By Evelyn Johnson
Dead leaves crunched under Charlie’s weathered boots as he shuffled through the woods. His fourteen-inch hobgoblin frame, yellowish and twiggy, blended in with the October colors of the forest around him. Half his face was shrouded by a patched scarf.
A few more minutes and he’d have the goods.
A particular tree with a massive girth caught his eye. Charlie angled toward it through the underbrush. Just like the seller had said, a bright yellow door stood out against the tree’s rough bark, pumpkins etched into its frame. Charlie adjusted his scarf and knocked.
Silence.
Charlie scratched his left ear, waiting.
The door swung open to reveal a burly hobgoblin a full inch taller than Charlie. His face pinched in disapproval. “Password.”
“Ah…” Charlie fumbled. Was he seriously going to blow this already? “Jack didn’t give me a password.”
To Charlie’s surprise, the burly hobgoblin nodded and stepped aside.
Charlie hesitated for a second before stepping into the tree. It seemed even larger on the inside, and radiated coziness. A small orange rug decorated the floor in front of a well-stuffed armchair. A cheerfully lit fireplace crackled on Charlie’s right. The aroma of Halloween cookies reached his nose… probably one of the seller’s signature scented candles.
Across the room, a slim, sharp figure rose from the knotted table by the window—Kerring Jack, smuggler supreme and the Seasonal Creature Guild’s most-wanted hobgoblin. He grinned at Charlie.
“No passwords, no snitches,” the crime mogul said with a wink. “Gotta have a system to minimize the ratters.”
“What idiot would cross the great Kerring Jack? I’m just here for the goods.”
“That’s the spirit.” Jack nodded to the burly hobgoblin, who grabbed a drawstring sack from the table. “You got the cash?”
Charlie reached into his pocket and jingled the coins stashed there.
“Perfect.”
Charlie rubbed his face. The too-sweet fake cookie smell was making his nose itch. He glanced back at the yellow door. “Sorry… I’m kinda allergic to scented candles. Could we step outside? I won’t be staying long anyway.”
The corners of Jack’s mouth turned down. “Sure. If you need to.”
Charlie slipped through the doorway and took a few steps into the cool autumn air. Jack and the bruiser followed. Charlie took a deep breath and gave Jack an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Where were we?”
In response, the burly hobgoblin pulled the drawstring sack open and held it under Charlie’s nose. Pure candy corn—a whole three ounces of it—stared up at him with harvest-colored stripes. Charlie’s mouth watered. He swiped a piece and bit down on it. Sweet sugary goodness flooded his mouth; nothing like the waxy human knockoffs. He rolled his eyes with pleasure. “This… This is sublime.”
Kerring Jack nodded. “Only the finest. Twenty-five golds, and it’s all yours.”
Charlie swallowed the delectable treat. “Sounds like a done deal.” He reached into his pocket and started counting out coins.
The peaceful forest erupted.
Large human figures clad in deep blue jumped out from behind trees and rocks, shouting, “SCG!” and, “Get on the ground!” One agent ran up and grabbed the burly hobgoblin, pinning his arms as the bruiser grunted and strained. The bag of candy corn fell on the doorstep.
Charlie tackled Kerring Jack.
“What… What are you doing?” Jack demanded.
“Busting an illegal smuggler,” Charlie snapped, wrestling Jack’s arms behind his back. “It’s one thing to offer authentic candy corn to homesick hobgoblins. It’s another thing to do it without telling the SCG. Trying to dodge the import fees? Or is it too hard for you to obtain the necessary paperwork to transport non-Earth goods?”
“I only deal in local ingredients,” Jack argued.
Charlie snapped handcuffs over Jack’s wrists. “Hm. Interesting, because pulart roots aren’t native. How else would you get that unique fall flavor?” He hauled the smuggler off the ground. “Possession of illegally transported goods is one thing. But illegally distributing those goods? We have a much harsher sentence for that. Pretty soon you’ll learn that crime doesn’t pay.”
Rustling leaves signaled the arrival of a female officer with a clipboard. Her Seasonal Creatures Guild badge glimmered in the autumn light.
“Kerring Jack,” she said crisply, “you’re being charged with import fraud and sale of seasonal treats without proper licensing. Under the Magic Regulation Act, you’ll be returned to your home world for criminal trial.”
“Traitor!” Jack bellowed, struggling against Charlie’s hold. “How could you do this to me? Your own kind?”
“My kind are honest,” Charlie said, tightening his grip on Jack’s arms. “And it’s my job as an SCG agent to uphold the law.”
“You call this honest? You came into my home under false pretenses. I was only trying to give you a taste of home, and the whole time, it was a sting.”
“Funny. I don’t remember home tasting illegal.”
Another officer stepped forward, placed a firm hand on Kerring Jack’s shoulder, and led him away. The officer with the clipboard flashed Charlie a smile. “Good work, agent. That’s one less crime boss to worry about this fall.”
Charlie’s eyes fell on the drawstring bag, still sitting open on the doorstep of the tree, waiting to be tagged as evidence. “Sure thing. As for the goods, I should probably… confiscate them, or something.” He licked his lips. “Right?”
The officer sighed. “Go ahead.”
Charlie dashed to the bag and plunged his hand inside, pulling out a fistful of candy. He shoved it into his mouth and moaned with pleasure as a wave of autumn deliciousness washed over his tongue.
Crime might not pay, but justice?
Justice was sweet.
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