by Chant, Zoe
He went to the desk tucked away in a corner, sat down, and accessed the database on the care and feeding of magical animals. The entry on hellhorses was sparse, but it did note that they were known to eat charred wood and there had been possible sightings of them eating live coals.
“Looks like it’s fine,” Waylon reported. “Where exactly were you when you saw the hellhorse eating charcoal?”
“Er… Our backyard. It’s the charcoal from the grill. He showed up here all by himself! I didn’t go looking for him!”
His temper cooled, overtaken by worry. Or rather, the worry that was behind his temper came to the forefront. “Is the colt still there?”
“Yes-and-that’s-why-I-wanted-Judy-on-the-call,” Raelynn said, so fast her words blurred together. “Judy tames horses! She knows how not to scare them! The colt’s fine now, but if you come charging in with a tranquilizer rifle like you always do, you’ll scare him and he might set fire to the yard!”
It was only Waylon’s no-yelling promise that stopped him from yelling that he wasn’t the problem, the dangerous fiery beast in their backyard was the problem. But when he took a deep breath in order to modulate his voice, he realized that Rae had a point. He had come charging up on the hellcolt, and that had scared him.
He muted the phone and said, “What would you do, Judy? I mean about the colt, not Raelynn.”
“I’d go in slowly and quietly and unarmed. If you’ve aimed a tranquilizer rifle at him before, he’ll recognize it and spook.” She shot him a keen look. “But you didn’t need to ask me that. You’re a horse vet. You know how to approach skittish horses.”
Our mate is wise, rumbled his bear.
Wise, and right. Waylon did know how to approach horses. It was only his fear for his daughter, magnified by his shifter instinct to physically protect the ones he loved, that had made him abandon everything he knew and charge to the rescue.
He unmuted the phone and said, “Okay. No tranquilizer rifles. No charging. No yelling. Judy and I are going to come back, park a bit away so the truck doesn’t scare him, and walk in slowly with treats. In the meantime, you be careful!”
“Dad,” Raelynn said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve always been careful.”
He could have argued with that, but decided to let it slide on the theory that maybe, just maybe, charging in with all guns blazing was not the greatest way to deal with either a skittish horse or a headstrong teenager. Instead he said, “Love you, hon.”
“Love you, Dad.”
Waylon put the phone back in his pocket and took Judy’s hand. “Let’s go tame a hellhorse.”
As they drove away, Judy started to lean into him, then drew back. “Oops. Sorry.”
You idiot, rumbled his bear. Now she thinks you don’t want her to touch you.
Waylon couldn’t disagree with his bear’s assessment of his intelligence. Luckily, humans had words. “It’s okay, Judy. You can lean on me. I wish you would.”
She instantly leaned into him. Her warmth and scent were the best things in the world, relaxing him and turning him on and making him feel utterly alive.
“So, what are the ground rules?” she asked.
On the one hand, he loved Judy’s bluntness. He’d always hated having to play emotional guessing games. On the other hand, it was slightly terrifying. Trying to match her honesty, he said, “I don’t have a rule book. But I don’t want to go too far with you before you know the entire picture, and you can’t know the entire picture just yet. I pulled away at the hospital because I was getting too tempted to lock the door and take off your clothes.”
“Ooh…” Her little shiver told him just how hot she thought that idea was, which made him want her even more. It was a good thing they were in a moving vehicle, or he might not have been able to resist.
To distract himself, he said, “What music do you like? Other than Dolly Parton.”
She played along. “Dolly is great, but my favorite is Emmylou Harris. She’s a silver-haired goddess.”
“And you’re a silver-streaked goddess.” He ran his finger along one of the silver streaks in her hair. It was thick and wavy, resilient as a living thing. Strong, like the rest of her.
“Minus the silvery voice. What about you? Do you listen to anything other than country?”
“I like classic rock. Actual classic, not ‘college kids liked this in the 90s.’ The Beatles, the Shirelles, that sort of thing.”
“Did the Shirelles do ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?’”
Waylon nodded. “See? Actual classic.”
“Actual classic,” Judy agreed.
They talked about music for the rest of the drive, distracting him from worry about Raelynn and frustration at the Judy-and-him situation. He’d have enjoyed the conversation in other circumstances, but he was relieved when they could park a block away, then walk quietly up to his house.
Judy caught his arm at the front door. “Relax. Horses can sense tension. If you go in ready to throw yourself at it to protect Raelynn, it’ll pick up on it.”
“I am ready to throw myself at it to protect Rae.”
“Yeah, but maybe try to focus on something else,” she suggested. “Don’t think of it as a dangerous beast. Think of it as a lost young thing. In horse years, it’s a teenager. Like Raelynn.”
“Like Raelynn,” Waylon repeated thoughtfully. It was true. The colt wasn’t a child, but he wasn’t an adult yet either. He was in that difficult in-between time. No wonder he and Rae were drawn to each other. “What are you going to focus on?”
“I pretend horses can hear my thoughts—honestly, they practically can, they’re very perceptive—so I think, ‘I’m a friend. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me.”
“Good idea.” Waylon drew a deep breath, relaxed his muscles, and deliberately thought, I’m a friend. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me.
They quietly entered the house. Bruiser, who had his nose shoved into the sliding glass doors that overlooked the backyard, turned and whined at them. Waylon’s heart thudded in his chest when he saw Rae stroking the hellhorse, but he told himself, Calm down. He’s not being aggressive toward her. And so long as you don’t scare him, he won’t catch fire. Probably.
Moving very slowly, they opened the door. Waylon kept a firm grip on Bruiser’s collar to prevent him from rushing out and startling the colt into a fireball.
The hellcolt’s ears twitched forward. He froze, quivering, ready to bolt. Judy laid a hand on Waylon’s elbow, but he didn’t need her to give him the message not to move. They both stayed where they were, statue-still.
“It’s all right,” Raelynn said softly, stroking the colt’s shining black neck. “Easy now. They’re friends.”
Waylon watched his daughter gentle the colt. She was absolutely calm, and that transferred to the hellcolt. He visibly relaxed as she stroked and spoke to him, though he still watched Waylon and Judy warily. Raelynn smiled at them, but remained focused on the colt. She was patient and skillful, neither aggressive nor submissive, careful to make him feel safe without inviting him to try to dominate her.
Waylon had always known she was good with animals, especially horses, but she’d leveled up amazingly. He’d never seen anyone deal better with a skittish horse. For the first time, he watched her and the hellcolt and wasn’t afraid or frustrated or angry. All he felt was pride and amazement and happiness.
That’s my girl, he thought. Guess I did something right.
In a very soft voice, Judy said, “Hey there.”
The hellcolt stiffened, but didn’t bolt. Raelynn kept on stroking and talking to him until he relaxed.
In that same soft voice, Judy said, “Have you named him yet?”
“Black Flame,” Rae replied.
Waylon was fascinated to see that the hellcolt’s ears swiveled when she spoke. Could he know his name already?
“Say his name, Waylon,” murmured Judy. “Let him get used to your voice.”
“Black Flame
.” When he pitched his voice that low, it came out in a rumble that sounded almost like the voice of his inner bear.
Black Flame eyed him warily, and sparks began to dance around his mane. Waylon resisted the urge to lunge forward and protect his daughter. That would make the colt flame out for sure. Trying to keep his voice quiet and calm but less rumbly, he said, “Gentle him, Rae.”
Rae stroked the colt, saying, “Easy there, easy. It’s all safe. He’s a friend.”
The sparks went out.
“Reward him,” said Judy. “Give him a coal.”
Rae stooped, picked up a coal, and offered it to Black Flame. “Good boy, Black Flame. You put the fire out. Good hellhorse.”
Black Flame crunched up the coal with obvious pleasure. Waylon wondered if it was an essential part of his diet, or a special treat that he shouldn’t eat too much of. He needed to find someone who knew more about hellhorses.
When Black Flame was done and nosing Rae for more, Waylon said, “Good hellhorse. And good job, Rae. I’m proud of you.”
Rae blinked a few times, her eyes glinting like she was moved to tears. Her voice was a little choked when she said, “Thanks, Dad.”
“Good boy, Black Flame.” Judy took a small step forward. Black Flame didn’t move. “Now you, Waylon.”
He gently pushed Bruiser back inside, closed the door, and took a step forward. But he’d forgotten his own size. His step brought him considerably closer to the hellhorse than Judy’s had. Black Flame wheeled aside and cantered across the backyard, but no fire or smoke followed him. He passed the apple tree and leaped over the wall. The hellcolt cleared it easily, his mane and tail flying, and was gone.
“So that’s how he got in,” Rae said, now in an ordinary speaking tone. “I’d thought maybe he teleported or walked through the wall or materialized from a sunbeam or something.”
“As far as I’m aware, hellhorses can’t do any of those things.” Waylon gathered her in a hug. “Thanks for trusting me.”
She sniffed hard against his shoulder, then asked hopefully, “So, can I keep him?”
Waylon supposed the whole thing had always been inevitable. He’d seen people bond with animals before, both magical and ordinary, and it wasn’t something anyone could stop. Or should stop, he supposed. Everly had Rock. That guy Judy knew had his filly. And it looked like Raelynn had Black Flame.
“If you can tame him, you can keep him,” Waylon said. “We can’t have him running wild.”
“I can tame him!” Rae turned to Judy. “Thanks, Judy. You’ll help me, right?”
“Of course I will,” Judy replied. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, though. But I’ll do my best for as long as I’m in La Puerta.”
Rae frowned, and Waylon’s heart sank right into his shoes. Of course Judy wasn’t sure how long she’d be here; she didn’t have any way of knowing that her one true mate was living here. And even if she did, there was still the issue of her horses.
His bear scuffled his paws angrily. Tell her you’re her one true mate, and that ranch will be her horses’ home, and our den will be her home.
For what felt like the millionth time, Waylon silently replied, It’s not that simple.
“Why would you leave?” Raelynn asked. “Don’t you like the ranch?”
“I like it a lot, but I have to raise the money to buy it.” Judy glanced thoughtfully at the wall where Black Flame had taken that astonishing leap. “It’d be good for Black Flame if I could. One of the best ways of taming a horse is to put him in a herd with other tame horses. Horses are very social. They follow the lead of the herd, and the herd follows the lead of the alpha mare. If I could introduce Black Flame into my herd, that might settle him faster than anything you or I or your dad can do.”
“Oh, that would be amazing! I could meet your herd, and they could tame Black Flame, and—”
“Whoa there.” Judy held up her hand. “That ranch costs a lot.”
But Raelynn was undeterred. “How much? Maybe I can help.”
Waylon and Judy spoke at the same time, Waylon saying, “Leave the money problems to the adults,” and Judy saying, “You are not giving Horse Hope Rescue your college fund.”
With fine teenage scorn, Rae rolled her eyes at the adults. “That’s not what I meant. I meant I could help raise money. I raised $400 selling Girl Scout cookies last year!”
“Maybe you could do a bake sale,” Waylon suggested.
As he’d known she would, Rae wrinkled her nose. Cooking was not her strong suit.
“Are you good at social media?” Judy asked. “Because I’ve been trying to raise money on Instagram, and it’s been an absolute disaster.”
Rae beamed. “Yes! If you let me borrow your phone for half an hour a day, I could do tons.”
“How about if I gave you my Instagram account name and password instead? Would that work?”
“You’d trust me that much?” Raelynn sounded awed.
“Absolutely,” Judy said solemnly. She wrote on a scrap of paper, then handed it to Raelynn. “There you go. I included the Horse Hope Rescue website and our GoFundMe. The campaign’s yours now. Run it however you like.”
Rae held the paper reverently, vowing, “All my social media skills are at your command.”
Then, unexpectedly, she threw herself at Judy, arms open wide. “Thank you so much! Black Flame thanks you too.”
Waylon watched his daughter and his mate hugging each other, awkwardly but enthusiastically. He blinked back a stinging in his eyes. They were the people he loved most in all the world, the people he hoped could be a family together, and here they were, acting like they were one already.
He gave Judy a ride back to her hotel, hoping Black Flame wouldn’t make an encore appearance in the backyard while he was gone. But he didn’t expect it. It was getting close to nightfall, and horses, even magical hellhorses, didn’t like to travel at night.
“Raelynn’s so sweet,” Judy remarked. “I bet she puts some pretty, pretty horse pictures on my Instagram.”
“I bet she gets Horse Hope Rescue some money, too. She really did raise $400 for her Girl Scout troupe.”
“Good for her.” Judy pointed at the road. “No, don’t turn there. Go straight.”
He’d assumed she was staying at the Welcome Inn, and had automatically started to turn toward it. “Are you sure? Where are you staying?”
“Harry’s Motel, off the freeway.”
“That dump?” Waylon blurted out. “You should stay in town. Welcome Inn is beautiful.”
“Welcome Inn is expensive.”
“I could get you a discount. We helped the owner with a small cockatrice problem once.”
“Nope.” Judy pointed. “That way.”
Waylon’s discomfort grew as he approached Harry’s Happy Hotel. It was a squat, grungy building with peeling paint and a giant blinking sign with a leering happy face. The neon light was partly burned out, so it seemed to advertise the Ha Ha Hotel.
Joke’s on you if you stay here, he thought.
He pulled up and got out to open the door for her. A fog of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer hung about the motel, making him wrinkle his nose.
“I could cover a stay at Welcome Inn for you,” he offered.
“Thanks for the ride, and absolutely not,” Judy said, hopping out. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but do you want to test yourself against an army of bedbugs? Stay with me and Rae. We have a guest bedroom. We’d love to have you.”
“Not a chance, and I’ll tell you why.” She leaned on the door and looked him in the eyes. Her own caught the moonlight and shone like opals. “If you were just a friend, I’d say sure and thanks. But there’s more than that going on between us. You’re worried about us moving too fast—let me tell you what would be moving too fast for me. It’d be me staying overnight with you right now, guest bedroom or not. What’s Raelynn going to think?”
“Rae loves you alre
ady,” Waylon replied, but he knew she was right. Just like he couldn’t tell Judy he was a shifter without getting Rae’s consent, he couldn’t tell Rae that Judy was his mate before he told Judy herself. “Well—call me if you can’t take it anymore. Angel and Everly have a spare room too. I know they’d be happy to have you.”
Judy gave him a sudden grin. “Not offering Bryan’s sofa?”
“None of us have ever seen Bryan’s place, so I don’t even know if he has a sofa.” He leaned over to kiss her. Her lips melted into his, he breathed in the scent of her hair, and his heart skipped a beat.
Every atom of his being rebelled against leaving his mate alone in a horrible cheap motel, but he couldn’t figure out any alternative. She was a tough, independent woman, and he couldn’t make her stay somewhere else.
His bear growled at him all the way home.
Chapter Eight
Judy woke up with a crick in her neck from Ha Ha Hotel’s flat pillow. She hadn’t felt comfortable leaving a window open, so the air was stale and smelled like cigarettes. When she went to take a shower, she was unsurprised to discover that the water didn’t get hotter than barely lukewarm.
She couldn’t help wishing she’d accepted Waylon’s offer of a nice bed-and-breakfast.
Rubbing her hair dry on a threadbare towel, she muttered to herself, “Charity is for horses. Independence is for humans.”
An unpleasant smell met her nose. She sniffed the towel. It was mildewed. “Ugh!”
On second thought, she should have accepted Waylon’s offer to let her stay at his house. That wasn’t charity, that was simple kindness.
And a dash of simple horniness, she admitted to herself. No. It was best to keep things going slow, like they’d both said they wanted. Judy had no idea if she’d ever come back to La Puerta again, and then there was Waylon’s “complicated family thing.” Whatever that was.
She used a spare shirt to try to scrub any lingering eau de mildew from her hair, wondering what the heck the complicated family thing could be. It couldn’t be that Raelynn hadn’t taken well to his past girlfriends, or that Waylon was worried about introducing big changes into her life, or anything along those lines. Those were things Judy worried about, and probably he did too, but they couldn’t be what he’d meant. None of those made sense as a secret.
