by RJ Blain
“You would think they would have figured out they have security problems from that incident alone.” I laughed and relaxed in my seat, glancing at the pair of feathered masks tossed on the table. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever gone for a drink with another woman.”
Blossom’s eyes widened. “Really? Even while growing up?”
How would Blossom react if she knew I had grown up without a gender, expecting to become a man? Likely not well. I shrugged. “There weren’t many women around when I grew up.”
I hadn’t understood why until I had chosen to become a woman and brought shame to my clan. The thought didn’t hurt as much as I expected, and I let go of my regrets with a sigh. It no longer mattered.
I was what I was, and when Blossom and I parted ways, I would take my first new step towards a new life, one with no more killing, no more deaths, no more regrets, and no more struggling to be two people at once.
A weight on my shoulders, one I hadn’t even noticed, fell away.
“What do you think you’re going to do after you leave?”
I thought about everything I had wanted as a child, and one thing stood out to me. Had I followed the path my clan intended for me, I would have caught and trained my own horse. I didn’t know the method, but I didn’t care, either. I knew how to ride a horse. I’d figure out the rest—or find someone who could teach me how to break a horse to saddle. “I think I’ll raise a horse.”
“A horse?” Blossom blurted.
“You know, a nicer version of Todd, who can’t talk back?”
Her laughter rang out. “I’d love to see his face if you showed up riding a black horse his equal.”
“I’d have to find a mutant horse. He’s huge, Blossom.”
“There’s a few Friesian breeders with large horses. I bet you could get one from them.”
“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t afford one.”
“There is that. They’re expensive. How’re you going to get a horse, then?”
“I thought I’d head west and catch one. Or south.”
“South. Better horses, if you can find them.”
“That is the trick, isn’t it?” I ran my finger around the rim of my coffee mug. “I might pick up a guard duty of some sort somewhere. It’s something I’m good at.”
“People would expect that. It’s what you do now.”
I grimaced and nodded my acceptance of her point. “No guard duty, then. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll catch two horses. Breed them. Train them. Horses are useful.”
When technology failed, horses got people from place to place. There’d always be a use for horses unless the Starfall magic faded from the world.
“If you breed any good ones, drop me a line and let me know. I’d gladly buy one, even if it’s a cross-eyed mule.”
A bark of laughter burst out of me. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll send a courier with your cross-eyed mule, and you’ll know it’s from me, as I will tie a little pink ribbon around its neck and write ‘from Gab’ on a tag.”
“That’d be worth every penny, especially if it’s a really ugly cross-eyed mule.”
“The absolute ugliest one I can breed.”
We stared at each other for a long moment before breaking down in another fit of laughter. When we both had control over ourselves, I lowered my eyes and stared at my coffee. I’d taken the darkest brew the place offered and drank it down without any of the cream or sugar Blossom needed to stomach it.
Hers was far closer to white than black, a little like our worlds.
“I think I would have liked more of a chance to get to know you,” Blossom said, her tone quiet. I glanced up to discover her gaze was also fixed on our coffees. “We don’t have a lot in common, do we?”
“Not really, no. There’s nothing wrong with that.” The truth of it made me smile. Maybe one day I would send an animal her way, except it wouldn’t be a mule; it’d be a horse she could ride with pride—and taunt Todd with. I’d send it with a pink bow around its neck and a tag claiming it was from Gabriel. “I think I would have liked to have more of a chance to get to know you, too. You should flag down a carriage and head home.”
Blossom inhaled, and her breath left her in a gusty sigh. “You’re right. I should. Take care of yourself, Jesse.”
“You, too. Keep an eye on Todd for me?”
Her smile reassured me she would. She drank the rest of her coffee, picked up the mug and masks, and nodded a farewell. I tapped my fingers to my brow and flicked two of my fingers in a mercenary salute.
Without a single look back, Blossom left. I rose to my feet and swept out of the cafe into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
Six years, two months, and three days after I left Charlotte, North Carolina, I decorated Periwinkle’s tack with pink ribbons and bows before tying a tag to his bridle. At only three years old, the colt had a lot left to learn, but I’d broken him to saddle and taught him a few tricks, something I considered an accomplishment, considering his sire.
If I gave Dipshit a single chance, he’d buck me off, trample me into people goo, and leave my body to rot. The demon stallion in question snorted and snapped his teeth at me, blowing air at the reins thwarting him from his effort to rid the world of me.
“Not today,” I informed my stallion, going over Periwinkle’s tack one more time.
I should have named Dipshit something more appropriate. Devil Spawn would have worked. Unfortunately, Periwinkle’s dam had claimed the name first, and she did it plenty of justice. The mare wouldn’t stoop to trampling me; she’d tear me to teeny tiny pieces with her teeth instead. She’d gotten hold of me once already earlier in the morning. By nightfall, I’d have a spectacular bruise on my arm to show for failing to provide her breakfast exactly as she wanted it.
The next time anyone made any suggestions on where to get a horse, I’d say no. Vehemently. There were good horses in the south, but they were born from the pits of hell and wanted nothing more than to murder every single human they came across, even the ones stupid enough to groom and feed them every day.
Catching Dipshit and Devil Spawn had been the easy part. The only thing they cooperated with was breeding; Dipshit would mount anything with four legs, and Devil Spawn only tolerated her coal-black suitor. I still wasn’t sure how my two black horses had thrown a palomino colt, but I hoped Blossom would like Periwinkle.
He had his sire’s build, tall, elegant, and powerful, while he possessed his dam’s intellect. Fortunately, he hadn’t inherited either of his parents’ temperaments.
It had cost me a small fortune to learn where Blossom lived. While her father still served as Charlotte’s mayor, Gabriel’s pride moved around a lot. I hadn’t bothered to find out why. It didn’t make any difference to me.
All I had to do was deliver Periwinkle and leave.
Why couldn’t I have been wise about the whole thing? Why did I have to keep a promise made in haste the night I’d left Charlotte? Instead of staying away, I’d bred two insane demon horses together, got an angel, and was about to give him to someone I’d only known less than a day.
I sighed. In retrospect, I should have hired a courier to deliver Periwinkle. I could have spent two thousand dollars, loaded the colt on a train, and been done with my promise. Instead, I’d sold off my cross-eyed, ugly-as-sin mules, ditched the black filly I’d bred after Periwinkle the instant she’d been weaned, saddled Dipshit and demoted Devil Spawn to serve as a pack animal. To get out of Cheyenne faster, I had made the mad decision to break Periwinkle on the road.
I’d miss the colt; he was the only good company I had kept in ages.
As though reading my mind, Dipshit and Devil Spawn snorted. The scuff of boots on stone warned me someone approached.
“They bite,” I warned, my voice hoarse from a cold I hadn’t quite managed to kick. Breathing in the dust of the road hadn’t helped any, either. It made me sound like a man, something I took advantage of. It’d taken work to figure out ho
w to bind my breasts enough to fool most people. I wore my hair in a beaded braid decorated with feathers, an honor given to me by the North Cheyenne tribe, who called themselves Tsitsistas but tolerated the modern naming conventions of outsiders like me. The first—and last—time I had attempted to pronounce their tribe’s true name, everyone in hearing range had almost choked to death masking their laughter.
In exchange, they had claimed Devil Spawn’s second foal, a filly almost as bad tempered as her parents.
They loved her. I had loved getting rid of her.
I really should have taken cash instead of beads, a set of Native American leathers, feathers from a golden eagle fashioned to be clipped in my hair, and a name I thought had been given in jest. Later I had learned I was required to wear my tribe name with pride. I’m pretty sure the beaded ceremonial wrist cuffs meant something, too, but everyone I asked smiled a secretive little smile and refused to say a word. At least the tribe agreed to take care of my farmstead, which bordered their territory, until my return.
Their chief and lead elder, a mystic with a soft spot for their trickster god’s ways, had magicked my hair to be as dark as theirs until my return to their range. In exchange, I’d given them a cross-eyed, ugly-as-sin hinny with a fondness of drooling on anyone who got within five feet of her.
For someone with Dipshit’s genes, Angel liked people way too much.
The footsteps drew nearer, close enough for Devil Spawn to land a bite if she took offense to someone approaching on her right side. I counted up to five and braced for trouble.
Devil Spawn didn’t disappoint; her teeth thumped into her victim, eliciting a sharp, pained yelp.
“They bite,” I repeated, my tone neutral as I did one final check of Periwinkle’s tack.
“So you said,” a man replied, his voice strained with pain. “I should’ve listened.”
“I’ll be out of your way in a minute. Sorry for the trouble.” I didn’t want trouble; I’d found plenty of it on the road, and I’d find plenty more on my way back west.
The man kept out of Devil Spawn’s way, and I gathered my horses’ reins and led them through the stable, careful to keep a tight hold on the pair most likely to murder anyone who got too close.
“Excuse me?” Devil Spawn’s victim asked.
“What?”
“Why is that horse covered in pink ribbons?”
“I don’t ask questions, I just make the deliveries.”
“Oh. You’re a courier, then?”
After unleashing her temper on a stranger, Devil Spawn didn’t seem interested in giving me a second bite to go with her first, gracing me with enough time to swing up onto Dipshit’s back and settle in the saddle. “Yeah, I’m a courier. What about it?”
“How much to find out who owns that horse?”
I blinked, firmed my grip on Dipshit’s reins, and twisted in the saddle to stare. Once upon a time, I had liked tall men, but they reminded me too much of the past. Blowing air the way my horses did when annoyed, I turned away and adjusted my seat. Both of my stallion’s ears turned back, and his body tensed, ready to move at the slightest touch of rein or heel.
Maybe I’d captured the world’s meanest horses, but they loved a fight more than life itself. I suspected my inability to keep from picking fights had something to do with their inclination to cooperate with me.
A beast lurked under my skin, eager for a hunt, but I still hadn’t managed my first shift. One day, I promised myself. Hell might freeze over first, but one day I’d figure out the trick to shifting.
“Why’re you asking?”
“I want to buy that horse.”
Since leaving Wyoming, I’d heard so many offers for one of my horses I wanted to ram my fist into the man’s face for asking. “Not at liberty to say, sir. Good day.”
“Wait.”
“I’ve work to do, sir.”
“What about the other two horses? They for sale?”
“No. Good day, sir.” I tapped my heels to Dipshit’s sides, and he cooperated without a fight for once, surging straight into a canter. Devil Spawn and Periwinkle scrambled to keep up, snorting their displeasure at me and my cruel treatment of their delicate sensibilities.
Charlotte had grown since my last visit, and I took care to avoid going too close to the city. I’d gone to several libraries in nearby towns for updated maps, working to ensure I didn’t get too close to any old haunts.
The last thing I needed was to run into someone I knew. I’d deliver Periwinkle to the Holly residence, relieve myself of old promises, and get out of town. If no one knew I was around, no one would bother me.
It took me thirty minutes to find my way to the Holly Pride’s den. A wrought-iron fence tipped with spikes shaped like lion claws surrounded a pristine green lawn. A closed gate awaited, and I scowled at the obstruction, my gaze sliding to the panel mounted in the stone pillars flanking the entry.
I recognized the intercom as similar to the ones Todd used in his guild headquarters, capable of operating on electricity or magic. I cajoled Dipshit closer to the gate and pressed the black button.
“State your business,” someone growled, their voice so distorted by the speaker I couldn’t tell their gender.
“Delivery.”
“For who?” I determined the speaker to be male, and I wondered if he was a member of the pride or if he was an employee.
“Lady Holly.”
“Nature of the delivery?”
“A horse.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Excuse me? Did you just say a horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A horse.”
I sighed, shifted my weight in the saddle, and tightened my grip on Dipshit’s reins so he wouldn’t get any ideas. “Yes, sir. I’ve been contracted to deliver a horse to Lady Holly.”
“Step away from the gate,” the man ordered.
I sat back in the saddle and increased pressure on the reins until Dipshit retreated backwards, his ears flattening in displeasure. It’d taken me weeks to convince the cantankerous stallion it was in his best interest to learn the damned trick. Fortunately, Devil Spawn and Periwinkle followed without any displays of temper.
The gate buzzed, and the tingle of active magic washed over my skin. I shuddered, waited until the iron gates ceased moving, and urged my horses forward. I followed the cobbled drive towards a sprawling white-washed estate surrounded by an elevated portico dotted with at least twenty rocking chairs. The silent show of strength—or illusion of it—interested a part of me I’d buried long ago.
No one in their right mind would attack a place potentially housing twenty lions and a single tigress.
The front door opened, and an older man dressed in a black suit descended the three steps to the sidewalk. He regarded me with bright, golden eyes, which fixed on my hair and the feathers dangling from my braid. “You smell of a western wind.”
I held out Periwinkle’s reins. “This horse is for Lady Holly.”
“She has not placed any orders for a horse.”
“I’m just making the delivery, sir.”
With a soft hum, the man took several steps forward and took Periwinkle’s reins. “May I inquire who hired you?”
“My apologies, sir. It’s confidential.” I relaxed in the saddle, waiting to be dismissed.
“Name and couriering origin?”
While the demand was well within his rights, I loathed having to answer. I offered a silent prayer of thanks for the Cheyenne tribe, the name they had gifted me, and the magic clinging to my hair, which allowed me to pass as one of them. “I am Runs Against Wind of Cheyenne.”
“Cheyenne,” he echoed, glancing at me with new interest. “You have ridden a long way.”
“And I will ride a long way again. If I might be excused?”
“What are we going to do with a horse?”
I stared at him. “I would broach the matter with Lady Holly, as he is her horse.”
“Does this ho
rse have a name?”
“He responds to the name Periwinkle.”
“Periwinkle.”
“Sir.” I backed Dipshit away, giving Devil Spawn’s reins a light tug, demanding obedience. “I have long left to travel today.”
The old man stared at Periwinkle. “I will ensure Lady Holly receives this gift. Thank you for your custom, Courier Runs Against Wind.”
I dipped into a bow, turned my horses, and rode away.
I ran into the man who wanted to buy my horses a mile from the Holly residence, and he wasn’t alone. He rode a bay nag with mean eyes, and I wasn’t sure what sort of mutant equines his friends rode, but they were even uglier than my cross-eyed hinnies. The sword he held had more nicks and gouges in the metal than any respectable warrior should have tolerated. The two men with him were the type I’d hide behind in a battle; they fit the more brawn than brains profile, their faces scarred from decades of facing death and emerging with their lives intact.
“Hand over the horses and walk away, boy. While you’re at it, tell us where the other horse went.”
At least my efforts to disguise my gender worked. “No. I’m not selling any of them, either.”
Dipshit stilled beneath me, buying me enough time to toss Devil Spawn’s reins so they rested on her neck. Unless she bucked and tossed them over her head, she wouldn’t trip over them. I’d have to catch her later, but when trouble came calling, I needed my hands free. Leaning far enough to reach my mare’s packs, I yanked my katana free of its sheath.
“That’s not very smart.”
“I’m really not in the mood for this.” I clicked my tongue, tensed on Dipshit’s back, and waited for their move.
“I was going to be nice about it, but not anymore. Just hand over the fucking horses.”
Over the past few months, I’d encountered many who would do almost anything to take my horses. My animals understood what it meant when I held my katana. Dipshit stomped the cobbles with a hoof and shifted his weight, all the warning he ever gave me when he had plans of his own.
I expected him to rear, and I stood in the stirrups, balancing with the help of one hand on my reins. Instead of dropping down, my stallion surged forward straight for the would-be horse thieves.