by Beth Wirth
His mother was in the kitchen when Terry came back in the house, and she smiled at him warmly. "Out with the animals so early," she said in amazement. Emily Mason's face was wreathed with the joy that she always felt when in the middle of a busy kitchen, and it was the only place Terry could remember seeing her so happy. Pots bubbled on the stove, and ingredients covered the counter. He thought she might be planning pot pies for dinner. "What happened to my layabout college boy?" Her expression quieted for a moment. "Are you ... Have you thought about staying, for a while?"
It wasn't a new question—she asked every time he came back. But, this time, he gave it actual thought. "Maybe," was his vague answer, but he weighed the benefits of staying, taking a semester off and spending a few months hanging out with his brother and helping his dad with the farm. With his and Tadd's lease almost up, there wasn't anything tying him to that life—nothing that couldn't wait a few months. Though he never said a word, Terry knew it galled his father to have to hire hands to help with the farm when he'd had two sons who should have been enough to take care of everything. He could have hired his nephews for half the price he paid other workers, but Terry knew his father was far too proud to crawl to his brother over that. Especially when it was, in a way, Uncle Martin's fault that Alex couldn't do his share around the farm.
"Are you going to visit Martin, dear?"
His mother's question followed so close on the heels of his own thoughts that Terry looked at her askance. "Why should I?"
Emily gave him her own look of incredulity. "I thought you were visiting all the previous successful hunters." She paused, blinking for a moment. "Or ... was there something else you wanted to talk to Bill Sventon about?"
He blushed slightly. "No, that was it. I spoke to Robert Riley, too." He paused. He'd never thought with any seriousness about asking Uncle Martin for advice, but ... should he at least see what the other man knew? "I'll think about it."
"Aren't you the decisive one today! Now, out of my kitchen, so I can get something done." She shooed him away and he went willingly.
He wandered upstairs and paused at Alex's room. The door was ajar and Terry pushed it open to find his brother still asleep. All he could see was a ragged mess of dark, curly hair and a pile of disheveled blankets. He snorted quietly; since graduating high school, Alex had embraced the art of sleeping. When Alex slept, he did so with intent and purpose. Terry looked down at his little brother for a few moments but never entertained the thought of waking him. Let Alex find the pleasures he could. Enough had been taken from him.
With nothing else to do he wandered back out to the barn, approaching from the outside to look in the window and see if he could observe Isi from that angle. He just wanted to check on him, and if from out here there was no direct temptation that was just a bonus.
He peered in the corner of the window and saw Isi standing alert in the center of the room. It seemed unusual for him to be so alert, and Terry shifted around, trying to see better. The window's shutters blocked part of his view, but he managed to turn enough that he could see someone was standing just outside the doorway of the stall. He narrowed his eyes. It was a tall form, face in shadow, a man, he thought. It wasn't his father, too tall for that, though there was something familiar about the red-patched jacket the man wore. Whoever it was, he was speaking with Isi. Terry couldn't make out the stranger's words, but he clearly saw and heard Isi's reply—the usdi shook his head in emphatic denial, and said, "Go, please. You can't help me, and it's too dangerous!" Isi stepped toward the door for a moment and Terry had to strain to catch his words this time. "I know I'm young for the choice, but that is the fate of those who run under the moon. The situation is of my own making; you know that well." He took a deep breath. "I'll be alright," he said, and though Terry could feel that he wanted those last words to sound believable, Isi didn't have the energy to make them convincing.
Terry heard the click of a rifle cock and then, in the same moment, three things happened: he realized the man standing in the doorway was Darby, the man who had come in while he and Alex and been at Bill's yesterday; Darby spun and ducked to the side; a rifle went off. The bullet buried itself in the heavy oak door, inches from where Darby's head had been. Isi cried out wordlessly, but Darby was gone. Terry hoped he'd gotten safely away.
His father appeared in the doorway, rifle in hand. Terrence's eyes were bright. "So, you've been calling more of your kind. I always knew there were more of you. I always knew you weren't limited to the moon to come and go as you pleased, in whatever form you pleased. Well, he'll not be helping you escape the iron." Terrence tapped the rifle barrel against the doorjamb. "That binds you to this place more surely than that golden collar binds you from your magic." He grinned darkly, and stepped into the stall. Isi immediately retreated to the far corner. Terrence chuckled. "You can't fool me with that trick again. Maybe you can blend in nicely, but I know you're there, whether I can see you or not." He reached out with the rifle and smacked the barrel of it hard against Isi's arm.
The spirit cried out, stumbling out of his hidden spot and raising a hand to cover his bruised arm. He retreated again, but Terrence only chuckled and moved to leave. "I know you're here," he repeated. "And the joke's on Martin. My son won the hunt. Mine, none of his brood." He laughed again.
Terry watched, frozen. He slipped away from the barn as quietly as he could and ran to his truck.
Uncle Martin's farm adjoined theirs, the land divided by Terry's grandfather between his two sons. In essence, Grandfather Charles had given the farm to his second son Terrence. Martin had been given land, but he had to build his farm out of nothing. Terry saw no one as he drove up to the house and parked there, but he bypassed going in and went out to the barn instead.
He found Uncle Martin and Jacob there, talking. The subject of the conversation appeared to be a mare heavy with foal. Martin was kneeling beside her, feeling her distended abdomen as she snorted at him in annoyance, his back to the door. Jacob was facing the other way, and as soon as he saw Terry he motioned to his father.
Martin stood and faced Terry. He was a tall man, made taller by the stern air he wore like a cloak. His face was expressionless but his eyes rested heavily on Terry. Terry was too intimidated by his uncle to speak himself—it was Jacob who broke the stalemate. "Come to gloat? Get lost, asswipe."
Martin waved off his son. "What do you want?" he asked Terry.
Terry shifted his feet, as if in preparation for the flight Jacob had advised, but squared his shoulders. "I ... wanted to ask you about the hunt of the Cold Moon." He lifted his chin and met his uncle's eyes.
Martin's eyes narrowed but the corner of his mouth curled up. "Ask." The mare behind him moved restlessly, and Martin gestured for his son to take the horse to her stall. Jacob scowled but obeyed.
Terry opened his mouth, and to his surprise it wasn't a question about the Cold Moon that came out. "What happened between you and my father? I mean, before Alex."
The curl of lip vanished and Martin's eyes narrowed further, his brows drawn down over them malevolently. "Terrence has always been jealous and grasping. I'm sure it pains you to hear your father spoken of so," he grinned, an expression that didn't reach his eyes, "but it is the truth. Terrence never wanted anything that wasn't given to him right away. Charles cosseted him; he was Edna's darling as well." It took a minute before Terry realized that Martin was speaking of his own parents in that cold tone. "In particular, Terrence has envied me since I took the Cold Moon hunt. I would imagine that the issue has now been resolved, since he has what he always wanted." The eyes were narrow again, focused on Terry, eying him up and down. "It's been two days now that you've had your prize. What have you asked it for?"
Terry blinked. "What?"
Martin's expression lightened suddenly in real mirth. "Terrence wouldn't have told you, of course." He shook his head. "At the least, I've been honest with my sons. But then ..." The intent gaze returned, though it was focused inwardly, and in that mome
nt, briefly, Terry was reminded of Robert's haunted eyes. "Perhaps it takes a certain ignorance, a certain stumbling haphazard nature, to gain the prize. If it came to one who knew it, even as it knows the one it comes to, then there would certainly be a different order to the hunt. I am surprised that neither Bill nor Robert mentioned it to you, though Robert's so dim he might not have figured it out." He eyed Terry again for a long moment without seeing him, Terry on the verge of breaking and running. Uncle Martin, for all of his current talkative manner, scared Terry like no one else did.
"Fine," Martin said suddenly, his attention back on Terry. "The forest spirit will grant you a wish. One wish. Anything you desire, within reason, I'm sure. Ask for it and it will be yours, nothing can take it from you." There was a gleam in the man's eyes as he stepped forward.
Terry retreated a step, his mind awhirl as he recalled Isi's words. "What did you wish for?" he asked his uncle doggedly.
Martin's eyes locked on Terry's, his expression hard. There was nothing of Robert's regret in his eyes now, and none of Bill's blustery refusal to reveal any true emotion. Martin's voice was cold and remote, almost alien. "That's the problem with you, all of you," he said, the words patient rather than frustrated. "You think someone will just give you what you want in life." He stared at Terry. "Try working at something for a while and stop running away from things that are too hard." He turned away, and Terry was dismissed as utterly as he had been at Robert's.
Terry opened his mouth, about to protest. He'd worked, and worked hard. Just because he wasn't a farmer, did that make it easy to start his life over with nothing to his name but a couple hundred dollars and an ancient, rusted pick-up? Had it been easy, putting himself through school, working three part-time jobs to make enough to pay his tuition and still feed himself? Had it been easy resisting the lure of drugs, so simple a trap to fall into when everyone he knew was seeking that escape? Had it been easy, growing up with parents who, while not abusive, were never affectionate? But for all he could have said, Terry shut his mouth and simply watched his uncle walk away. Martin didn't care. He wouldn't hear Terry's words. Terry stepped back, prepared to leave, and caught sight of Jacob's nasty grin as his cousin watched him. He stopped for a moment and stared down his cousin. Jacob dropped his gaze first and Terry walked back to his truck, hands shoved in his pockets, as he tried to focus his thoughts.
He stopped, a soft snow falling over him silently. He wasn't any of them, was he? Not Bill, nor Robert, nor Martin, nor even Terrence. Why was he seeking their opinions? It was true he had no idea what he was doing, but he'd do what he always did and forge his own path. He walked back to his truck, leaving footprints on the new snow, and he sat for several moments behind the wheel, watching the quiet fall.
*~*~*
Once home, Terry jumped out of the truck as soon as it was in park. He ran into the barn and to the back stall—the door was open and he ran inside. It was empty. He stood for a moment in the doorway, panting for breath. "Isi," he called, his eyes searching the afternoon shadows.
Isi moved, stepping out from behind the window shutter. His huge eyes focused on Terry. "Terry," he said, his voice soft and clear. Isi stepped toward Terry, eyes locked on his. "What would you have of me?" Isi's heartbeat fluttered in his throat.
Terry stepped back, out of the iron-bound stall. Isi reached toward him, desperately, frustration on his face. "There isn't time," the spirit said, slamming his hand against the invisible wall the iron created. He touched his neck, where the golden wire lay against his skin. "Please."
"Terry?"
Terry turned around to find his father standing behind him. Terrence was looking at Isi, an odd look in his eyes. Terry looked back only to find Isi gone. He turned back to his father, trying to keep his voice light. "What did you need?"
His father was still for a moment, watching the empty place where Isi had stood. He shook himself. "I was looking for you." He met Terry's eyes. "Your mother said you were thinking about staying for a while?"
Terry blinked. It took a moment for him to recall that conversation. "Yeah, thinking about it," Terry answered vaguely, his eyes on his father. Terrence nodded and opened his mouth to say more, but Terry beat him to it. "Why do you hate Uncle Martin so much?"
His father froze. It was one of those things they didn't talk about, and Terry knew why—or so he had thought. "It's more than Alex, Dad, I know that. Why do you hate him so much?"
Terrence took a deep breath. "We've never gotten along," he said, his voice even and devoid of emotion.
Terry shook his head. "It's more than that. Tell me." His voice rose, his tone unyielding, and Terry wondered where he was getting the nerve to do this. He'd never directly confronted his father about anything.
Terrence stepped back. "As if I needed more of a reason," he snarled. "More than what he did to my son? Yes, there's more to it than that, Terry, but do you honestly think there has to be?" There was something lost in his father's eyes; it reminded Terry of Robert, more so than either Bill or Martin had.
"No," Terry responded evenly. "I never thought there needed to be more to it, I just know there is."
His father deflated, the anger going out of him. "Fine. You're right, there's more. More even that the fact that he's always been a rotten son of a bitch." He shifted his feet. "Don't tell your mother. She knows, I'd just rather she didn't know that you did, that I talked about it." He sighed deeply. "I was in love with Katherine Hardison." He stopped.
Terry blinked. That was it? The secret behind years of hatred and family strife? His father had loved a woman? Terry blinked again. "You mean ... Aunt Katherine?" His father nodded tightly and Terry turned it over in his mind. "That's what Martin wished for, that she would love him instead?"
His father seemed taken aback that Terry knew about the wish, but shook his head and continued gamely, "No, the bastard. He didn't wish for anything. Said it was all fairy nonsense, but that didn't stop him from using it to woo her." He punched the wall viciously and the horses in the closest stalls snorted nervously. "He told her he wished on the moon for her, that he'd sworn an oath that he would have her. She was ... amused by him. He was older, mature and ... refined. Most like she never cared for me at all."
"So that's it?" Terry demanded. "He married your sweetheart?"
The look his father turned on him was poisonous and Terry glimpsed the seething emotion that had apparently always been lingering beneath his father's calm appearance when he discussed Martin. "'That's it?' No that's not 'it.' The man is a viper. Living near to him all of my life has been hell on earth. If he's not stealing from me, he's destroying what's mine."
Terry narrowed his eyes. "Alex isn't destroyed. And why didn't you just leave, if he's that bad? Go somewhere he isn't and start over."
Terrence's lip curled. "Leave? Give up? Admit he'd won?"
Terry blinked, taken aback, his father's words mirroring Martin's accusations. "So leaving is giving up?"
His father's expression softened. "Not for you. That was what you wanted, and you achieved it." He sounded proud, but there was a lie in his words and Terry could smell it even if he didn't know what it was. "Now I've been thinking, about the wish—"
"The one you didn't tell me about?" Terry snapped before he could stop himself.
His father blinked. "I was going to, son. But I was thinking first. I had to think of the perfect thing for us to ask for. The perfect way to get back at Martin." He smiled encouragingly.
Terry didn't think he could take any more of this right now. He turned and walked out of the barn. If he talked anymore to his father he was going to end up punching the other man and he didn't think that was going to help. If this was what came of confronting his father, maybe it was good he'd avoided the man for years. He leaned against the barn's outer wall and ran his hands roughly through his hair.
He looked up to see Gerald standing in the yard next to his parked truck. One of his dogs was sitting at his feet while he scratched its ears. The shag
gy hound lifted its nose to the breeze and turned to rest its heavy brown gaze on Terry.
Gerald looked up and saw him. Terry stood still as his father's friend walked toward him. "Terry," he greeted amiably. "How's your father?"
Terry shrugged. "He's ... excited." Gerald's dog had followed him over and was looking into the barn, its ears pricked forward in interest.
Gerald grunted in reply to Terry's comment. He scratched the dog's head in absentminded distraction before responding. "He would be."
Silence stretched between them for several moments. Gerald didn't seem inclined to hurry in search of Terrence, and Terry's father didn't seem to be coming out of the barn. In the silence Terry found himself asking, "What would you do? If you won the hunt, what would you do, with your prize?" When the words were out, his wished them back in his mouth, but since the question had been asked he waited for the answer. His father had shown him that even those who didn't take the quarry could still be consumed by the hunt; Gerald had probably been on more hunts than anyone else Terry knew, and he'd been more of an uncle in Terry's childhood than Martin ever had.