No one listened to Zana Hunt's warnings. Ever!

“You’re going to die today!” she repeated, her voice shaking more than she’d intended it to.

Klurt gave her his you’re-out-of-your-fucking-mind expression, complete with arms folded and a narrowed, condescending gaze. If she got paid each time someone looked at her that way, she’d be a gazillionaire. Except this goblin wasn’t a stranger who wanted his future told. Nope. Klurt was the Wart Market organizer, and the closest thing she had to a father figure.

“I’m not bullshitting you.” Zana closed the distance across the ten-foot-wide office, the coins sewn into the fringe of her skirt jingling against her thighs. “I read it the cards.”

Klurt held his stubborn stance, but eyed her as if she’d grown a third arm.

The premonition came to her in a dream, but tarot cards were an easier explanation. Besides, she didn’t need the label hears voices added to her growing list of why she didn’t quite fit into society. Half-blood. Looking too human. Loner. Yep. Her attempts to assimilate with the locals were going so well. After years of a nomadic lifestyle, she craved settling down—feeling somewhat normal—and ended up choosing Pryvale as her home. Klurt had a lot to do with that decision.

But right that moment, she was ready to throttle him.

He released a deep exhale, his bony shoulders drooping forward as he shook his head. “Yes. Your hippie tent always has the longest line, but I don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo. You’re nothing but a gifted con artist.”

She swallowed her terse response and bit on her lower lip until it hurt. Klurt’s words stung like a bitch, but her readings covered the bills and she worked alone. Besides, where would a half-human, half-goblin like her get employment? Humans didn’t know her kind existed, so hanging out in their world was out of the question; especially with her long ears. As true-bloods, most goblins in Tapestry didn’t waste their time on her. Nothing like living between two worlds and being rejected by both. But she’d promised herself to make her life work in Pryvale. Her attempts to settle in the last two towns lasted less than a month each. Apparently, no one wanted a half-blood in his or her community. Well, screw them. Since starting to work with Klurt a couple of years ago, she’d managed to make a life for herself in Pryvale.

“Klurt, please. I may put a show on for paying clients, but right now I’m being serious.”

Actually, she always sprinkled a bit of truth into her readings. The full amount of what the visions told her would be too much for anyone to swallow. Why not give them the highlights and play down the bad stuff?

His silvering ginger hair hung over one side of his face and was way overdue for a trim. Hair sticking out of the canals of his pointy ears twitched from the commotion of voices outside the office. Thanks to his grouchy demeanor, somewhat earned at eighty-six years old, Klurt scared off newcomers to the markets; though he always treated everyone fairly. That was golden in Zana’s books.

Klurt’s head tilted and his lips pinched. “Fine. Tell me. What else did your cards say?”

Her mouth opened, then shut. Dreams weren’t crystal clear. More like trying to see through fog. The heavy foreboding had been there, whispering Klurt’s name in her ear. The last time she had a vision, the goblin selling moth wings fell down a sinkhole. Zana had warned him, but he’d dismissed her. She should have done more. Followed him home. Anything. She could have prevented his death. Clearly, her visions came for a reason. She just didn’t know why yet.

“Today, you must be extra vigilant about your safety,” she said. “Avoid anything dangerous. Don’t walk alone at night.” Or near sinkholes. “Maybe stay in your office all day. I’ll bring you lunch—whatever you need. Take a week off work.” She moved closer to Klurt as a stream of warm air rushed into the office from market attendees walking past the doorway. Heat clung to her body like a straightjacket, suffocating her.

“Fate can’t be changed, Zana. That’s ridiculous. Plus, I don’t need another goblin telling me to take it easy or retire before I die. The goddess knows when my time is due.”

Who’d told him to retire? Regardless, Zana refused to believe such logic about fate because it meant that instead of being given a gift, she’d been cursed. If she couldn’t do anything to change terrible visions from happening, what was the point? And her life was screwed up enough after the death of her parents. The stabbing ache in her chest deepened. One day they were there, then they were gone.

“Don’t worry about me. Cruz is on guard tonight, and he’ll keep me safe.” Klurt’s eyes held the same gentle concern her father’s used to carry. The expression wrapped her in a blanket and kept her warm. Maybe that was why she’d been drawn to Klurt—he had offered her a job when no one else had given her a chance.

“Please, listen to me.”

She could hear the desperation behind her words, but didn’t care, because the prospect of Klurt’s death broke her. So she still remained in the office, bereft of a way to make him understand the danger. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tight, inhaling his perspiration and a familiar spicy scent. Some terrible aftershave he got from the human world and loved.

“You’ve always looked out for me,” she said, desperate to fold him up in cotton wool for the rest of the day. “Now it’s my turn. Let me look after you.”

Klurt patted her back. “You’re a kind soul.” He broke away. “But my nephew, Shadow, is coming to visit and join the festival. Nothing will keep me from seeing him. He’ll keep me safe; if there’s anything I need to be kept safe from.” Klurt’s gaze always beamed when he spoke of the goblin who wasn’t really his nephew but rather an orphan he’d adopted.

“Wow! The big ambassador is leaving the kingdom,” she said. “You must be honored; Shadow’s the only goblin permitted to reside in the realm amongst draes and the queen. Not a small feat.”

Draes, who lived within the kingdom walls, were the last descendants of dragon shifters. Goblins set up towns and houses outside the realm alongside trolls. Parallel to Tapestry was Earth—both linked by magic. Humans lived on Earth, while this world was filled with goblins, trolls, and drae.

“Shadow is taking a few days off and wants to see me. It’s been years.” Klurt’s lips widened, and his bushy eyebrows arched with the kind of excitement a parent felt for his or her kids.

She forced a smile. Klurt reveled in grand tales about his nephew. How Shadow had defeated a queen’s Guardian. How he’d discovered a rare plant that healed broken bones. While Zana always nodded and listened, she couldn’t help but wonder who the embellisher of those tales was… Klurt or his nephew? If Shadow was an ambassador, surely he had better things to do than play around with an apothecary.

“He sounds a bit obnoxi—” Her words flat-lined as Klurt’s eyebrow arched. She racked her mind for something else to say. “Sounds like he knows a lot.” She lowered her gaze and stared at her fingernails, which needed a trim. “Okay. So you’ll stay in your office all day then?”

“No more with that nonsense.” He waved a hand at her. “Now, have you collected the lanterns for the Lunar Festival?”

Zana nodded; unable to get her legs to leave Klurt’s side. How could she think about the ceremony, the lanterns, or ensuring the festivities were organized when an omen had visited her dream?

“Good, good. I’ll be roping in my nephew to help us out with them if you need someone strong to carry the equipment.”

“I’m in control of lanterns—really. No help needed.” The words blurted out.

“Okay. Enough, Zana.” He frowned. “Go back to your booth and tend to your customers. I’ve got work to do.” Klurt headed to his desk at the rear of the office.

A response died in her throat as she watched him slouch in his seat and fumble through a file of papers. He might not agree with her watching over him, but Klurt couldn’t stop her from staying in close proximity and keeping an eye on him discretely. But, first, she had to tell her customers she was closed. Losing payment for a day was worth the sacrifice if it kept Klurt safe.

She left the office and scanned the enormous underground salt mine for Cruz. She’d get him to stay close to Klurt, too.

Goblins and trolls were everywhere in the Wart Market, but she found no sign of the guard in his fluorescent vest. Long tunnels and deep natural caves sprawled out in every direction. In the main area, enormous lanterns hung from the stone walls, lighting up the place. The cavern was large enough to fit three ten-story blocks.

Wooden tables were set up in wide rows, giving customers easy access to each vendor. Trolls needed a sizeable berth. Those beasts were seven feet tall and twice Zana’s width. The wide rows also meant more room for rabbits. The black and white furballs hopped everywhere. Zana never bought into the hare-worshipping thing most goblins did or how they represented fertility with the lunar cycle, but in the goddess she believed.

The crowds flowed between stalls, and Zana joined them. In the far corner stood her purple tent; way from the hustle and bustle, the shoving, all the breath on her neck. Already, there were six customers lined up to get a reading. The usual—young goblin girls and a few mothers wanting change and excitement in their ho-hum lives. Oh, and a troll dressed in a green dress that did nothing for her pale complexion. Damn. There went a good paycheck from those customers. Didn’t matter. She’d tell them she wasn’t feeling well, and to return next time.

Zana squeezed past the masses near the rabbit grooming stand. She studied tables packed with crystals and made herself a mental note to buy a handful for decorating her tent. The smell of baked bread and chargrilled corn, along with a barnyard reek, permeated the air.

At a sudden squeal, Zana spun around. She leaned sideways and spotted a young toddler in a tug-o-war with her mother for a packet of sugared rose petals. Zana uncurled the tension in her shoulders. They were Zana’s favorite sweets, too, and in her mind, she cheered for the girl to win the battle.

Her gaze lifted toward Klurt’s office in the distance, only to see a large goblin storming inside with a limp. He shut the door behind him.

Klurt always kept it open as a sign to welcome everyone. Was that his nephew? That niggling sensation curled deep in her gut. Last night’s dream replayed through her head.

Fog blurring her vision, amid the white was a large figure. Klurt’s name kept repeating on the wind, and sorrow clung to her chest.

Zana stilled for those few seconds. She scanned the area for signs of panic. None. Yet the intruder wasn’t a regular guard. So why rush in there so fast, then close the door?

She swung toward the office. Sickness churned in her stomach. Shoving past a goblin, she didn’t even bother apologizing. The crowd moved slowly as if it were a multi-headed serpent sharing one brain. Bursting free from the shackle of bodies, she seized the knife from her boot and bolted to Klurt’s office. Scanning the area on either side of her, she found no guards.

“Never around when needed.”

Tightening her hold on the weapon, she hoped it was a mistake, and then she’d laugh it off as paranoia. She opened the door and rushed inside.

At first, the sight in front of her didn’t make sense, and her brain wouldn’t piece it together. Klurt was lying in the corner, slumped over, hair covering his face. Blood pooled around him from the huge puncture in his chest. Zana’s body turned cold. She tightened her grip on the knife, squeezing, her knuckles hurting.

Her mind shut, unwilling to process what she was staring at.

No one else was in the room, yet the rear door was ajar. The intruder.

She ran to Klurt and checked his pulse. Nothing, and she shuddered at the realization of her vision coming true.

Zana raced out the back to the narrow passage between a rock wall and the building. The killer went that way, but there was no one on either side—just empty crates. She darted left and around the shack, then came out in front of the markets. Would the murderer hide in the flock of customers? No one could be that stupid… they’d leave. Her next inhale came in as a hiccup.

Klurt had been killed. This wasn’t supposed to happen! She’d had those visions to change fate; to save him. She’d failed!

She sprinted left, away from the throng of goblins. She swung into the exit tunnel with fewer lights and shadows hiding the rest of the way. By the time she reached the end, the oversized elevator was ascending with someone inside. She slapped the button, but it wasn’t coming back.

“Fuck.”

If Cruz was outside, he could stop the murderer. Zana darted back to Klurt’s office. She collected the walkie-talkie from the desk. Clicking the unit, she yelled, “Cruz, are you there? Stop the goblin coming out of the elevator.” No response. Her body buzzed with urgency. “Cruz, you shithead, pick up!”

She careened around Klurt’s desk and ripped open the top drawer, grabbing the alarm device; the one that Klurt had used whenever anyone caused trouble at the markets. That was what she needed to get Cruz’s attention. Sure, it would cause mass panic, but time was running out. She hit the red button.

A stringent siren pealed overhead, and a cacophony of voices exploded outside; shuffling feet, screams.

She clicked the button on the walkie-talkie. “Cruz, where are you?”

Zana moved closer to Klurt, her knees buckled, and she sank beside him.

“Klurt, this is my mistake.” The hole in his chest looked like a knife stab, and she touched the edge of the wound, his blood still warm. “I should have stayed with you.” She shook her head and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Should have made Cruz trail you right away. Should have done more. This can’t be happening.”

Tears fell unchecked, and raw emptiness swallowed her heart as she trembled. Sheer nothingness threatened to kill her. He’d been her father figure, kind and giving; sure, grouchy to others, but loveable to her. Now she’d never hear his deep belly laugh or his teasing words again.

A shadow loomed overhead, but Zana couldn’t move. She hadn’t even heard anyone approach. Not that she cared at that moment.

“What the fuck?” A male’s voice broke through the assaulting siren. His arm nudged her aside as he dove forward, hunching over Klurt, checking for his pulse.

Unable to stop the tears, the agony broke through Zana. “He was…” Her words came out in sobbing cries.

The guy grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. He drove her back against the wall. The blade dropped from her grip, drawing the stranger’s attention. A dark-haired goblin stood inches from her face. His body vibrated with anger, and his jaw clenched.

“What did you do to my uncle?”