Remedy Maker

by Sheri Fredricks

  “What are you doing here, Rhycious? You pick up a goddamn gun from some backwoods overbite and suddenly you’re Doc Holliday?”

  “What the hell is going on here, Nubbs?”

  The pharmacist of flowers had no idea what he’d just walked into. Nubbs didn’t want to explain logistics to a civilian. He had a load of imported Water Nymphs headed this way, and he needed the name of the goddamn head smuggling honcho, and he needed his goddamn location. So where was his carefully orchestrated plan?

  Fucked in the ass, that’s where.

  What he needed was a short cut. He grinned. A damn straight line from A to B.

  Time to cut the bullshit.

  “Do you understand what was going on here, Rhycious? Do you?” He turned away from the nasty end of Rhy’s gun, keeping his own pointed at the unknown male who stood silently next to the Troll, and walked closer across the uneven ground.

  “This female, Serenity, was being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Why?” Rhycious asked.

  Nubbs ignored the question. “You need to take the Nymph and get the hell out of here. I want you so far gone that if there were screams, you’d never hear them.”

  Rhycious gave him a hard look, but nodded and headed for Serenity, who had managed to wad herself up into a pathetic ball on the ground.

  Nubbs unbuttoned his overshirt with what was left of his fingers. He had it all over Rhycious in the wardrobe department, so donating an undercover garment seemed the least he could do. Still holding the gun, prepared to pull the trigger, he held the shirt out.

  “Here, put this on her.”

  When the good doctor had Serenity untied, dressed, and standing up, Nubbs decided it was lights out for the Troll’s friend, Mr. Silent. He stepped forward and pistol-whipped the guy across the face before he knew what hit him. The male crumpled like a marionette whose strings were cut.

  Confident Pennelope wouldn’t try something stupid, like take off, he turned to Rhycious and the filthy Nymph.

  “After the war, Queen Savella ordered me to keep an eye on the civilians and integrate with them. I report directly to her with what goes on outside the palace walls and inside the Boronda underground. For twenty years I’ve staked out this fucking rat hole. Twenty long fucking years. In less than an hour, you manage to flush the toilet on all my investigations, leads, and informants. All for a Nymph and her sister.” He glanced at his watch—it was coming up on transition time—and looked back at Rhycious. “I’m damned tempted to kill you myself and blame it on human hunters.”

  The guy vibrated he was so mad, but Nubbs figured Rhycious would hold on. He'd seen guys hold on for a blasphemous amount of time, guys who'd been through a lot more than a mythic auction. The way the Centaur stared at him made Nubbs think there’d been some mental damage along the dusty trail.

  Rhycious spoke, his teeth clenched. A facial tic took up residency on his face. “I take it you won’t assist in ridding the forest of the scum, then?”

  Un-fucking-believable. Didn’t I answer that question before it was asked?

  “No. I refuse to protect one single mythological creature when the forest, in its entirety, is in danger.” Nubbs couldn’t believe the audacity of the civilian populace. What did they think he did all day? Pick flowers and dry them?

  Oh wait, that was the Remedy Maker’s job.

  Mental damage, Nubb thought, and hell, isn’t that just the way it goes sometimes.

  Nubbs gave Rhycious a long hard look, and the Centaur returned it just as strongly. “Get out of here,” he said to the Nymph and her new escort. “Have her sister hold her hand while Dendron takes a look at her. That old fart’ll know what to do.”

  He let the pair slip almost away before calling out one last time. “Your herbs worked on my stomach, by the way. Thank you. In return, I’ll relay everything that’s happened to Aleksander. Will he know how to find you later?” At Rhycious’s nod, Nubbs added, “I hope for your sake that’ll be enough. You understand why I can’t help more.”

  When Rhycious and Serenity left, he walked over to where Pennelope waited leaning against the cave wall and staring at the empty dog collar and leash.

  Upon his arrival, she had dumped the accessories in a winding pile on the floor next to the unconscious male. From what Nubbs could perceive, it didn’t look like she was any too happy to see him.

  Wives, Nubbs thought. He’d been married to the Troll for thirteen years. For over a hundred and fifty years of working undercover for Savella, he’d never taken on a partner until Pennelope, his nagging wife, had talked him into it. He’d bet his pension he was going to wish he hadn’t taken her on—not in this place.

  Thirty-One

  Rhycious gripped Serenity’s arm, helping her balance so she wouldn’t slide down the hill. In the distance came the sharp rapport of a small caliber handgun. The forest fell silent.

  “What was that?” Serenity slowed, her head turning in the direction of the sound.

  If it weren’t for the difference in speech, he might have mistaken Serenity’s voice for Patience.

  Longing to see his little Nymph, to hold her and make sure she was safe, smoldered within him. He fought the urgency to move out in double-time. After all Serenity had been through, he didn’t want to push her.

  Over his shoulder, he scanned the Manzanita growing on the far slope. “Sounded like gun fire.” He put his hand on the middle of her back and gave a gentle nudge forward. “Keep going. We don’t want any part of it.”

  The gun he’d taken from the human tucked hard and unforgiving at the small of his back. While the weapon gave a measure of security, he didn’t want any trouble.

  “Do you think Nubbs just blew Pennelope away?”

  “By Bacchus’s very breath, I hope so. But it could have been a hunter shooting game.” Or someone else.

  As if she thought along those same lines, Serenity snorted her opinion. “Or a hunter shooting Pennelope.” She picked her way over a pile of loose rock, her sandaled feet taking a beating. “Maybe Nubbs just shot the Troll’s boyfriend in the cave. Or maybe the boyfriend shot them both.” She didn’t have any qualms letting him know her thoughts about Pennelope.

  Discovering the king of Boronda’s black market worked for Queen Savella surprised the hell out of Rhy. Having fucked up a stakeout that’d been going on for a quarter century should have been awful enough. But in his usual dick-headed style, he had to go OCD and scatter the suspects, hurling the entire Boronda Forest into danger.

  He rubbed a fist over his chest in a soothing circle, trying to dissipate the tightness. There’s nothing like knowing you, and you alone, were responsible for hauling in the shit that hits the fan.

  Not just, but such. Four days ago at the cabin, he’d said those very words to Alek when he’d called him an ass. The observation was appropriate for Rhycious today. Not just a fuck-up, but such a fuck-up.

  “How do you know Patience? And why’d that Centaur, Nubbs, say she was your girlfriend?”

  “Let’s get across this clearing first, and then I’ll tell you.”

  With the slope at their backs, the sun’s warm rays began to fade behind the hill. The familiar tickling itch at the base of his spine signaled his true form was about to emerge.

  Past the treeline’s edge sat several boulders grouped together in a congenial arrangement. Rhycious walked toward the natural benches and unbuckled the scabbard from his waist.

  He laid the weapon on the taller of the flat rocks and gestured for her to have a seat. “My name is Rhycious,” he began, propping a foot next to his sword and unlacing his boot. “I met your sister when she was brought to my cabin unconscious last week.”

  Was that only last week? He stuffed his sock into his boot, dropped it to the ground, and started on the other foot.

  “Is Pay all right?” The Nymph straightened, her eyebrows knitting together.

  His second boot followed the first and he tied the laces together. “She’s better, but Dendron and I are work
ing on a solution to her health problems.” Rhycious straightened and moved to stand out of sight behind the boulders, dragging his fingers through his hair.

  “You’re a Centaur, right?” Her eyes tracked his movement in the fading light. Nubbs’s oversized shirt hung off her slim shoulders and she bunched the excess material in a fist at her chest.

  “Yes, I am. I’m also our herd’s remedy maker.” His fingers hovered at the top button of his fatigues. “Um, I need to . . . change. I’m not going anywhere, but I’ll be right back. Excuse me.”

  The pants were coming down when he dropped his ass to the dirt. He’d barely gotten them off before his ten toes turned into four hooves. The gravelly dirt felt good against his hide and he longed to have a first-rate roll.

  Serenity spoke to him, her voice floating over the rocks. “So, are you her boyfriend . . . or something?”

  What was it Patience called me? “I’m a tight friend of hers,” he answered in a dry tone, standing up.

  Serenity’s laughter rang out. “Oh my gods, that sounds like her.”

  He could tell she was curious about his new appearance by the way she leaned surreptitiously, hoping to see around the boulders. The four-beat pattern of his hooves clopped to where he’d left his sword. Strapping the scabbard on and gathering his boots, they faced one another.

  She wore a silly grin, reminiscent of Patience. A dark mole kissed the left side of Serenity’s mouth. Patience had the same mole at the outer corner of her right brow.

  “If you’re up to it, I can take you to Patience tonight.” Rolling his pants up, he packed them away in his grab bag. She seemed hardy enough, even after being held against her will. And gods knew what else she’d been through. He slid the gun under the scabbard’s cinch in front of him.

  “The further away from here I get, the better.” Pushing back her dirty hair, she eyed his hair band. “You got another rubber band on you?” He dug in his bag and handed her one. “Thanks. And . . . Rhycious?”

  He stopped adjusting the throwing stars in his munitions vest and looked at her.

  “Thanks.” She took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed. “For rescuing me. I tried so many times to escape. They started locking me in a cage.”

  Nimble fingers worked the elastic as she pulled her blonde hair through the twisted loops and secured the mess. The trembling in her hands told him she talked a good game and he admired her for her bravery.

  Just like Patience. He had his own problems in dealing with memories of the past. I truly hope Serenity fares better.

  Rhycious led her away from the populace of mythological Boronda and toward the small town of Willow Bay. Tall sassafras trees stretched up to scatter stars in an ebony sky with their branches. Twigs snapped beneath each step of his wide hooves.

  Thankful to be back in his equine body, he lifted the arm of his injured shoulder carefully. While in his human form, he healed at a human’s rate. As a Centaur transitioned, he recovered supernaturally quick. An ache remained, but the wound had closed completely. If trouble loomed ahead, he’d be prepared for it now.

  In conjunction to his old-fashioned weaponry, he could count on the addition of his newly acquired gun. It would be a plus in dangerous situations, especially if Dryas had managed to arrive at Samuel’s before him. The very thought billowed his banked fire of anger.

  “This isn’t the way to Pay’s tree.”

  “She’s safe with a friend of mine.” At her wary sidelong glance, he added, “He can be trusted, believe me. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

  Serenity shook her head, pushing a branch out of her way. “Trust is something I’m running low on these days.” Her tone reflected the way she probably felt—terrified, adrenaline tapering down from frantic, forlorn, and abused.

  He hoped she wouldn’t live in fear the rest of her life. Patience would help her sister work through this.

  * * *

  For the hundredth time, Patience paced to Samuel’s kitchen window and leaned on the sink to gaze out. Darkness stretched across the hay fields. The horses were out on one of the harvested pastures and she tried to differentiate their grazing bodies from the special one she searched. A very different body type—one she sorely missed.

  “Come away from the window. Have another piece of peach cobbler.”

  Light from the oil lamps reflected Samuel’s worried face in the window. But when she looked over her shoulder at him, he’d wiped the furrows from his brow and poised a knife over the sweet treat in the cast iron pan.

  She smiled at his efforts. “Smackerdoodle, that’ll be my third piece.” One last longing glance outside, and she stepped back. “Trying to turn me into a tub-a-lard before Rhycious returns?”

  Samuel’s lips turned up. “Staring out the window and waiting for him to appear is along the same lines as watching water boil.”

  Patience raised her hand and shook her head, declining the offer of dessert that had been made by one of Samuel’s sisters. Both of Samuel’s parents were deceased and he faithfully managed the family farm. His siblings had married and moved away, and started their own families. One day when he married, he would proudly raise his family on the homestead in the traditional Amish way. He was just waiting for the right woman to come into his life.

  Patience understood how he felt. She worried for Rhy’s safety and anguished over her missing sister. Serenity was out there, somewhere. Tightness squeezed her chest, tears springing into her eyes. She blinked rapidly to dry them out. Her composure was a fragile shell.

  “Ready for another cup?” She used a hot pad and lifted the coffee pot off the stove.

  “Yes, please.” She filled his mug as Samuel held it out for her. “Let’s take these outside. I want to make sure everything’s buttoned up for the night.”

  He opened the door and moved back to let her pass first. Moist, warm air fanned her face as she stepped through the kitchen’s back door. Sultry and sweet smelling, the night pulled at her baser Nymph nature.

  Night birds rejoiced for the coming Festival of the Trees with a contest of who would sing the most beautiful songs. All around her, life teemed in reproductive anticipation.

  Patience felt the call of something larger, of a destiny beyond what she knew. Sipping her coffee, she prayed fervently for Rhycious to return to her.

  Samuel rolled up a garden hose and she gazed up at the deep blue of the night sky. As the wind controlled the movement of tree branches, thoughts of Rhycious consumed her. Warmth uncoiled and spread to her chest, shoulders, and neck.

  She drew an inward breath. He’s near.

  Samuel tapped her arm, his eyes searching hers. “I’m going to check the water troughs. You’re welcome to walk with me.”

  “Sure.” She nodded and followed along.

  He topped off the trough so water flowed over the edge and a horse whinnied in the distance. His flat crowned hat tipped back off his forehead, and he rested his arm on the fence post.

  Another whinny followed the first, and then another.

  “Are they throwin’ a wazzup to you?”

  “Perhaps,” Samuel said softly. “But if not—Rhycious entrusted me with your care, and I’ll not be taking chances with your life. Let’s get you back inside the house.

  When Samuel stared off into the dark as he rushed her toward the house, Patience began to worry. If he knew something was out there, then she wanted to know about it, too. She wanted to be able to defend herself—to shimmer away if she had to. If an immediate split from the scene were in order, she’d grab Sam, and take him along.

  A faint drumming grew louder, vibrating the ground as it neared. Samuel halted in his tracks. Over her host’s shoulder, Tiny galloped toward them from out of the dark. He hit the brakes near the fence, leaving skid marks twenty feet long. With two snorts and a toss of his head, Tiny spun on a hind hoof to gallop off in the direction he’d come.

  “Something has that horse spooked.” Samuel tossed out the remaining coffee from his cup a
nd urged her to the safety of the house. “Come on, let’s get you . . . .”

  Tiny trotted to the fence again and this time he pawed the ground, striking out to hit the boards. Samuel paused, a bewildered expression on his face.

  Patience tossed her coffee out too, then tapped his hand. “I think Tiny’s communicatering to us. I’ve got zero on what he’s saying, but every time we start to leave, he comes unglued.” Mouth askance, Samuel clearly didn’t believe her, so she set to prove her point. “Check it out.”

  With Samuel’s hand trapped under hers, she pulled him toward the house a few steps. And sure enough, Tiny snorted and trotted a tight circle, his muscular body bending a graceful arch. His heavy hooves tore at the ground, digging up tufts of grass and dirt. Moving away from them, he returned, clearly agitated.

  Releasing her arm, he faced his draft horse. “I believe you’re correct. To be sure, he’s acting unsettled to keep us here. Worry is often misuse of imagination, and I allowed mine to close on me.”

  Patience nodded her agreement, the warm spiral turning near her heart.

  In the dark, a second horse approached at a walk. More subdued than Tiny’s frantic gait, the powerful steps projected a massive size. There was a clink of metal striking metal, and hooves moving across mowed grass. Someone coughed quietly.

  Buckskin legs and a fully armored upper body emerged from the shadows, shooting a shiver up Patience’s spine. Despite the dirt and obvious weariness, his face warmed her heart and set her blood to boil.

  You came back for me.

  Rhycious’s disheveled ponytail hung low and limp, escaped tangles drooping against the curve of his cheek. Above the knob of his bicep, the armband of his Centaur herd, signifying his allegiance to Queen Savella, picked up strains of the low moonlight.

  “Rhycious!” If the four rail fence standing between them were gone, she would have run the distance separating her from the man she couldn’t live without. In her eyes, even in his unkempt state, he was one gorgeous mythological walking on four dragging hooves.