God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (36 page)

“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered. Now that I was listening, I heard a pinging sound – like breaking glass.

Vex’s expression was dangerously grim. Yellow light reflected in his eyes. “Goblins.”

He didn’t seem surprised as he rose to his feet and left the room. I followed after him – slow and stiff. I’d just entered the foyer when he opened the door. The exterior light was out – that must have been the breaking glass I heard – and standing in the darkness was the goblin prince, wearing a red-tinted monocle over his good eye, and a velvet frock coat across his broad furry shoulders. He looked like he was auditioning for “Gob in Boots”.

He bowed at the waist in a very old-fashioned gesture. I was surprised to see that his fur looked groomed and shiny. I sniffed, and smelled the clean scent of earth and grass.

“MacLaughlin. Lady. Might your prince enter?”

I would have refused had he not saved my life. This was the second goblin to show up at my house in the last week – and at the front door, no less! At one time I would have thought the prince had come to kill me, but now I knew that if the goblins wanted me
dead I’d be dead by now. In fact, the goblins were the only ones I was reasonably certain did
not
want me dead at all.

That went against every horror story I’d ever heard about them.

“Come in,” I said. I didn’t want anyone who might drive by to see a goblin on my step. As he crossed the threshold on slightly canine legs, I continued, “Why are you here?”

“We needed to see that the wolf and the lady were fine. Needed to talk.”

I frowned. Should I be grateful or alarmed?

Vex bowed his head in a show of respect. “I am well, prince. As dictated in the Plaga Carta, I offered my humble apologies for the spilling of goblin blood in the tunnels last night.”

My frown deepened as I looked from one to the other. “What the ruddy hell is this?”

They both turned to me, but I kept my gaze on Vex. It wasn’t well lit in here, but it was still bright enough that the sight of the prince in my home unsettled me. He looked so familiar, yet alien at the same time. A nightmare from childhood.

“It’s the law,” Vex explained. “When a member of one aristocratic race spills the blood of another, the leaders of the two sides get together and express their regret. It’s meant to keep the three races from going to war.”

Because no one wanted to go to war with the goblins.

“But how did you spill goblin blood?”

To my surprise, the alpha’s expression turned slightly sheepish. “When the prince tried to take you from me, I … bit him.”

My spastic eyebrow syndrome kicked in, jerking both brows straight up. “Bit him?”

The prince nodded, with a grin that made the bottom of my stomach clench. “Almost let his wolf out. Drew blood. Most impressive, the MacLaughlin, protecting our pretty lady.” Then his amber gaze locked with mine. “Shall we accept the wolf’s truce?”

Why the bleeding hell was he asking me? “Of course,” I replied, resisting the urge to add “shit for brains” at the end.

The goblin smiled – without showing teeth. It made him look almost cute, like a sweet mutt, the sort that wagged its tail at everyone. “Good words. There is no harm, wolf. Did the sickness take you in?”

“Not for long.” Vex shoved his hands into his pockets, but there was a tension to his spine. I knew he could attack at a moment’s notice if necessary. However, I didn’t reckon it would be.

“Sickness?” I asked.

“Goblin blood makes everyone but other goblins ill,” Vex informed me casually. “It’s like drinking acid.”

“But …” I stopped myself. I’d almost said that the prince had given me his blood and I was fine. But that couldn’t be what had happened, if it was so terrible. The shape I was in, it would have done me in for certain.

Wouldn’t it?

The goblin watched me with his one keen eye. “Yes, pretty?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to ask a question I might not want answered. “Nothing.” I was suddenly very hungry, and tired. I needed to get back to that sandwich. And I knew there was something afoot. “You didn’t come up cobbleside just to check on Vex. You gobs have ears everywhere; you would have known he was fine. Why are you here?”

“Mayhap your prince worried for you. Wanted to see you well.”

The sincerity in his raspy speech surprised me. What had I done to earn the respect of the goblin prince? I wasn’t certain I liked it, but it beat having him eat my face, so I would learn to be fine with it.

“I’m doing quite well, thank you.” Then I remembered my manners. “And thank you for saving my life.”

His ears – battle-scarred as they were, folded down as though
I had literally patted him on the head. “My honour. I also came to give the Xandra lady this.” He held out his paw. In the centre of it was an old spent bullet inside a tiny plastic bag – the sort with a press seal on the top. The idea of a goblin using such a bag amused me, but I didn’t make it to a smile.

That bullet was silver – no wonder he had it in a bag. It was tarnished, but it was the same size and shape as the one taken out of me.

“What is it?” I asked, arms over my chest. No way was I touching it just yet.

“The metal what took mine eye,” the prince replied. “Many years ago. Silver burned – made sure no eye ever grew back.”

It said a lot about his strength that he’d even survived it. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“We are certain it is twin to the one which shot our lady in the dark.”

Slowly I loosened my arms, and reached out to pluck the little bag out of his palm. My mouth was dry. “Who shot you?”

Both the prince and Vex watched me closely. I knew I had to be white as chalk.

“It happened when I saw the young Xandra lady and tried to touch the wonder. Then pain. Much pain.” His voice was even scratchier than before. “It was the Churchill.”

No fucking way had Church shot me. Not on purpose.

“
You’re
the goblin that attacked me?” Old fear – foolish now that I had already decided I wasn’t so afraid of him – came rushing back. I remembered that moment, when I fell to the ground, fur and snarls surrounding me …

I growled. Both Vex and the prince started at the sound. It was just as much of a surprise to me. I sounded brilliant, and bloody frightening, but when the hell had I developed that particular ability?

“Did not attack!” There was so much vehemence and indignation behind the goblin’s words that for a moment I forgot my fear and my anger – forgot that I could growl. One clawed finger pointed at me. “The Churchill made violence. Your prince would never hurt the Xandra lady.”

This went against everything I’d ever been taught about goblins. Since that seemed to be the way of things lately, I wasn’t entirely sceptical. And if he wanted to hurt me, he could have
ripped me apart the night I braved the den. “So what then, you were just trying to say hello?”

He shrugged, shoulders lifting beneath the thick fur. “What else?”

“Indeed,” I replied drily. It was unquestionably a suitable explanation for one of the defining incidents of my life. “Why me?”

The prince lifted his hands – paws – pads up. “Your prince was drawn to the child pretty. Never seen anything like you, with hair brighter than blood.”

Anger tore through me, filling me with the urge to snap at him, all spit and fang. “I thought you were trying to kill me.”

“Thought what the Churchill
told
the child to think.” Indignation drew his spine up straight – we were eye to eye. “The plague be not as bad as taught.”

“You eat children,” I fired back. “How is that not bad?”

“Meat is meat. Blood is blood. It is good.”

“Right. That’s it. Out.” I stormed past him to yank open the door. I didn’t care that he could disembowel me in the span of a heartbeat. Truth be told, I was feeling a little itch to do some ripping of my own.

The door came right off the hinges, leaving me standing there holding it by the handle. The heavy wood hit me in the side of the face, knocking me backwards. As I twisted, the entire left half of my body felt like a thousand hot pokers had been shoved into it at once.

I’m fairly certain I cried out – though pain has an odd way of making one
un
certain. One thing was irrefutable – the fact that I fell to my knees like I was some sort of Roman soldier in battle, holding a bloody door for a shield.

Vex was immediately there beside me, checking on me with his gentle hands. The prince carefully relieved me of the door, and set it back in its place.

“I’m good,” I told Vex as the pain subsided to just this side of bearable. Fang me, but that hurt. I’d probably ripped stitches.

What the hell had just happened?

“Where’s your medication?” he demanded as the two of them helped me to my feet.

“Living room.”

He had no problem leaving me with the goblin as he went to fetch the pain meds. Obviously he trusted the beast.

“Your prince can help,” came a whispered rasp.

I turned my narrow gaze to his. “How?”

He offered me a bottle from the pouch he wore over one shoulder. It looked like blood. “Drink.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Intense yellow eyes locked with mine. “We have done nothing but help the Xandra lady. We never will hurt our pretty.” As his fingers – or were they claws? – wrapped round mine, he squeezed gently but insistently. “The plague serves you.”

“What kind of blood is it?” What I wanted to ask was why the goblins appeared to be so loyal to me, but my mouth couldn’t seem to find the courage to form the words.

He removed the cap. “The best kind.”

I was right – he had given me blood before, but it hadn’t been his. Couldn’t have been. It had to be a vampire, or maybe werewolf.

Regardless, one sniff and I knew it was the right thing to do – that it would make everything better. It was like chocolate and cake and chai – everything rich and delicious. I heard Vex returning from the living room, so I tipped the bottle and took a deep drink.

Sweet baby Albert, it was fantastic. Earthy, with a hint of something like cinnamon and clove. It filled me with warmth, causing a tingling in the areas where I hurt the most, as though healing them. It was.

I looked at the prince, ignoring whatever Vex was saying. “It’s working.”

The goblin smiled that awful smile. “Said pretty was special.”

Vex grabbed me. “What the rutting hell did you just drink?”

“Blood,” I replied. I didn’t tell him what kind.

“No more nasty vampire pills,” the prince ordered. “No good for the Xandra lady.”

“You’re lying down,” Vex commanded. To the prince he said, “We’re going to have a chat.”

I didn’t argue. The blood had made me a little … giddy, almost as though it was an opiate. I felt light-headed and warm. The pain had lessened, and though it wasn’t totally gone, it was all right. I could almost ignore it. Vex put me on the chesterfield and covered me with a blanket. He took the bottle from me. I reached for it, but then it was gone, and I closed my eyes, savouring this feeling. I could hear Vex and the prince talking. I think they left the house, because their voices were muffled. I couldn’t focus enough to concentrate on what they were saying, but I knew I was the topic, and Vex sounded angry.

And then I faded into oblivion and nothing else mattered.

The bullets matched.

I didn’t want to believe it, but there was no denying they came from the same gun, despite having been fired more than a decade apart. Vex and I studied and compared the two of them under a duoscope – a wooden box divided into two halves, with viewing lenses on both. We put a slug into either compartment, switched on the interior light and then examined the spent silver simultaneously, magnified.

We reached the unfortunate conclusion the next morning, after I woke up in my bed to find him sleeping next to me. The last thing I remembered was hitting the chesterfield after getting stoned on the blood the prince had given me.