A thud on the wall brought his attention to the giant collection of vines that had framed the window looking out into the back. Smiling, he walked to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a plate with a five-pound roll of raw beef that had defrosted overnight. He unwrapped it, then tossed the plastic in the trash can beneath the sink.
After opening the kitchen window, he handed the meat to the hungry vines that waited, then watched them drag away their snack. Ever since the Mandragora had eaten the witch last week, the plant had been very docile with him, acting like a puppy dog that followed him around whenever he was out back. The vines would slither around him like snakes, eagerly awaiting a gentle pat or even a rub. Mike felt ridiculous scratching a leafy vine as thick as his wrist, but the plant seemed to like it.
Mike grabbed a pair of orange sodas from the fridge and some plated sandwiches he had made earlier. After walking out front, he approached the goblin from behind. She was bent over, trying to get a stubborn board to lie where she wanted it. He gave her butt a playful slap, which caused her to drop the board on the deck with a clatter.
“Break time,” he announced.
Tink looked at him, then back at the board, apparently coming to a decision over what was truly important to her. Licking her lips, she followed Mike to the front steps of the house. He handed her some lunch, and she sat next to him with her sandwich clutched in her little hands.
“This one extra good,” Tink told him, mustard leaking from her sandwich. For whatever reason, she had developed an obsession with trying mustard on all her food: eggs, chicken, toast, it didn’t matter. As she licked mustard off her fingers, Mike couldn’t help but smile at the cute picture before him.
“Thought you would like it.” Mike bit into his own sandwich, then took a drink of his soda. “Looks like we still have some work to do out here.”
“Maybe finish tomorrow,” Tink informed him, peeling the crust off her sandwich and using it to scoop up the extra mustard that had covered her plate. “Then figure out goggles.”
“That’s right. We need to get those back.” While chasing the haunted doll, Jenny, through the house last week, Mike and Tink had run across a Labyrinth and its resident Minotaur. Tink had lost her magical goggles while escaping and reminded Mike on a daily basis that they were super important to her. However, she also saw the wisdom in letting Mike heal from the wounds he had sustained from a fight with a witch and a fire elemental so had taken to repairing the damage that Sarah had done.
“Stupid cow-fuck,” Tink muttered under her breath. Her vocabulary was the result of a brain injury she had sustained decades past, but she was a genius when it came to repairing the house.
Mike gave Tink an affectionate squeeze. “We’ll find a way to make it right, I promise.”
They already had a basic map of the Labyrinth, though giant sections of it were incomplete. Now he needed to figure out how to convince the Minotaur to give her the goggles back. They finished their meals, and he took Tink inside to survey the collection of tools he had purchased. Tink was fascinated by the cordless drill, her eyes fixated on the spinning metal bit. It hadn’t been plugged in long, so disappointment registered in her face when the spinning slowed to a crawl.
“Give it some time,” Mike informed her, handing her the staple gun. “You can use this to reattach the trellis when it arrives. Do you want me to show you how—”
Tink pushed the stapler into the table, squeezing out several small staples into the old wood.
“Tink like this one,” she announced, firing staples through the air. “No more squished fingers.”
“You got it.” Mike picked up the spare hammer he had purchased for himself. All Tink’s tools were smaller than normal due to the size of her hands, making it difficult for him to help her without developing a cramp through the back of his hand and wrist.
“We go work now!” Tink exclaimed, gathering up in her arms some of the hardware they would need. Mike followed her toward the front door, picking up all the stuff she dropped on the way. Stepping out onto the front porch, Mike nearly ran into Tink, who had come to a stop.
“Hello, Mr. Radley.” Wearing a plain dress with her hair twisted in a long braid was Elizabeth from the Historical Preservation Society. The last time Mike had seen her, she had been in the company of her daughter, Sarah. “I was wondering if I may have a word with you.”
“You can talk from there,” Mike told her, looking down at Tink, who skulked away down the porch. Elizabeth paid the goblin no attention. Mike hoped his guess was correct and that Elizabeth still couldn’t see her.
“It appears that you had some trouble,” Elizabeth said, walking along the yard. She stood next to the collapsed railing. “You do understand that there is a process for approving renovations, yes? To preserve the historical integrity of the house.”
“Considering that a member of your society caused this damage, I suggest we stop playing make believe.” Mike crossed his arms. “You and I both know that the value of this house has nothing to do with how old it is.”
“How did you do it?” Elizabeth took a step toward the porch. “An elemental, a succubus, and a witch. Any of those things would present a challenge, but somehow you surpassed them.”
“And I will continue to do so.” Mike waved his hand at the house. “I know that you’re not just after the magic in the home but the magical creatures inside. They have power and are tools to be used, right? Well, to me, they’re family. How many
