep is my secret.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. I’d now been awake for over three days and two nights with only an hour and a half of sleep to go on. Meanwhile, Knight had been sleeping all along? “You’ve been able to sleep?” I demanded,fury in my tone. He just nodded self-assuredly. “You haven’t been scared of what might happen to you if the Dreamstalker attacked?”

He turned to face me and smiled broadly. “Nope.”

I shook my head, suddenly incredibly angry with the fact that I’d gone through hell and back just to avoid sleeping and yet he was as well rested as a bear coming out of hibernation. “I don’t understand you—are Lokis safe from Dreamstalkers?”

Knight cocked his head to the side as if he was considering it. Then he shrugged and smiled again. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

I grumbled underneath my breath and realized the giddy feeling of complete and total bliss was now absent—hmm, maybe it had been a short term effect of the Mandrake. I still felt amazingly alive and awake but I no longer had the feeling that I was living in Utopia which was just as well because I wasn’t living in Utopia—I was living in Splendor which was about as nice as a troll’s a*shole.

The hospital doors slid open and granted us entrance. As soon as we entered the foyer, I nearly walked headlong into Dia and had to stabilize myself against her shoulders while I muttered a quick apology.

“Girl,” she started as she recognized me. Recognition gave way to a smile which erupted into a full blown laugh. “Your hair! What the hell were you thinking?”

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me what the hell I was thinking regarding my hair, I’d have…three dollars.

I continued forward, as if the elevator directly before us would provide solace from the relentless hair jibes. “I really don’t need to hear it from you too,” I ground out.

Dia glanced at Knight as she turned around and escorted us to the elevator. “What the hell was she thinking?”

He chuckled. “She wasn’t.”

I hit the call button and refused to look at either of them.

“Honey, you look like you’re wearing a fright wig,” Dia continued and I made the mistake of glancing at her. She made a face as if she’d eaten something foul. “That is not a good look for you.”

Knight laughed again as the elevator’s bell dinged, announcing its arrival. He held the elevator door for us as I walked inside and barricaded myself in the corner. “Okay, enough, I get it. I look like crap. Point taken.”

“Ah, stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Dia began.

“Instead of teasing me, you both should be thanking me,” I interrupted.

“Why’s that?” Dia demanded, crossing her arms against her chest as she tried to stifle another laugh. She was successful and ended up just shaking her head at my…fright wig.

I threw my hands on my hips, thinking they both deserved a little sass. “Because I destroyed the one thing I love about myself, my hair, so I could run recon for both of your sorry asses.”

Dia didn’t look impressed. The elevator doors closed and she hit the button that would take us to floor three. “And?” she prodded.

“And I found out a crapload,” I answered, rubbing my knuckles against my left breast as if to say I was the shit. “But, before we get into that subject, how are our patients holding up?”

Dia shrugged. “So far so good.”

“Sam?” I started, glancing at Knight.

“Nothing new to report,” Knight finished. “Trey is watching her now.”

Dia faced him. “Have Shirley and Travis been moved yet?”

I didn’t wait for Knight’s response but turned toward him, the demand for information in my eyes. “Update please.”

He stepped out of the elevator, keeping the door from closing as Dia and I followed suit. “We’ve ordered Travis and Shirley to be moved from Moon General to Splendor. Otherwise, it’s too difficult for Dia to travel back and forth. We thought the Dreamstalker might throw us a curve ball.”

I nodded—that made sense. Since Dia was playing tracker for the victims, it would make her job a hell of a lot easier if the victims were all in the same place—especially since Moon was at least two hours from Splendor. I could only imagine the reason we hadn’t reached this conclusion earlier was due to the fact that Dreamstalkers usually worked in linear patterns, killing their victims one at a time, from first attacked to last attacked. And going by that pattern, it would mean that Jenny would be next, followed by Travis and Shirley and, finally, Sam. Since I was now convinced that this creature wasn’t a full-blooded Dreamstalker but a creature drinking from a full-blooded Dreamstalker, the idea to move Shirley and Travis was that much better since this creature was unpredictable. Who knew who he’d target next?

“Good idea,” I said.

Knight faced Dia again. “And to answer your question, they should be arriving any minute. We’ve freed up the third floor so it’s just Sam, Jenny, Travis and Shirley. And we’ve got security all over this hospital, especially on the third floor.”

Just as he finished his statement, a cop walked past and nodded his head in salutation. Knight paused just beside a hospital room; the door closed. He faced me. “This is Jenny’s room, do you want to check on her?”

I took a deep breath, afraid for what I might find. At this point, according to our deductions, Jenny was living on borrowed time. I turned the doorknob and entered the room, immediately noticing the cop stationed beside the still form of Jenny. He glanced up at me and smiled warmly. I returned the smile and approached him.

“I’m here to relieve you for a bit,” I offered.

The cop didn’t make any motion to leave. “And you are?”

“Dulcie O’Neil,” Knight answered from behind me. “She’s with us.”

The cop stood up, offering me a small smile of apology as he walked past. I turned to face Knight, about to ask for a little personal time with my childhood nanny but he nodded as if he knew what was on my mind.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he said, closing the door behind me.

I felt almost uncomfortable as I approached Jenny—as if I didn’t know what to say after not seeing her in over fifteen years. I stood above her and glanced down at her sweet face—there didn’t appear to be anything wrong—no Dreamstalker attacking her dreams. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. And that was bizarre—at this point, I would have thought she’d be battling for her life, not appearing as serene as Sleeping Beauty.

“Hi, Jenny,” I started and my voice seemed alien somehow. “It’s me, Dulcie O’Neil.”

Of course she didn’t say anything but I had to wonder if she could hear me, if my words might offer encouragement. I grasped her hand and squeezed it.

“I’m going to make sure you get out of this, Jenny. I work in law enforcement with the Splendor ANC,” I continued. “I bet you never thought I’d end up a cop, did you?”

I laughed and eyed the dawn as it broke through Jenny’s window, the yellow rays of the sun absorbing the mysterious darkness of night. Somehow that visual gave me strength and renewed my fervor. With the Mandrake pumping through my system, I was suddenly confident—I knew we could take this guy down.

“I know you’re afraid, Jenny, but we’re going to catch this creature.”

I heard the door open and I glanced behind me at Knight. He smiled before gently closing the door and starting toward me. His footsteps belied his great height and build and I felt myself gulp as he draped his arm around me and glanced down at Jenny.

“How is she doing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean, she seems okay—I don’t notice any indication of a struggle which doesn’t make sense.”

Knight nodded as if he knew where I was going with my comment. “This thing isn’t operating under the same rules other Dreamstalkers have.”

“Dia seems convinced it isn’t a Dreamstalker,” I said and eyed him, wondering how he’d take the news that I didn’t think it was a Dreamstalker either.

“Maybe it isn’t,” he said noncommittally and shrugged. “Dia is outside, trying to get a read on whether the Dreamstalker has been around lately or not.”

“How is she able to track them?”

“I’m not sure exactly but apparently she can sense them as long as she’s close enough to one. I think she said it has to be within one hundred feet or something.”

“So if the Dreamstalker isn’t nearby, she’s just wasting her time out there.”

He shook his head. “She can sense them both before and after they visit their victims. Apparently they leave a psychic imprint in the air.”

“Ah, so that’s what she’s searching for now?”

He nodded and pulled up the doctor’s swivel stool, taking a seat. He then motioned to the visitor’s seat just behind me. “Have a seat, Dulce, we’re going to be here for a long time.”

I didn’t argue but released Jenny’s hand, gingerly placing it beneath her blanket before retiring into the visitor’s chair with a sigh. I stretched my legs out before me and crossed them at the ankles.

“We’re waiting on Anna’s autopsy reports to see if it really was her heart that gave out,” Knight continued.

“Even if it was her heart, who’s to say that it wasn’t the Dreamstalker who scared her to death?”

Knight shook his head. “It wouldn’t follow true Dreamstalker death patterns. Death by slumber usually points to solidly functioning organs. It could just be that Anna had a weak heart.”

I shrugged but wasn’t buying it. “Knight, I don’t think it’s a true Dreamstalker either.”

I waited for the words to sink in, for him to argue with me but he just faced me with no emotion. “And I imagine this new opinion came about from this lead you mentioned earlier,” Knight started, raising a brow, as if he expected more from my story. “Who was it from and what was it?”

I glanced up at him. “You should know better than to ask me who my leads are.”

He chuckled. “Yep, I should. What can you tell me, then?”

I took a deep breath, not even really sure where to start. “I found out there is a new form of street potion in the underground. It’s blood.”

“Blood?” Knight repeated doubtfully.

“Blood of the most imposing creatures of the Netherworld is finding its way onto the streets. Apparently creatures are drinking the blood and adopting the strength and power of the creature to whom the blood belongs. And the more they drink, the stronger they become.”

Knight was silent for a few seconds. “Then this Dreamstalker could be…”

“Anything,” I interrupted. “That would explain why Dia couldn’t sense it during Transcendence. Because it never went through Transcendence.”

I could see his brain spinning, building up possible situations and outcomes. “But, where you’re concerned…” he started again.

“Whatever it is, it has a personal vendetta against me, that much is obvious.”

He chuckled. “How many Netherworld creatures have you pissed off, Dulce?”

“Too many to count.” I glanced up at him and shook my head. “Way too many to count. I need all my ANC files—I need to find out who did time because of me and who got out.”

“I’ve been working with Elsie to transfer all the hard files to e-files. I told her to start with yours and if I’m not mistaken, she’s already finished them. You have that iPad on you?”

Damn, it was sitting on my desk. “Left it at home but I can run back…”

“Take the BMW,” Knight interrupted in a tone that warned me not to argue with him. “It’s safer than your bike.”

What was it with bossy men who did nothing but worry? It was enough I had to deal with Bram and Quillan. Now I had to add Knight to that list? “You do realize I used to be a Regulator?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ve been through lots worse stuff than taking my bike a few miles down the street to my house.”

“Just placate me, will you?”

I clenched my teeth but didn’t want to get into an argument, especially one as stupid as this promised to be. “Where are your keys?”

He smiled but tried to keep it to himself, probably afraid his gloating would cause me to rethink my position. He fished inside his pocket and handed them to me without a word.

“I need to check on Sam and then I’ll head home,” I said and stood up, starting for the door. I didn’t wait for a response.

“Roger that,” Knight called behind me.

As I entered the hallway, Trey suddenly accosted me and forced a manila folder into my hands. “What’s this?” I asked, glancing down at it.

“It’s all the info I could find on Shirley Mickelson, like you requested,” he said and beamed, his chest held high.

I’d forgotten that I’d even asked for the information in the first place. “Thanks, Trey.” I opened the folder and quickly scanned through the contents before facing him with a smile. “Looks like you did an awesome job. I’ll take a look at it right away.”

#

As soon as I stepped inside my door, I didn’t waste any time and hurried to my kitchen table, opening the file Trey had given me. Knight and his iPad could wait a few minutes. As I searched through Trey’s chicken scratch notes, I read accounts of Shirley Mickelson’s personality, as told to Trey by her neighbors, family and friends. There was a full page of information on where she’d grown up and gone to school, when she’d wed, how many kids she’d had, awards she’d won…Holy Hades, Trey had been detailed in his research. I definitely owed him a lunch for this one.

After reading through more information on Shirley Mickelson than I’d ever wanted to know, I glanced at the last sheet in the file which was a list of all her home addresses.

And that’s when I realized her connection to me—Shirley Mickelson and her husband had owned the house my mother and I had rented when I’d been in my early teens, before my mother had died and I’d moved to Splendor.