“Yeah,” Maggie said.
She didn’t mention that there was something else eating at her.
The goblin she’d interrogated, Buttsack, had confessed to systematic attacks on more or less random targets. There was a lot of little hurt here and there. Some big hurt. Buttsack had used a curse on a girl to make her envision everything edible as rotten and disgusting. Every plate of salad practically compost, meat appeared and tasted rancid, festooned with maggots. She’d been hospitalized a month ago, on the belief that she had an eating disorder.
Buttsack was upset because he wanted the curse back, so he could use it again. Maggie managed to twist his arm until he shared the way to break the curse. She’d scribbled it down and emailed the hospital with a message for the patient.
She’d left a note in the locker of the diabetic with the cocaine-tainted insulin, and discreetly removed the gremlin bait from her math teacher’s keychain, keeping it for herself.
Something told her that Buttsack hadn’t shared every victim of his.
The Faerie were active, the goblins allowed to run rampant so long as they were minor goblins. Bogeymen and boggarts lurked in the outskirts of town.
The atmosphere was dark, here.
The council was letting bad things happen to innocents because it was, in a roundabout way, a path to power.
A seeing man is king in the land of the blind. Protect your own eyes and let everyone else get blinded, and you rise to the top of the heap.
The dynamic here was toxic.
Places like this were a haven for those who didn’t want to kowtow to a proper Lord. For every person here that hadn’t been directly affected by an Other in one way or another, there was another who had.
Too few were benevolent.
As Jacob’s Bell became something bigger, some would leave, because the city was no longer a haven. Others would try to mark their territory and ride the cresting wave to the top. They would get bolder, fight one another, or prey on people in an effort to grasp at power.
She hadn’t been able to help everyone that Buttsack had hurt or plotted against, and even though he was the most malicious and capable goblin she’d run into since she’d arrived in Jacob’s Bell, he was still a minor goblin. Resourceful, but minor.
She wanted to help, but how was she supposed to help with the rest of it if this was all she could do to help him?
How was she supposed to help Blake if she was this powerless? How was she supposed to face the blood, darkness, and fire that was inching her way even now?
Padraic was taking his leave. He stepped on ice and used the slippery surface to do a half-turn. His eyes fell on her. She could see his smile. She could imagine his voice in her ear.
“Was he just looking at you?” Elspeth asked.
“You know, if Penelope or Gavin pushed you to come and try and be friendly, you can stop pretending. It’s not going to change what I decide to do with the contract.”
“Thanks for letting me off the hook,” Elspeth replied. She stood, dusting snow off her rear end. “My ass was freezing.”
“See ya,” Maggie said.
Exiled faerie were kept out of towns with Lords as a matter of course. The Court apparently didn’t want exiles making deals or gaining power, so they stuck them only in small villages and towns, or even in areas well out of reach of humans.
Maggie made a mental note to ask him what would happen to the Exiles when Jacob’s Bell made the transition.
She put her hands between her thighs and pressed them together for warmth, watching the crowd. Now that Patrick was gone, she was free to watch the practitioners.
Owen was being an idiot over a senior girl, and she’d turned him down despite some shenanigans affecting the connection between them.
Lola seemed distracted by something, fidgeting, her attention on her phone. Every time she looked down, a connection ignited. Someone far away.
Penelope was particularly focused on Maggie. She was one of the people who’d worked out the idea for the contract, and she seemed especially intent on it.
If things worked out well, Maggie knew who to thank. If they didn’t, she knew who to blame.
She made a long list of mental notes. Weaknesses, ideas, clues, identifying details. Whether or not she accepted the contract, they could easily become enemies.
Any information was a possible vector of attack. Even romantic entanglements, even doubt over some distant boyfriend or family member.
She’d learned that much from the goblins and Faerie of Jacob’s Bell.
■
Maggie nudged the meat around her plate. It looked like someone had cut away the good parts of the chicken, leaving only the giblets and tattered bits, and slathered it all in some weak, slimy sauce of vinegar and gluten free flour and cooked up in a baking pan with far too much fluid. It looked undercooked.
No, scratch that. It looked like limp, shredded, groin giblets. Undercooked, limp, shredded groin giblets. With overcooked asparagus and undercooked potatoes on the side.
Had Buttsack found a way to curse her? Or was she just being influenced by the goblins, seeing rude things when they weren’t there?
“I know it’s not your favorite,” her dad said.
“That suggests I’ve had this before. I’m pretty sure I’d remember this.”
Much as I’d want to forget.
“It’s pretty bad,” her father said.
“…Just eat what you can,” her dad said. “We’ll have something else soon. To take your mind off it, why don’t you tell us about school?”
Maggie suppressed a groan.
Full disclosure. It was part of the deal, for her being allowed to practice.
Not that she was telling them everything, but she had to make a good faith effort.
“Bunch of kids approached me a few days ago, offering a truce. Today they delivered the contract. I’m halfway through. I’m thinking I’ll read the rest in bed tonight.”
“Why have a truce if you aren’t at war?” her dad asked.
“Because they want to make sure I don’t go and help Blake with whatever’s going on in Toronto.”
“Does that have anything to do with the box of unpacked stuff you have up in your room, that’s been grunting and moving around?”
Maggie tensed. “You said you wouldn’t go in my room.”
“I didn’t,” her father said. “But it’s hard to ignore, and since I’m working from home, it’s… distracting.”
“It’s… a goblin,” she said.
She hated this. The wounded looks, the bewilderment.
Her dads had been introduced to this world, they were scared of it, and they were vulnerable, even if they hadn’t awakened. She didn’t have the heart to share her thoughts on just how overwhelming the problems here were, the number of lesser Others who were preying on people.
Let alone Padraic with his games, or Keller with his trapped gifts.
“Okay,” her dad said, “this meal was a failure. Let’s clear the dishes and we’ll figure out if there’s something fast and healthy we can do.”
Healthy eating. Her dad’s attempt at asserting control over something, as a way of coping. It was just stressing her out more in the end, but she couldn’t say that.