Wait. What?
I snapped my head to the side and saw twin flashes of red. The dog jumped at me from the undergrowth. Sparks of panic shot through my body. Exhaustion only let me stumble back a step. The dog pounced and knocked me to the ground.
Nick dropped to his knees and let the towel fall open. He picked up a rock and smashed it on the shells. The crack echoed in my skull.
“Hey, you’re on dry-” Tamor squeaked in high-pitched surprise.
“Brian!” Where the hell had Dad come from?
The dog flinched sideways. Tamor threw himself at my chest like he meant to protect my heart.
Dad sprinted toward me with his trench coat billowing like a cape. He drew his sword, catching the light with the steel of the blade. I watched in mute, helpless wonder as he leaped over a gnarled root in his suit and polished shoes to skewer the dog before his feet hit the ground.
Straightening, Dad flicked his sword with nonchalant grace, as if he’d done nothing more momentous than stroll through the park. Wisps of white mist flowed from the end of his blade and dissipated.
“What did you do?” Tamor shrieked.
How could I have been such an unbelievable idiot? This guy comes along and promises the world, and I go half-kill myself to earn it? Hadn’t I learned anything from my parents? I wanted to scream and rage.
My eyes burned. I wanted to roll over and die.
“Brian, what’s going on?” Dad took a knee beside me. He touched my shoulder with the gentle strength I remembered from years ago and none of the more recent anger in his eyes. No sign of my beating lingered on his face. He didn’t even have a hair out of place.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.
“What were the magic things?” Tamor asked. “Why didn’t I ask before? Dammit, I’m a moron. I should’ve asked. This is my fault.”
“Brian.” Dad helped me sit up and lean against a tree. “I’m not angry, I swear. No matter what you say, I won’t get angry. Just tell me what happened.”
The whole story hovered on the tip of my tongue, waiting to burst free. Except Nick had his seals, and he probably intended to destroy them as soon as possible. Whatever else my dad did or was, he’d killed that dog to protect me.
Lifting my arm took so much effort. I pointed at Nick’s dark silhouette. “I brought him his seals.”
Dad’s eyes widened. He glanced at Nick, then back to me. “You,” he pointed at Tamor, “guard him.” Then he surged to his feet, his sword in hand, and bounded through the trees like a gazelle in a trench coat.
“I have to help.” My best effort pulled me half an inch from the tree, then I thumped against it again.
“Stop it,” Tamor snapped. “You need a tall glass of sleep before you can do anything else.”
“You’re real.”
In the distance, Dad crashed into Nick. They fell into the river. Both men jumped to their feet in shallow water. Nick brandished his feather like a weapon. Dad blocked the thrust with a sweep of his sword.
“Yes, I’m real, you idiot.” Tamor climbed onto my lap and pressed his copper claws against my chest. “He’s a knight with obvious experience, so I’ll let him explain things.”
“That’s my dad.” I watched the fight, wondering when Dad had learned to use a sword.
Dad danced through the battle like he didn’t know how to give up. His blade met Nick’s feather with effortless ease. Each contact created a muted thwack like the feather was made of hardened wood.
Nearby, the dog lay on the ground, sides heaving. Blood stained the earth around it. The eyes, once red and demented, now appeared brown and soft. Looking to me, it whined and I heard nothing but a dog noise.
“The dog.” I wobbled my head in a feeble attempt to nod at it.
Tamor sighed. “It was possessed. The sword killed the ghost inhabiting it, and now the ordinary dog is dying. There’s nothing we can do for it.”
The dog, I thought, was lucky.
14
While I watched, Dad punched Nick in the face. Nick fell into the water with a splash and didn’t get up. Then Dad squawked and fell. He contorted and avoided pitching into the water.
Dad scrambled to his feet and held up his sword. “You’ll take my son and the rest of these seals over my dead body!”
He put me first. Did he think he owned me, or did he mean to protect me? I didn’t know. I couldn't tell.
I did know that Nick had lied to me. He’d used me. Like a dumb puppy, I’d done what he asked. Why? Would screaming help?
Tears tracked down my cheeks. Everything I’d felt was a lie. Nothing would ever feel good or right again. Not that anything ever had, except that one bright, shining moment with Gabriel.
A blur of blue and heavy force knocked me onto my side. Tamor squealed and skittered out of the way. Nick shoved me to my stomach, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and wrenched up my head. The feather touched the flesh of my neck. It felt like cold steel.
Chilled water soaked my shirt and dripped onto my back. He smelled clear and crisp, like he had when he’d held and kissed me.
“Hand over the seals or he dies.”
Dad stood at the river’s edge, backlit enough that I couldn't see his face. For a long few heartbeats, he did nothing.
“Brian, stay really, really still. Knights know how to handle these situations.” Tamor held up his claws and circled in front of me. “With me this close, you can heal so fast that he’ll have to cut your head all the way off to kill you. So this isn’t as scary as it seems. Water Asshole here might not realize I’m yours, so we have a good chance of survival.”
If I could have, I would’ve gulped. Did I trust Tamor? So far, he hadn’t steered me wrong, and Nick didn’t seem to hear or understand him. Trusting him sooner would’ve saved everyone--especially me--a lot of pain and trouble.
Nick pressed the feather harder against my skin. “Make your choice, knight.”
The blade stung. If I hadn’t experienced a thousand times worse pain a few hours ago, fear would’ve kept me still. Instead, bolstered by Tamor’s assurance, I thought very hard about exactly what I needed my body to do.
“Fine.” Dad crouched to pick up the shells.
I waited. Acting on my own would never work. Dad needed to come close enough to do something once I did my part.
Three of the shells in his hand, Dad stalked toward us. When I finally saw his face, the hard, cold cast surpassed anything he’d ever directed at me. I would’ve given up if he had.
Nick didn’t seem to falter. After he’d faked me so hard, that didn’t surprise me. “That’s close enough. Drop the sword first.”
Dad didn’t look at me. He probably didn’t expect me to do anything at this point. I’d become a damsel in distress to him.
I tried to warn him by clenching my jaw. With every last ounce of strength in my being, I yanked my head forward, slicing my throat open, then launched myself back. My skull cracked Nick’s nose. Fire burned across my neck. Dad dropped the shells. Nick shrieked.
Holding my neck with one hand, I reached for freedom with the other. Dad threw his body at Nick. They tumbled to the ground. Tamor disappeared in a flash of burnished copper. Warmth flooded my neck. I turned to see Dad struggling with Nick.
They tangled like they matched each other in both strength and skill. Dad needed one more surge of effort from me.
Fourth down, fifteen yards to go, twenty seconds on the clock, and down by five points. A field goal wouldn’t cut it. We needed a touchdown.
The adrenalin rush hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought I’d used everything I had a moment earlier. This time, I threw my entire body into a kick that punched Nick’s back so hard he grunted.
Dad didn’t hesitate. He stabbed his sword through Nick’s belly and out the other side. Bluish, watery liquid gushed out the hole.
Nick screeched an unholy wail as fiendish as the music had been heavenly. Dad wrenched the blade sideways. More ichor flooded from Nick’s body. With one swift, sure stroke, Dad be
headed Nick.
Dad stood over the mutilated corpse, ready and waiting for Nick to spring to his feet and keep fighting. Clouds or leaves moved to bathe him in a ray of sunshine. For the first time in a long time, I saw him as a heroic savior, as a noble, shining knight-protector.
The moment passed. My gaze slid to Nick’s head. His blank, glassy eyes stared at me.
“Good job, son.” Dad stepped to my side and crouched over me. “I couldn't have beaten him without your help.”
I collapsed in every way imaginable. Dad dropped his sword and gathered me into his arms. We sat together, with me weeping, for a long time. He made soothing noises and rocked me, like he had a long time ago whenever I’d had a nightmare.
Nick had used me. He’d used my stupidity, my fear, my uncertainty, my confusion, and my shame. The hurt burned in my chest. If I could have, I might’ve jumped in the river to drown myself.
After a while, my sobs subsided to sniffles and hiccups. I met my dad’s gaze, not sure how to interpret the pain in his eyes. “Dad, I--” I braced for rejection, for anger, for something horrible. “I think I might be gay.”
He cracked a bemused smile. Did his eyes glisten with tears? “Okay. We can talk about that if you want, but at the moment, I’m really much more concerned about what happened here and where you’ve been all night.”
The lack of rebuke or threat confused me. “Not about me pummeling you?” Now that I knew a knight could survive a sliced throat, it didn’t surprise me he’d recovered already.
Dad snorted a soft laugh. I felt it in his chest. “No. I understand that well enough. Tell me your story from last night and I’ll tell you mine from five years ago.”
In the face of his acceptance, I let the words stream from me, starting with the dog chasing me and meeting Nick. He listened and only stopped me twice to ask a quick question. When I finished pouring out my soul, he squeezed my shoulders.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tamor. When we get back to the parking lot, I’ll introduce you to my car, Stirin. Before that, though.” Dad sighed and patted my arm. “I have to tell you a story about a man who made the wrong choice.”
He related a tale starting with the death of a friend and ending with him under a kind of magical compulsion. Some of it didn’t make sense to me, but I listened and didn’t interrupt. From what he said, it sounded like falling under the compulsion had been his fault. Or, at least, he blamed himself.
“I tried not to let it make me do the worst I could imagine. In a way, it was kind of like being an alcoholic. That’s how I explained it to your mom, because she doesn’t understand much of this magic crap. A couple of months ago, some friends freed me of the compulsion. I’ll introduce you to them later. Since then, I’ve been trying to start making up for what I did under that influence.”
His weird, abrupt re-entry into our lives suddenly made sense. Everything made so much sense. If only he could’ve told us and we could’ve believed him. A deep, dark wound inside me felt like it had finally stopped bleeding.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me just for knowing all of that. You and me, we have a lot to figure out still. I can get someone else to teach you how to be a knight so we won’t have all this crap interfering.”
“I’m a knight.”
“Yes.” He helped me clamber to my feet.
I could barely stand, let alone walk. Dad ducked under my arm and shouldered most of my weight without complaint. “Tamor, bring those shells.”
“I suppose he has his hands full,” Tamor muttered.
We shambled down the path. Dad smiled. I hadn’t seen that smile in a long time, the one that suggested contentment and calm. My face felt kind of weird too.
“How did you know to come here?”
“I got the call about your traffic stop in Coburg. Your mom was already worried about you, so I abused my police powers a tiny bit to have the GPS in your phone tracked. Once I discovered which direction you headed, I just had to wait until you stopped someplace.”
Apparently, my phone lurked on the floor of my car after all. If I’d remembered it even once while stopped, I might’ve caught a call or voicemail from Mom that might’ve shaken me back to reality. Bravo, me. Way to go.
“What do I do?”
“About what?”
Good question. I supposed I had plenty of options for where to take this conversation. The fact I wanted to ask Dad anything seemed like a huge weight off my shoulders. So to speak.
Though I wanted to understand this knight business, I didn’t think I could handle that conversation at the moment. It seemed like it would involve too much of the stuff between Dad and me. It also seemed like it would require a lot more attention than I could pay to something in my condition.
“The boy thing.”
“Ah. I may not be the best source for advice on that front, but from what I understand, the first step is coming to terms with it. The next step is finding a suitable boy you like and asking him out on a date.”
Gabriel came to mind. I had no idea if he was gay or not, but I could give a shot at kind of asking without asking.
Dad cleared his throat. “I’m going to suggest that you have Tamor scrutinize your next prospect before pursuing him.”
I laughed, and it felt so good I never wanted to stop.
The End
Discover how the story starts in book 1 of the Spirit Knights series: Girls Can't Be Knights
http://www.authorleefrench.com/spirit-knights/
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About the Author
Lee French lives in Olympia, WA, with two kids, two bicycles, and too much stuff. She is an avid gamer and a member of the Myth-Weavers online RPG community. In addition to spending too much time there, she also trains in taekwando, keeps a nice flower garden with one dragon and absolutely no lawn gnomes, works an excessive number of book events, and tries in vain every year to grow vegetables that don't get devoured by neighborhood wildlife.
She is an active member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and the Northwest Independent Writers Association, as well as serving the Olympia region as a NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison.
http://www.authorleefrench.com
Wild Goose Chase
KIMBRA SWAIN
Wild Goose Chase © copyright 2019, Kimbra Swain
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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WILD GOOSE CHASE
A doomed relationship. A fated choice. A fairy queen in a trailer park.
Grace Ann Bryant, the exiled daughter of Oberon, signs her life away to the Sanhedrin. A group of zealots who had hunted her all of her life. She connects with a local lawyer in a small town in Alabama only to find out that he’s lied to her from the moment they met.
As the story of her life goes, Grace runs away from her problems to a new home in Shady Grove, Alabama. For the first time in her life, she puts down roots deeper than those that touch the realm of her father. There is a child who needs care, dog to keep her company, and a handsome sheriff to keep her out of trouble.
&nbs
p; Two out of three ain’t bad.
1
Grace
Sitting in our booth while sipping a whiskey neat in a rocks glass, I watched the door waiting for my lover to arrive. When the ice rattled, I decided I’d had enough. Enough to drink. Enough of him. I’d discovered that he was lying to me. It was even worse that his wife was the one that told me.
As an Unseelie fairy, I didn’t really care about who I rolled around with in the sheets. However, the contract on my head dictated that I keep my activities to the supernaturals of this world. The Sanhedrin, who weren’t like the ones in the Bible, nor were they religious, would skin me alive if they caught me with a mundane human. I’d recently made a deal to get them off my back after they had hunted me for hundreds of years.
Remington Blake was the answer to a deprived fairy’s prayer. If I prayed. Which I didn’t. He was a member of the First People’s Star Folk. Gorgeous and debonair. I’d fallen for him the moment that New Orleans twang rolled off his sexy and very useful tongue. He gave off the air of a refined gentleman with his expensive suits and cars. He was a lawyer by trade in the real world, and he looked the part. In the bedroom, it was a different story.
He had a penchant for fine suits and custom leather shoes. He always smelled wonderful. He was a high-profile lawyer in Louisiana with a few clients in Alabama. I wasn’t sure how all of that worked, but I knew that he practiced law in both places.
It was hard enough finding a fairy to fuck, but finding one that you really liked, was a rare occasion for someone like myself. Remy and I were made for each other in bed. It had been too many years since I’d found someone that could keep up with me. Partially because I had been on the run for most of my life.
Relics and Runes Anthology Page 133
