by Beth Wirth
But Gerald shook his head, a smile pulling at his mouth. "I heard you talked to Bill and Robert. Didn't learn everything you needed?"
Terry shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. "I talked to Martin, too."
Gerald's eyes flew open in surprise. "That sounds a bit desperate." Silence fell again as Gerald considered Terry carefully. "I've trained hounds to run usdi all of my life. I took over from my father the summer I turned eighteen. That was my first real hunt, under the Strawberry Moon, my first sighting." His voice was distant and held a soft longing, for the memory itself or for a younger self and simpler time, Terry couldn't be sure. "We've never finished a hunt under the summer moon, but we get sightings occasionally, and that summer, my first summer, I saw her—you know the females have antlers as well, like caribou, not so large as the males. She was glorious, a thing of beauty and wildness, that refused to be captured. She didn't want to be tamed. Hunting usdi is different from hunting animals. They don't think like us, but they don't think like animals either. They're ... something else.
"My point here being, there's not a man alive who understands the moon hunt like I do Terry, so you've brought your question to a good source." He eyed Terry. "Do you understand how the hunt works? Traditionally the newest comer to the hunt is offered first shot at the quarry, but that doesn't mean they always, or even usually, take the prize. Your Uncle Martin was on his first hunt when he took it, but his entire case is something of an anomaly. He was old to be on his first hunt, thirty-nine, when your father had been hunting with us since he was twelve. Terrence was always fascinated by the usdi, more than anyone else I've ever met, and sometimes I wonder if that's why he's never come close to winning. I wasn't there, but I've heard tales of Crazy Bill's hunt. That would have been near sixty years ago—my father was trainer then. It was Bill's fourteenth hunt or so, and he was the seventh man in the group to try his shot. He walked up to the creature and it just laid its head on his shoulder. Robert was third in his year. He approached the spirit as if he hadn't a clue what he was doing, and it looked at him as if it understood that state of mind only too well. It knelt before him, after it had kicked the previous man in the head."
Terry stared at Gerald. "But you've come close, right? Have you ever thought about what you'd do if you won?"
Gerald smiled. "Terry, you're not listening to me. I told you we've never finished a hunt under the Strawberry Moon around here, but I've heard tales of hunters who have and they mirror the tales I know well of the Cold Moon hunt. It's not the shortness of the night that keeps us from finishing the hunt those summer nights; it's the hunters.
"The point is, Terry, I've learned—we may hunt the creatures, but it's the usdi who chooses the one who captures it. It chose you. The question isn't what do you do with it. The question is, what does it want with you?"
Terry looked up at him in shock, the observation too closely reflecting his conversation with Isi. "What could he want with me?" Terry asked. Gerald's observation had the ring of truth, but, in all honesty, what could Isi possibly want from him? He had imprisoned the spirit, subjected him to Terrence's obsession, and was most likely going to get Isi killed. Why would Isi have chosen that?
Gerald shrugged, looking slightly annoyed, as he had on the night of the hunt, the veteran suddenly impatient with the freshman to this game. "Why were you so intent on getting out of this town? Why did that car fall on your brother? Why in seventy-two hunts have I never come close to capturing a spirit myself?" He shrugged. "Some questions you can't explain to other people, only you understand the need for an answer. And some questions no one can answer. But like I said, kid, you're not asking the right ones."
Terry frowned. His heart was racing again and his brain was trying to keep pace with it. "Alright, you know so much. Do you know what Bill, or Robert, wished for?"
Gerald shrugged again. "The wish is a private thing, not usually spoken of. According to what Terrence told me, Martin swears he didn't use his," Gerald mused. "Robert won't speak of it or hear the subject referenced at all, but whatever the outcome of that situation, it haunts him still. Bill ... I should think it's obvious." Gerald grinned and Terry moved impatiently. "For all that it doesn't like him, Bill loves this town. He wouldn't want to live anywhere else, and in all of his years, and all of the rumors about him, as well as his behavior, not once has there been an attempt to drive him out."
Terry blinked. "I figured people just put up with him. That every town has a crazy old somebody living at the edge of town."
"That may be, but the reason it's been Bill all these years and is still Bill ... well, I'm probably the only one who sees a supernatural hand in that."
Terry nodded. He finally heard his father behind him. "I need to go out for a bit," he told Gerald.
Gerald nodded. "There's nothing interesting can happen around here without you today." He scratched his dog's ears again, the hound's tail wagging good-naturedly.
Terry got back in his truck and drove into town. He parked in the same place he had earlier and walked up the main street to the turn off to Bill Sventon's house. The afternoon was wearing on, the snow had stopped, and there were quite a few faces turned his way as he walked by. Some people he knew and some he didn't; some called out to him as he passed and some didn't, the two groups not mutually exclusive. He finally walked up to Bill's door and knocked on the door frame, as Alex had the day before.
Bill opened the inner door and looked at him wordlessly through the screen. Terry shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked away. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay," he told the door frame. "I ... Darby was in our barn earlier today and I wanted to make sure he made it back okay."
Bill simply stared at him, but at a murmured word from behind him he sighed and stepped back in invitation as Terry opened the screen and came in.
Darby was sitting at the kitchen table. The afternoon light fell full on his face and it was easier to see what he was. Or maybe it was because Terry was looking for it now—for the eyes dark as forest loam and the skin mottled like bark and fallen leaves. His hair was iron gray to Bill's pure white but it was only when he'd realized who Darby must be that Terry'd given any thought to Darby being as old as Bill, or older; he moved with the grace of a much younger man, or of a spirit.
Darby smiled at him thinly. "I am well." He said nothing else, merely watched Terry.
Terry nodded. "Good." He shifted his feet. "I ... I think I've made up my mind what I'm gonna do. What I'm gonna try to do," he amended. "I wanted to say thanks," he slid his eyes to Bill, "thanks for not being helpful." Bill grinned. "And I ..." Terry faltered. "If I can't do it, please help Isi, the best you can." He paused for a moment, but neither of them spoke and he turned to leave.
The drive back to the farm was peaceful despite the uncomfortable ride. He felt he had a good grasp on what was the right thing to do, and having made a decision he was easy with it. He felt he should be nervous, but he wasn't.
He put the truck in park and took a deep breath. No backing out. There was an unfamiliar truck parked next to Gerald's and all the lights were on in the house against the early darkness of a winter evening.
Terry got out of the truck and went into the barn. He moved silently down the aisle to the end in a way that had become familiar.
Isi was standing in the open doorway, waiting for him. Terry stopped before crossing the threshold and stared at the other man. "What do you want with me?" he asked, voice clear but soft.
Isi cocked his head, gaze intent. "You called to me," he said insistently. "What would you have of me, Terry?"
Terry reached his hand across the doorway and held it out. Isi placed his palm against Terry's and Terry felt a pulse of heat flow up his arm. He reached a bit further and closed his fingers around Isi's wrist. With a sharp movement, he pulled Isi against him.
Isi gasped in surprise at the suddenness of the movement, and gasped again when he realized he was free of his iron-rimmed prison. He looked up
at Terry, his eyes black in the dim light. Terry reached his other hand up to touch the golden band at Isi's throat.
"What are you doing Terry?"
His father's voice behind him was unwelcome but not unexpected. Isi tensed, and the voice that followed Terrence's was decidedly unexpected.
"What a damn waste," Hugh sneered. "If he's just going to let the beast go, we should at least give it to Jacob. It should have been his shot anyway."
"The spirit chooses who it surrenders to," came Gerald's reasonable tones and Terry wanted to turn around just to see who else was there.
Terry answered his father, though he was sure it wasn't the answer Terrence wanted to hear. "None of your damn business what I'm doing, Dad."
He heard the cocking of the rifle but it didn't stop him and he ended up not looking over his shoulder after all. Isi's black eyes watched him, filled with some emotion Terry couldn't identify, but it didn't matter. He undid the golden clasp at Isi's throat.
He felt Isi shudder against him, Isi's wrist twisting out of his grip and his fingers grasping Terry's wrist. The wood near Terry's head suddenly buckled under the impact of a bullet and he heard Gerald wresting the rifle from his father's grasp over the nervous cries of the horses. Angry now, Terry tried to turn to face his father. But Isi had him by both wrists now and stood to his full height, fixing Terry with a gaze that was suddenly like nothing he'd seen before. "What would you have of me?" Isi demanded.
Terry tried to shake him off. "That you would get your ass out of here safely," he hissed back, the anger he felt toward his father boiling over and redirecting.
Isi pressed his forehead against Terry's, the spread of his antlers framing Terry's head like a crown. Terry felt a sense of peace falling over him. "You cannot wish something for me," Isi chided him.
Terry frowned. "I don't need anything from you." He tried to pull away again before he thought of the perfect thing. "Alex." He grinned fiercely, his eyes meeting Isi's. "I want Alex to be happy, to have everything he wants."
Isi smiled contentedly. "Everything," he mused. "That is a dangerous wish." He pressed close to Terry again for a long, frozen instant, and then he was, for a moment, a great and glorious creature, like a stag but so much more, and he bounded away on powerful legs, propelling himself into the night. He was gone.
Buckshot peppered the wall beside him but Terry felt like it was moving through mud to get to him. Everything was muted, slow. Isi was gone ... He turned to his father.
Terrence was livid. "What have you done?" he cried, voice forlorn and betrayed. "Wasted it! You ... worthless—"
Terry raised a hand to cut him off. He ignored Hugh's attempt to combine outrage and a gloating smirk. He ignored Gerald wrestling a second gun from Terrence's grasp. "I'm leaving," he announced. "Alex is coming with me."
"You misbegotten shit! You are not taking my son with you!"
Terry moved past Terrence without pausing. He went up to the house where he found Alex and their mother waiting on the porch. Alex looked worried, but relieved to see Terry. He had been about to come out to the barn himself, by his position on the porch. Only their mother's restraining hand on the back of his chair kept Alex from rushing out to help.
"I'm leaving," Terry said to his mother. To her he added, "I'm sorry," before he continued, "Alex is coming with me."
Alex started to protest, but a furious and profanely spitting Terrence came boiling out of the barn, having finally wrest himself free of Gerald's restraining hand, and Emily Mason removed her hand from Alex's chair. She nodded. "Go." She kissed Alex's forehead and brushed a hand softly against Terry's cheek as he came forward to take Alex. Terry met her eyes briefly and saw in them the knowledge of what her husband had hoped to spare her from; he saw why the kitchen, where she imposed her own order and did what she truly loved, was the only place he had ever seen her happy.
"I'm sorry," Terry said again. He didn't want to hurt her.
"We all make choices," she said. "Go," she repeated, "live where those choices are made by you." The last was directed at Alex, who seemed about to protest again.
"Don't you dare touch him! You are no longer my son, and you cannot take him as well!"
Terry glared at his father, gathered his brother in his arms, and turned toward his truck. "I don't want anything of yours," he spat at Terrence, "but I'm not leaving my brother."
"Terry," he felt Alex breathe against his neck, his body tense with fear. "Be careful Terry, or he's going to hurt you."
But Terry knew that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't sure why or how he knew, but as he stared his father down he had no fear for himself.
"Terrence Mason," a voice called from behind the group, and Bill Sventon stepped out from behind the cars parked in the drive. "You will let those boys be."
Terrence sneered. "What business of it is yours, Sventon? Unless it is business, in which case I'd rather shoot them both first."
Bill's jaw tightened. He lifted his weapon and drew back the bowstring to put an arrow in the dirt an inch from Terrence's foot. "Don't tempt me Mason. Anymore from you and I'll make you watch while they loot your house and drive off with all they can carry."
Terry couldn't remember if it had been his mother or Gerald who'd told him his father never listened to sense. Terrence raised his gun on Bill, only to cry out in shock and pain as an arrow pierced his right hand. Darby stepped out from the shadow of the barn, second arrow on the string, and Bill smirked. Emily rushed to her husband, pressing her apron to the bleeding wound.
"It's clean through," Bill observed. "Get him to a doctor quick and he'll be good as new, after a bit." Emily nodded, pulling her husband to a car.
"I'll drive you," Gerald offered from where he and Hugh stood, apart from the drama.
"You better be gone when I get back!" Terrence yelled, pain and thwarted avarice making his face twist in hatred as he was herded away.
"You want to start anything?" Bill asked Hugh, but Terry's cousin merely held up his hands in surrender.
"I was just leaving." Hugh got into his truck and drove away without another word, taillights following Gerald's down the road until both vehicles were swallowed by the night.
"You can put me down, Terry."
Terry blinked, realized he hadn't been shot, and put Alex back in his chair. He blinked again and raised his eyes to his unexpected allies. "I can't believe that worked."
Bill smirked. "We'll discuss proper storming techniques later, boy. Get what's yours and let's go."
Terry shook his head. "I don't want anything of his," he repeated, stubborn.
Alex snorted. "Whatever. I'm gonna need at least three people to carry the suitcases. And you better get some ropes for that truck Terry, because if your shitty shocks bounce my stuff out onto the road, you're going to have to replace my entire wardrobe in addition to giving me the bed, cause there is no way I'm sleeping on the floor." He went back into the house, Darby following him silently.
Terry sighed. "The dorm has a strict no pets policy." Alex was far enough inside that he ignored the attempt completely, and Terry felt that Bill's laughter was directed more at Terry's discomfort than the joke.
"You can stay at my place tonight," Bill said. It was less an offer and more a statement of fact. "It's too late for you to try to be driving anywhere far." He paused for a moment before adding. "I have some money too, if you'll take it. Lord knows I don't need it for anything."
Terry nodded stiffly, the reality of what he'd done starting to sink in as the rush of adrenaline faded. "For Alex, I'll take it." He buried his face in his hands for a moment before scrubbing at his eyes. "What did you wish for?" he asked Bill. "Really."
Bill smiled. "To never be alone." Moving past Terry he went into the house where Darby was bringing out Alex's first bag. As he moved past the other man he touched Darby's shoulder briefly. They looked at each other, a depth to the gaze that Terry couldn't begin to comprehend. Darby smiled, the expression lit with an intimate amusement th
at Terry felt guilty for spying on.
"That was a good wish," he admitted to the night air.
He was pretty sure his own was a good one, too.
*~*~*
It turned out that no one slept on the floor.
Terry had called his friend and roommate Tadd, while Alex slept down the hall at Bill's, to break the news that they had an extra body to fit in their microscopic apartment for a few nights, while Terry figured out what to do with himself and Alex on a more permanent basis. He'd assumed that Tadd was planning on moving out soon, but the apartment still wasn't a good place for Alex. Alex needed something better, not to mention tailored to his specific needs, though Terry couldn't think of how he was possibly going to accomplish that.
"You know how Chris and Brad had that idea to rent a house?" had been Tadd's response. "Well Chris's dad found out about it and he bought us a house downtown. There's plenty of room for you and Alex, too."
Terry was momentarily stunned. Not that it was anything particularly surprising; Christoph came from a family that had never had to care about money, and he had a hard time understanding why other people did. Both Terry and Tadd had tried to explain it to Chris, especially since Terry had a hard time accepting gifts from him, though Tadd never bothered to complain about it. Tadd accepted that money was a meaningless word to Chris, even though he was the last person Terry would have thought would casually dismiss money. It just wasn't an issue between them. Tadd had a gift for understanding Chris, which, between Chris's elitist upbringing, nonchalant artist's view of the world, and residence in the middle of the autism spectrum, was quite a feat. Tadd and Chris fit together in a way that just made sense. Terry often thought that if he'd accomplished nothing else in life, at least he'd introduced them to each other. But now he had Alex to look after, and it was about time he accomplished something worthwhile. He was used to working 90% of the hours he wasn't in class and saving every penny he didn't spend on food in order to pay tuition and other bills, but Alex was going to need his time, and with Alex there would be more bills, too. It just seemed too much of a coincidence that his best friends had bought a house. Even as he opened his mouth to offer to pay rent, Chris stole the phone from Tadd.