Chapter 8: Enemies

Despite everything that the Sages had told us, I could already see the way things were leaning. We had come to depend on the power of the White Dragon too much. We had come to think of the Sanctuary Planet as our home. Our government would not give up either without a fight. I suppose I couldn’t blame them, even if I didn’t agree. Having spent most of my young life traveling through space without rhyme or reason, I knew just how far people would go to avoid going back to that lifestyle. But my only concern was to safeguard my family. I determined then and there that the safest bet for us was to leave the planet and the rest of the human race to their fate.

Éclair found herself dreaming. It wasn’t a bad dream. In fact, given her present circumstances, it seemed the best dream possible. She dreamed that she was back at the mansion that she grew up in. Everyone she loved was there with her. Her Nanny May, the kind-hearted woman that helped tuck her in at night ... the one who would bathe her and sneak her cookies from the pantry.

Her butler, Charles. He used to play paper-rock-scissors with her. When she won, she would ask him to play hide-and-seek with her as well. When he won, he insisted that she resume her studies, but he was never very adamant about it. In fact, she remembered a few times that he would win and still play hide-and-seek with her.

Even more amazing, Éclair’s family had come ... all of her family. Éclair’s cousins and distant relatives from the royal family, even her long-lost mother, everyone laughing and singing, seeming happier in Éclair’s dream than in real life.

Best of all, her godfather attended as well. He sat at the antique piano playing Christmas Carols for Éclair like he used to whenever the holidays came around. Éclair always found his music enchanting, almost magical. Just having Zanderius Alastar around made the room seem a little brighter, like the old man was joy incarnate.

Éclair found it strangely ironic how even though the elderly gentleman brought joy everywhere he went, she found something sorrowful in his gait. Éclair felt like there existed some inner sadness within her godfather; something deep and hurtful that haunted his kind face and crept into his smile. Though Éclair found herself loving her godfather all the more for his hidden sorrow.

All Éclair’s friends from the Ministry of Fire showed up too. Tork belched steam like he had a little too much eggnog. Grafael wore a Christmas Sweater in green and red colors, making him look as fuzzy as a poodle. Éclair’s stepsister, Rachel, actually looked happy for once.

She was flirting with a man that Éclair had never seen before, a man with dark skin who gave Éclair a pirate vibe, if that made any sense. The man had dark hair curled over a Latino face. He wore a leather jacket and sunglasses despite the fact that they were indoors, but even still, she got a very piratey vibe from him. Maybe it was the cutlass that he wore on his belt.

And then Éclair’s heart skipped a few beats when she saw Leon and Ryan clapping cups of hot cocoa together and laughing like they were old buddies. Éclair didn’t know why, but it made her feel warm inside just seeing them getting along so well. She felt puzzled in that she didn’t know exactly which of the two made her heart leap out for joy.

When she looked at Leon, she felt breathless and self-conscious, but when she looked at Ryan, she felt warm and tranquil. Ryan had always seemed so familiar to her for some reason. She felt more comfortable with him than their allotted time together warranted. Éclair quickly shook herself to her senses, remembering that it was a dream and that she probably shouldn’t put much stock into what she felt at the moment.

And then, something even more incredible happened. Everyone hushed and turned to a figure standing at the threshold of an open door. Light streamed in all around him, so Éclair couldn’t quite see his face. He stood tall like Zand. He was well built too, though Éclair didn’t feel any kind of attraction to the man, at least not the romantic kind of attraction. However, something about the man drew Éclair towards him. Without thinking, Éclair walked to the man at the threshold. He held out his hand in an affectionate manner.

”Éclair. My little princess ... I’ve found you at last,” the man said in a deep and powerful voice.

“Daddy,” Éclair heard herself saying.

And then Éclair woke with a jolt of pain and electricity. She opened her eyes deliriously to the snarling face of Lord Gregory, flanked by his two Goblin Assassins as he held his crackling electric whip.

Gregory smiled contemptuously, his nose still bandaged from the right hook she gave him the other day. “Did you enjoy your little respite, you arrogant little whore?”

Éclair blinked a few times to make sure that this wasn’t just an annoying dream. Because if it was, she started imagining with all her might a pot of boiling water falling all over the obnoxious aristocrat.

“How’s the nose feeling? I wonder if plastic surgery will do any good for it now?”

Lord Gregory growled angrily and backhanded Éclair across the face. It didn’t hurt that much. But then again, Éclair had endured so much abuse from that electric whip that she doubted she could feel much of anything at all.

Just as Éclair suspected, Lord Gregory was an amateur when it came to real torture. He beat her so much with the whip that her body went numb, making it difficult for her to register any feeling at all. Besides, this pig could never begin to imagine the things that Éclair had endured, the memories that still haunted her dreams in the dark of night. Memories of monsters and murder ... slavery and death.

You may not think so, Lord Gregory, but there are far more frightening things out there than you and your little toy.

I couldn’t agree more, my dear, assented the dark voice in the back of Éclair’s subconscious.

Lord Gregory acted like he wanted to hit Éclair again as he raised the whip, but Galzar Slithe whispered quietly, “Sir, remember the plan. We need her alive and intact.”

Éclair felt certain that such a correction should’ve earned the Goblin Lord Gregory’s wrath. However, the nobleman panted in frustration as he continued glaring at Éclair. “Fine! But don’t think I’ll forget this, witch! I would think that you would’ve learned a little more respect for me by now!”

“That depends. Can you tell me the date, my lord?” Éclair didn’t know why exactly, but she felt a great need to know the date. Something about her dream had made her yearn for the holidays.

Lord Gregory suffered from a bout of momentary confusion. “What?”

“The date, I want to know what day it is. Last time I checked, it was the middle of December. Has Christmas passed yet?”

“No, ma’am,” answered the Goblin girl. Her voice sounded squeaky and meek, like she was about to break down and cry at any given moment. “You were brought here approximately three days ago. Today is Thursday, the 22^nd of December. The human holiday of Christmas is three days from now.”

“So I haven’t missed it yet,” said Éclair quietly to herself.

Éclair knew that it was silly of her to be thinking of something so petty like holidays at a time like this, but some of her best memories had occurred around Christmas time. Zand had given Éclair her space vessel as a Christmas gift; the North Star. He used to take her flying in it. Around Christmas, he once took her and her family, including the mansion staff, ice skating.

The man actually created his own ice rink and everything using Elemency. Éclair often wondered why her powers had always been that of ice instead of a Fire-Type like most people within the territories of the Ministry of Fire that awakened Elemental powers.

As Éclair recalled her fond memories of Christmas, Lord Gregory turned towards the young Goblin girl in bottled fury. “Did I give you permission to speak? She’s our prisoner! You do not give the prisoner what she wants simply because she asks for it!”

The Goblin girl cringed like she wanted to shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry away. Despite the fact that the girl had knocked Éclair unconscious and currently held her prisoner, Éclair couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. She looked totally helpless against Lord Gregory’s fury, like she was as powerless against him as Éclair. More than that, there was something else about the girl that made Éclair feel drawn to her ... something deeper.

For one thing, the girl seemed very different from her partner. The male Goblin looked so gruff and grotesque, like a lifetime of fighting had corrupted his soul as well as his body. His back was hunched, and his hands were always twitching back and forth, checking on the knives that he hid throughout the tattered rags that he wore.

His eyes were yellow and feral as he stared at Éclair, like he was calculating the best way to kill her in case she escaped again. His disposition reminded Éclair of nothing less than a mad dog ... a dog that’d been abused for so long that eventually, something snapped.

However, Éclair felt something different from the girl Goblin. She wore the same gray rags as her partner, and judging from her height and uncertainty, she was a good deal younger than the male. But something about her just felt different, more tender.

She wasn’t grotesque or hunchbacked like her fellow Goblin. In fact, even in her Goblin appearance with her green, black-spotted skin, her long-pointed ears, her yellow eyes, her sharpened teeth, and her long fingernails, she still resembled a human appearance enough that some might even consider her attractive.

Éclair thought that Ryan certainly would, considering what an obnoxious flirt he was. Her appearance made Éclair wonder if she was really a full-blooded Goblin like her partner. When Éclair tried to meet her eyes, the girl turned away either due to shame or loathing.

Noticing the exchange between Éclair and the Goblin girl, Lord Gregory stepped between the two, and said, “And what does it matter to you, tainted one, what day of the month it is?”

Lord Gregory’s voice drew Éclair out of her temporary daze. “I just wanted to know if Christmas has come and gone yet. I would hate to miss it.”

Lord Gregory activated a switch on his wrist communicator that sent another electric shock coursing through Éclair’s body. She clenched her teeth and tried to close off her senses as volts of energy coursed through her body. Éclair’s torment ended quicker than previous times, but not short enough as she panted in pain and did her very best to keep her tears at bay.

“Trust me, you little strumpet! Missing the holidays is the least of your worries now.”

“Sir, remember, you cannot inflict too much harm upon her at one time,” whispered Galzar Slithe in his quiet and creepy voice. “We do not have the medical facilities to revive her if she succumbs to her injuries, and as we have previously discussed, she is vital to our plans for the future.”

What plans, Éclair found herself wanting to say, until a terrifying thought occurred to her. Could they know about my true heritage? Is that why they took me? No, Zand said that as long as he was gone, that would be impossible! So many thoughts jumbled inside Éclair’s head at the same time that she felt like she would make herself pass out.

“You don’t think I know that, you slimy animal, you,” said Lord Gregory, now turning on Galzar. “It was my plan after all! One more word of insolence from either of you, and I have half a mind to-”

Suddenly, a beeping sound flooded the room. A yellow light flashed on Lord Gregory’s belt. When he pressed it, the image of a man wearing a headset floated in front of Lord Gregory.

“I thought I told you that I am not to be disturbed right now! Doesn’t anyone around here follow orders?!”

The man wore a yellow, blue, and gray uniform indicating his employment at Gregory industries. Perhaps some kind of security guard judging from the weapons arrayed on his utility belt, thought Éclair.

The man cleared his throat nervously before saying, “Sir, we have a situation in District 8. I think you should see this.”

“Can’t it wait?” asked Lord Gregory, nearly shouting.

“No, sir. I’m afraid it can’t. We have a code beta escalating within the area.”

“Code beta,” repeated Lord Gregory with trepidation. “Are you sure?”

“Affirmative, sir,” nodded the security guard. “And it’s heading this way.”

Lord Gregory rubbed his temple manically as if thinking things over. Brushing back his slick-black hair, Lord Gregory straightened himself up and spoke calmly. “I’m on my way, and don’t tell anyone about this until I get there and assess the situation.”