Chapter 29
(Drake – Cameron’s house, SD)
Beau knocked on the door; Lacey was with him. I noticed Daniel was still absent, probably for the best. He had been angry with me the day I tried to get him to take Cami back to San Diego, then furious with Cami for refusing to go. She told me they weren’t speaking to one another, but he refused to get on a plane until he was sure she didn’t need him.
I hoped that one day I’d get a chance to know Daniel. There was never a more faithful and loyal friend a person could hope for, and I wanted to make sure Cami never lost him.
Beau had to get over the initial shock of seeing me. Will had already prepared him for it, and I was sure Lacey had confirmed it was true before they arrived – but seeing is believing. I understood the shock he was feeling, as I got the same surprise every time I walked past a mirror.
Cami and I had made two bogus Facebook profiles. There were only a few countries in the world that didn’t have access to Facebook, and we didn’t intend to go to those. She would be able to go to an internet café and check the messages. We all agreed we wouldn’t post any actual pictures of ourselves or where we were, but if we needed to contact each other, we would be able to access these profiles.
I’d known Beau my whole life, and I hoped it wouldn’t be long until we saw each other again. Beau held out his hand. I shirked it away and grabbed him in a warrior’s embrace. “Take care, old friend. I hope we see each other again, soon.”
“Take care of Cami,” he turned his gaze to his sister, “and, Cami, don’t let him get away with anything just ‘cause he’s got hooves. There isn’t anything says a man’s got to have toes to help with the dishes.”
The three of us laughed while Lacey stood awkwardly a few feet away and cringed at Beau’s comment. I’m sure she must have thought it callous, but it was far easier for all of us to look at the situation with humor, even if it was a dig on me.
Beau would be the safest of the Strayer sons, since he was quickly approaching the end of his eligibility. The Centaur Council might choose to ignore him entirely in favor of rooting out members of the Lost Herd who could still cloak themselves as one of the other families. I hoped at least he would be safe. Bruce was the Strayer son who was closest to my age, but Beau had always been the big brother I wished I’d had.
Cami grabbed hold of Beau, “Thanks for dropping everything to come to our rescue. We’ll do the same for you if you ever need it.” Lacey and Cami had spent very little time together, so I was a little surprised at Lacey getting teared up.
Lacey said, “You two are going to be fine. I’m sure of it.” It warmed my heart, whether it was a true premonition she’d had or just hopeful thinking.
Cami smiled, took Lacey in a quick hug and answered, “Lacey, thank you isn’t adequate. I’ll never forget you.”
Beau held the kitchen door open for Lacey. It hadn’t occurred to me until she passed under his arm through the door to their awaiting car; she had to have sneaked out of the hotel to accompany Beau here. No way would her father have allowed her unescorted in a car with Beau.
I wondered if there was something between them, but dismissed the idea. Beau had already made his decision to leave Centaurs behind and had broken it to his family. Her father must have considered Beau and Daniel safe escorts for her.
We watched their taillights disappear down the road. It would be a rough few weeks ahead of us, and I wanted to enjoy what little time we had left at Cameron’s place without the stress of being on the run. I lit a fire in the fireplace, and joined Cami in the living room. Conversation was sparse, our time together to relax was limited, and neither of us needed to fill that time with words.
Chapter 30
(Beau Strayer – Hotel near Crazy Horse Mountain, SD)
We returned to the nearly abandoned hotel. Dad had rented the place for the month, so it looked like a ghost town. The eeriness of the quiet gave me goose bumps. As we walked into the empty lounge, Lacey’s expression was tentative. I knew it was time for her to go. She was a sweet girl who dropped everything, putting her own grief on hold to help strangers; I’d never forget her. I wanted to tell her I’d see her back in San Diego, but that was a lie.
My decision had been made. When I returned to San Diego with Daniel, I would start my life over – no longer a part of the Centaur community. Being a descendant of the Lost Herd would be dangerous for my family, but Centaurs seeking the Lost Herd would not pursue me. My decision to leave Centaurs behind me and to live the remainder of my life as a human made me less of a target.
Lacey fidgeted with her purse, absently opening it, looking for something, then closing it. Lacey was a seer: she already knew what lay ahead of me. Her voice was soft when she said, “So, I guess there’s nothing left but to go to the airport and to go home.”
I could feel the smile stretch wide on my face, “Thanks, for everything. I mean it.”
Lacey had been a few feet away from me. She walked over to me and put her hand on my forearm. Her touch was warm, and warning bells went off in my head. I’d been raised never to touch a Centauride, and except for few, if any, missteps in my life, I hadn’t. Her gesture had caught me off guard. Electricity shot up my arm and straight to my heart.
I needed to pull my arm from her hand before I did something I’d regret later, but I didn’t. Her touch was tender. The initial electricity I felt gave way to a warm sensation just before her words sliced me wide open. “Beau, you know it’s your right to claim me.”
I felt my heart picking up speed. She couldn’t be serious. I’d already told her I wasn’t carrying on my bloodline. I had decided to live as a human; I was doing it on my terms. She had her whole life ahead of her; why would she bring this up?
Lacey was just a kid – a stupid kid who was playing with fire. She didn’t know the beast raging just under the surface, fighting to be free and make that proclamation.
I looked into her green eyes staring into mine, the delicate lines of her face – she was the most enchanting Centauride I’d ever seen. It would be easy to claim her as mine; it would be more than the answer to a prayer – but I had already resolved to that dream’s death. I refused to sentence her to a marriage out of obligation. I simply responded, “I know.”
Her eyes continued watching me; she waited for me to say something else. I refused to claim her, to force myself on a Centauride, even as every fiber in my being screamed for her. The turmoil in my head was unbearable; a weaker Centaur would crumble, but I held strong. I’d made my decision. When I didn’t answer, her soft voice prodded, “Beau, you saved my life. I wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you. You only have to tell my father that you’re taking what belongs to you.”
I shook my head. Nothing would make me happier than to spend this life and eternity with Lacey, but I couldn’t think of an action that would be more selfish. Of all the Centaur laws, the Third Centaur Tenant was the one I disliked the most. Having seen it invoked on an unwilling Centauride when I was young, the image of her protests still haunted me.
Evangeline and I had known each other most of our lives. It was the summer before our junior year of high school. A group of us were spending the day on Folly Beach, surfing, sunning, playing volleyball – everyone enjoying that perfect beach day.
Evangeline had just turned sixteen the day before and was waiting for the DMV to open Monday morning so she could get her driver’s license.
The waves were enormous that day; a summer storm was brewing in the Atlantic and would hit the coast the following morning. None of us should have been in the water, but we were all stupid. While Evangeline was surfing, the undertow pulled her under the water and out to sea. We saw it happen, and every young Centaur on the sand went into the water after her. The current was too strong, and we lost her.
Word spread like wildfire, and Centaur rescue boats started arriving from all directions; a couple helicopters were even brought in. Several hours went by without any word. Her family
paced the shore with the rest of us, looking for a glimpse of her.
Five hours after she was pulled out to sea, an older Centaur found her and radioed back to let everyone know she was alive. Evangeline had been found clinging to her board: dehydrated, burned from hours in the sun, and terrified. The Centaur who found her had been days from his thirtieth birthday, and he invoked the Third Tenant.
An unbetrothed Centauride whose life is spared forfeits her choice to the Centaur who saved that life. The tenant treated Centaurides as property, stating that because they were given a second chance at life, it was their obligation to repay their life to the Centaur.
That day on Folley Beach has haunted me for thirteen years. I can still hear Evangeline’s screams when her father gave her to the Centaur who was nearly twice her age. Every race has their undesirables; Evangeline’s Centaur had been a beast. I never saw Evangeline after that day. Her Centaur forbade her return to school. I heard she was rewarded with a horrible existence and bore eight children before she died at his hands a year ago.
I’d seen Centaurs purposely put young Centaurides in danger in the hopes that they could be the rescuer. It turned my stomach.
Lacey took a step closer to me – I distanced us with another step in the other direction. I shook my head, gritted my teeth, and told her, “I can’t do that to you, Lacey.”
The hurt registered on her face. I’d seen the expression many times on my own: she believed I was rejecting her. Lacey reached over and touched my forearm a second time. “You’ve already proven that you’d put your life in jeopardy for mine. I’m yours to take.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to marry you because you’ve got some misplaced obligation you feel you owe me. I would have done the same thing for anyone: Centauride or human.”
Her head was bowed. She gazed up tentatively and gently argued, “But you didn’t do it for anyone. . . you did it for me.”
“Lacey, you’re an incredible Centauride. You’re going to make a Centaur very happy. I’m too old for you.”
She wouldn’t let it drop. Did she not know that I was a hair away from doing what I had detested in so many others over the years? She didn’t relent and answered, “Only eleven years. My father was nine years older than my mother was.”
“Lacey, I’m not unhappy. I don’t begrudge my destiny. My family won’t disown me, and I’ll be free of the Centaur restrictions. Don’t pity me for not having been chosen.”
She shook her head, “It’s not pity, Beau. It’s your right. You only have to decide what is yours and take it.”
I stood looking into her eyes, unable to believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t afford to live in this fantasy, and I wouldn’t let her convince herself it was okay. “It’s not fair to you, Lacey. I won’t take that choice away from you. Whatever obligation you feel you have to me for pulling you from the car wreck, I release you.” In that moment my mind was screaming to take back my foolhardy words, screaming that she belonged to me. As difficult as it had been for me to accept that I would never be chosen, I would never forgive myself if I stole her choice from her.
Lacey looked at me with her soft green eyes; her expression disarmed me, as if she weren’t looking at the failure I felt I was. “So, you’ve made up your mind. You won’t seek a Centauride for a wife?”
I took in a deep breath. “That ship’s sailed. I’ve made peace with my decision. My family has accepted it.”
“What if a Centauride chose you?”
I felt a surge of the same energy from before when she touched my forearm. I could hear my own heart beating. My palms were sweating. Lacey couldn’t possibly be considering choosing me?
I swallowed a large gulp of air; my throat was dry. I felt light-headed and could see tunnel vision coming on. My eyes narrowed when I asked, “Hypothetically. . . or are we talking about you?”
Her eyes held mine, “Me.”
My words were barely audible when my resolve began ebbing away. “Lacey, don’t do that.”
She couldn’t possibly understand. I needed to walk away before I enacted the tenant which said she was rightfully mine. I tried to make her listen to reason, “You’re young and beautiful. You’ve got a heart as big as a Volkswagen. Don’t settle for me.” My eyes dropped from hers as I mumbled, “Find a Centaur worthy of you.”
Tears had already welled up in her eyes, her voice no more than a whisper, “So, you don’t want me?”
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look back into hers, and I couldn’t admit the truth. If I told her how I felt, she would choose me. I couldn’t let her give up her future for me. For the first time, it hit me: if we were to become betrothed, regardless of who made it so, both our lives would be in serious danger. I would willingly accept the risk, but I couldn’t let her squander her future. “I didn’t say that. I said I’ve made peace with my decision. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’m going to be fine.”
“Beau, I don’t feel sorry for you. I don’t have a misguided sense of duty. I don’t have an obscure obligation that I feel I owe you. Don’t you see? I care about you.”
“You hardly know me.”
Her hands went to her hips, her brows furrowed; her voice was strong and unyielding, scolding me. “I know more than you might think.”
I hated it when people assumed they knew me. We’d spent very little time together. How could she claim to know me? I challenged her without meaning to. “Really? What do you think you know?”
“I know your father tried to pay another Centaur for his daughter’s choice.” I’d never told anyone that. The only people who knew were my dad and me. I’d refused an arranged marriage for the same reason I hated the third tenant. “Her father accepted the bribe, and when you found out, you called her father; you told him to keep the money and his daughter. You knew he needed the money, and you knew his daughter would have married you out of obligation to her family.”
She paused waiting for me to say she was wrong. She wasn’t, but it made me uncomfortable that she could have known about any of it. “I know your friend Daniel didn’t start out as your friend. The only reason you ever spoke to him was to keep him safe from your father. You moved out to the west coast to prove to him that not all Centaurs are unfeeling and pre-programmed to be jerks. I know the day you pulled me from the burning car, you were furious that my betrothed died, because you felt he had more to live for than you did.”
I shouted, “Enough!” I couldn’t listen to her romanticizing my decisions or my thoughts. “Lacey, I’m not going to force you to marry me. You’re free. Your life is your own.” I put my back to her and walked away.
The strength in her voice never wavered, “You see, Beau, that’s the part that sucks about this gift I have.” Her words stopped me in my tracks, and without wanting to, my body involuntarily turned back to hear her, “I can see visions of things that are going to happen. I can read minds as easily as I can read the written words in a book, but I can’t see how you feel about me.”
I mouthed the words because my voice refused to work, “Lacey, don’t.”
“I’ve made my choice, but if I say it out loud and you decline, it will break my heart.” She closed the distance between us as she spoke, “I cared for my lost betrothed. He was a good Centaur and would have made a fine husband. But he didn’t have what you have. He wasn’t noble.”
Shaking my head, I felt my shoulders slump. “I promise you, I’m not noble.”
Her hand softly cupped my face, as her voice quieted, “More noble than you may think. The pettiness of the Centaur ways are beneath you. You won’t grovel. You won’t oblige underhandedness. You’re better than that.”
I didn’t know what to say. My voice wouldn’t respond, and even if it worked, I wouldn’t have known what to say. My hands started to tremble. I couldn’t walk away a second time. I heard my own voice echo in my head: Do not give up the gift, that which is due you. The seven tenants were drilled into us from the time we could speak. I winced wh
en I realized I was a breath away from claiming her. If she said another word, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I would claim her as mine.
Her nervous smile eased, her lips opened, and I heard the words I believed I would never hear, “I choose you, Beau.”
Her words echoed in my mind as if she’d spoken them in the Grand Canyon. I could feel my chest swell, a heat radiated from me inside out, and I fell to my knee. Lacey offered me her hands as I knelt next to her and gave the sacred betrothal pledge. “Lacey, you are mine. I promise to protect you. I promise always to put your needs before mine. I promise I’ll never let you go to bed angry, and you’ll never wake up alone. I promise to love you the rest of my life, and when this life is over, I’ll spend my eternity in the pasture with you.”
She smiled, and I felt as though I needed to shield my eyes from her beauty. Lacey gently tugged on my hands, letting me know I should stand. When I did, I realized it had been more than just the two of us in the dimly lit hotel lounge. Her father, along with my brother Bart, had just witnessed the whole thing.
Bart is the next oldest eligible Centaur in our family, and although we’d never openly discussed it, I got the distinct feeling that he understood my desires to leave Centaur life behind and start a new life as a human. My decision to leave allowed me to escape the state of perpetual waiting. Bart was twenty-six and had another four years worth of potential rejections.
Bart had always been a Centaur of few words. We five brothers looked strikingly similar, so when people described him, it would always be, “You know, the quiet one. . .” He came to me with his right hand extended. As we clasped hands, he reached around with his other arm and pulled me into a bone-crushing embrace. In the previous twelve months, I’d heard Bart speak fewer than thirty words. I was surprised when his embrace was accompanied by, “Beau, you can come home. None of us could stand to be apart from you. Come back to South Carolina with us. Bring Lacey.”
I wasn’t sure which one had surprised me more: the choice by Lacey that I couldn’t have seen coming if it were written on the Sears Tower, or the heartfelt congratulations from a brother who cared more about my decision to leave the Centaur way behind than I would ever have guessed.
Centaur Legacy Page 23