Wrangler

by Hondo Jinx

  “I know,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Philia reminds me every day when she tries to talk me into joining your harem.”

  “She does that?”

  Elizabeth nodded, studying his expression.

  “Well, my apologies, darlin. I’ll tell her to stop doing that.”

  Elizabeth stopped dancing abruptly and gave a little curtsey. Her curves shivering deliciously beneath the thin veil of black spider silk. Then she stood on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “Don’t. She’s starting to convince me.”

  Braddock was so stunned he could only watch her walk off. It was quite a sight, those round hips switching back and forth as her words echoed in his ears.

  Suddenly, Braddock felt hot all over. And very, very happy.

  Elizabeth swept her goblet from the table and refilled it as a grinning Tilly hurried over to her and started gossiping.

  Braddock crossed the room in long strides, unwilling to let this moment slip away. Elizabeth had confessed a good deal of her feelings, but he had shared almost none of his.

  Braddock did not know what would come of this, but he wanted to get everything out in the open.

  As he approached, he heard Elizabeth say, “Truly magnificent wine, dear Tilly. But if you’ll excuse me, I am burning up. I must step outside for a breath of fresh air.”

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, gave Braddock a sly look, and slipped outside.

  36

  Braddock followed her into the night.

  Elizabeth stood between the cabins, chin held high, her pale face rosy in the moonlight. A breeze passed, stirring her lovely red hair and making the skintight gown shimmer.

  Braddock closed the door behind him and stared, mesmerized by her beauty.

  “Mr. Braddock,” Elizabeth said with a sly smile, “fancy meeting you here.”

  “Elizabeth,” he said, and crossed the distance between them, not stopping until he was near enough to start dancing again. But he wasn’t interested in dancing this time. “You unloaded your wagon. Now, it’s my turn.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, looking almost frightened.

  He held out his hand. She took it.

  “Darlin, from the moment I first laid eyes on you—”

  Man?

  Braddock ripped Cleaver from its scabbard, drew Elizabeth close, and turned, searching the night for the source of the voice in his head.

  Because despite its weakness, he recognized that voice. When someone almost kills you, they tend to stick in your memory.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth said, pressing against him. “You’re frightening me, Mr. Braddock.”

  “Get inside, darlin,” Braddock said, backing toward the door, keeping himself between Elizabeth and the night.

  Reaching the cabin, he opened the door and shoved Elizabeth inside.

  “What is it, Mr. Braddock?” Elizabeth asked, sounding terrified.

  “Fetch the Henry,” he told her. “The shrike is here.”

  Elizabeth disappeared inside, hollering to the others.

  Braddock closed the door behind her.

  Man?

  Yes, it’s me. Where are you?

  Shrike is here, just inside your gate. Shrike… found you.

  Then he saw her lying near the gate, a white form obscured in a snow drift.

  Why are you here? he asked with his mind. What do you want?

  Shrike only wishes to see Man again before she dies. Shrike apologizes for trying to eat Man in the forest. Shrike did not know. But the past is bones, not meat. We cannot eat the past. Better to spit out the bones and continue the Great Hunt. Come closer, Man. Please let Shrike see you once more before she, too, is bones.

  A trap?

  It didn’t feel like it. But then again, what did Braddock know of shrikes?

  Shrike is dying now, Man. Please.

  Braddock took a step forward, sword at the ready.

  Behind him, the door swung open, and voices filled the night.

  Chundra appeared on his left, spear at the ready.

  Elizabeth appeared on his right, the Henry raised to her shoulder. She swept the barrel back and forth, then jerked into firing position with her crosshairs on the fallen shrike.

  “Hold on, darlin,” Braddock said, raising a hand.

  Behind them the sprites hovered, talking nervously over one another.

  Braddock took another step forward. And another.

  “Husband,” Philia said. “What are you doing? She’s a shrike!”

  “I know, darlin. Just hold tight.”

  He took another step forward, driven by his defining curiosity and the realization that his danger senses still hadn’t kicked in. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he was fixing to find out.

  “Husband—”

  “Hold on, Philia. Everybody stay back, you hear? Elizabeth, you keep the Henry on her, and let me know if I step into your field of fire. She attacks me, you shoot her. And don’t quit shooting until she’s dead. But otherwise, hold your fire. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mr. Braddock,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady.

  He walked slowly toward where the shrike lay and stopped several feet away, sword in hand.

  She lay on her side, white as the snow drifting over her except for her abdomen, where a dark stain marked the wound he had given her. From this gaping hole and several other slashes, fresh blood trickled onto the snow. The line of raw flesh on one thigh told him that he had, against all odds, winged her with his parting shot.

  White feathers covered the shrike’s wings and everything from her waist to her clawed feet. Her bare abdomen, breasts, and throat were nearly as pale as those feathers.

  In a detached way, Braddock finally noticed that yes, the stories Lala had heard were true; the dying bird woman’s breasts were absolute perfection.

  The shrike lay completely motionless, her face shrouded by the limp curtain of her long, white tresses.

  “Shrike?”

  She stirred slightly, lifted her head a few inches, and brushed the hair from her lower face. Braddock saw no beak, only a weak yet beautiful smile.

  Yes, Man. Shrike clings to live. Please let her see Man.

  Braddock stepped forward, reached out with the point of his blade, and brushed her hair aside.

  Even in this state, bloodless and near death, the shrike’s face was shockingly beautiful. The beak was gone, replaced by a long and delicate nose, full lips, and a finely sculpted jaw, strong yet feminine.

  Her eyes, formerly terrifying disks of silver fire, had shrunk to fetching, almond-shaped orbs proportionate to her other features. Her silver irises stared at Braddock, shining with adoration and gratitude.

  The shrike smiled weakly, eyes fluttering.

  Shrike thanks Man. He is… glorious.

  And then she was gone, unconscious or dead.

  Braddock took another step closer.

  Behind him, people shouted over each other.

  “Be careful, husband!”

  “Kill the shrike, Master!”

  “Let me shoot her, Mr. Braddock!”

  “No!” he shouted, silencing their cries.

  Braddock crouched down, pressed his fingertips into the shrike’s neck, and after a few seconds of deep concentration detected a pulse beating faintly beneath the soft, smooth skin of her throat. “Philia, fetch a healing potion.”

  “Husband?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yes, husband. Forgive me.”

  Five seconds later, Philia was at his side holding an elixir out to him.

  Braddock tore it open with his teeth, catching a hint of its invigorating sweetness, and poured the contents between the fallen bird woman’s full lips.

  A shiver went through her white body, but then she lay still again. The ugly wounds did not close.

  “Shrike?”

  There was no response.

  But there was, Braddock realized when he touched her neck again, still life, though only barely, judging by
her faint pulse, which was guttering like an exhausted candle.

  “Fetch another elixir,” he told Philia.

  Philia touched his arm gently. “I’m sorry, husband, but it won’t work. The shrike is too far gone. The merciful thing to do now is to put her out of her misery.”

  “No,” Braddock said, unintentionally shouting the word. “There has to be a way to save her.”

  Philia shook her head. “Even if we had enough potions to haul her back from death, what would happen then? She is a shrike. She would immediately attack, and we would be forced to kill her all over again.”

  “What if we tied her up and gave her the rest of the potions?”

  “No, husband. I am sorry. My magic is not yet strong enough to reverse wounds this grievous and advanced. Besides, there is no way to bind a shrike.”

  Braddock glowered, mind racing. Then his thoughts rushed back to something Philia had said—and he knew what he had to do. “That’s it, darlin.”

  “What, husband?”

  “I will bind her.”

  “But as I said, husband, there is no way to restrain a—”

  “I don’t mean tie her up. I’m fixing to bond with her.”

  Philia reared back, eyes suddenly huge. “You can’t be serious. Bond with a shrike?”

  Behind them, voices gasped.

  “Will it save her?” he asked.

  “Well…”

  “Will it?”

  “Yes, husband, but a shrike? She is more monster than monster girl. If you—”

  “Enough. I have made my decision.”

  “I understand, husband, but might I suggest an alternative?”

  “Will it save her?”

  “Yes. Probably.”

  “What is it?”

  “You do not have to fully bond with her. You don’t need to fertilize the shrike. You can just feed her like you first fed Tilly. Doing so will likely save her.”

  “Will she attack us when revived?”

  “No, husband. She will be seed bound. Neither she nor we will receive a full surge of power, if any, but the shrike will be your loyal servant.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Braddock said, unbuckling his belt.

  “She will, however, follow you everywhere. She will be obsessed with you, with your seed, begging constantly for additional feedings.”

  “All right.” There wasn’t time to consider those possibilities now. He would deal with them later… if they pulled this off in time.

  Opening his pants, Braddock pulled himself free. “Now help me save her before it’s too late.”

  37

  Without hesitation, Philia knelt in the snow and took him in her mouth.

  Braddock glanced at the shrike with a pang of concern. She was utterly still in the blowing flakes.

  Come on, darlin. Hang in there just a moment longer.

  His mistresses gathered around, hovering to either side of Philia like so many hummingbirds jockeying for nectar.

  Philia popped her mouth from Braddock’s hardening member, and her handmaidens struggled briefly before Lala managed to plunge her talented mouth over the head and slide his entire length impossibly down her magical throat.

  “A request, husband,” Philia said, blinking up at him while her handmaidens passed his stiff manhood back and forth, each sprite seemingly trying to outdo the last. “When you are ready to climax, please do not feed the shrike directly. Please fill my mouth and I will administer the feeding.”

  “Why?” Braddock grunted, surprised to realize he was getting closer to that moment than he ever could have imagined, especially under these conditions. Must be the sprites were pulling out some sort of love magic down there. It sure felt like it.

  “If the seed comes from my mouth, she will be bound to me as well. It will be a weaker bond, but she will obey me. Mostly, at least.”

  “Sure, darlin. Do what you gotta do.”

  Pushing her handmaidens aside, Philia attacked his erection, rapidly sucking and pumping, greedily devouring him as if her life depended on it.

  Of course, it wasn’t Philia’s life hanging in the balance but the shrike’s.

  Braddock glanced at the unconscious woman, looking for and failing to see any signs of life, but then averted his eyes. Wondering about her condition would only slow the process. It wouldn’t do her any good. There was only one thing that might save her now.

  A few minutes later, roaring with release, Braddock held himself in one hand and a fistful of Philia’s hair in the other as he filled her straining mouth with rope after pearly rope. Philia tilted her head back, wiping at the rivulets spilling down her cheeks and chin, and swept the overflowing seed back into her mouth.

  Then she crawled over to the shrike.

  Philia’s handmaidens rolled the shrike onto her back, brushed the hair from her strange yet beautiful face, tilted her head back, and spread her lips.

  Philia lowered her mouth to the shrike’s and let Braddock’s seed run into the unconscious woman, who lay as still as a corpse.

  Abruptly, the shrike swallowed everything in a big gulp and clutching the back of Philia’s head, started kissing Braddock’s wife in a writhing frenzy of lust as the wounds vanished from her long, muscular body.

  Man seeeeeeed!

  When Philia finally broke the kiss, gasping for air and wiping a slender forearm across her wet lips, the shrike leered hungrily up at her.

  Noticing Philia’s heaving breasts and the deep pink color of her cheeks, Braddock realized his wife was deeply aroused. And yet, her eyes were wary.

  Braddock took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, husband. It is safe.”

  “All right. Good. I couldn’t let her die.”

  From behind him came the sounds of crying.

  Braddock turned to see a weeping Elizabeth hand the Henry to Tilly, who spoke softly to her.

  Braddock cursed to himself. He hadn’t realized that Elizabeth was still standing there. She had witnessed the whole affair.

  Now, Elizabeth turned away and hurried toward her cabin.

  Braddock caught her as she was opening the door.

  “Elizabeth, wait,” he said, closing the door and gently turning her toward him.

  They had been so close…

  “No,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head back and forth, her pretty blue eyes streaming tears. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Hold on, darlin. Give me a second. We were talking, getting down to business. I was just fixing to tell you—”

  “No,” she said, raising a hand to his lips, her eyes suddenly wild. “I know what you were going to say, and it’s too late.”

  “Too late? What are you talking about? This doesn’t change anything.”

  Elizabeth nodded sadly. “Yes, it does. It changes everything. Don’t you understand, Mr. Braddock?”

  “The only thing I understand is how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t even tell me. This was fate, Mr. Braddock, the shrike showing up when she did, right when we were both about to make a big mistake.”

  “That wasn’t fate, darlin. That was coincidence. And we weren’t making a mistake.”

  Again, Elizabeth shook her head. “I keep telling myself we might build a life together, but now I know I’ve been fooling myself all along. Every time I get close to reconciling my desires with my circumstances, you engage with another woman. And now you’ve bound yourself to this creature, this monster who tried to kill you. Are you insane?”

  “Would you have had me let her die?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her bright blue eyes glistening with tears. “No. You did the decent thing. Of course. You always do the decent thing… no matter the cost.”

  “Darlin, I’m sorry. I—”

  “I just have to accept the fact that these monster girls will keep coming and coming. You were never meant to have a life with me.”

  “Darlin, from the
first time I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted a life with you.”

  “And you shall have it, Mr. Braddock,” Elizabeth said, wiping tears from her eyes. She lifted her chin, struggling to regain both her composure and her pride. “You will have a life with me. You will be my neighbor. Perhaps even my friend. I will teach your many children. And that will have to be enough. Because anything beyond that is impossible.”

  Struggling against fresh tears, Elizabeth turned on her heel and slipped into her cabin, shimmering in her black dress.

  Braddock wanted to go after her, to argue, to make her understand his point of view, but someone started kissing his fingers, and he turned to see the shrike kneeling before him, holding his hand in hers. Her oversized eyes shone like the eyes of a moth before a bright quicksilver god.

  The sprites gathered around, uncertain looks on their faces. Behind them, Chundra and the fur folk had armed themselves and were watching with concern. Several rat folk hung farther back, looking confused and frightened.

  Man saved Shrike. The bird woman came to her feet. Then she spoke in a soft, ethereal whisper. “Shrike loves Man.”

  Braddock chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks, darlin. That’s a stretch better than trying to kill me.”

  “Shrike thought Man was food. But Man is not food. Man is strong. Man almost killed Shrike, almost ate Shrike. But Man saved Shrike, and Shrike is no longer alone. Man and Shrike live together now. Shrike serves Man.”

  “I guess that’s about right. What’s your name?”

  “Shrike.”

  “I know you’re a shrike, but what’s your name?”

  “Shrike is my name. All shrikes are called Shrike.”

  Braddock nodded, reckoning that was a powerful testament to the solitary nature of her breed.

  Glancing at the others, Shrike said, “These are Man’s food beasts?”

  Braddock shook his head, frankly shocked by the notion.

  “Man’s slaves?”

  “No, these people are my friends.”

  “Friends? Shrike does not understand friends.”

  “Friends are people I like. We work together. They also live with me.”

  Shrike smiled, a look of discovery coming onto the beautiful nightmare that was her unearthly face. “Ah, Shrike understands. These are people you do not wish to eat?”