by Trevor Hopkins

All three buildings on Gumshoe's list were the same: tumbledown old properties where no human had lived for many years. We looked around all three carefully, forcing open shuttered windows and nailed-up doors, just in case my senses were mistaken, but my first impression was the right one: no Goblins and no humans anywhere, and hadn’t been for decades.

In between times, back in the car, I explained to Gumshoe more about the glamours that I had sensed, long-established glamours that were obvious in their presence - to a Goblin - at all of the places we visited. Spells that induced a deep-seated sense of unease in any nearby human; glamours projecting apparitions, barely seen from the corners of the eye, hideous sounds emanating from unexpected directions and unexplained movements of physical objects when one's back was turned.

Hawk silloetted against an orange moon Gumshoe, to his considerable credit, toughed it out. Once he understood that the sensations he was experiencing were a deliberate attempt to scare him off, he was determined to remain undeterred - although he looked absolutely terrified throughout the whole grim ordeal. I was fine, of course - such magics are carefully tuned to human sensibilities - and I did my best to shield Gumshoe from the worst of the effects.

A few hours of investigation had us no further forward. We had scoured three places, all within a mile or so of each other, their locations roughly distributed around the hamlet of Dulelm Hollows. All of them were carefully constructed to speak directly to the dark side of every human psyche; all of them could easily be used as hiding places for Goblins on the run, but all had certainly been untouched and unoccupied for ages.

What, I sincerely wanted to know, did Garrick want with these places? Were they some kind of hiding-place, as a fall-back, a long-shot? Perhaps that would be a sensible precaution for such a secretive and much sought-after Goblin. But why three hideouts so close together? Any sniff of a trail leading to Dulelm Hollows and all of the places would be identified immediately by any Goblin with an ounce of magical training. It didn't make any kind of sense. Perhaps it was some kind of elaborate double-bluff, but I suspected not. There was something here we were missing, some aspect both Gumshoe and I had overlooked.


I returned with Gumshoe to New York City and to his office, feeling increasingly despondent. I was getting nowhere fast. Nether was stone-walling me on his motivations, as well as what he had really been doing for the last hundred years or so. I was fairly certain there was something he knew that would help break this case but I desperately needed a lever to prise it out of him.

Trinity appeared to be a victim of Garrick's dissembling and trickery, and was probably on the run, now being perceived as a criminal. Maybe she would get in contact soon; maybe I should have asked her what she was going to do. On the other hand, asking Trinity anything was not guaranteed to get a comprehensible answer, or at least an answer anybody could believe.

Coupar Angus had clammed up on me, frightened out of his wits - quite literally, it seemed - by Garrick's glamours. The entire set-up with Lorny and Arlie had been a waste of time; I had used the favour I had banked with the girls to no avail.

Gumshoe's contacts in the NYPD seemed to be coming up dry. I hadn't really expected he'd be able to get close to the group which had raided the warehouse. They would be some special task force of human police, operating with minimal involvement of the regular cops.

Rosie was also a victim, barely able to remember anything of the ordeal - which was probably just as well - and appeared to have been an innocent bystander - or at least just a cover story - caught up in the action.

Dead-ends in every direction. Time to circle around and try again, and hope for a break.

Part 56 Part 58