The Pegasus Project: A Musimagium Story (The Pegasus Enchantment Book 1)

by Mary Kit Caelsto

Though my hand shook, I sketched a rectangle for the house, with smaller rectangles behind it to mark the patio and the future shed and storage. My sense of scale no doubt was way off, but a third of the way to the corner of the paper I made a rectangle representing the shed. I dashed a line to delineate the property boundaries the best I could without digging into a filing cabinet and getting my plat map. What I needed, I realized, was something to set in each of the corners, and maybe midway through the longer sections to act as some sort of beacon warding the place.

  I carried the map and my coffee to my computer and sat down. Google Earth gave me an overview of not just my property, but those around me. To the north, a few houses, not quite a development and the aerial views made them appear like lean-tos or hastily put together shacks, as if someone had moved there intending to do something more and not quite making it. Perhaps I was being generous. If I had to guess, the boys had come from that direction.

  Before I could dig into what sort of information I had on perimeter barriers and warding, I heard the truck arrive. I yawned as I stood, not ready to face a day of heavy construction. Hopefully, as yesterday, those younger and stronger than I could take the lead and I would just be needed for occasional consultations. If so, then that would mean Paul and I could talk about the filly’s nightmare and how best to protect things.

  A knock on the door announced their arrival and I yelled “come in”, not wanting to get up from the computer. I had a few new messages from Melody that appeared to be about the job position, as well as a message from Oliva that looked like a more friendly missive. I exchanged greetings with them and motioned them to the coffee pot in the kitchen. I’d already set out the washed travel mugs, as well as regular mugs, for people to use.

  “Looks like the sale may be happening?” I asked Paul as he poured a cup of coffee.

  “That’s what I heard this morning.” He sounded upbeat.

  “Good. We’re going to want to talk. Why don’t you enjoy your coffee and I’ll let you know what happened last night. We will most definitely need to think about security.” I turned my desk chair around and waited until everyone was out of the kitchen to refill my mug with the last of the coffee and start another pot.

  “Of course. That’s something we’ve already been talking about, but I’d love to hear your ideas.”

  I relayed the nightmare, what I’d gathered from the filly’s thoughts. As I spoke, I sensed the anger rising from the others, especially Etta, and only Paul’s hand on her arm kept her from no doubt getting up and finding those miscreants to put them in their place. “…I don’t know anything about wards. I’ve never really had to use my powers in a defensive capacity, but I think that’s what we need here.” I shrugged. “I could find the plat map, but did a really rough sketch of the property and where I thought we’d probably need to place the wards.”

  “I’d like to see it.” Paul held out his hand.

  I passed it over and glanced outside. As if the sound of the truck had sent them away, the unicorns and the filly weren’t in the backyard.

  “That looks good. You’re on the right track. We have some experts in this. Mind if I take a picture?”

  “If you think it’ll help.”

  He snapped a picture with his phone, then handed the notepad back. “I’ll text this to a couple of people I know in Albuquerque and we’ll see what we can do.” The conversation turned to the plans for the day and I decided I’d deal with my email later, because we were refilling coffee cups and moving to the back yard before the day got too warm.

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as the structures were built, and it really didn’t take much time at all with two people on each one, while Paul helped where he could and I supervised, Paul and his crew left. Etta promised to return within a couple of weeks, and when I checked my email, I already had a message from Albuquerque approving her permanent reassignment here. Not wanting to hold anything up and knowing how the bureaucracy went, I immediately sent back the message and the required forms to get the gears moving to bring her here. She’d let me know that the spare bedroom would be fine, that what she had would fit in a few boxes and we could work on moving things when she got here, so I wasn’t to work too hard. I appreciated her understanding. I hoped whoever we hired to be my paperwork assistant was just as good.

  A clatter of hoof beats caught my attention. I turned to see the mare racing toward the patio. Distantly in my mind I sensed pain and the filly’s scream. I bolted upright, swaying as I fumbled for my cane and hurried at as fast a pace as I could out the sliding glass door.

  Get on. No time. The unicorn dropped to the mats.

  Shock had me obeying before I even realized what I was doing. Letting my cane drop because I knew there was no way I could hang on to both the unicorn and it, I slid my leg over the mare’s wide back. I’d already tangled my fingers in her mane when she mentally ordered me to do so, then like a camel rising to its feet, lurched upright.

  Hang on. I won’t let you fall, but we must hurry.

  “I trust you,” I said, and as if those words unleashed something within her, she bolted forward, hitting the ground at a dead gallop. I leaned over her neck, my initial fear blown away by the wind from our passage. Other than vehicles or planes, I’d never traveled this fast and it was exhilarating. She galloped toward the far edge of my property and soon, I caught sight of the stallion rearing, pawing at something.

  No someone.

  The boys.

  The setting sun glinted off the barrel of a shotgun and I heard the slide of a round being chambered. The sound sent a cold dread down my spine and loaded fury in the pit of my stomach.

  The filly flapped her wings, rearing and spinning like a dervish. She held one foreleg in the air, not wanting to put weight on it. Blood ran down the lower part to drip off her hooves. Broken? No, I didn’t think so. Nothing was bent or out of place. Just horribly wounded.

  “Hey!” I yelled, wishing I’d thought to put my cell phone in a pocket to dial 911, not that I probably had any signal out here anyway. The mare dropped and I slid off her back, immediately stumbling on the uneven terrain. I cursed. The boys were maybe ten yards away from me. “Who do you think you are? Go! You’re trespassing. I’ve called the cops.”

  The shotgun lowered. For a moment I watched the barrel swing in my direction, had half a heartbeat’s notice before it fired and large grains of sand hit me in the center of the chest. I stumbled backward, crying out with the abrasion to my skin. Air whooshed from my lungs and I opened my mouth to try and breathe, feeling like a fish tossed onto a dock.

  I landed on a rock, wincing because it felt as if a rib had cracked judging by the searing pain in my side. My vision grew foggy, the world dimming, and I growled. I would not pass out. Fumbling, my hands closed on a rock and I threw it. Not far enough to hit them. My strength wasn’t that good, not to mention my aim, but they knew I was alive.

  I heard their yells, their shrieks of surprise as two white blurs came at them with equine screams of fury.

  Don’t kill them. I thought, some small amount of air reinflating my lungs. Can go back and call the cops. I wasn’t sure if the human concepts translated, but the unicorns dropped to all four feet.

  A warm breath caressed my forehead. I reached up, touching a soft, velvety nose and the stickiness of my own blood. I tasted…salt…on my lips. They’d used rock salt shells. Some kind of prank, no doubt, and I was thankful that the unicorns hadn’t killed them.

  I rolled to the side, coughed and held my ribs as the world spun again, then reached out. The filly was there. Grabbing onto her, I worked myself to my feet. Her leg was no longer bleeding and she put some weight on it. “Okay girl, you can either carry me across the ground back to the house so I can get help or you can fly. You don’t have to go very far above the ground, but I think it’ll be softer on your leg.” I sent the image of her skimming maybe three or four feet above the ground, close enough that she could land if she wanted to. “You feel
up to it?”

  She nuzzled my shoulder and pushed me toward her wing. A moment later she shifted, bending down so that I could scramble onto her back.

  I didn’t have time to marvel that I’d ridden both a pegasus and a unicorn tonight, because as the moon rose, I saw the dark glint of blood on my shirt, my jeans, my arms. My wounds stung, which made perfect sense with the salt the blast had pushed into them. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and startling the filly. “I’m ready.”

  She took one step, two, then rocked forward into a cantering gait. I’d ridden horses as a teen, been on a few vacations, so I had some experience. This was like nothing I’d ever done. Where the mare radiated calm steadiness, riding the filly was like a rocket ready to take off at any moment.

  She flapped her wings. The whoosh of the air passing buffeted me and I ducked down to press my face closer to her neck. The flaps grew faster, the gait smoother, until I no longer heard the pounding of hooves on the ground. I glanced down. We were roughly two feet off the ground.

  “You’re doing it. You’re doing it!” I encouraged her with my cheers, wincing at how I hurt. “Not much further.”

  With more mighty wing beats we flew higher, maybe six or eight feet off the ground and the word began to pass us faster. I turned my head, looking up, feeling as if I could reach out and pluck the waning moon right from the sky. Stars twinkled overhead. Always a breathtaking sight in the desert, but close enough to touch. Oh I wanted to do this again, hopefully when I felt much better.

  The filly’s elation mingled with pain. Her trajectory lowered, but I saw the shape of my house on the horizon. We descended someone gracefully, the slight bump when we landed reminding me of an airplane. Then, she slowed, reached the mats, and dropped down.

  I slid from her back. My hand hit my cane, and I sighed with relief. “I need to call the authorities,” I said. “And Paul. I don’t think you want to see them.”

  The filly nuzzled my hair.

  “I’ll be all right. I’m going to get help. Probably earn a ride in an ambulance.” Turning, I grabbed my cane and worked myself to my feet.

  My legs refused to hold me. I wobbled, managing to stumble the three steps it took to collapse in the chair. “I’ll be okay,” I reassured her, and the filly stood. She moved, careful not to put too much weight on the leg, and my heart ached for her. “I’ll come back and take care of you. Just try to stay out of sight, okay?”

  I stood, feeling a bit stronger and hoping the boys were still out there and contained, then grabbed my phone. I dialed 911, relaying to the dispatcher that I had trespassers on my property who were shooting guns and I thought I needed an ambulance. To her credit, the dispatcher didn’t hesitate. She simply let me know that she had called the relevant authorities and asked if I thought I could make it until the ambulance arrived in roughly twenty minutes.

  I let her know I could. While I didn’t feel up to going to the bathroom and washing the blood from my wounds, I also saw the bleeding had mostly stopped. I verified the front door was unlocked, then lay down on the couch, where there was plenty of room for them to transfer me onto the gurney in case I fell asleep or couldn’t do it myself. The dispatcher ended the call, and I closed my eyes to wait.

  I must have fallen asleep because I awakened as two men and a woman came through the front door, announcing themselves. I explained a bit of what happened, that I was hit by what I thought to be rock salt shells and a moment later the lights and sirens of a police officer came roaring up the driveway.

  I assured the paramedics that I could transfer to the gurney, I was concerned about the possible broken rib, which was why I wanted to go the ER. One of the EMTs expressed concern over a few of my wounds. Those didn’t bother me as much, but as they wheeled me to the ambulance, I let them know that they could clean them to take a closer look.

  The sheriff’s deputy stopped by my gurney. I relayed the information, explained where on the property the boys were and that I’d been shot. He took down the information, said he’d catch up with me at the hospital and went jogging around the house.

  I hoped the equines were staying out of sight.

  Since the situation wasn’t life threatening, we didn’t fly into town with lights and sirens, and about twenty minutes later, I was being wheeled into a brightly lit ER. With my wounds cleaned, other than a couple of deep cuts that were closed with butterfly bandages, they seemed to be the least of everyone’s concern. An X-ray revealed two cracked ribs. The doctor came in and explained the situation. He said he’d have the nurse bring me a peak flow meter so I could breathe into it to keep my lungs clear. Otherwise rest, take it easy, use over the counter pain relievers. In all, for being shot and flying on a pegasus, it seemed a rather anti-climactic end to the night.

  By the time everything had finished it was near daybreak. The sheriff’s deputy offered to drive me back home, since he’d come to take my statement. The boys were gone, but there were tracks and spent shotgun cartridges at the scene. A crime scene team was processing the site and he had to go back out there anyway. While I waited on the discharge team and gave my statement so many times I felt sure he was just testing me to see if my story changed, I thought about my flight on the filly, trying to decide if that would be enough to get her over her fear. I doubted it. We’d flown just the once. With the doctor telling me to take it easy, it might be a few weeks before we could try again. Frankly, I was disappointed in just how fragile I was and perhaps the filly needed someone else, because clearly my body wasn’t up to the challenge.

  Chapter Nine

  Once I got home and ate a little something, I crawled into bed and didn’t move until later in the afternoon. I ached all over, as if I’d fallen down a flight of stairs and I regretted leaving my cane in the living room. Using the wall for support, I made it to the kitchen, decided against starting a pot of coffee so late in the day, then worked my way to the living room to get the cane. I managed to put together a sandwich to calm my grumbling stomach, then sat down at the computer to check my emails. Glancing out the patio doors, I was gratified to see the unicorns and the filly dozing in the shade of the patio. Thankfully the police never asked what type of livestock I had and I never volunteered the information.

  A quick email to Paul to relay what had happened and to see what he could come up with as far as warding and security. Then, I dove into the emails from Melody about my new position, giving me permission to hire Etta, as well as an explanation of duties, pay, and benefits. Reading through everything took me nearly to dinner time and by then I saw the equines had left the shelter of the patio and gone back out into the back part of the yard. A moment’s thought that I ought to see the site of the attack, see what sort of things the police had left floated through my mind. Not today. Not right now. I made it to the kitchen, managed to reheat some leftover pizza, took a couple of pain relievers, then returned to the computer to catch up with Olivia and Rose.

  I turned on the radio just to listen to the frequencies. Mostly regular conversations, mundane enough to remind me that there was a world outside of my property and the equines. I listened while I wrote a note to Oliva, telling her about the attack.

  My cell phone rang. I turned off the radio.

  I answered it, not recognizing the local number, but thinking that it might be related to the case. A detective was on the other line.

  “Miss Santos?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “This is Detective Nance and I just wanted to let you know that three youths have admitted to the vandalism. They said they were shooting at unicorns. We’re waiting for tox screens to come back since clearly that wouldn’t have been the case. We get occasional reports of wild horses. I’m thinking that’s what they were shooting at.”

  “Most likely, sir,” I said. I knew the truth, as did others. I wouldn’t reveal that to the authorities.

  “Would you like to press charges? Trespassing. Aggravated assault since you had to go to the hospital.” H
e spoke so calmly, so plainly as if inquiring about such things were an everyday occurrence. I knew I was protected living here, not dealing with too many people from the outside world. Still, I had no idea that the police did more than passing out the occasional traffic ticket or stopping a bar fight.

  “What would that entail?” As much as I wanted justice, I just wanted the situation to go away anymore. Yet, the sight of the young man deliberately turning his shot gun on me chilled me to the bone.

  The detective let me know how it would work, and in the end I agreed. Justice needed to be done, and perhaps this would encourage them not to do this anymore. The phone call ended shortly thereafter.

  An email from Paul asking how I was and if they could do anything came while we were talking. I let him know we were okay. Night had fallen, and the large white shapes on my porch indicated the equines had come back. I put down the phone and stood, grabbing my cane.

  I stepped onto the porch and saw that the equines hadn’t settled down to sleep yet. Instead, the filly stood, one hind leg cocked, resting, while the unicorns nibbled on some hay. I walked over to her.

  She turned her head to touch her muzzle to my arm. Taking that as a good sign, I stroked the side of her neck. “Are you hurt from last night?” Bending over would tax my ribs, but I checked her leg and while the wound looked healed and it appeared she had full weight on it, I hoped she could tell me if anything was still off.

  I am healing.

  Her words, if not outright inspiring confidence gave me hope that like me, she too would recover from this ordeal. “Is there anything I can do? You flew yesterday. I know it was a scary situation, but you flew. That’s amazing. When I feel better, I’d like to fly with you again.”

  The mare flicked her ears toward us as she ate, though she didn’t raise her head.

  I couldn’t protect you. I tried. I wanted to. Shame filled her voice.

  “Hey, it’s all right. I’m here and I’ll heal. I don’t think anyone could protect us from those guys. And the unicorns did their part.” I glanced over the filly’s back and smiled at them.