An End to Summer

by Diana Rose Wilson

  Alexander sighed and closed his eyes. It figured Christopher was self-centered enough not to even tell his war-mount he was leaving. “Yeah, well, he’s far away now. I can’t just bring him back. Here’s your food. I’m sorry.” He really was sorry. The sharpness of the mount’s distress and confusion unnerved him.

  The big horse swung his head towards Alexander and he thought the bite was coming. Instead, the massive stallion only nickered. His dark eyes were wide and his ears perked forward. The waves of anxiety increased, crashing over Alexander as the war-mount processed the abandonment. Remmy was not a being that would tolerate cooling his heels while his rider went about life without him. The question punched at Alexander.

  Why?

  Why?

  WHY?!

  “He was hurting.” Of course, Remmy knew Christopher was hurting; he saw into his heart. Right? “The woman he loved left him.” So, Christopher felt he must leave everyone and everything in retaliation. The huge equine stood very still, his ragged breathing pumping his sides as he processed the news. Alexander took his chance to dump the food. “I’ll be taking care of you.”

  The horse’s ears flicked back and then pinned before he let out a horrible sound in anger. Horses were not supposed to sound like that. A jumble of emotions washed over Alexander, strong and savage. Of course, as the messenger of this wretched news, he had to suffer. He cried out in shock at the soul crushing fury. He hoped Derek and Cal didn’t hear his pathetic mewling. What a coward he was. The stallion attempted to break through the door of the stall, roaring out his rage as the wrath continued to lash over Alexander.

  Derek must have gone already or he wanted no part in dealing with Remmy in one of his moods. Alexander’s experience with the war-mounts was limited. They were tended by their riders and those accustomed to supernatural forces. His own horse, a little bay gelding and barely more than a pony, was far removed from an uncut stallion with a full arsenal of sagecraft behind it. Alexander’s talent was new and insignificant.

  His mother had misjudged his ability. The realization burned him with shame. Or, perhaps she and father were testing him. If he didn’t get crushed or run through by the splinters flying from the wooden door, he might be found worthy.

  “Hey,” he shouted. “Stop throwing a tantrum and listen.” It took him crying another, “HEY!” Before the stallion relented his screaming. Remmy glared at him, breaking another of the boards with a bash of his hoof.

  “You can’t swim across the ocean to get to him.” He glared back at the puffing stallion and willed his limbs to stop shaking. “I’m all you have!” he shouted. “You’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you. Why do you think your rider ran off without even telling you? Because you’re not worth the effort.”

  Alexander had no idea why Christopher didn’t tell the war-mount he was leaving. Clearly being reminded of his faults brought the big horse up short. He blew hard and stamped and this time when he called, it was shrill with a plea. He didn’t want Alexander to leave him, too. The wordless questions tumbled out. What should he do? Would his rider ever return? Was he forsaken?

  The grief felt worse than the earlier pain of his fury.

  “I will not leave you,” Alexander said, turning back to the trembling stallion. “However, there will be no biting, no kicking and…no flipping out. You got it?”

  Remmy’s eyes narrowed as he looked Alexander slowly down to his feet and then up to his face. Yeah, he got the message. Alexander was a pathetic replacement to his Christopher. “Yeah, but I am not leaving you,” he said firmly. “So, do whatever you want. You’re free to go if you don’t want me.”

  He turned and stomped out, grateful he still had all his fingers and his limbs were fully functional.

  Chapter 2

  His self-congratulation was short lived. He didn’t get far beyond the stables before he was caught by his cousins. The sun was sinking and the long shadows had blurred completely into the gloom as day crept towards twilight. It was a dangerous time of day for those who believed in superstitions.

  His cousins appeared completely harmless with their bright, lupine smiles. Pride, the youngest, was a few months older than Alexander, while Courage was the eldest at nineteen. The others, Princeton, and Crown were in between and the four brothers were barely a year apart in age. They definitely had strange names though no one dared to mock them. He’d seen the bloody faces of those who had tried. They were huge compared to Alexander, ruthless, tough and handsome.

  Alexander didn’t like to think about how he found men attractive. He was just confused, that’s all. If he was considering his cousins physiques as appealing, he definitely needed to have his head examined.

  Too late though, Courage saw his lingering attention and whatever intensity lurked behind it. The eldest of his Harris cousin’s features twisted up in response. For a moment, he stood clutching his fists and chewing at something he wanted to say in response to Alexander’s wandering gaze. Crown, reached out to grab his brother’s arm and the contact stilled whatever insult he might have said. A smile solidified behind the revulsion. “Hey, Alex. We figured you wouldn’t just show up so we came to collect the tithe. Your momma said you were out here feeding the nags.”

  Thank goodness Remmy wasn’t around to hear that. Christopher might be able to tamp down the stallions response to the insult: unfortunately Alexander had no idea how his brother managed it.

  “Hey guys. I don’t have it.” His voice came out with unfamiliar determination; it didn’t even crack. He felt all right admitting he couldn’t pay them this time. Compared to facing down the war-mount, his cousins were nothing.

  “Well, we get that you don’t just carry the money when you’re out here slopping the livestock. Go on inside and grab it and we’ll get this settled and go have a swim. It’s fucking hot.” Courage gave a toss of his head back towards the house.

  “You don’t understand. I don’t have the money. Mom and dad are making me watch the—”

  “What did you say? You don’t have the tithe?” Princeton pushed forward and loomed over Alexander. He had to blink up at the tall man and stumbled back into one of the other brothers who had come behind him. He stared at the center of the t-shirt stretching tight over Princeton’s chest. Princeton smelled so strongly of the cologne it stung his eyes. That was the reason his vision blurred; it wasn’t tears of sudden panic. He remembered now that he needed to be terrified of what his cousins were capable of doing to him.

  “I don’t have any way to earn the money.”

  “You lying little shit. You just came into your talent. Your mommy and daddy are stinking rich. They must have given you a small fortune. That’s what they do. So, you’re going to go into your room and get it so we don’t have to school you. It’s a small price to pay to keep that pretty little smile of yours.”

  He tried to twist away but Pride caught his arm and held him in place between their larger bodies. “I don’t have it. They didn’t give me anything.” That fact was horrible to admit.

  “Did you even come into your talent?” Courage reached down and grabbed his chin, yanking his face up to leer down into his eyes. “You little sissy-boy. Fucking pansy with your flute tooting and you think you’re so fucking superior. You need some toughening up so you don’t become some—” His features screwed up around the word he wouldn’t give voice to. “Boy lover.”

  The others were waiting for the verdict of his appraisal.

  “Fuck, there it is. Pathetic, Alex. Lee-Anne had more ability when she was born. What the fuck is that?” Courage laughed and pushed him back against his brother in disgust.

  “What is it?”

  “What did you see?”

  Darkness was falling as the other boys crowded in close, pinning him and making it hard for him to breathe. He wanted to get away. Wanted to run. Flee!

  “Show them, Alexandra. You fucking pussy.” Someone grabbed his arm and the four larger boys pulled and dragged him off the path and into the fore
st. “Come on. Not where his bitch-mother can find him, though. You’re not going to tell your mommy right, little pussy? Because we will fucking kill you, you know that, right?”

  Kill him? He tried to dig his feet in only to find they were far stronger. He was not an athletic young man despite his hours of fencing practice. That training was mostly a joke because he hadn’t advanced past the wooden practice blade. It was the footwork that was important, or so he’d been told. He must use his speed to his advantage and outsmart, then outrun the larger boys.

  Except when there were four of them.

  They clamped hands over his mouth when he tried to cry out for help. It was no effort for them to pull him into the trees and darkness that slipped deeper into that time between times. Not day and not yet night. His skin prickled and he struggled desperately against them.

  In his dreams, he was one of his cousins. He wanted to be like them so badly. Strong and fearless so no one bullied or hurt him. They were so much cooler than the Wallaces and much more powerful. They did not live wealthy, pampered lives. Somehow, he must prove he was one of them. He was not a soft little wimp.

  In reality, he was a puny runt of a kid who’d been paying his cousins for years to protect him and like him. His cowardly heart hammered like a frightened rabbit in his chest.

  He was surrounded. On either side of him two big Harris cousins made sure he had nowhere to bolt. Behind, two were driving him forward. They were herding him up the forested mountainside, moving along the riding trail that twisted up to the summit where the Harris and Harris-Wallace property lines converged. When his legs failed him, they drug him along by brute force. There was a cliff there full of berry bushes where the bluff dropped off into the natural springs below. This water ran well inside the Harris-Wallace property line. The Harris branch of the family coveted the grotto and its surrounding forests.

  “The funny part is you don’t deserve any of this. You have no use for it.” Courage shoved him hard. “We warned you it would be your fucking arm if you came up short. Now you tell us you can’t pay anything? You’re a rich brat. You will pay us everything we demand if that means stealing it from your granny’s purse.”

  Princeton twisted the arm he held in a sharp movement. “Let’s break him right at the elbow. SNAP!” The ugly growl vibrated close to his ear as he yanked Alexander back and forth violently. The movement knocked him from his feet but his cousin kept him aloft by the tortured arm.

  They laughed at his screams of pain and his attempts to get free. All the while Princeton shook him like a rag doll. They were savage and wild, crazed with the prospect of hurting him.

  “Break it. Snap him!” Pride howled in excitement, lost in the rising tide of bloodlust.

  It felt worse than broken, the shoulder nearly torn from the socket, twisted and shattered. His head swam with nausea.

  “Not yet. We want to see what form his spirit takes.”

  Alexander tasted bile as he was thrown to the ground. He vomited several times and barely heard their shouts of mirth over the roaring in his ears. They taunted him for losing control of his bodily functions. Pathetic. Coward. Weak.

  His shadowy spirit-form whispered to him in encouragement. He only needed to reach inward and touch it and pull the shadows around him.

  He didn’t want to be in its thrall and show them what he was. His talent was supposed to be something beautiful. The first time he felt such pleasure in the grace and beauty of it. Now he was ashamed.

  Even his parents didn’t care. Not even Amy cared.

  Now it made sense. They must be humiliated because he wasn’t a lion or wolf. He was prey. He was food.

  “Do it. Come on, you pathetic little fuck! Let’s see what the mighty Harris-Wallace line has created. You piece of shit.”

  The panic sent a hot lance through his stomach with a mix of frustration and nausea. He tried to twist away from their fists and feet, unfortunately he wasn’t fast enough to escape. A punch struck him hard in the gut driving the air out of him.

  “Hold him. You better remember where you came from, Alex. You’re not better than us.”

  The next kick struck him in the temple and his vision exploded in dazzling white stardust. There behind his shuttered eyes, in dark contrast against the brilliance of the pain stood his spirit’s form. The presence was terrifying and powerful, yet the touch was careful and loving as it wrapped him in its net of shadows. A low, rumbling voice whispered into him, I have you. I always have had you and I always will.

  There was a sense of apology, and amusement, as his human shade was pulled in close and protected. The form of his beastly spirit leapt forward. He’d been so delighted the first time. Until he realized what he had become.

  “He’s fucking deer?” Pride roared with laughter.

  “A fawn. Look at the spots.”

  Crown and Princeton joined in the chorus of laughter.

  “Well, no wonder his parents aren’t letting him have his wealth. Maybe they are going to cook him up. Oh, hunting season will be interesting this year.”

  Shame burned through him. Liquid heat trickled down his face and muzzle, blinding one eye with the blood that spilled from the place he’d been kicked.

  “He won’t last until the hunt. He doesn’t have the right to be a Harris!”

  “Your weakness should be culled from the bloodline.”

  Culled from the bloodline.

  His forelimb hurt where it had been twisted and broken and yet he could put enough weight on it to run. He saw the hunger in their eyes as they moved to cut off his escape.

  He was prey.

  He was no longer under their protection.

  Culled from the bloodline.

  There was no easy way to get away from them. There was only the thorny berry bushes and the cliff that led to the water burbling somewhere far below. If he bolted through them, they would embrace their massive feline forms and tear him to bits.

  His heart sang as the lithe form of the fawn responded to his thought to flee. Turning on cloven hoof-tips, he spun and sprang into the air, running away from his killers. The hunters! He ignored the jarring pain in his leg as he galloped for the edge. Their angry curses and threats followed him before the rocks started to fly.

  A stone clipped the back of his head just as he made the bank. He tried jumping over the hedge, but his blood-blinded eye and the wounded limb foiled his leap. The misguided dive plunged him directly through the tangle of thorny bushes. He shrieked in pain as the thorns tore at his skin and he tumbled forward.

  “You’re going to have to come out of there sometime. When you come out, we’re going to be here! We’re going to end you.”

  He’d just wanted to be one of the cool kids.

  The brambles bit into him, tearing his skin as he squirmed deeper into the tangle of vines. The scent of crushed berries mingled with the copper of his blood. His limbs shook violently with both adrenaline and pain and he knew he must not go back out there. He would struggle through the thorns until he reached the bank and climb down then jump into the water below. Anything to avoid the confrontation with his cousins.

  More rocks struck him, stinging and cutting, bruising him with ruthless accuracy. He braced at the rim, heart pounding. In the darkness and blinded by pain and blood, he misjudged the distance. His little hooves were deft but the rocks underfoot crumbled at his weight. He scrambled to keep from falling, only managing to break more stones free as earth gave way under him. He struggled to keep his balance, sliding and then falling. He bounced down the cliff side and into darkness.

  Chapter 3

  He woke in a star field and realized that he was lying flat on his back, staring up at a velvet night sky. The patterns of the stars were all wrong. He tried to find any of the familiar constellations: Big Dipper, Pegasus, Orion, Draco. He couldn’t find any of them. With a sigh, he closed his aching eyes and gave up. It was a bad fall. Everything hurt, physically and emotionally. The thorns of the berry bushes had raked every
inch of flesh.

  Waves licked against his bare skin, gentle and warm.

  He was not at the base of the cliffs in the grotto. This was not the forest. This was a strange tropical beach he’d never seen before. Even the smells in the air weren’t right. The scent of redwoods and the pepper trees were replaced by the brine of the sea. The air didn’t feel as dry either. There was a humidity that made the night air press heavily against his naked body instead of wicking away in an arid California summer night. The insect sounds were loud in the dark. There were some that made a low hammer of clicks and somewhere was the sharp creeling warble unlike anything he’d ever heard before.

  He wasn’t home.

  In fact, he sensed he wasn’t even on the same planet.

  Which was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  “Think, Alexander,” he whispered to himself, forcing his heartbeat to stop thundering.

  There were plenty of myths about doorways, gates and portals into lands where spirits and immortal beings dwelt. In the slivers of time between dawn and sunrise or dusk and nightfall were when the veils were thin. He’d been told that was how war-mounts came through to his family. He’d also been warned not to go poking into those places because it was dangerous.

  Right. Dangerous. Of course, he hadn’t been poking around; he’d been driven through and fallen right down the hole it seemed.

  Sitting up, Alexander winced and pulled his wounded arm against his naked chest. Naked. His clothes and boots were lost when he had embraced the spirit-beast inside him. Moving caused a surge of pain to suffuse his whole body. Despite the discomfort, his limbs worked. Carefully he managed to stand and take stock of himself and the world around him.

  First, his wounds.

  His head throbbed and he was having trouble seeing out of his right eye. He mopped a hand over his painful face. The light touch lit him up with agony. His skin was crusted and slick under his exploring fingers. The flesh was hot and swollen and in the moonlight his fingers were stained dark with blood. That was why he had trouble seeing. The blood had dried and glued his lashes against his cheek and the area around his eye was so painful he wasn’t able to open it.