by RJ Blain
“How many horses have you killed like this?”
When I killed them, I’d stab once for each animal mistreated, and I’d hope the life didn’t leave their eyes until I finished.
“Not my problem.”
“What is your problem, then?”
“More lives than a few miserable horses are counting on me, and on me making good use of you. My word is good.”
“Your word is good?” I clacked my teeth together so I wouldn’t voice the roar building inside me. “You betrayed your principal.”
My voice reflected my scorn, and if only I could pull my hands free of the saddle horn and reach the stiletto, I’d show him exactly how hot my anger burned.
“You’re not my principal. You’re just a convenient tool.”
Psychological warfare was a two-way street, and if he thought he could manipulate me, I’d play, too. “Randal certainly wouldn’t agree with you. You agreed to protect me. That makes me your principal. You confirmed, to the First Gentleman, you were accepting your place as my detail. That makes you a traitor. If you think they’re going to believe your pitiable excuse you were kidnapped, too, then you’re far more deluded than I thought.”
“You know nothing about it.”
“I know you were outside Fort Lauderdale during the Starfall burst when President Wilson and the rest of his detail were lost. You were with Agent Randal in the advance group. Back then, it was a motorcade, wasn’t it? Cars worked, then. I’ve seen them in the red stone, frozen.” One puzzle piece clicked into place, and I straightened in the saddle. “You stole the Hope Diamond so you could rescue your former principal, didn’t you?”
Both men stared at me, their mouths hanging open. Abraham reined his horse in, his eyes so wide I thought they would pop out of his head. “How did you know that?”
“Read it in a book.” I shrugged. The nice thing about the lie I planned to tell was that it was also the truth. “I spent some time in the National Archive this morning, exploring. Found some reference books on Fort Lauderdale and Starfall. Since I’ve been there before, I decided to poke around. I saw some Secret Service agents had survived, but I wasn’t sure which ones, so I asked someone willing to tell me some names. Nothing special.”
“You’re insufferable. People like you don’t deserve to be principals. I hope the stone kills you when it bursts. It would save me a great deal of trouble. I’m starting to think I might not be able to keep my word. You know too much.”
“Anyone literate could find it out. It’s not like you can get rid of the books in the National Archive.”
“Once I have my way, it’ll burn. I’d say wait and see, but you’ll be dead.”
I smiled. My expression bothered Abraham Adams enough he turned in the saddle to avoid looking at me, and his husband did the same, leaving me trailing a little behind them. I shut my mouth and went to work on the rope binding me to the saddle.
Unlike any other weapon I’d ever used, I didn’t need my hands free to use a stiletto. I could stab the life out of them even bound, and I’d enjoy every strike, to hell with the consequences. If I faced prison or death, I’d face it with pride.
The President was supposed to be their principal, and both men had abandoned her for a distant past and a man encased in ruby stone. Maybe the Hope Diamond could revive those trapped in Fort Lauderdale, but I wasn’t willing to gamble on it.
What a Starfall stone took, it never returned, and there was always a price to magic.
Chapter Fifty-One
The days slid into one another, and I learned two important facts: no amount of pulling, tugging, scratching, or even biting could fray magic rope, and my mare refused to die. The cold that had plagued me from the Mississippi to Charlotte returned, scorching my throat and stealing my voice, and when the days had slipped into weeks, I was struggling to stay coherent and conscious in the saddle.
If my tired little horse could manage, so could I. She kept me fighting to survive as did my determination to rid the Earth of the traitor Secret Service agents holding me hostage and carting me to Fort Lauderdale.
I never saw any sign of their conspirators, but they made their presence known. Two or three times a day, three new horses would be tethered to a tree, waiting for us to pick them up. Each time, Abraham and Edmund Fitzgerald would release their sick animals and take the new ones.
I refused to part with my mare. The extra horse often replaced one the pair would ride to death, and with every animal they killed, I swore I would get my hands on the stiletto in my boot and end their lives in the most horrific fashion I could contrive.
Maybe I’d begin by forcing them to eat my socks; after weeks of wearing them, I didn’t want to know what my feet smelled like. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten water or mud in my boots, but my feet squished whenever I wasn’t in the saddle. I tried not to think about my failing health.
Every day I remained a captive lowered my chance of survival or escape. When we reached Fort Lauderdale, we’d find out once and for all if I could catalyze the Hope Diamond. If I did, everything would change.
Everyone who had triggered the Hope Diamond’s burst had walked away changed. Some had died. Others had gained new magic, becoming a first generation survivor. Many more had disappeared, leaving their fate a mystery. Which category would I fit into?
If I let the Adams duo have their way, I’d end up in the last category, and while I’d probably be dead, it wouldn’t be due to the stone’s influence.
Maybe Abraham had the right idea; if I did survive, a quiet retirement in the middle of nowhere sounded nice. Enough time had gone by for the wind to turn cold with the promise of fall although we headed south. At the rate we were plodding across the country, it would take us over two months to reach Fort Lauderdale, and I’d lost track of the number of days we’d already spent on the road.
I wanted to ask, but I doubted the men cared. They, especially Abraham, were so trapped in the past I doubted they’d care how long it took for them to wake those trapped in Fort Lauderdale. When they did, I concocted a hundred and one ways they meant to use the revived city, and none of them boded well for the President and the current government.
My aunt had been elected fair and square, but President Wilson had lived before Starfall. He’d survived the first volley, enduring until Fort Lauderdale’s fall, which heralded the end of the combustion era. Some combustion zones still existed, but not many, and they were the last places on Earth untouched by a Starfall burst. Most of the residents of Fort Lauderdale wouldn’t know anything about the post-Starfall world. They would expect working cars, working guns, and fire. In reality, they would have magic. Some would learn they shared their body with an animal. Others would discover they were mystics, bending the elements to their will—or having some other gift which set them apart from pre-Starfall humanity.
If the stone burst and they weren’t imbued with power, what would happen to them?
I tried to imagine a pre-Starfall human facing off against bears, tigers, and people capable of summoning lightning out of thin air. Would they have any idea what to do with a horse? At least their cash would still be worth something, although they’d find they would no longer have fast mail services unless they wished to pay a courier a small fortune.
At least the men needed me alive, although they didn’t seem to care if I remained ill or lost weight, which I did. As long as I kept breathing, I could use the Hope Diamond for them. Two or more weeks had gone by before I asked, “Why are you so certain I’ll make the Hope Diamond burst?”
Abraham snorted. “Call it an educated guess and a very strong hunch. If it doesn’t burst, I’ll toss you into the ocean and find another likely catalyst.”
“Fine. Answer me this, then. Why betray your sister?”
If I hadn’t witnessed the death of countless horses, if I wasn’t tied with rope I couldn’t break, I might’ve believed he harbored remorse from the sound of his sigh. “You did your research well, didn’t you, little
girl?”
“Are you just pissed you’re not a grizzly, too?” I shifted in the saddle, and my stubborn little mare flicked an ear back. I wanted to reach out and give her neck a pat, but I tried to avoid touching her more than necessary.
When I did, her fur and mane fell out, leaving reddened skin beneath. At least I had managed to convince the men to use a blanket to stand in for the mare’s lost coat. Instead of the cinch rubbing against raw, bare skin, the saddle slipped on the blankets protecting her.
We had to breaks to fix the saddle, which happened several times a day. When it rained, it amazed me we made any distance at all with the number of times we had to stop and fix her tack. The other horses weren’t much better, but I couldn’t fight three battles at once.
I could help one horse—the one I rode. I wanted to do more for her, but I couldn’t, not yet.
“I’d be impressed with you, girl, if I didn’t know I had to kill you later. But since you’ve behaved, I’ll dress you up nice and pretty and make sure the people who find you don’t know what did you in. I’ll make it quick. It’s too bad. I think I would’ve liked you under different circumstances.”
Life had been a lot simpler before I had learned I shared blood with a lunatic. I wondered what had made the man snap so hard his husband went along for the ride, descending into insanity without a complaint. Edmund Fitzgerald didn’t say a lot, but the fate of the sick horses bothered him a lot more than my sacrifice did. “How generous of you.”
“I don’t like killing little girls, but one to save many is a deal I can’t refuse.”
“Even if your plan works, President Wilson being alive isn’t going to help you any. President Miller was voted in fair and square. What good will it do you?”
“He’ll take his rightful office back.”
“At the cost of your sister?”
“She should have been voted out! She’s been trapped in there long enough. There’s a reason the President shouldn’t serve more than two consecutive terms! Can’t you see it?”
I gaped at him, astounded anyone could think that little of someone who had worked so hard for the benefit of others. “Do you know what I saw in her, Abraham Adams?”
“Oh, this should be good. What did you see, little courier? Make it good, or I’ll cut out that serpent tongue of yours and get some silence for a change.”
Either way, unless I managed to break free of the rope or get my hands on the stiletto, it wouldn’t matter if I had a tongue or not. “I saw a woman resolved to do everything she could to determine her brother’s innocence for the sake of her family. I saw a woman who put an entire nation before her personal desires. I saw a woman who cares so much for her family she’d chase one of her brother’s friends around a guild to give them even a little joy. I saw someone who cares about people. If you can’t see that, you’re crazier than I thought.”
I shut my mouth and waited.
Somehow, I had kept my mare alive all the way from Charlotte to Fort Lauderdale. I didn’t understand how. She clung to life by a mere thread. Her mane was almost gone; a few stubborn tufts gracing the arch of her neck. I was convinced a miracle had kept her tail intact.
That she still lived was a miracle to me.
Her coat was completely gone, leaving bare skin prone to sores. Instead of grooming her like I would a regular horse, I used a damp cloth and wiped her skin clean, careful to avoid the worst of the sores.
It hurt to look at her, but I kept my unspoken promise. Until she gave up, I wouldn’t, either.
“Since you’re so attached to that beast, I’ll even let you two die together. How does that sound, little lady?”
I wanted to kick Abraham Adams in the crotch, bust all his perfect teeth, and choke him to death, but instead of telling him of that, I ignored him, stroking my mare’s abused skin. Beyond her back, I could make out the gleam of the red crystal city. While it seemed far away, it’d only take an hour to reach. Since my last trip to Florida, the ocean had claimed more of the land, forcing me to ride my mare through churning water.
Something about the salt helped her sores, although it left a white crust on her hooves and legs. I left it; I feared the process of scraping the residue away would cause more damage to her fragile skin. Abraham thought he was clever, but he forgot one important fact: the Hope Diamond caused as many miracles as it did cataclysms. Speculation would get me nowhere; until I touched the Starfall stone, I couldn’t guess what would happen.
Maybe the damned stone could save one stubborn little horse. Maybe it could let me break free of the ropes binding me so I could get my hands on my stiletto and put an end to my uncle’s insanity. Reality rarely accommodated wishful thinkers, but with Fort Lauderdale close and my options few, I didn’t know what else I could do, if I could do anything at all.
I hated feeling helpless, and for the past two months, I had felt nothing else. My jeans and shirt were so threadbare I expected them to fall apart. The two Secret Service agents had exchanged their clothing for jeans and t-shirts, but unlike me, they got changes of clothes every few days.
“Well, sweetheart? What do you want to wear when you die?” Abraham smiled at me as though my answer mattered.
Wiping down a sick horse while my hands were tied together made the trying chore much more difficult, and I crouched in the surf to wet the cloth so I could resume my work. “I don’t care.”
“But you should. You’re about to make history. You’re about to be history.”
“I really don’t care.”
If I did die, what I wore wouldn’t matter. If I lived, I didn’t care what I was wearing as long as I got my chance to kill them.
“Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll just have to cope with whatever I toss on top.”
“Why ask me, then?”
“I just wanted to see what you’d say.”
I swore if he gave me a single chance, I wouldn’t just stab him hundreds of times, I’d shred him to pieces too small to be found. The fish would eat well, and I’d shatter his bones into tiny fragments they’d need tweezers to pick out of the sand.
“Abe, that was low, even for you.”
“Got a problem with it, cheetah?”
Cheetah? I glanced in Edmund Fitzgerald’s direction with a speculative frown. Neither man had shifted since kidnapping me. “You’re a cheetah?”
Edmund Fitzgerald snorted. “What other type of cat would den with a bear?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“But you’re a cat.”
“I’m a tigress who knows exactly two other felines by name. You could tell me all cheetahs are gay and don’t actually reproduce, and I’d probably believe you. You’re my sole sample.”
Abraham laughed. “Female cheetahs are exclusively heterosexual. Eighty percent of male cheetahs are bisexual. The rest are exclusively homosexual or asexual. Fortunately for me, Ed’s in the best group, the one interested in me and only me.”
“How nice for you.”
Edmund Fitzgerald approached with a second cloth in hand, and he dipped it in the water before helping groom my little mare. Both of her ears turned back, and she regarded me with an eye, as though asking for permission to bite the shit out of the man. “Did you have a male you were interested in?”
“Not much point in being interested is there?” I didn’t have to think about it.
Despite more than two months tied to a saddle heading south, whenever I thought about Anatoly, I wanted to kick him for some offense I couldn’t even remember. When I was done kicking him, I always wanted to bite.
I tried not to think of him too much. It never failed to make me even surlier.
“True, that. Who was he?”
“Probably the only other male of her species in Charlotte, Ed. That would make a moderate amount of sense, and word down the wire was no one was to protect Head Tiger unless she looked like she was going to actually kill him. I assumed they were joking about tigers and their tendency to maul their mates.”
Edmund Fitzgerald paused in his work to stare at my katana. “With that sword? I don’t think they give those out to people who don’t know how to use them.”
I stilled, my gaze locked on my weapon. If I could coax them into untying me, I’d give them a taste of what I could do with a blade.
“The First Gentleman humored her in a bout, probably to make her look good for Head Tiger.”
“Want to try me?” I whispered, taking a single step back from my mare. “See if he just made me look good? Let’s dance, little bear. You, me, a pair of swords.”
“Nice try, but not happening, little lady. I need you alive for what happens next. You’re no good to me dead. Ed, saddle her horse, and be right careful with the poor little mare. Wouldn’t do to have our little girl’s horse fall over dead before we’re done here.”
One of my kidnappers I pitied. The other I’d enjoy killing. I kept my mouth shut and dropped the rag into the water while the two men worked to prepare the horses.
Once the four animals were saddled, Edmund Fitzgerald pulled a bundle of clothes from his saddlebag. “Can’t risk untying you for this, little missy, but at least you can have a nice skirt instead of those worn jeans.”
I stared at the bluish purple material; it reminded me of the skirt Todd had inflicted on me, and my my throat tightened from emotion. Unable to trust my voice, I consented with a nod. I needed his help to get it on, although I managed to slip out of my boots and shuck out of my jeans despite my hands being bound. When I put my boots back on, I adjusted the stiletto, placing it high enough to grab with ease.
While the two men kept an eye on me, they were careful not to watch me too closely while I changed. I wished I could get out of the rope long enough to change tops. I thought my blouse had started its life white or some other pale color, but I couldn’t remember exactly. There wasn’t enough left of it to make much difference anyway. Maybe some thought skirts and dresses were a sign of weakness, but the fabric’s weight around my legs, bare for the first time in two months, energized me.