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My chin rears back. For a beat I forget to breathe through my mouth, and instantly regret it as goblin stink leaps down my throat to poke at my gag reflex.
When I’m done coughing and wiping the tears from my cheeks, I rasp, “Goddess, Herbish. That’s bleak. And uncalled for. The Blackmores have been nothing but wonderful to my family. Baron and Darcy worship my sisters, and Amy would have died of starvation if Darcy hadn’t fed her when she was first coming into her demon heat and growing her horns. He saved my daughter’s life. He’s not just a good man; he’s a great one.”
“But he’s only one man,” she says. “And he’s been too long from the bosom of his clan to smell the rot at the core.”
Chill bumps lift on my arms. “What do you mean? Because he’s been living with us? He’s still at the estate all the time, he never misses a clan meeting or a—”
“I’ve already said too much.” Herbish downs the last of her drink and shoves her thick hands into the bar, sending her stool skidding across the wooden boards with a screech. “Time for home. No good ever came from tippling after midnight.”
“Herbish, wait,” I say, hurrying around the end of the bar as she toddles toward the exit. At only four feet and a smidge, she has much shorter legs than mine, but she moves fast. “What did you mean about rot at the core?” I jog to catch her before she reaches the door, catching her thickly woven cloak at the sleeve.
When she turns, I lean down until my head is level with hers and hiss, “Do you know something about the traitor? Darcy and Baron know someone’s leaking secrets and plotting against the clan, they’ve known since the estate plans were stolen from Baron’s place last winter.”
She shakes her head and stumbles backward a step, clearly a little worse for wear after her seventh rum and Coke. Goblins can process massive amounts of alcohol without suffering the ill effects or hangover a human would—it’s part of why they enjoy a drink so much—but even a goblin has her tipping point.
“Please,” I beg, willing her to stay with me for just a few more seconds. “If you know something, tell me. It could mean the difference between life and death for my family. Who is it? Who’s the traitor? Are they working with the Shadowbanes or is it—”
“Don’t!” Herbish points a wobbly finger at my face and slurs, “Don’t say their name, girl. Never say it. A name on the lips of an untrained witch becomes a conjuring. You have much to learn, young one.” She swipes a hand across her slack mouth. “Hopefully, you live long enough to learn it. I like the way you pour. More generous than the other girl. You smell better, too.”
And with that, she turns and tumbles outside, careening into the darkened street.
I stand in the open doorway for a beat, watching her weave her way down the cobblestone road toward the sea, debating the wisdom of following her and pleading my case one more time.
But the till has money in it—even if it’s not as much as a usual Friday night—and I’ll have to pay extra if I’m late to pick Amy up from daycare. Nightfall is cool enough to have evening hours at both their daycare centers, but they still charge extra if you go over eight hours in one day, and Amy doesn’t like it when she’s the last one picked up.
With a sigh, I flip the “Open” sign to “Closed” and head back inside, silently pondering the goblin’s parting shot as I wipe down the bar and set the dishes to wash.
Maybe humans smell as horrific to goblins as they smell to us. It’s a good reminder that we should never take for granted that our reality is the universal reality. So many factors come into play when it comes to how we experience the world, especially in Nightfall.
It isn’t just cultural differences here. There are biological differences, species-specific differences, and generation gaps that make your head spin if you think about them for too long. The world is changing so fast these days, most people have a hard enough time getting along with their parents, let alone their great-great-great grandparents.
Herbish is old enough to remember when women were the property of their fathers and husbands and couldn’t wear pants without being branded a slut too foul to be accepted into polite society. She was around for the Salem witch trials, those dark days when my ancestors lived in terror that the Puritans would find Nightfall and massacre our entire family.
Back then, humans burned innocent women with no evidence that they could work magic. Goddess only knows what they would have done if they’d stumbled upon actual witches.
Probably burned Nightfall to the ground.
My new hometown was vulnerable in those days.
It still is, really. The creatures who call Nightfall home are powerful, but they’re outnumbered and outgunned. All it would take is a few well-aimed missiles fired from the safety of a human military base hundreds of miles away to wipe this village off the map.
It’s another reason the thought of a vampire clan war is so terrifying. Wars are violent, messy, and bad for keeping secrets. This community has been able to stay hidden as long as it has only because the residents work together to keep each other safe. All it would take is one big destabilizing event to attract the wrong kind of attention and put everyone I love at risk.
Which is why you should get out of here. Save up enough money to buy a cabin in the woods and disappear like Mom did.
Mom was flighty, but she wasn’t stupid. There’s a reason she left Nightfall and never whispered a word about it to any of her daughters, even when there wasn’t enough food to go around and the gold she left in the basement of her childhood home would have come in handy.
The inner voice is right, and there was a time I wouldn’t have questioned its guidance, but things are so much more complicated now.
I can’t just take Amy and run. My sisters and the vampires they love are in Nightfall, not to mention my new baby niece, Aurora, the sweetest little miracle ever born. Their lives only work here, and Amy already loves her cousin to bits. I can’t leave my family and new friends behind to face the coming danger alone.
Just like I can’t let Edmond be taken from the world because a spurned woman let her ego get the better of her nearly one hundred years ago.
Surely, Priscilla must feel awful about the curse by now. Baron and Darcy don’t talk about their maker much, but when they do, they’re respectful, if not affectionate. Priscilla must have a few redeeming qualities, or my brothers-in-law wouldn’t be so deferential.
But then, they don’t know about the curse…
To my knowledge, Edmond hasn’t told anyone but me and he obviously doesn’t want me spreading his secret around town. So far, I’ve honored his wishes, but maybe I should rethink that decision. Blaire is a powerful witch and Annie has god-tier research skills and access to one of the biggest supernatural libraries in the world. If there’s even a chance my sisters can save the man I love, I should go to them, even if it pisses Edmond off.
