The Toymaker: Excerpts

“Oh,” Ashima said. “Is Lance dangerous?” she asked. It was taking everything she had not to tell Jasmine what Lance had done, to fight the feeling that someone needed to know in case it meant Lance doing something worse.

“He’s angry like a lot of people,” Jasmine said. “He’s just in a position to do something about it. Which, between you and me, I think makes him pretty dangerous. He had family killed by a wild goblin, you know.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. A brother, I think, and both parents. I heard it was bad.” Jasmine’s normally sardonic expression melted like ice left out in the sun. “They were torn limb from limb and Lance was the one who found them.” She set her cards to the side. “It’s easy to hate the goblins and still be able to talk about taking action against them nice and slow when you know your family is still alive. Like my family, all well and good and not in the city. When it’s because of the goblins your family’s dead, it makes you want to kill right back. There’s a lot of people who want to do more than take action. They want to end the goblins once and for all. Lance, he wants to do it now, and a lot of people are cool with that. They’re cool with whatever it’ll take to make that happen. They’re cool with saying to hell with everyone if it means seeing the goblins dead, and then someone else loses family because the goblins retaliate. Just one big cycle of anger, anger and more anger.”

“People can get pretty dumb when they’re desperate and angry. But we’re not all like that so, I don’t know, I guess it sort of balances things out,” said Jasmine, taking up the cards. “The thing is, something has to give, because someone is either going to do something brilliant or something stupid. That’s my theory, at least. Either this plan of Lance’s works or we all end up going to hell in a hand basket. Because we know, either way, that the goblins are going to be pissed about our new little weapon, and if we don’t take them down with one blow…” She shrugged, then shuffled the cards, set one out, and snorted. “The Fool. Wonderful. Describes us all to a T.” She held up the rest of the deck. “Sure there isn’t anything you’d like to know?”

Ashima stared at the cards as she picked at her biscuit. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To find them?”

Ashima nodded.

Jasmine looked at her deck of divinations. Sighing, she set the deck aside. “I hope so, kid.”

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The Toymaker: Excerpts

Something clattered at the shadowy end of the building where the windows had been boarded up. Ashima froze, listening.

“Gemmy?” she said. “That you, Gemmy?”

A brief rattle of chains and she whirled around. A length of chain swung from where it hung on a hook.

“This isn’t funny you guys,” she said irritably. It was a pathetic annoyance that she felt, mostly eclipsed by a growing sense of something terribly wrong. Because as much as the golems liked to have their fun, they had yet to be funny with her.

Another clatter, followed by wet breathing and snuffling. Heart in her mouth, Ashima squeezed herself beneath the workbench behind a stack of useless tires, her pile of junk clutched tight against her chest.

The snuffling and whuffing was growing closer. A shelving unit was bumped, causing cans to fall and the owner of all that noise to hiss. Then the source of the noise leaped onto the bonnet of a gutted truck. Ashima pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling her yelp.

She had seen this creature before, stuffed and harmless behind glass. It had been little more than creepy, then; long-limbed like a monkey but big as a large dog. All claws, teeth and tusks jutting forward from a bulbous and square head like a deformed vampire bat. It had no eyes, only those massive and raggedy ears and an ugly upturned nose. It had almost been funny.

But alive… oh, alive, it was so much worse. It panted like a dog with its gaping mouth open, all bloody red-inside and its teeth so long. It scuttled like a spider over the truck and across its side, defying all the laws of gravity, and its claws looked long enough to pierce all the way to the heart. It inhaled every inch of whatever surface it crawled across, from the truck to the ground, half up a shelf nearly knocking it over then back down, and it was getting closer.

Ashima set her collection of junk down with agonizing slowness, except the pipe, which she clutched tightly in both hands. She inched backwards until she was next to the narrow opening between the tire pile and her hiding place, then squeezed through. This slowness was even more painful. An eternity seemed to pass, lifetime after lifetime as she wriggled and shoved, pausing every time the pile threatened to give. The creature moved ever closer.

It froze, obsessed with the spot where Ashima had been standing moments before. The thing lifted its eyeless head, opened its blood-red mouth wide and hissed.

Ashima whimpered and scrambled free of the stack. Tires rocked and fell, bouncing across the floor. But rather than become a beacon, it was a distraction confusing those big ears and swiveling that big head on top of its skinny neck. But then Ashima ran, her footfalls like a gunshot in the echoing room. The creature bellowed and its claws clacked like an insane tap-dancer across the concrete floor. Ashima, sobbing, threw herself through the gap and clawed her way free. She dove forward while behind her the thing thudded against the doors, denting them. Its long, skinny arm clawed at her through the opening and she crab-scuttled back.

Something claw-like gripped her shoulder. She cried out and spun around on her rear, then released a relieved breath when she saw only Gemmy regarding her in confusion. It was a short-lived relief. Another fat, square head with a mouth full of tusks poked through the window of the house across the mechanic shop and sniffed.

“Not again,” Ashima squeaked. “Run!” Leaping to her feet, she grabbed Gemmy’s little metal hand and together they ran.

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The Toymaker: Excerpts

“Did you just say no?”

Ashima took a nervous step back. “Yes. I mean… yes, I said no. I’m… I’m not leaving until you tell me… tell me why my doll can move.” She nodded once, satisfied with her words, and then lifted her chin in defiance. The effect was somewhat ruined by the way it quivered.

“Oh,” the man said, looking, for a moment, almost contrite. “I didn’t think it belonged to anyone, sorry. But no worries, she won’t hurt you or anything. She is your doll and everything.” He then adjusted the goggles back around his face and turned to the conveyor belt.

“That’s not an answer!” Ashima said. The man whirled on her and she flinched. Swallowing, she ventured on. “What did you do? I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

“Is it really important?” the man said with an almost-whine to his voice, like it would make his day if he didn’t have to explain anything.

“Yes,” Ashima said. “Yes it is. I want to know what you did.”

“Nothing harmful, I swear. If you want I could undo it but, really, I’d rather not, it always makes me feel terrible about it afterwards. But I suppose there’s no choice in it if you want your doll back.” But when the man took a step forward, Asha retreated, hiding behind Ashima’s gown and shaking her yarn head emphatically. The man’s shoulders sagged and he sighed, defeated.

“You see? She can’t even do expressions and I still feel terrible about it. I knew I shouldn’t have done it but she was the first doll to come down here not ripped to pieces and… I have no bleeding willpower, I really don’t. Look, if you must know, it’s a spell, something my grandfather taught me. That’s all. I’m the only one working down here ’cause no one else will and I need the help, so I make things and bring them to life, all right? Satisfied? Good, now bugger off.”

Ashima wasn’t satisfied, because what kind of an answer was that? A spell?

Moisture filled Ashima’s eyes until she could barely see, then fell dripping from her face. She had no idea why she was crying, but neither could she stop, like a cracking dam finally bursting in a never ending rain of sorrow, frustration and confusion.

“Boss, the stranger’s crying,” said Stevie unhelpfully.

When the man turned back, he seemed to collapse in on himself as if Ashima weren’t the only one that had been buried by the weight of this place.

“Oh, no, don’t do that, please?” he said, removing the coat, breeches and goggles. “I’ll undo the spell if you’d really like, it’s no big deal.”

“No!” Ashima yelped, grabbing Asha and holding her tight. This made the man flinch and pat the air with his hands.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave her.” When it was apparent that this assurance wouldn’t be enough to stop the flood of tears, the man gripped the back of his neck with both hands and huffed a short breath. “Would you… I don’t know, like some tea or something? What am I saying, you can’t be here, I’m sorry, but you really need to go. It’ll be both our heads if you don’t.”

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More excerpts to come.

The Toymaker is available at Amazon.com and for Kindle.