Anna-Maria Shadowpath Duval let the soft swatches of light and spots of shadow race over her goblin features. The car sped down the gravel road, far past any set speed limit, but in the hidden goblin village no human even knew the street existed. The tires of the 4x4 crunched against the damp stones. Red soil stained the undercarriage and lower half of the vehicle.

The young goblin princess sat silently with her eyes closed, listening to the rhythmic crashes of the music coming from the earbuds in her brother’s ears. Remy’s head was bouncing to the beat and his long, thin, pointed ears followed suit. He was humming a little, with his eyes closed just enough that his dark lashes interlocked, like a fly trap. There was a dreamy expression on his face, and those half-shut eyes’ purple was richer and deeper than its usual lilac. Imagine the color of moonlight on night-blooming flowers; pale and shining, with a solid black, slitted pupil. Remy daydreamed.

Anna-Maria remembered the day her brother fell in love. Goblins are capable of love stronger than any kind known to humankind. It’s like an instinct that one day, simply develops. Two goblins destined for each other may have been acquaintances their whole life then one day meet on the street and will never leave each other again. They are the ultimate soul mates and the onset can occur anytime after childhood. The love between two goblins never fades and is only surpassed by their combined love for their children. Sometimes there is a preinclination and sometimes it hits like a sweet and powerful wave- out of the blue.

Remy had known Genevieve almost his whole life. As a child he had had a crush on her older sister Nadia, and as young boys do, expressed his feelings by throwing mud-clumps at the two of them as they spent their idyllic afternoons in each other’s backyards.  His attentions strayed after a few months, away from the elder Sangsue, but he constantly teased the younger. Swimming in the river channels with the other young goblins, she was the only one he waved black, shiny, bloodthirsty leeches at. When she got a disastrous haircut he called her names and when she wore Nadia’s clothes he commented on her lack of a chest. As many who grow up do, they grew apart. He was running out of new gags and she was tiring of his endless antics.

Then, suddenly, at age 14, Genevieve suddenly became beautiful. No other young goblin could compare to her perfect features. She began modeling in the human world, using the Hiddenwind power of illusions to conceal her long, elegant ears. She gained herself a bit of celebrity there, with her calf length, trailing black hair, flawless skin, and strange cat-like eyes. She made friends. She flirted with boys. She lived her life, forgetting but vaguely the slim boy with the leeches in his clawed fingers, dripping wet in the bayou beneath the strings of fragrant hanging moss.

Remy, too, had moved on. He had learned he could get the attention of girls by whispering in their ears and letting his cool claws (sheathed of course) trip across the side of their faces or over their shoulder blades. He smiled mischievously at their giggles. He and his best friend Sebastien spent their time laughing and joking and trying to make the girls blush. Genevieve and Remy did not see each other beyond passing for nearly two years.

So, Genevieve was sixteen when she knocked on the door of the Duval household, looking to return a string of pearly green beads to Remy’s mother, Rachelle, the formidable and beautiful queen of the goblins. They were a gift from the previous king, Rachelle’s father, and thus, rather precious. Genevieve had borrowed the jade necklace for a photo shoot in town and was not going to see Rachelle for awhile longer and, being a prompt type, wanted to return them before they could be missed.

Anna-Maria had been sitting on the wooden couch-bench in the den, sharpening a spear-point before sparring practice that evening when she heard Genevieve at the door. She did not stand to open it because a warrior never abandons a blade and the visitor was recently a cousin of some sort (Sophie Duval married Genevieve’s nephew that year), so it was not terribly rude to make her wait. The next to the door was Remy, wearing a filthy muscle shirt. Once upon a time, the Duval’s discovered their son’s knack for fixing things, and after a successful bout with a rusty window latch, he had inadvertently adopted the post of family handyman and presently he was doing plumbing work on the kitchen sink. There was something terribly wrong with the garbage disposal, and the goblin king had absolutely no expertise in the matter, so Remy was called upon for the duty. He did not smell nice, to say the least and there was some remnant of whatever had been living and growing in the dark recesses of the sink stuck to the hem of his shirt. The yellow-green patch of slime reeked and shed flakes of its pasty skin on the floor.

The young princess looked up to see the door open, its hinges still creaking violently despite all of Remy’s efforts. Genevieve stood outside wearing a flowery top that showed off her shoulders and denim cutoffs. The left side of her hair was pushed behind her ear but one piece fell in front, gently waving in front of her left cheek. She reached up with a slender hand to push it back. She didn’t need a manicure for her fingernails to be perfect. Remy rolled his eyes a little, remembering this was the girl who wore her mother’s heels to seem taller and was the only ten-year-old girl in a one piece swimsuit.

“Y’know, your sister actually had nice shoulders.” Remy smirked.

Genevieve was taken slightly aback. She hadn’t seen this boy for two years and the first thing he dares to do is insult her! She drew a sharp breath and her fine eyebrows knitted in her forehead. She was not the same little kid any more! Her goblin marks flashed, showing her building anger.

After a moment of letting her indignation shoot itself from her angry eyes like sparks from a fire she took another breath and glared at her old acquaintance. He was disgustingly smug, tossing his bangs. The dense fool did not sense her fury.

“Remy,” she said quietly, and chucked the beads at him. “Duval!”  He voice had crecendoed to a yell. She turned haughtily, her hair following her like a shiny tail. “I hate you!” Genevieve spat the words out; her eyes brimmed with anger and tears.

Remy had thought he was only teasing. He had spent the first thirteen years of his life doing so; without punishment. A pang of anxiety gripped him as Genevieve (gracefully) stomped down the stone pathway across the yard, through the tall grasses and over to the humidity-warped wooden sidewalk. Remy dropped the jade string and took off, using his Nightshade blood to give him the speed of a darting shadow.

In a moment and a breath of wind he was at her side. His eyes were wide and desperate with apology.

Anna-Maria stepped outside after hearing the clatter of the necklace on the step. She saw his arm reach out to grab hold of her exiting wrist. She saw his long fingers brush her forearm. They both froze. Lines of gravity-betrayed tears formed on the flushed cheeks of Genevieve. One of them escaped her momentum and sparkled through the sunlight. With that one touch, everything changed between them.

Remy once said it was like waking up and finding the sun had given up climbing across the sky and had taken up residence inside the skin of another. He could never leave her because the sun was that beautiful and essential to life. Its warmth sustained him. From a solitary, independent creature, a goblin becomes entirely changed. Despite the pressures of several more traditional community members, Remy and Genevieve had decided to wait to get married (some goblins, like Rachelle, marry at 15 at the youngest, most marry at about 18). The day in the car, Remy was sixteen and Genevieve was a year older.

They had barely been apart in the year that had passed since the day at the Duval house. Remy picks her up after her photo shoots and she (tries) to make him dinner. They eat a lot of mac and cheese from the box, but Remy has fourths and fifths; he says he can tell when she made it. They hunt for fireflies at dusk, catching them and releasing them to see their bright lights illuminate perfect floating orbs of evening sky.

Anna-Maria felt the car turn into the driveway of the Lutin family, the rotation of the body pushing her twin sister into her. It wasn’t a hard shove but considering the location and occasion, Anna-Maria wasn’t happy.

Marie-Luce tried to pick herself up quickly but Rachelle was still turning and she couldn’t right herself fast enough to abate the younger twin’s anger. Anna-Maria glared fiercely into her mirror-image’s eyes. She was met with no hate, only mild apprehension. She huffed and turned away, hunching her shoulders and crossing her arms to look out the window. Marie-Luce scooted to the farthest side of her seatbelt, close to Remy. He didn’t look up. She put her arms on her legs primly and took a quiet breath to try to lighten up the air. Her face cleared of all evident emotion, leaving the naïve mask that the goblin community knew so well. Anna-Maria was unmistakably not in a good mood and it was not like Marie-Luce to stimulate an outburst.

The Lutins were one of the oldest and most respected families in the village. The very Lutin name means ‘goblin’ in French, the language most goblins spoke before they came to North America. Their house was probably the most noble of all the inhabitants nearby. The Duval family was certainly royal; being the family of the Goblin King and his queen and the princesses, but Lucas’s family had no pedigree, at least not one like the Lutins’. They had had at least 7 Goblin Kings in their history, and some of the most legendary warriors. Their children had strong powers and intelligence. They were the closest Lucas, the King, had to peers. And they had one more claim to fame, the heir to the goblin throne.

Rachelle parked the car violently, it lurching with a stomach-wrenching jerk of abruptly halted momentum. The engine had barely cut before the slender but sharp mother of the Duval clan was out the door and rummaging through the trunk. Its contents clattered noisily as she snatched a few choice objects.

“Baby won’t wait!” She hollered towards her brood while sprinting towards the door of the Lutin lodge.

The outside of the great log building was buzzing with testosterone. The goblin men were milling about, many shirtless in the summer heat because even the foliage of the bayou didn’t keep away the warmth of the earth. The warrior types were flexing, the comic types were standing in circles telling jokes, and the athletic types were playing a game similar to ultimate Frisbee. There was a blazing fire going and plenty of alcohol as well as some cooking meat. They laughed and talked, creating a festive ruckus.

The door to the house was filled with a less relaxed noise.  The Sangsue matriarch Helene and the lady of the Lutin house, Mina, were yelling orders. Hot water! Bloodtree paint! Some of whatever the boys are drinkin’! They wiped sweat from their foreheads as it dripped past their inundated eyebrows. Women rushed about, many as nervous as the young woman at the center of attention, whose belly heaved and gave her pains of labor.

Sophie, the eldest daughter stood at the door, pacing. She moved slowly with her hands pressed against her lower back to keep her balance, her back arched in the unusual shape so obvious in pregnant women. A baby is not a light burden to carry and Sophie still had a trimester to go. Some pregnant women lumber, but she still had the Nightshade gift of speed and grace, and while the extra weight made speed a challenge, she was a very graceful mother-to-be.

She peeked out the door with hesitation then her eyes lit up as she saw her mother speeding across the lawn. She stood in the doorway only momentarily before making way. Rachelle’s speed was infamous, even as a Nightshade. As she raced to add her cool composure to the simmering hubbub, bits and pieces of the load she carried in her arms fell from her grasp. Marie-Luce, also a Nightshade by blood, raced behind, deftly catching each item as it dropped. What she couldn’t nab in midair she took on the bounce. Through their teamwork they made it to Sophie without any significant losses.

Anna-Maria did nothing in this display of collaboration. She trailed behind, running as well, but not nearly as fast as her family members. She was a Shadowpath like her father, the clan of the hidden, whose members could clothe themselves in shadow and thus remain unseen. They were not considered a warrior-blooded clan, but Anna-Maria had proven to be an anomaly. She trained until she dropped to prove her worth and earn her place. But she could not keep up with the Nightshades much to her chagrin. They raced ahead, leaving her in the dust. She looked down to hide her shame.

Marie-Luce embraced Sophie tightly as soon as she reached the doorway, patting her belly as her beloved sister ruffled her hair. Anna-Maria stopped running to sullenly amble towards the door. There were more than enough people to deliver a baby, and so she decided there was no hurry. Her eldest sister and elder twin walked inside, laughing animatedly before being sent away into the dark and shadowy recesses of the Lutin lodge.

Before they had completely lost themselves in the dark, Anna-Maria saw another woman stop them and ask them something, to which they answered the affirmative. Genevieve rushed outside, letting the Duval sisters continue. She stopped for a moment, letting her eyes get accustomed to the contrast in light. Without a look to Anna-Maria, she raced by, her feet barely touching the ground as those of the Blackdove clan tend to do. Her hair flew like it had a life of its own, despite being in a ponytail, floating and wafting as she rushed ahead with a euphoric smile.

Remy caught her in his arms and picked her up, and she unconsciously used her power to lift him off the ground. Anna-Maria blushed for a moment and turned away to pass over the doorstep. Their happiness and the way he kissed her face, like he hadn’t seen her in the last 24 hours, made her sick. Nobody expected anything of them, they didn‘t have anything to live up to, but their stupid joy was suffocating nonetheless. There was no room for anyone else, no care at all for anyone else. Rachelle said it would mature, but Anna-Maria wasn’t sure. They way they could stare at each other seemed so phony! She shook her head in disgust as she walked into the wall of noise.