Free The Summons: A Goblin King Prequel by Shona Husk Page A

door on him, and turned the lock. He knew where she was, but he couldn’t get in. Eliza slid down the door, her legs unable to stand.
    He knocked on the door. Shit. It was only a privacy lock and easily opened from the other side. Could he not take the hint and find some other half-drunk girl to pursue?
    She glanced up at the bathroom window. Too high and too small. She was trapped. Her stomach bottomed out.
    “Open the door and we’ll have some fun.” The handle jiggled. “I got your beer.”
    No. No. No. Why hadn’t she gone to a friend’s place for the night instead of trying to be cool? Why hadn’t Matt made her go? Why did her father have to go east for work? Tears welled in her eyes. She wished he was home, that he would come home early and would see what was going on. She wished her mother were alive. She would know what to do, she always knew what to do. Why couldn’t her mother be here? The tears trickled down her cheeks, but she kept the sobs locked in her chest. She didn’t want to be heard. What she needed was to get away.
    The lock scraped. She lifted her gaze and watched it turn. He would force the door open and then…Her eyes widened as the handle moved.
    “I wish…” She hiccupped and it echoed around the bathroom. Her mother had said always be careful what you wish for as she’d told stories about a man who’d been cursed for loving gold and had been given a heart of gold as punishment. Damned to be goblin, now he was forced to answer other people’s wishes. She closed her eyes. He had to answer hers. “I wish the Goblin King would take me away from here.”
    ***
    The summons pulled tight on his gray skin, dragging his attention from the on-screen violence as machine tore through man. He ignored the magical call that wanted to drag him away from the movie and ate another mouthful of popcorn loaded with butter and salt. It was pointless trying to resist, but he did it anyway, because he could—if only for a few moments.
    The cry reverberated through his body again, but Roan held out a moment longer almost enjoying pain as his body prepared to fracture and split with the effort of obeying the compulsion. He glanced once more at the screen. He was going to miss the ending by about ten minutes, but he’d never been able to resist a direct summons for any length of time.
    He’d tried. His body had peeled apart and obeyed while his mind resisted. Arriving in front of his summoner wounded and in agony had never served him well. He would attend and then leave. It’s not like he was damn genie—he had to answer the call but could choose for himself whether he granted the wish. Maybe, if he were quick, he’d make it back in time to see the end of the film.
    The shadows of the dark cinema came at his beckon and wrapped around him. No one knew he was here, and no one would notice him leave. It was the way he liked it when he visited the Fixed Realm. If humans had seen him, there would’ve been screaming and running…no, it was much better he hid in the dark where goblins belonged, clinging to the edges of nightmares. Cloaked in darkness, he let the summons pull him to his destination.
    Ground formed beneath his feet. One hand reached for his sword, the other his gun. He’d been attacked more than once after a summons because people called without realizing what they were asking, or who they were summoning.
    Summoning the Goblin King was not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
    For what should have been a couple of heartbeats—had he had a heart to beat—he stood still, taking in his surroundings while wrapped in the shadows and hidden from view. Music pounded through the walls, reminding him what it was like to have a pulse.
    He was in a dark bedroom. His summoner was crying. Her whispered words hung on the air, drawing him closer. He had attended, now he could leave. The urge to obey was now just an inconvenient prickle that would pass. Centuries ago he’d learned to resist further