Mad End's Deception

ARAH.

Plumber Paul was dead.

Not even a month had passed since he’d walked into her shop and picked her Clover Wish for his first tattoo. She'd pitched that design as a lucky charm to her clients—just a gimmick of sorts. So imagine her surprise when Paul’s wish to win the lottery actually came true days later.

Now, he was gone. Just like that. It wasn’t because of her tattoo, of course. But with that last memory of him, how could she ever look at her Clover Wish and call it lucky again?

Her eyes drifted down to Barky, who was happily munching on his dog food. She squatted next to him, stroking his back and twirling her fingers through his soft brown fur. At least she had this big guy to cheer her up.

The bathroom door creaked open. She glanced up to see Gildeon strolling down the hallway in black sweatpants, rubbing his dark hair with a towel. She’d seen him naked plenty of times, but each time, his perfectly sculpted body drew her gaze like a moth to a flame. The way his muscles flexed with every move always made her blush like a teenager seeing a hot guy for the first time.

At least her past self had good taste.

For six months, she’d been scared and suspicious of Gildeon. How could she not be when she couldn't remember marrying him? Still, it’d be a lie to say she’d never fantasized about him making her come in every way possible.

But until she got her memories back and trusted him completely, she wasn’t about to give in to him—no matter how incredibly irresistible he was.

When Gildeon walked into the dining area, the scent of his minty soap and aftershave filled her senses. Everything about him was so addictive. It made her wonder what she was like falling in love with him before this whole amnesia thing.

“Dinner's ready,” she said, trying to hide her excitement. “Tonio taught me a new recipe for that tuna. Hope you’ll like it.”

Her heart sank a little when he barely glanced at the table. What was she expecting anyway? A loving smile? A “this looks delicious, you're the best wife ever” response?

‘Stop trying so hard to please him, Arah,’ she thought, smiling bitterly to herself. It wasn’t fair that she seemed to be the only one trying to make this marriage feel real. What else could she do? It hurt thinking he’d probably only start appreciating her efforts once she agreed to sleep with him.

Arah washed her hands and returned to find Gildeon already seated, now wearing a shirt from the pile of folded clothes on the couch.

She sat across from him and loaded some veggies onto her plate. “Did you hear what happened to Plumber Paul?” she asked, her tone somber. Gildeon’s attention was still on the food even as she said, “He got stung by a jellyfish. He didn’t make it.”

“Didn’t he just win the lottery?” he said, without so much as flinching. What was he made of? A block of ice?

“I really thought my Clover Wish gave him that luck,” she muttered, more to herself.

That made Gildeon pause and glance up at her. “What Clover Wish?”

“My latest art—the one I inked him with,” she replied before taking a spoonful of food. “Shame he didn’t get to enjoy his prize for long.”

Gildeon leaned back in his chair, staring pensively at his plate, drumming a finger on the table. Did the news finally get to him? It took a while, but she’d take it. Maybe he still had a heart after all.

“When did it happen?” he asked, meeting her gaze with a serious expression.

“This noon. I heard it from Tonio.” She bit her lip, pondering. “Though it’s weird he decided to swim in the rocky area alone.”

A lot didn’t make sense to Arah, but if she dwelled on it too much, she'd feel sorrier for the poor guy.

Pushing stray blue curls out of her eyes, she said, “Um, the mayor’s doing a public funeral for him. You should come with me.”

“Public funeral?” He raised a brow. “Where’s the body?”

“Yeah, it’s public,” she replied, reaching for her pineapple juice. “He didn’t have any family left, so there’s no one to organize it. But almost everyone on the island knew him, so—”

“Arah, where’s the body now?” His sharp voice cut her off, almost making her spill her drink.

What was up with him all of a sudden?

“Still at the coroner’s office.” She threw him a puzzled look. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he said, returning to his dinner. “And no, I won’t come.”

Her shoulders slumped. “It’s Plumber Paul’s funeral, Gildeon,” she said, frustration slipping into her voice. How many times had he let her attend community gatherings alone?

“Will it kill you to show up just this once?” She stabbed her fish harder than necessary. “I’m sick of making excuses for you.”

And sick of the gossip that she was an incompetent wife or that she was trapping Gildeon in a loveless marriage. If only they knew what was really going on within these walls…

The irony made her want to bang her head on the table.

“I’ve got better things to do,” he said dismissively, not even bothering to look at her.

“Like what?” She scowled, feeling the air thicken. “You never tell me what you're up to when you're not at home or at school.”

His face froze, his eyes darting at the space surrounding her like he was seeing something she couldn’t.

“Whatever I do is for our protection,” he said firmly as he finally leveled his gaze at her.

She was reminded of his story about how they used to be star-crossed lovers, born into feuding families from the Middle East. Eventually, they’d defied their parents, eloped, and married in secret.

“How did I lose my memories again?” she demanded after a moment.

His chiseled jaw ticked, his mouth twitching tensely. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“Indulge me, Gildeon,” she insisted, lightly scraping the tips of her fork against the edge of her plate.

He held her gaze before resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. “Our parents were hellbent on breaking us apart,” he began, sounding as if he were in his class, giving a lecture. “Your parents sent henchmen to assassinate me, and mine did the same to you. We were driving away from them fast, but I lost control of the car and we flipped over.” He paused, watching her reaction closely. “You were unconscious, but I got you out in one piece.”

The rest unfolded: a friend helping with fake passports and documents, arranging a secret trip on a private plane to Caylao Island...

The more he told the story, the more it sounded rehearsed. She still couldn’t wrap her head around waking up in this house as her first memory. She’d been in and out of consciousness during their travels, he said. That the beds had somehow messed with her head.

She believed some of it, but she knew he was hiding more. And if she was going to figure out his secrets, she needed to start with that study room he kept locked at all times.

“This is the last time I’m going over this, Arah,” he warned before taking another bite of his tuna.

“Can you blame me?” she retorted. “I don’t have the memories you have.”

“We’ve been under the same roof for half a year now,” he said pointedly, his knuckles white around his spoon. “What’s it going to take for you to trust me?”

“You’re not making it easy.” Her voice rose, frustration bubbling up. “You don’t talk to me. You hide things. You haven’t even done anything nice for me—” She paused, her breaths jagged. Her free hand clutched at her skirt as she went on, “And you expect me to submit like a mindless sheep?”

The tension was thick enough to cut. Her heart jumped as Gildeon pushed his chair back and stood, leaning over the table. Damp hair fell over his eyes—eyes that reminded her of a snake and something ancient she couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t make me force you to sleep in my bed, Arah,” he said in a low, ominous tone that made her skin tingle.

“You promised we’d have separate rooms until I’m ready,” she reminded him, her throat dry.

“I’ve granted you liberties.” A faint, predatory smile curled his lips. “I won’t be patient for long.”

As he walked away, she let out a shaky breath. Barky came up to her, rubbing his face against her leg as if to console her.

She smiled weakly. “Hey, I’m okay,” she reassured Barky, petting his head.

The sound of the door closing from Gildeon's study eased her chest. Her husband had never forced himself on her. Never. Except maybe for that other thing he made her do whenever he wanted to punish her.

But what was she supposed to do once he finally grew tired of waiting?

GILDEON.

As soon as Arah drifted off, he slipped out and hit the road. Her Clover Wish tattoo and Plumber Paul's death might’ve been a coincidence, but he had to be sure.

“Where to now, Master?” Ghulik asked in his tiny, raspy voice. “Ghulik's tired, Master.”

“You wouldn’t be tired if you didn’t provoke the dog,” Gildeon shot back, glancing at the two-foot, gray-skinned creature beside him.

Barky's restlessness had kept Arah awake longer than usual, so he had to wait before leaving. His destination was opposite the tourist area, but the locals were early risers. There was always the risk of being seen even before dawn.

So far, the streets were deserted.

“But that mutt is wicked, Master. Always angry. It wants to eat Ghulik,” the goblin snarled, scratching the air with his sharp nails. “Can Ghulik eat the stupid dog once we're back home, Master?”

“No,” he said firmly, turning onto a dimly lit street.

Ghulik grunted, slumping against the seat.

“You’re supposed to hide when the dog's around,” he reminded him. “Arah's getting suspicious.”

“Why is Master worried? The Sylph Lady will not see Ghulik. No one can see or hear Ghulik but Master.” The goblin scrunched his wrinkled face and crossed his scrawny arms. “And Barky.”

Ghulik’s grudge against the dog ran deep, which was almost laughable considering the horrifying monsters they’d faced in the past.

But Ghulik had a point. Arah couldn’t see him. Still, the last thing Gildeon needed was for her to get curious and start believing in supernatural things. He had no idea how long her memory loss would last or if it was permanent, but it was safer to keep her away from anything that could awaken her true nature.

If she remembered, his entire plan could crumble.

The air reacting to her emotions, like what happened at dinner, was already setting off alarms in his head. Soon, Arah’s powers would start manifesting without her knowledge, and he had to find a way to keep them in check.

After a few more turns, Gildeon parked the car a couple of blocks from the coroner's office. He stuck to the shadows, walking along the side of the street that wasn’t illuminated by lampposts, with Ghulik trailing behind. When they finally reached the facility, he ordered the goblin to reposition the CCTV cameras to create blind spots.

Not a minute passed before he heard snapping gears and wires. When Ghulik returned, Gildeon shot him a disapproving look. “I told you to just move them,” he hissed.

“Forgive Ghulik, Master.” He cowered, ducking his head, but Gildeon heard him snicker.

Shaking his head, he strode toward the front of the building. With a flick of his wrist, his right hand morphed into its dragon form—golden claws gleaming, black and golden scales snaking up past his wrist. He conjured fire and grabbed the padlock and chains with his flaming hand, melting the metal.

Behind him, Ghulik gasped. “Master must not use power. Why is Master using power now?”

“It’s fine,” Gildeon reassured him. “This isn’t enough for the hunters to detect.”

As his hand reverted to normal, he put on gloves before pushing the doors open. He didn’t need to do so, since no human instrument could trace his fingerprints, but he’d rather not give the police something to scratch their heads about.

Inside, the cool air rushed out to meet him. It was dark, but his inhuman vision cut through the shadows. He navigated past empty desks and through hallways until he found the room where the corpses were stored. The smell of chemicals and decay grew stronger, and the chill hit him like a punch as soon as he entered.

Wasting no time, he pulled open one of the steel compartments with the name Paul Hernandez etched on a small plaque. He slid the tray out and removed the cloth covering the body.

Plumber Paul's skin was pale, with red welts crisscrossing all over. They looked like jellyfish stings, but Gildeon knew better. The air around the body had a faint, acrid smell of dark magic.

He hated to be right.

Searching Paul's body, he rolled it to the side and found the Clover Wish tattoo on the back of its right shoulder. The ink was faded and distorted, but he could still make out the image of a three-leaf clover atop a four-leaf one.

Arah got most of her flash tattoo ideas from dreams. Gildeon figured it was her subconscious slightly recalling the sigils she’d crafted for their sylph army. He recognized some of them from battles, though her tattoo renditions were more artistic impressions. They missed the precise details needed for the magic to work. Arah would have to regain her memories for them to get perfected.

But this Clover Wish... It was completely new. When he touched the mark, he sensed the residual magic still clinging to the skin, confirming his fear.

“Damn it, Arah,” he muttered with a sigh, shaking his head. “What have you done?”

By the looks of it, the tattoo's magic had been drained, siphoning Paul’s life in the process. Whoever did this staged it to look like a jellyfish attack.

“Ghulik, can you trace the source?” he asked urgently. The goblin clambered over Plumber Paul's body, sniffing around.

“A witch, Master,” Ghulik said after a moment. “Ghulik smells the powerful kind.”

“Are you sure?”

The goblin nodded, stroking his pointed ear. “Ghulik lived with witches and faces long time ago,” he said somberly, his face twitching as if recalling a painful memory. “Ghulik knows who are friends and who are enemies.”

Ghulik had been his secret companion for a thousand years. They knew everything about each other, except for this. Once, he’d tried asking the goblin about his past on Earthland, but Ghulik had begged him not to pry any further.

He respected that.

“This is not friend, Master,” Ghulik said, lifting his face to him, his crimson eyes bulging in terror.

Gildeon stepped back, pushing a hand through his hair, and sat on the edge of an empty steel bed. He folded his arms, a knuckle on his lips. How could a powerful witch get onto this island without him knowing?

He glanced back at Plumber Paul, and a thought struck him, quickening his pulse. If the body was still here, they'd likely perform an autopsy. With no next of kin to object, the medical examiner would soon discover his death wasn’t caused by a true jellyfish sting. And if Arah had given the same tattoo to others and they turned up dead too, it wouldn’t be long before the police put her at the center of it all.

Gildeon couldn’t let that happen.

“Ghulik,” he called, unfurling his arms. The goblin was still on top of Paul, practically drooling over the dead man’s face. “That body, it’s yours now.”

The goblin’s red eyes grew big, gleaming in anticipation. “Ghulik can…” He pointed a sharp-nailed finger at his gaping mouth, then at the body. “Feast on him?”

Gildeon nodded. “Make sure not to leave any trace.”

The goblin whooped, tilting his head back, jaw expanding like a python about to devour its prey. Rows of jagged white teeth flashed as he lowered his monstrous mouth, clamping onto Paul’s throat.

He had watched Ghulik feed thousands of times, yet it never failed to amaze him how a full-grown mortal carcass could fit into that small belly.

Ghulik tore into the flesh with fervor. Blood splattered, staining his gray skin. The sounds of flesh squelching and bones crunching echoed through the cold room.

Gildeon looked away, feeling a pinch of guilt for violating Plumber Paul's body this way. It made him pause. Why did he even care? A dead body was nothing but a vessel, a husk. Once a human dies, their soul goes back to the spiritual plane to be judged for either ascension or reincarnation.

Perhaps it was the thought of Arah caring for this human that bothered him?

He remembered her every reaction from that dinner. Every disappointment. Every frustration.

His hands clenched at the edge of the steel bed. He wasn’t supposed to care about her feelings either. He only needed her to submit willingly, whenever that may be.

“All done, Master!” Ghulik’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The goblin was licking off the last drop of blood on the floor. Nothing remained of Paul. It was as if he was never here.

As they headed back to the car and drove away, thoughts of the powerful witch seeped back into Gildeon’s mind.

How did that witch know there was sylph magic to absorb on this island? Were they already here and just happened to sense it?

He put a hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head to ease the throbbing stress building up in his muscles and veins. He despised complications and setbacks—the unexpected variables throwing a wrench in his plans.

Now, it seemed he'd have to break his rule of not picking a fight with a supernatural being in Earthland. That powerful witch must be dealt with before this entire situation becomes a real problem.

First, he needed a plan to flush them out.