Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“What is it?” There is alarm in Max’s voice.

“Human female,” Istral says with open distaste. Shit. “She has recently mated with one of her kind.”

Okay, that’s just gross. I should have showered, true, but “mated”? Who says that? I start backing up, uncertain of Istral’s reaction if she catches me here. At the corner, something stings my ankle. I spot the dart. My leg is already numb. I fall on my left side, probably scraping skin on rock, but cannot feel it. Everything is numb. I can’t blink, I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stare.

No, no, no. Stupid. So stupid to die like this.

Shadows whisper across the gravel, filled with grunts and growls and angry mutterings. A sniveling figure looms above me, its grotesque face curled into a snarl. Sharp teeth flash, shiny with saliva. Its breath is thick and putrid. I can’t turn away. I am helpless against the goblins surrounding me.

They grab my arms and drag. Arguing voices become clearer, louder. We pass through the brick wall, into Max’s dim lair. They toss me to the stone floor. My head lolls to one side, and I see Max and Istral standing in the corner. She is as elegant as her voice implies, dressed in stealthy black befitting a well-paid corporate spy. Her white-blond hair is perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless. She reeks of royalty.

“You should be more careful, gargoyle,” a strange female says. “We weren’t the only ones spying on you tonight.” Her words are clipped, harsh, like someone trying desperately to hide a flaw. But it can’t be. Goblin Queens don’t do their own fieldwork.

“What do you want, Kelsa?” Max asks. “Your kind does not have permission to travel uptown and you know it.”

My body jerks. Did someone just kick me?

“The Triads are a little busy tonight,” Kelsa says. “They aren’t looking for me, and they certainly aren’t looking here. Though something tells me I’ve just found a little piece of leverage.”

“She is a rogue,” Istral says, pointing to me. “The Triads do not bargain. She is of no value.”

“I will decide that, vampire. For what purpose do you haunt the lair of a gargoyle?”

“I do not answer to you.”

Cloth shifts. A gun is cocked. Istral tenses. From her position, I assume Kelsa is directly behind me.

“You will answer to me tonight,” Kelsa sneers.

“Your plan will fail, Kelsa,” Istral says. “You will fail and your people will become little more than slaves, forced back underground to eat the droppings of others.”

“And what are we now?” There is fury in Kelsa’s voice. She has lost the struggle to maintain a human voice. Snarls punctuate each word as they are forced through a goblin throat. This won’t end well.

“The same as you always will be.” Istral takes a step forward, back straight, unafraid. “Scavengers.”

Kelsa growls, throaty and terrifying. A shot is fired. Istral screams. The bullet propels her backward into the stone wall. Blood spurts from a wound in the center of her chest. It isn’t a mortal blow for vampires, so why is she sliding to the floor? Kelsa is laughing.

An anti coag round. How did a goblin get her claws on our ammunition?

I watch because I can’t look away. Istral clutches her chest, fingers ripping desperately at the cloth and skin. Blood continues to pour in torrents. She pales quickly, like colored chalk washing away in the rain. She is bleeding to death. Her eyes are wide, glazed, a beautiful shade of lavender. Alive with light, fighting. She looks at me until the light fades, and I am lost in a dead woman’s eyes.

“Do you know who she was?” Max asks.

“That no longer matters,” Kelsa says. “Our peoples must look to the future.”

“I only look to the present.”

“Then you may die in the here and now.”

“Your bullets can’t pierce my skin.”

“Perhaps not.” A flash of orange light glances off the stone by Max’s feet. “But morning sunlight will, and we have mirrors.”

Oh no.

Max retreats to the shadows. The reflected light dances just out of reach. I only half see him. He is calculating, pondering the risk of a direct attack. I don’t know the numbers behind me. At least three. “The gargoyles will not be your allies,” he says. “It is not our way, and no amount of coercion will change that fact.”

“I actually expected as much. I do not want your help, only your word.”

Max’s eyes flicker to me, and back up to Kelsa. “As part of what agreement?”

“Complete neutrality in all matters. You will do nothing and say nothing about this to the Triads. You will report nothing you witness to the humans or the Fey Council. They are off limits.” Another kick jostles me. “Talk to no one.”

Max is silent for a ponderous eternity. I want to scream, beg him not to agree, but can say nothing.

“What of her?” he asks, pointing to me. Yes. Yes!

“She is not your concern. She is wanted elsewhere, and will be paid handsomely for.”

Her tone sickens me. If I could move, I would vomit. Kelsa and her goblins are not here for Max or Istral. They were tracking me. I led them to Max. It’s my fault Istral is dead. But why do the goblins want me? Who will pay for me? I am a rogue. I have—

“She has no value,” Max says.

“On the contrary.” Kelsa’s feet move into my line of sight. Black boots, soft soles. Silent and deadly. “Your word?”

“What do I receive in return?”

No, Max. Please .

“The same,” Kelsa says. “Non interference. Your people will be allowed to continue as you are now under our rule.”

Max laughs—a deep, grating sound that vibrates the floor. “You assume too much, goblin, but I agree to your terms. You have my word that I will not interfere with the humans or your plans.”

“Good.”

I am lifted up and slung over someone’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. All I can see is sideways. The bricks of the tower as we pass out of Max’s lair and onto the roof. Then something is tied over my head, and I see only darkness.

I wake with no memory of passing out. Dark engulfs me, thick and oppressive. I am on my back, with something soft beneath me. Cold metal encircles my wrists and ankles. I pull. Chains rattle on both sides of my head, more at my feet. Fear twists my stomach. I’m not dead, but this is so much worse.

The dark turns to dimness. A thin line of light peeks from beneath what could be a closed door. The room is small. I can see the outline of the mattress I lay upon, flat on a dirty cement floor. The walls are bare. Handcuffs bind my wrists to chains, which are studded to the wall above my head. Shackles hold my bound ankles, similarly anchored.

I tug. The cuffs bite into my wrists. I rock my lower body and push/pull with all of my strength. Nothing. The chains are solid. I collapse, panting. My body tingles—probably a side effect of the numbing drug.

In the dark, bound to a mattress in a dark closet of a room, I realize something else—I am completely naked. My clothes are gone, nowhere to be seen. I go through a mental checklist, testing various parts of my body, but nothing aches. Nothing feels violated. The torture hasn’t begun.

Gooseflesh prickles my arms and stomach. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Is Wyatt worried yet? Has he started looking for me?

He won’t know where to start. I only told him I was going uptown. He doesn’t know Max, and Max won’t go to Wyatt. He gave his word to not interfere.

Betrayal stabs my heart with its icy knife. Max owes me nothing, but it still hurts. He let the goblins take me. If what Kelsa said is true, they are going to sell me to someone. Or have sold me.

I watch the line of light beneath the door, searching for shadows. Movement. Any indication of life outside of my little prison that smells of mildew and dust. I swallow, but my mouth is dry.