by C. Gockel
“Have you been able to see your mother’s spirit or have you heard her voice?”
“I saw her a little, but it was like watching a grainy television. I could smell her perfume a couple times, though.”
“Okay, let’s assume your sense of smell is your dominant sense. When you think of your mother, did she have a favorite flower, a favorite meal, a hobby of some kind that has a scent that reminds you of her?”
“All those things. Lavender was her favorite flower, Italian dishes with lots of basil and oregano, and she loved NASCAR, so — exhaust fumes.”
“Exhaust fumes remind you of your mother?”
“Yeah, and burning rubber, too.”
“If we need to set an old tire on fire we can, but let’s try some of the more pleasant scents first.”
Gretchen went to work on a lasagna dish, the whole time giving me ideas for how I could try to contact my mom. I got to thinking about the question Brent had asked me about the missing herd. Gretchen stopped in her tracks half way to the oven when she turned to me and asked, “Missing Herd? Are you thinking about the Lost Herd?”
Crap, I forgot Gretchen could read my thoughts. “Uh, yeah, what’s the Lost Herd?”
Gretchen placed the pan in the oven and said, “Sit down.”
I took a seat at the table but felt strange as Gretchen seemed very uncomfortable. She must have been digging in my thoughts because she uttered, “I see Brent has been doing some speculating of his own.” She made a sour face, and I was worried my thoughts might have just gotten him in hot water.
“He didn’t mean to. I mean...I don’t want him to get in trouble.”
“I’ll speak with Brent later. He obviously piqued your interest. It is nothing you should speak of, to anyone. Do you understand?”
Her voice was so firm I was worried I’d just really screwed up.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Camille. But asking questions about the Lost Herd is dangerous. No one speaks of it. Many your age have never even heard of it. I’m sure Will should be telling you this – but...I’ll fill you in with what I know. It isn’t much. Long ago, there was a fierce Centaur warrior named Rupert, so fierce in fact that he instigated conflict with every Centaur he came in contact with. He was hard on his young; many of his sons were killed by his own hand. Other Centaur warriors tried to intervene and help his sons; each mysteriously disappeared or died very young from seemingly natural causes. There is a blood debt to be paid if any Centaur kills another outside of battle. Many speculated, but none would openly accuse Rupert of taking out his wrath on others. By all accounts, Rupert was more beast than human, and before his thirtieth birthday he had been outcast from the community. The Centaur elders banned him and his descendants from ever returning to Centurion.”
“Centurion?”
“It’s a city in South Africa. A large community of Centaurs live there, and the elder of each family visits Centurion each year.”
“The elders? Who are they?”
“Each herd’s eldest male member is an elder and is represented at Centurion.”
“So who is our elder?”
“Camille, your father is going to have to answer your ancestry questions. I fear that if I share anything more I’ll only put my sons at risk.”
“But I don’t understand. What’s the Lost Herd, and how would my brothers be at risk?”
“The Lost Herd are the descendants of Rupert. Rupert was found guilty of crimes in absentia – he owed many blood debts that were never paid.”
It didn’t escape me that she didn’t share why she thought I would be putting my brothers at risk, but rather than press her for information I knew she didn’t want to share, I asked, “Brent seemed to think that I was part of that herd. Why would he think that?”
Gretchen chewed her lower lip. She was trying to answer me, without answering me. “You are unique, Camille. Full-blooded Centaurs can only be born between two married Centaurs. If your mother had been human, no one would give it a second thought: you would be a half-breed.
In our society half-breeds are slightly more desirable than humans but are still not considered Centaur. Most Centaurs forced to marry humans eventually leave our society altogether, and their children are unaware of their ancestry. You are a full-blooded Centaur, born of two Centaur parents who were not married. Until I met you, I would have thought it impossible.”
“So, I’m what?”
“We don’t know. News of your arrival spread more rapidly than even I anticipated. Men are very anxious to meet you, but their mothers will be cautious. I’ve asked a friend to look into your future. She can’t see it, or when she does, the outcomes are fluid. It’s as though your future is not mapped, as though the heavens forgot to write your destiny. It changes from day to day, almost as if your possibilities are endless.”
“That’s the way everyone’s futures are. Bianca told me, free will trumps fate.”
“Free will allows people to choose portions of their destiny, but yours won’t solidify enough for me to counsel you on any decision. The only thing I do know is your mother has something she must talk to you about. She won’t allow me or anyone else to relay the information. You have to practice communicating with her because whatever she needs to tell you – you need to know.”
“Do you think she knows why I’m not like everyone else?”
“I hope so, Camille. Promise me you’ll not bring up questions to others about the Lost Herd.” Her request wasn’t a request at all. I liked Gretchen, and I trusted her. I hated that she couldn’t just come right out and answer me, but I believed her when she told me I shouldn’t ask others about the Lost Herd.
“So no Centaur has ever been born if their parents weren’t married?”
“No.”
“Not ever?”
Gretchen looked across the table at me. She shook her head. I had come to a quick conclusion, “Maybe Will isn’t my father?”
A vase full of flowers flew across the room and landed hard against the leg of the table. Gretchen and I both leaped up in our chairs, avoiding the shards of glass that sprayed in all directions. Gretchen was pissed, “How dare you!”
At first I thought she was screaming at me, as if I’d somehow hurled the vase at her. “You did this to her. You were selfish, and now you’re acting like a child!” Gretchen was furious. I couldn’t see my mother, but something told me she was in the kitchen. Gretchen started shaking as she fired back, “Maybe you should have asked him while you were alive! What did you expect her to think? What did you expect everyone to think?”
I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire between the two, and only hearing Gretchen’s half of the conversation was more confusing than helpful. I reached down and started picking up flowers from the mangled mess on the floor. Gretchen gathered the dustpan from the pantry and squatted down to help me. She didn’t seem as angry as before, and this time she addressed me, “Camille, your mother wants you to talk to your father about his bloodline.”
We continued trying the remainder of the morning and all afternoon for me to contact my mother. Other than nearly taking a glass vase full of flowers to the shin, I didn’t have any contact with her. I can say that the lasagna Gretchen made was absolutely wonderful, and in truth the scent was better than any I’d ever smelled in my past. We tried looking at a picture of my mom. I listened to a full play list of my mom’s favorite songs. Her favorite Saturday pastime was being on the beach, so we spent time outside with some sand. None of my senses did anything but stir happy memories of my mother – none made her materialize right in front of me. By the time Will and my brothers arrived, I was exhausted. Gretchen had made a second pan of lasagna, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up my end of any conversation. I wanted to talk to Will, but from Gretchen’s reaction, I knew I needed to talk to him privately.
I found myself back in my room desperately wanting to talk to Daniel. It was still too early for him to be off work. I picked up my phone and saw I’d mi
ssed several calls from Bianca today. The guilt I’d been able to shelve all day reemerged when I saw my phone’s call log. I was still so ashamed of what happened yesterday that I couldn’t bring myself to call her back. Maybe I really would lose my newest friend to my action on the boat. If I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, eventually she’d stop calling me.
I thought back to the time on the boat with Drake and what I’d told Daniel last night. I did initiate the contact, but I never would have if he hadn’t shoved all the images of the two of us into my head. Then it hit me – Drake’s was the first mind I had read. I hated the idea of revisiting what had happened, but when I put my hands on his face, I wasn’t just getting words or emotions, I got images – visions of us together. It was only a few seconds, but when I saw what was on his mind, I couldn’t keep my hands to myself – as if I were being magnetically pulled to him. I knew it wasn’t rational, it wasn’t even something I wanted — it was just a physical reaction. Based on what happened, touch might be my strongest sense.
For thirty minutes I tried to push images of Drake from my head, and thankfully a soft knock on my door finally allowed me to do just that.
Chapter 19
(Camille Benning – Charleston, SC)
It was Brent’s voice on the other side of the door, “You okay, Camille?”
“Come on in, I’m just getting some rest.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of resting. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Gretchen and I were working on stuff today, and I needed a break.”
“Do you want to do anything tonight?”
“Like what?”
“That sounded like a yes.”
“That sounded like a ‘what did you have in mind?’”
“You’ve been stressed since Bruce’s wedding. Let’s go blow off some steam.”
“Doing what?”
“I’ll think of something. Let’s get out of here.” I was thrilled to see his idea of blowing off steam and mine were one and the same. He pulled up outside Frankie’s Fun Park and made a straight line to the Go Karts. This was exactly what I needed.
We took several trips around the track. A guy in a blue Go Kart with shoulder-length hair, wearing a skater t-shirt and a big grin, kept purposely rubbing the side of his Kart against mine at every opportunity. I could tell he was flirting, but it was harmless and kind of cute. Brent was on the other side of the track, but I felt his eyes watching us. A few more turns and I saw the white flag indicating our time was almost up. I took a couple sharp corners and felt my side wheels lift off the track. When I pulled into the pits, the guy from the blue Go Kart caught up to me and said, “What are you, Mario Andretti’s daughter?”
“Not unless Andretti doubles as a financial manager.”
“Nice moves back there.” He held out his hand, “I’m Jack.”
“Hi Jack, I’m Camille.” Brent emerged from his car and was at my side in seconds. I could see Jack got the wrong idea and thought Brent and I were a couple. I didn’t see any reason to contradict the conclusion he’d drawn. With everything else going on in my life, I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend – Centaur or human.
I didn’t introduce Brent, but Jack opted for a quick getaway, “It was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Jack turned around and was gone in a flash.
I pretended to be upset with Brent, “Well, that was a little rude, don’t ya think?”
“Guys like that are a dime a dozen. You’re a Centauride – you’re out of his league.”
“I don’t know — he was cute.” I fished in my pocket and pulled out a coin, “Here’s a nickel – I’ll take six.”
“You drive me crazy, you know it?”
“Oh stop it. It’s not like I’ve never been on a date before, and besides, it was just flirting.”
“Camille, you can’t date.”
“No. I can’t marry anyone. There’s a big difference. I’m not in the market for a husband. I can date whoever the heck I want.”
“Not a human.”
“Hello, I’ve already dated humans. I’ve never dated a Centaur, but it can’t be that different.”
“Humans? So you weren’t kidding? You’ve dated more than one person?” Brent was not at all impressed.
“Well, not at the same time, but, yeah. Believe it or not, it’s pretty common. If you wouldn’t have appeared out of thin air, I might have had a date with that guy.”
“Well, don’t let me cramp your style. Why don’t I take you over to the college? You can date the whole football team.”
“Cool, do you think I could get better seats that way?” I thought we were joking around, until I noticed Brent was fully pissed off. Most people would have stopped right there, but once I knew how angry he was, I couldn’t help but keep pushing his button. “Did I hear on the radio that there’s a hockey team here? I bet if I were dating the whole team, I could ride the bus to the away games.”
“You aren’t funny!”
“Oh, come on, I’m hysterical. You should see yourself right now. It looks like that little vein on the side of your head is getting ready to rupture.”
“Don’t kid about stuff like that. You can’t date humans.”
“Brent, I’m an adult. I can date anyone I want. I just can’t commit to anyone until Gage Richardson finds someone else to marry him.”
“Isn’t the whole purpose of dating to find a husband?”
“Uh, no. Dating is about going out and having fun with someone who likes doing the same things you do. Once you get to the point that you can’t live without that person – that’s when marriage discussions begin.”
“You don’t have to date. You’ve got me. We like doing the same things, and you don’t have to worry about me having romantic feelings for you.”
“That’s not dating, that’s hanging out with my brother, and no offense, but if that’s what I have to look forward to for the next five years, I need to find a fast moving car and a tree. Liking someone in a romantic way isn’t a bad thing.”
“It is when you can’t act on it.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to do it the normal way? Find a girl you like, regardless of who her grandparents were? Go out and have fun.”
“I can’t.”
“You won’t. Do you see her, over there, in the green capris?” There was a gorgeous brunette who was sitting at a table, reading a book and sipping on an Icee, off by herself, oblivious to the action all around her. “Go talk to her. She won’t bite you. You might even find that she’s fun to hang out with.”
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“Yeah, and I think it’s a crock of crap. Love can’t be dictated or treated like a business deal. It’s in your heart. If you don’t follow your heart, how are you ever going to be happy?”
“I’d be so happy to know that I was responsible for our bloodline coming to an end.”
“Bruce already took one for the team. You four are free to do whatever you want.”
“You’re right, and I want to do things the traditional way.”
“Okay, but don’t look down your nose at me for not buying into the whole bloodline thing.”
Brent wasn’t as angry as he had been, but I guessed he knew he wasn’t going to win this argument, so he stopped trying. As we were walking toward the gate, the girl in the green capris looked up from her book and smiled at Brent; he lost his stride and nearly tripped. I jabbed him in the rib with my elbow and offered to get her number for him.
His only response to me was a glare. Had it come from anyone else, it would have shrunk me two inches on the spot.
Brent didn’t want to go anywhere else. We got into the car; he turned up the stereo and headed straight back to the house. I tried to read his mind, not certain that I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I kept coming up empty. I got the feeling that he was going to say something important, but we were in the driveway, and he still hadn’t said a word. I wondered if I touched him, like I did Drak
e, maybe I could read his mind, too. I lost my nerve – I wasn’t sure what he’d think of me purposely trying to read his mind. Tomorrow I’d have to ask Gretchen about etiquette when it came to listening to other’s thoughts.
As he shut off the car, I broke the silence, “I asked Gretchen about the Lost Herd today.”
“You what?!”
“You didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to.”
Brent let out a heavy sigh, “What’d she say?”
“She told me I wasn’t supposed to ask and some stuff about a Centaur named Rupert that killed his own kids.”
“Rupert? She said his name was Rupert?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I need to show you something.”
Chapter 20
(Camille Benning – Charleston, SC)
We were standing in Brent’s room. His was masculine, no flowers or vases on any of the surfaces, but one thing caught my attention. He, too, had a fireplace in his room, and above the mantle hung an identical print to the one in my room: the same white mare set on rolling hills. It felt like it was significant, but this wasn’t what he’d brought me in to see. A large tapestry hung on the wall with a family tree embroidered on it. The trunk of the tree showed two names, Rupert and Genève, with hundreds of branches. I noticed one near the top left bore William and Gretchen Strayer’s names and each of their sons branched out from them.
“That could just be a coincidence.”
“Oh yeah? Mom hides it every time we have guests at the house. It’s like she doesn’t want anyone to see it or something. Here look at this.” Brent rolled the tapestry up. When it was rolled to the top, little ties hung down to secure it in place. It looked like an enormous scroll, and a print of a dog asleep hung on the wall underneath the tapestry.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“The Lost Herd didn’t become human the way all the other Centaurs did.”
“Are you nuts?”
“What’s so nuts about it? It explains a lot.”
